Then a dwarf edged in beside him, examining the table as he tugged on one side of an enormous walrus mustache.
As Fern chattered animatedly with the lady, Viv grinned and stepped up to address the dwarf, forgetting about greatswords and necromancers and Rackam for a while.
She might have only hitched along on this wagon for a few weeks, but there was no reason not to get out and push.
And that was the beginning of a very full day.
28
The procession of customers and the curious wasn’t exactly steady, ebbing and flowing as the sun tracked across the sky, but it never faltered for terribly long. Some bought, some just browsed, but the stacks of packages were slowly nibbled away.
It was clear they were getting more than the passengers from the frigate, as Fern greeted some folk by name. Viv supposed word must have spread, and to be honest, what else was there to do in Murk? Novelty was novelty.
A few hours in, Maylee appeared with a large basket of lassy buns. Her skinny assistant hauled another in her wake.
The dwarf grinned at Viv as she set the basket on the end of one of the tables while Fern scrambled to make room, a look of distracted confusion on her face. The scent of molasses and ginger wafted through the air.
“Thought I’d donate a little somethin’ to the cause,” said Maylee, before the rattkin could ask. She surveyed the tables of wrapped books. “I figure nothin’ predisposes people to stop and look like their stomachs.”
Fern stared back at the dwarf, dumbstruck, until Viv mumbled, “I, uh, may have said something about your plan.”
“I … thank you,” said Fern, as Maylee’s assistant shoved her own basket in beside it.
“Don’t mention it, hon.” Maylee winked at her. “I’ve got this real fine book on gnomish pastries that I think you might’ve had a hand in.” She squeezed Viv around the hips. “Only fair to return the favor.”
“Thanks,” whispered Viv, feeling another stab of guilt. She could still picture Maylee’s hurt expression after Viv’s obvious distraction during their last walk.
“You bet, hon,” said the dwarf, although she didn’t meet her eyes.
Viv was in the process of formulating some kind of stealthy apology when a voice piped up from the far table.
“Spicy? Moist?” Gallina held a parcel at arm’s length with a bemused look on her face.
“You didn’t put that on there!” exclaimed Fern, with a sharp look at Viv.
Viv shrugged. “I think you said I should write ‘passionate’ and ‘love,’ but I thought it was worth the experiment.”
“Oh, hells, yeah, this sounds way more interestin’,” said Gallina. “And I don’t even read.”
“What are you doing here, then?” Viv gave her a flat look.
“Browsin’. Also it looks like you got sweet buns, so …”
“For paying customers,” said Viv.
“One bun with every sale,” added Maylee with a grin.
“See, you still owe me that story though, remember? So, it’s kinda like I already paid.”
“You won’t sit still for me to read it to you. So now it’s my turn to propose a deal. I’ll pay for what’s in your hands, and then …” Viv plucked one of the lassies out of a basket. “You get your bun. And we’re square.”
Gallina looked from the parcel to the bun with a speculative expression. “Fine. But mostly for the bun.” She shifted her gaze to Maylee and said in a loud stage whisper, “She’s shit at reading out loud. Put me right to sleep.”
Viv sighed and fished thirty bits out of her wallet, dropping the coins in the cash box. She tossed the bun toward Gallina, who whipped a dagger from her bandolier and speared it with a sassy smirk. She took a deliberate bite out of it and waggled the package at Viv. “I can prob’ly come up with a use for the paper, too,” she mumbled through her mouthful.
“Rackam likes the literate!” Viv called after her as the gnome hiked toward The Perch.
“It’s a good bun, Maylee!” hollered Gallina over her shoulder.
* * *
“Highlark!” exclaimed Viv.
“Ah, Viv, what a relief to see you idle and not leaking all over everything.”
“Uh, this is Fern.” She laid a hand on the rattkin’s shoulder. “Thistleburr is her shop. I don’t think you’ve met.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” said Fern as she finished depositing some coins into the cashbox.
“He’s got almost as many books as you do,” said Viv.
“A bibliophile?” asked Fern, brows rising with interest.
“She exaggerates my collection,” replied Highlark, inclining his head. “Mostly reference texts. I confess, this is a charming idea.” He ran a forefinger down the front of one of the bundles. “Treachery, alchemy, and brotherhood. Intriguing.”
“Pretty literary stuff in that one,” said Fern.
“You’ve read them? All of them?” asked Highlark, in apparent surprise, as he gestured across the tables.
“Not exactly. But I’ve read all of those. Do you like Tensiger?”
A more genuine smile bloomed on Highlark’s face than Viv had ever seen. “You might even consider me a bit of a fan.”
Fern tapped another bundle. “Then this one might be of interest, too.”
When the surgeon finally departed, he had three bundles under his arms and a bun in his teeth.
* * *
As the horizon began to burn red out over the sea, the tables were well and truly picked over. They hadn’t sold everything—maybe only half—but Fern had needed to take the cashbox inside to empty it when it became overstuffed with coins. The entire endeavor had been wildly more successful than Viv had imagined it might be.
Maylee had left shortly after delivering her contribution, and now the baskets sat empty on the tables, nothing but crumbs lining their bottoms.
Viv carried them down to Sea-Song, returning them to Maylee with Fern’s thanks, a murmured sweetness, and a promise to visit the following morning. She wanted to make up for yesterday, but it would have to wait until they were alone.
When Viv got back to Thistleburr, Fern had already cleared the makeshift tables of books and was indoors.
Stacking the planks, Viv stowed them close to the boardwalk. She arranged the trestles over them until Pitts could retrieve them later, while twilight indigo gnawed away the sunset.
When she entered the shop, Fern let out a whoop and Viv started in surprise.
“Eight fucking hells!” the rattkin cried. “I can’t believe we did it! I don’t even know how many we sold!”
Satchel looked up from one of the chairs. Surprisingly, he had his feet propped on the stool, a book across his bony lap. “Eighty-seven books, m’lady.”
The rattkin blew out a breath. “Just Fern, Satchel. No ‘m’lady’ needed.”
The homunculus didn’t reply to that. Somehow, Viv doubted he’d honor the request.
The remaining wrapped books stood in neat stacks in the back hall, and the shelves throughout the shop were more thinly populated, awaiting the new shipment.
“Maybe you should wrap up all the books from now on,” said Viv, only half joking.
Fern laughed. “If only it was that easy! We really sold these cheap. It bought me some time and made some room, but if I did that with new stock, I might as well be giving them away. Still. That was amazing. And those buns didn’t hurt. I hope you thanked Maylee again for me.”
Viv bobbed a nod before addressing Satchel. “What’ve you got there, then?”
The homunculus looked down at the book and back up at her. “M’lady … Fern insisted I do something that could not be considered labor. This seemed the most obvious option.”
“And what do you think?”
He cocked his head to the side, blue eyes flickering. “It’s possible I can see the appeal. But perhaps I should sample one of the moist ones.”
Viv tried hard not to choke on her laughter.
29
One problem with successfully offloading a heap of books on the visitors and citizens of Murk—one that Fern loudly blamed herself for not seeing in advance—was that the demand for reading material was entirely satisfied. Thistleburr might as well have been a tomb in the wake of the sale.
The shelves had a desolate look about them, too, riddled with gaps, lonely stretches left unfilled.