As Viv returned empty-handed for the next crate, she and Fern shared a glance, and neither could think of a thing to say.
The two orcs hauled the remaining crates while Fern hovered around the edges, whiskers twitching anxiously.
When Pitts had left, Viv unslung Satchel’s bag and Fern dusted him awake. Then the three of them stood together in the shop, inspecting the new arrivals while Potroast sniffed around the boxes.
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 so clean,” observed Viv.
“New gnomish printers,” said Fern, still grinning ear to ear. “Cheaper to produce and they 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 exactly are you 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’ this job 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 were bored and not feelin’ too delicate …”
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 for that long.”
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 wait too long, 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.
Satchel cleared his throat. “If you do decide to deal with those creatures, I may be of some assistance.”
“No offense,” said Gallina, “but I think spinebacks kinda like to crack bones between their teeth?”
“Nevertheless,” he said, and the flames in his eyes flashed like a knot popping in a hearth fire.
“You know, Satchel, the longer I know you, the less I think I know about you,” said Viv. She wondered again what services Varine might have required of him.
As Gallina was getting up to leave, Fern called out, “Oh, that book you wanted should be in here somewhere.”
Gallina looked stricken.
“Uh. Yeah. I’ll get that later, then,” the gnome said in a strangled voice, and hurried out the door.
“Wait, she really did read something? What did she ask for?”
Fern finished shelving the volume in her paws and turned back to Viv, her eyes sharp with humor.
She mouthed one word.
“Moist.”
* * *
When they’d finished shelving everything, Viv carted the empty crates out back to keep for later. When she returned, she found Fern arranging the last of the books she’d set aside on the front table.
With the knuckles of one paw to her chin, she contemplated the entire setup and then reached out and swapped two of them.
“Huh. Looks nice,” said Viv. It did. The covers showed well with their fronts out, and Fern had arranged them at artful angles or face up and sometimes rakishly tilted.
There was something modern and immediate about many of the designs. Bold, serifed text in gold or silver, iconography that suggested a dream condensed. Some were covered in marbled cloth with blooms of color like exotic foliage.
Fern studied them with a wistful smile on her lips. “It’s funny. I hate to sell them. Did I ever tell you that? If I could keep them all, I would.”
“Solid business plan.”
The rattkin slapped her on the arm.
“Desert Heat,” said Viv, grinning. “Greatstrider, huh?” She tapped a volume with a very detailed illustration of an orc and a human on the verge of shedding the rest of their clothing and doing something very acrobatic. A thought occurred to her, and her eyes widened. “Wait, this isn’t Gallina’s, is it?”
“A good bookseller doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“So that’s absolutely a yes. Anyway, when do you want to reopen?”
“Anxious to go spineback hunting?”
Viv shrugged uncomfortably. “That’s not what I meant …”
“I know. I’m fucking with you. Actually, I had an idea, and I wanted to see what you thought about it.” Fern sat in one of the padded chairs and motioned for Viv to join her.
As she sank into the seat, she shot the rattkin a perplexed look. “Not sure why you’d need my opinion.”
“Well, it’s about Maylee. Do you think … do you think she might want to sell some of her scones or biscuits here?”
For a moment, Viv’s thoughts were knocked sideways as she felt the phantom of Maylee’s kiss at the corner of her mouth and an echo of last night’s conversation. Her face warmed. Then she shook it off. “Easy enough to ask.” She tried a wry grin. “Just cleaned the place, and now you want crumbs all over, huh?”
“That’s why I have Potroast. But I think there’s something about curling up with a book and something good to eat. And we have the chairs, and, well … I like having somebody in here. Having you in here day in and day out … I like the company.”