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W hen Thimble reported for duty, he had a much-stained scrap of parchment in his paws. He bobbed his way into the shop and slid it onto the counter top, patting it gently.

Tandri picked it up to scan. It was a list, written in a crabbed and slanting script. “Flour, soda, cinnamon, dark sugar, salt…. These are ingredients,” she said.

The rattkin nodded earnestly, pointing at the parchment.

“And some supplies,” Tandri added as she finished reading. “Looks like some pans, bowls….”

Thimble scurried to investigate the area behind the counter top, then peered into the pantry, as well, tapping his lip with one claw as he took inventory. He gestured for the paper, and Tandri returned it to him with an amused smile.

Seizing a stylus from under the counter next to the cashbox, he stood on tiptoe to add a few more items to the list before nodding decisively. If Thimble could communicate without speaking, that certainly appeared to be his preference.

“And this is what you’ll need to make more of those rolls? The ones with cinnamon?” asked Viv.

Thimble affirmed in the expected way.

“Any idea where I can get all this?” Viv asked Tandri.

“Not immediately, no. I’m sure I can find a baker, but….”

Thimble interrupted by pulling on Viv’s sleeve and pointing to himself. “ I show. ”

“Oh. Sure. Well, no time like the present, I guess. Tandri, you’re fine with holding things down ’til we get back?”

“Of course.”

The rattkin shifted from foot to foot and stared longingly at the coffee machine.

“ Coffee first?” he pleaded.

* * *

Thimble took his time with his drink, clearly appreciating every sip in what had become his favorite booth. The morning rush was in full swing before he finished and carried his mug to the front, where he waited by the door until the last customer in line had ordered.

“Guess we’ll be going,” said Viv, drying her hands and joining him.

Tandri gave her a distracted nod while frothing milk for a bleary-eyed Gatewarden.

Just as they prepared to leave, Amity drifted across the threshold like a low-lying thunderhead, and Thimble froze without so much as a squeak.

“Oh hells,” hissed Viv, preparing to hoist the rattkin out of reach at the dire-cat’s slightest aggressive twitch.

But Amity only blinked slowly, licked her nose, and then wandered past with marked disinterest.

The beast’s visits were so infrequent and unpredictable, Viv hadn’t spared a moment’s thought for how the cat might regard their baker.

Or maybe Viv trusted the Stone, and there’d never been a danger from the start.

They left the shop, and Viv followed the rattkin as he scampered to the merchant district on the north side.

It took the better part of the morning to gather everything Thimble needed, and Viv found herself thoroughly lost on several occasions.

When they visited the mill, she bought flour from the same miller she’d rented the cart from.

For a few bits extra, he threw in some empty sacks to carry the jumble of bundles, sealed jars, and pieces of crockery remaining on Thimble’s list.

The rattkin never hesitated, navigating unerringly through a warren of alleys and streets.

They visited various shops, and several times, he rapped on the door of a private residence.

In one notable case, they visited a bespectacled old man whose house swam with a heady mix of exotic scents.

Each time, Thimble tapped his list to request an item of the proprietor, then looked expectantly at Viv until she paid.

List conquered, Viv limped awkwardly to the shop with two flour bags over one shoulder, bulging sacks clenched in a fist, and the rest tucked under the opposite arm.

Her lower back was complaining again. Thimble marched before her, clutching an armload of wooden spoons.

When they arrived, Viv sidled past Hemington and two other customers into the back and unburdened herself with a sigh of relief.

Thimble immediately set to unpacking and arranging his prizes in the pantry, struggling gamely under the weight of the flour sacks but declining any assistance with a sharp shake of his furry head. Viv shrugged and left him to it.

“Find everything?” asked Tandri.

“Sure seems to be everything ,” Viv groaned, cracking her spine.

Thimble popped up between them, shocking them both with his longest utterance yet.

“ Enough t’ be getting on with. ”

Then he returned to his parcels with gusto.

* * *

After massaging away the worst of her back pain, Viv took over for Tandri as they served the latest round of customers. Behind the two of them, Thimble hummed tunefully to himself. A clatter of pans and bowls and wooden spoons was followed by much measuring and scraping and stirring.

He quickly appropriated the small table they’d been using as a drying rack, clambered up on the footstool, and began kneading out his dough. A mist of flour drifted around him as he worked.

While the dough rose, he approached with a nervous twitch of whiskers and whispered, “ Latte?”

“Thimble, I’ll keep a fresh cup in front of you all day, if you want.”

His whole body wriggled with pleasure.

Later, after all the customers were served, Viv and Tandri watched curiously as he resumed his work.

He smoothed out the dough with his new pin, spread a thick cinnamon filling across in a glistening layer, then carefully rolled it into a long cylinder.

