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V iv’s lack of concern was vindicated, and Tandri did indeed turn up the following morning. Viv was wringing out her wet hair into the street, a half-full bucket by her side. She’d reverted to camp-bathing after discovering she disliked visiting the nearest bathhouse.

She coiled up her hair and pinned it, then stood, palming water off her face. “I should have said when we’d start,” she said. “Can’t open yet. Still waiting on a delivery.”

“It seemed there was plenty to do already,” Tandri observed.

She was just as severe and direct as the previous day, with none of the sensual sway that Viv had noted in other succubi she’d met.

Although, admittedly, that was a vanishingly small number.

Only the syrupy gloss of Tandri’s hair and the sinuous lash of her tail hinted at anything but crisp efficiency.

“Oh?” asked Viv.

“I’ll need to know what I’ll be doing. No time like the present.”

“Right. Well, I can’t really show you the particulars until the equipment gets here, but the plan for today was to sort out some dishware and furnishings.

I’m not much of a decorator, but I’ve got a few ideas.

I was going to find a potter, then see about tables for the street, some chairs, maybe…

.” She waved vaguely. “Some… paintings? I thought this would be the easy part, but it’s very fiddly. ”

“If I can make a suggestion,” said Tandri. It didn’t sound like a question.

Viv made a be my guest gesture.

“Thune Market is today and tomorrow, the same as every week. If you want to be thrifty about it and save a lot of needless wandering, that’s what I’d recommend.”

“Willing to tour me around?”

“It’s your silver,” said Tandri, and while her tone was as even as ever, Viv thought she caught the ghost of a smile.

In Viv’s experience, most of the non-martial folk she met stepped carefully in her presence, as though cringing from a blow that would never come.

She enjoyed the succubus’s frank disposition.

Cal had an entirely different species of that bluntness.

She wondered again about the Scalvert’s Stone, and what it promised to draw to her.

Viv locked up and followed Tandri north of the High Street to a long, curving thoroughfare where many of the tradesfolk clearly had permanent storefronts or workshops.

She was surprised to note that it was near where she’d visited the locksmith when she’d first arrived.

Most vendors had awnings, tables, and displays set up on the wide street, and there was already a thickening mass of shoppers.

They browsed for a few hours, past noon.

Viv kept her eyes out for the items on her list, and Tandri deftly steered her away from some bad buys, noting subtle cracks in pottery or poor joins in ironwork.

Without prompting or permission, she took over the process of negotiation, and Viv could see that, despite how thoroughly she cloaked herself in neutral clothing and poise—and Tandri didn’t trade on physical allure, at all—the merchants responded to… something .

In the end, Viv paid for a full set of clay plates, mugs, and cups, and a pair of much larger copper kettles.

She also secured a hefty box of pewter spoons and cutlery, a utensil hanger, a rug, two wrought-iron tables with chairs to match, five wall-lanterns, assorted cleaning supplies, and a scattering of pastoral paintings that Viv thought looked blurry, but Tandri maintained were evocative .

In most cases, the succubus secured delivery as part of the deal, although Viv carried the box of cutlery and the utensil hanger under one arm as they left.

After dropping them off at the shop, Viv insisted on thanking Tandri with a late lunch.

There was a fey-run café on the High Street that was only open during the day, and somehow it seemed appropriate to the moment. The day was warm, and the smell of the river was strong. They sat at one of the tables in the street.

Fey cuisine was known for its buttery breads and artful presentation, and while Viv wasn’t normally particular about what she ate, she had to admit that she’d acquired a taste for it.

“So,” she said, as they waited on their meal. “Have you always lived here, in Thune?”

“No,” replied Tandri, poised in her seat. “I’ve lived lots of places.” The succubus then smoothly redirected. “And you’re clearly not the cosmopolitan sort. Why Thune?”

Viv thought about the ley lines, the real reason she’d chosen Thune, and figured that was thorny to explain.

She settled on a truthful but less complicated response.

“Research,” she said. Viv glanced ruefully down at herself.

“You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I do a lot of reading.

Anyway, once I got it in my head to do this, I spent a lot of time in Athenaeums, talked to a lot of people, and this seemed the best place for plenty of reasons. ”

“Coffee,” said Tandri, quirking a small smile. “Not-tea. Long-held dream or just a change of pace?”

Viv explained her encounter with it in Azimuth, a little more eloquently than she’d managed with Cal. Tandri looked thoughtful.

“Seems a far cry from what you might’ve done before.”

