The crates were new, made of raw wood, heavy with the scent of cut pine. The tops were nailed down, but there was a lip around the edge, and Viv found enough of a grip to wrench them back with a squeal of nails.
“I could’ve found a hammer,” observed Fern.
Viv shrugged. “Like you said, there has to be a reason you keep me around.”
Inside, packed tightly and precisely, were stacks and stacks of books. The smell of leather and cloth and ink nearly overpowered the piney scent.
Fern bent over and ran her paws along the covers, inhaling deeply. “Gods, that smell.” She sighed. “Have you ever smelled anything so good?”
Viv smiled. “I don’t think you really had to look that far to figure out why you still have this shop.”
The rattkin grinned back. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s get these unpacked. There’s a few in here I ordered just for you.”
Viv was more than happy to be distracted from the misty memories of her dream, and of a cruel blue smile.
34
Many of the volumes were surprisingly colorful, with stenciled or foiled illustrations on the covers. And Fern was right, the scent of the fresh volumes was intoxicating, so much so that it made Viv a little dizzy. When she opened one to inspect the fresh print, the spines creaked in a crisp and deeply satisfying way.
“The letters are soclean,” observed Viv.
“New gnomish printers,” said Fern, still grinning ear to ear. “Cheaper to produceandthey wear better. Which means I can sell them for less, too.”
Viv and Satchel unpacked the individual books. Fern made a big production of inspecting each one and created a special pile on the front table according to some unknowable criteria. The rest she shelved carefully, and as every gap was filled, each row of books fattened with fresh additions. It was like seeing a wooden puzzle assemble until the scene painted on it became suddenly clear.
In the middle of it all, the door banged open and Gallina trooped in, startling Potroast from his doze in a slab of sunlight. “So they showed, huh?”
“You’re just in time to help,” said Viv, straightening with an armload.
“Nah, I’d just get in the way.” She ran a hand through her spiky hair. “Besides, I can’t reach anything in here. You want me to fall into a crate?”
“You know, your height only comes up when you don’t want to do something. So, why exactlyareyou here?”
Gallina flopped into a chair. Viv noticed that she had a folded piece of paper in one hand, which she fiddled with self-consciously. “Uh, well. Just thought when you were done doin’thisjob you might want to do somethin’ you’re a little more familiar with.”
“What are you talking about?” Viv’s brow wrinkled.
The gnome held the paper up between two fingers. “Bounty. Pay’s not great, but it’s pretty close, I guess. I could do it on my own, o’ course, but I thought maybe if you wereboredand not feelin’toodelicate…”
Viv caught Fern’s sidelong look and tried not to sound interested when she said, “Bounty, huh? What sort?”
The gnome twirled a hand. “Spineback nest. South a little ways down the coast. Some farmer’s losin’ sheep to ’em, I guess.”
“A loathsome species,” said Satchel with sudden vehemence, looking up from the stack of books in his bony arms.
Viv glanced at him in surprise. “You’ve spent time around spinebacks?”
“More than I care to relate,” replied the homunculus darkly. His osseoscription momentarily burned a bright blue.
Still wondering at that, Viv replied to Gallina, “Let me think about it.” She passed a book to Fern, who gave her a searching look. “I don’t know if I want to be away forthatlong.”
What she didn’t voice was her worry that if she left Murk for any length of time, Varine or Rackam would show up the instant she was gone. She couldn’t decide which was more worrisome.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll pay to cart us down, if you wanna go. Don’t waittoolong, though. I can’t just sit around coolin’ my heels at The Perch for much longer.”
“Mmm. Just going to take care of it yourself, then?” Viv’s voice was mild. “How many spinebacks did you say?”
“A manageable number,” said Gallina flatly.