He sliced it evenly, peeled apart the rolls, and deposited them neatly in a pan.

While the dough rose a second time, he lit the stove, threw fistfuls of sugar into a bowl with butter and milk, and stirred vigorously to make a glaze. A pleasant yeast and sugar smell pervaded the shop.

Once the rolls had risen to his satisfaction, he hopped down to slide them into the side box, then sat on the stool, steepled his fingers, and patiently waited.

The scent that arose from the stove now was impossible to ignore.

“Good gods,” murmured Tandri. “That smells amazing. I almost can’t stand it.”

Viv was about to agree but then looked up as she caught motion from the corner of her eye.

A carpenter, if the shavings in his hair were anything to go by, swayed in the entryway, his expression foggy. He sniffed hugely, then blinked. He just stood there for a minute, glancing quizzically around the shop and at the menu.

“Help you?” asked Viv.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and took another deep lungful.

“I’ll ’ave… whatever it is you ’ave,” he said.

He took the coffee Tandri brewed, paid dreamily, drifted into the dining area, and sat. He absently sipped his drink while staring off into the distance.

Tandri and Viv raised their eyebrows at each other.

“Eight hells, what is that smell?” asked a voice they both recognized. Laney approached the counter.

“Got a new baker.” Viv cocked a thumb at Thimble.

“Still in the oven, eh? Well, miss, don’t mind tellin’ you that I’m r’lieved. Didn’t want to speak ill o’ the coffee, but bakin’ is more liable to keep you afloat. An’ I pride myself on my bakin’, so, you c’n trust my judgement.” She pressed a modest hand to her bosom.

Viv kept her face carefully neutral, thinking of Laney’s cake.

“Well, won’t keep you,” continued the old woman. “But when you’ve some to sell, you set some aside for me, hear?”

“I sure will.”

As Laney hobbled out of the shop, three customers entered behind her, and beyond them, Viv could see passersby slowing and glancing around curiously as they entered the cloud of scent that was pouring out the door.

It looked like the afternoon might not be so lean, after all, and they hadn’t sold a single roll yet.

* * *

Viv and Tandri held a hurried conference. Viv thought they should charge two copper bits per roll, but Tandri laid a hand on her forearm, stared at her seriously, and said, “Four bits, Viv. Four. Bits.”

They took down the menu slate. Tandri quickly added a new entry and, in economical strokes, an illustration of a pastry, complete with sinuous lines representing the incredible smell.

~Legends & Lattes ~

~Menu~

Coffee ~ exotic aroma & rich, full-bodied roast—⒈／⒉ bit

Latte ~ a sophisticated and creamy variation—1 bit

Cinnamon Roll ~ heavenly frosted cinnamon pastry—4 bits

*

FINER TASTES FOR THE

~ WORKING GENT & LADY ~

“Four?” Viv asked again as she reseated the menu on the wall. “Really?”

“Trust me.”

Thimble hopped off his stool, took up a thick dishtowel, cracked open the stove, and withdrew the rolls.

They were enormous and golden and beautiful.

The smell billowed out in a wave as he placed them on the stovetop and closed the door.

Viv thought Tandri might have involuntarily moaned, and her own stomach growled noisily.

The rattkin drizzled them with the thick, creamy icing that he’d kept to the side, sniffed experimentally, and nodded in satisfaction.

Viv looked up to find Hemington staring with interest at the rolls. “What an incredible smell,” he said.

“Well, you said you wanted something to eat. You can be first in line.”

“Ah,” said Hemington, looking embarrassed. “Well, you see, I have certain dietary restrictions. I don’t exactly eat bread ….”

Viv’s brows drew low, and she leaned heavily on the counter.

“I’ll just buy one though, shall I?” he said lamely.

“Thank you.”

“Er. Indeed.”

At Thimble’s nod of encouragement, Tandri transferred the warm rolls onto a platter one by one and reverently set them on the counter.

As Hemington paid, Viv handed him a roll on a piece of waxed paper and leveled a glare at him. “If you don’t eat this, it’s possible Tandri or I may have to kill you.”

The young man laughed, although the laugh became strangled when Viv didn’t join in. He slunk back to his books with the roll balanced carefully on both palms.

Anyone who’d been in the dining area was already in line, waiting their turn, and within thirty minutes, every last roll was gone.

Tandri stared at the crumb-strewn plate, ran a finger through a dribble of glaze, licked it off, and looked bleakly at Viv. “I didn’t even get to have one,” she said. “I would’ve paid more than four bits.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” said Viv. “Seems like you’ll get another chance. And I don’t like to think what Laney will do with that broom if we don’t remember to set one aside for her, too.”

Thimble was already busily mixing up a new batch, humming again, louder—and happier—than before.