“And pretty soon, I’m not going to be here,” said Viv quietly.
Fern shrugged. “Yeah. We’ve gone to all this trouble, so why not make it a place people want to stay, however we can? However I can?”
That shift from “we” to “I” stung more than Viv expected it to. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? When she was gone, she wanted Fern happy and successful, didn’t she? That’s what a friend would want.
She laced her fingers together between her knees and wondered what it said about her that the thought made her bridle. “I think it’s a great idea.” And then, crushing that feeling down as hard as she could, she cleared her throat and forged on. “And speaking of Maylee, her idea didn’t seem half bad either.”
“About trying to get Greatstrider down here? If she showed up on my doorstep, I wouldn’t complain, I’ll admit. But can you see me bobbing on hers, begging her to parade around my shabby little shop like … like some kind of visiting dignitary?” Fern snorted. “I’m not that brave.”
“First, the shop isn’t shabby.” Viv leveled a finger at her. “We painted the shit out of this place. And second, you happen to be sitting across from somebody who makes a habit of charging into things like a damned fool.”
“You’re going to convince her to visit?”
“What if I do?”
Fern considered that. “Well, after I finished kissing you on the mouth, I suppose I’d do my gods-damned best to arrange the finest reopening I could muster.”
Viv slapped her thighs and stood. “Just don’t kiss me in front of Maylee.”
“Mmm, yes. Hard to explain, I imagine.”
“Mind the fort, Potroast,” said Viv, saluting the gryphet.
He hooted at her sleepily, then settled his feathered head back between his paws.
* * *
When Viv passed Sea-Song, she spied Maylee’s silhouette through the fogged windows, but she didn’t think the dwarf saw her, which was a relief. They needed to speak with one another, but she had a few errands she wanted to get out of the way first. Viv felt like a phantom as she left the bakery behind. She had the surreal sense of setting her affairs in order in case she died. Making sure things carried on when she wouldn’t be around to see them.
It unnerved her.
Doing her best to shake off that grim feeling, she hiked into the fortress walls to find Iridia.
There were still more Gatewardens about than normal, but their attention had lapsed from the high alert Iridia had once demanded. And no wonder. Necromantic invasions had been notably thin on the ground.
A few questions asked of one of the women posted at the gate sent her in the right direction.
Before tackling that particular task, though, she addressed something much simpler. Just inside the fortress walls, a busy livery had coaches for let and stalls of well-bred horses. The animals shied at her appearance, and she did her best to keep her distance while she searched for the dispatcher.
She secured transport for the following day, paying in advance. With that done, she threaded her way through the tight warren of streets to the Gatewarden’s garrison.
“A symbol?” asked the tapenti when Viv explained why she’d come.
“The same one I told you about, the one on Bal—” She caught herself. “On the dead man’s tattoo.”
Iridia narrowed her eyes at the slip, but she didn’t press.
“Look, you can send someone up to check it out. You can’t miss it. I don’t know what the hells it means, but it’s obviously hers. Maybe it’s just related to whoever killed him? I’m just passing along the information.”
“You know, I can’t help but think that if you’d never come to my town, our friend in gray would have gone about his business, and none of this would be my problem.”
“Or maybe something worse would’ve happened,” said Viv, her temper kindling. She relaxed her fists with an effort. The idea of hunting down a bunch of spinebacks was suddenly very appealing. “I’m just trying to be a good guest in your town.”
Then she took a deep breath and asked the question she’d been trying to figure out how to pose. The one that she had to bring up after her late-night conversation with Satchel. “That book. You’ve still got it? Is it nearby?”
“Near enough,” replied Iridia, cocking her head. “Why? It’s not your problem anymore. You’ve transferred it to me.”
“It, uh, might be important in taking care of Varine if she shows.”
“Do you care to elaborate on that?”
“I … can’t just yet.”
“Of course not.”
“But is it close?”
The Gatewarden smiled thinly, and then turned away, calling over her shoulder as she strolled back into her office, “Tit for tat, Viv. I’ll let you know when you’re feeling more forthcoming.”
* * *
Viv waited until the bakery closed and Maylee was taking in the sign that hung on the door. The dwarf blinked at her in surprise, cheeks flushed and flour-flecked.
“Hey, you,” said Viv, with a small wave that felt ridiculous.
“Hey, hon,” replied Maylee. There was nothing reserved in her smile, as open and whole as though Viv hadn’t knelt before her on the boardwalk and bruised everything just the night before.
Viv felt the relieved shame of happiness over a problem deferred. “I had a couple of things to ask you.”
“C’mon inside then.” The baker held the door for her. Viv brought up Fern’s idea and then her own, and it was easy and natural in the yeasty warmth and yellow glow, with the clatter of her assistant cleaning the bowls.
After that, their conversation moved on to other things—stories from the road, the foibles of customers—as Viv helped scrub down the counters and clear the fireboxes. And for a while, the future didn’t matter. And that was fine.
35
Viv rode on the back of the coach as it rumbled over the dirt road heading north along low sea-cliffs. She felt like Tamora from Heart’s Blade, with one hand gripping a bar along the roof and one foot on the backboard. Satchel’s bag hung over one shoulder, slapping at her hip. Neither she nor Fern had been comfortable leaving him alone, not after the symbol on the bluff. Besides, he seemed delighted at the mere prospect of hearing Greatstrider’s voice.
Her arm stretched and flexed, absorbing every shock of the road, and she found herself grinning at the wind in her curls. She breathed deep the fresh salt air.
Fern poked her head out the coach door. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride in here? Or on the buckboard?” Potroast’s head followed hers out, squawking in agreement.
“I’m fine,” she hollered back. “Too small in there, and horses hate me anyway.”
The rattkin shot a glance between Viv’s hand on the hilt of her sword and the grin on her face. “Heart’s Blade, huh?” she called.
“What? Um. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Fern laughed and disappeared back inside. The coachman spared a look over his shoulder at Viv but didn’t slow the horses.
In the distance, on the back of a series of ascending hills, Zelia Greatstrider’s estate came into view within a girdle of trees that definitely weren’t native to the area. As they drew nearer, Viv spied manicured hedges and a fountain ringed by a groomed drive.
“Fancy,” she said to herself, and started to have a few misgivings about the worthiness of the gift she’d brought.
When the coach came to a stop, Viv hopped down and skirted widely around the blinkered horses. The coachman opened the door and folded out a step for Fern and the gryphet to climb down, then reached inside and withdrew a basket covered with muslin and passed it to Viv.
“Just wait here for a bit, all right?” she said, pressing a handful of extra coins into his rough palm.