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“Call me when you get there,” she says. “And if they throw you out, you come home. You don’t pick a fight with security.”

“I never pick fights,” I tell her, adjusting the strap over my shoulder. “I present strongly worded objections.”

Hattie gives me a look but lets that pass. I’m grateful, because I have very little time left for another debate.

Tomorrow, if everything goes well, this kitchen will still be mine and Marta will still have a stall to open. That is enough reason to go.

I pull open the front door, and cold rain blows beneath the porch roof. Hattie follows me as far as the threshold while I shift the bag higher on my shoulder.

“What are you actually going to say if you get in?” she asks. I glance toward the wet road leading to the station.

“I’m going to tell him he owes me a library,” I say. “And a town.”

2

The Mother’s Decree

Sigurd

The heavy blinds stay drawn against the afternoon sun, leaving my office in the dimness I prefer. Across the reinforced steel desk, the naga delegation occupies three oversized leather chairs.

Ananta, Nalini, and Vasuki wear impeccable suits above the waist, with silk ties knotted neatly at their throats. Below, thick coils of jewel-toned scales spill over the broad cushions and onto the antique rug. The chairs are larger than anything made for humans, but the nagas still need room to settle their tails.

Their scales rasp against the leather as they shift. Vasuki adds another sound by tapping a gold fountain pen against the rim of his coaster. Clink. Clink. Clink.

We’ve spent three hours arguing over a two-percent margin on temperature-controlled shipping containers. That’s about two and a half hours longer than the subject deserves.

One of my tentacles taps against the steel floor beneath the desk. My suits are cut along the back so my tentacles can move freely without destroying the tailoring. The desk keeps the movement out of sight, which is exactly where I want it.

Vasuki hits the coaster again. The sound lands directly on what remains of my patience.

“Put the pen down, Vasuki,” I tell him. “We’re not spending another hour on basic transit logistics.”

The tapping stops. He sets the pen down and narrows his slitted eyes at me, but he doesn’t pick it up again.

Ananta takes the revised contract from inside his jacket and slides it across the desk. “The subzero containers for our venom require specialized magical maintenance, Sigurd. The markup reflects the additional logistical burden.”

I leave the contract where it is. Their pharmaceutical buyers require cold transit, and the venom can’t tolerate prolonged surface heat. They need my fleet if they want the shipment across the Atlantic on schedule.

The rest of this argument is mostly theater. They know it, and so do I.

“The containers are standard issue,” I tell him. “Your customs delays aren’t my financial burden.”

Nalini shifts in her chair, emerald scales catching what little light reaches the room. “That’s a harsh position, even for you. We both know the delivery schedule is tight.”

“Which is why this meeting should’ve ended hours ago.” I look at Ananta across the desk. “My ships leave at midnight. Sign the addendum, or find another fleet.”

Nobody speaks for several seconds. Ananta studies the contract, then reaches for Vasuki’s abandoned pen and signs the final page.

They were never going to walk away from the deal. They only wanted to know whether wasting three hours of my day could buy them two percent. Now they have their answer.

“Leave it there,” I tell him. “I have other appointments.”

The nagas uncoil themselves from the chairs, their scales dragging over leather and carpet with a dry rasp. Vasuki retrieves his fountain pen on the way out, and the three of them disappear into the hallway.

The doors close behind them, and my tentacle finally stops tapping against the floor. Three hours of negotiation has changed exactly nothing except the hour on the clock. I should find a less expensive way to waste an afternoon.

I roll my shoulders and lean back in the chair, enjoying the silence while it lasts. It lasts for roughly five seconds.