“Hm, and what line of work do you assume I was in?” Viv arched a brow.

Tandri looked stricken. “You’re right, that was stupid, especially….”

Viv snorted. “I’m just baiting you. My hide’s thicker than that. And for what it’s worth, your assumption isn’t wrong. You don’t get this many scars farming.”

Tandri gave her a searching look and then appeared to relax.

Their food arrived, and once the fey server left, Tandri lifted her mug of weak beer. “Well. To misplaced assumptions.”

Viv raised her own drink. “I’ll toast to that.”

As they ate, Viv continued. “I think I’d been looking for a way out for years.

Adventuring, fighting, hunting bounties—you’re either bleeding yourself slow from a hundred wounds or waiting on one deathblow.

But you get numb to the possibility of anything different.

This was the first time something else made me feel a way I wanted to keep feeling.

So, here I am, and with some blood still in me. ”

Tandri nodded but said nothing.

Viv waited, thinking Tandri might have something to say on her own behalf, but she quietly ate instead.

Maybe another time.

Still, it was a very pleasant meal.

* * *

When they returned to the shop, an enormous, gnomish crate sat in the street out front, and waiting atop it, legs dangling, sat a sturdy dwarf Viv knew well.

“Roon!” she cried. “What in all the hells are you doing here?”

He leapt down and approached, tugging nervously at his braided mustache. “Just makin’ a delivery to an old friend,” he said.

“Come here, you old stump,” she said, opening her arms wide.

His face broke into an expression of relief, and he embraced her. “Have to say, wasn’t sure you’d want to see me. The way you left….”

She got down on one knee to bring their faces closer to level. “I’m sorry about that. If I’d stopped to explain—tried to lay it all out—I thought I’d talk myself out of it. Wasn’t fair to you or the others, but….” She shrugged helplessly.

He searched her face, then nodded decisively and clapped her on the shoulders. “Well, you can tell us, now you’re clear of it. True?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Then she looked up at the crate. “But… the delivery?”

“Ah! Well, my brother Canna runs the carriage post out of Azimuth. Saw your name, was curious, an’ let me know. I offered to ride security. Done it before. Have to say, after seein’ the crate, I’m fair burnin’ to know what you’re up to.” His eyes flicked behind her.

“Oh! This is Tandri. She’s working with me.” Viv stood and made introductions. “Tandri, this is Roon. We ran together for, oh, for years, I guess.”

“Until veeerrrry recently. Pleased to meet you,” said Roon.

“Likewise.”

“Well, we can’t just stand in the street, like this,” said Viv. She unlocked the shop, then unbarred and opened the big doors. “Roon, help me move this thing inside.”

Together, they hauled it onto the long table. Tandri followed them bemusedly.

“All right,” said Viv. “You’re curious. You want to do the honors?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Roon replied.

He took the edge of the hatchet he kept on his belt and gently popped up the corners of the lid, and they slid it off.

Inside, nestled amidst wood shavings, was a large, silver box, crowded with ornate pipework, gauges behind thick glass, a set of knobs and dials, and a pair of long-handled contraptions along the front.

“Viv,” said Roon, who was standing on the bench to peer down into the crate. “I haven’t the faintest damned idea what that is.”

“It’s a coffee machine,” mused Tandri aloud. “Isn’t it?”

“That’s exactly what it is,” said Viv, with great satisfaction.

“Coffee?” said Roon. “Is this what you were on about back in Azimuth?” He shot a glance at Tandri. “Couldn’t stop belaborin’ it.”

“Yep.” Viv smiled at him.

“Well, what in the hells are you plannin’ to do with it?” asked Roon.

“Help me get it out of here, and I’ll tell you.”

* * *

They shortly had it up on the counter top and the crate out in the street. Viv drew the big doors closed, again. She wasn’t interested in another unexpected visit from Lack, especially not right now. With Roon here, she might find it more difficult to rein in her desire to knock him bloody.

A pamphlet was packed into the crate amongst the shavings. Tandri claimed it and perused it while Viv and Roon chatted at the big table.

After Viv explained her plans and what she’d done with the place, Roon gave the building a longer, more appreciative inspection.

“Whew,” he said. “Well, Viv, when you go at somethin’, you don’t go at it soft. Can’t say I understand how you plan to make it work, but you never ran into a fight without knowin’ how it was goin’ to turn out. Guess I’d trust your gut over mine.”

“Not sure about that,” said Viv. “But I did my best not to leave too much to chance.”