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W ith Thimble already elbow-deep in his baking before dawn—and with Tandri strategically cracking the door ahead of time to let the smell creep into the street—the opening crowd was easily triple the prior day’s.

Tandri and Viv brewed side by side, working both handles in a flustered but energized confusion, nearly tripping over one another to fill orders.

Thimble’s cinnamon rolls disappeared in minutes, but he had wisely already set more dough to rise while the first batch was in the oven.

With the stove running full blast, the shop was hotter than usual, and muggy from the steaming rolls. Both women sweated through their shirts within the hour. The chatter of the crowd, Thimble’s clatter, and the hiss and rumble of the gnomish coffee machine filled the air with a dizzying madness.

As the morning crept toward noon, the crowd slackened but never lapsed for more than ten minutes.

The dining area sang with a lively clamor, and the rumble of conversation pervaded.

Customers dallied longer, enjoying their baked goods and sipping their drinks without hurrying, and for the first time, more sat at the big communal table than sought the relative solitude of a booth.

Viv leaned on the counter, studying their faces, and saw, at last, what she’d been too nervous to hope for.

She found it in half-lidded eyes and a slow, deliberate swallow.

In cupped hands around the warmth of a mug and the lingering enjoyment of the last taste.

It was the echo of her own experience, and a pleasant flush of recognition washed over her.

“You haven’t stopped smiling in an hour,” said Tandri, startling Viv out of woolgathering during a brief lull.

“I haven’t?”

“Nope.”

They were both red-faced and too warm, but Viv couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed Tandri seemed today. Viv liked it.

“Just feels like everything lined up. I had the same feeling a few times before—like when I found Blackblood.” Viv tipped her head toward the blade on the wall.

“She just felt at home in my hands, and when I went to use her, well….” Realizing where that story went, she stopped short. “Anyway, this feels… right.”

“It does.”

“Still some kinks to work out, though.”

“I think you can rest on your laurels for a day or two,” said Tandri, with a wry smile.

“I don’t know, we might boil to death in the meantime.”

Thimble appeared between them, and they looked down. He glanced up at Viv and tugged at the hem of her shirt, pointed at the oven, then spread his arms wide.

“I… sorry, I don’t know what you mean, Thimble.”

His nose wriggled, and he whispered, “ Bigger. Would be better… bigger. ”

“The rolls? They’re already as big as my head!”

He shook his head. “ Stove . Stove! ” Then he quailed. “ Sorry! Sorry! ”

Viv glanced over at the oven Cal had installed.

Thimble had worked nonstop, and the rolls sold out almost as soon as they cooled.

Perhaps demand would taper off a little, but she could certainly see how the pace might run the poor rattkin ragged.

A bigger stove would make it easier to stay on top of things.

“I’d like to, Thimble, but I don’t know how we could fit it in. It’s already getting pretty tight back here.”

Thimble looked downcast for a moment, but he nodded in reluctant agreement.

“If only they could keep longer,” mused Tandri aloud. “If they didn’t have to be fresh, then we could hold them in reserve and take some of the pressure off.”

The rattkin stared at her, tapped his lower lip thoughtfully with a claw, and blinked a few times. He slowly meandered back to his dough, rolling out a fresh sheet, but Viv noticed that he paused every once in a while to stare into the distance.

* * *

When Cal dropped by for the first time in days, Viv immediately handed him a cinnamon roll. He examined it curiously, then took a modest bite.

His response was entirely predictable.

“Hm.”

But it was the good sort of Hm .

He nodded at the busy dining area while he chewed and swallowed.

“Looks as though things are tickin’ right along.

And this….” He looked at the roll appreciatively.

“This is mighty fine. Told you that stove might show itself worthy. Don’t s’pose I could have one of those lattes to go with?

” He examined the menu and slid six bits onto the counter top.

Viv slid them right back. “You keep those. And I’ve got some more for you if you can think of something to do about the heat in here. It’s hot as the eight hells when the stove is going.”

He chewed another bite, closing his eyes with a pleased sigh. “Well. I may have a thought, but might need a piece of time to see if it’ll work. Somethin’ I saw on a gnomish pleasure craft. Very clever.”

Viv was intrigued. “Some kind of window?”

“Nope. Not a window,” he said. “Don’t want to get your hopes up if it ain’t workable.

You give me a day or two, I’ll see what I can see.

Try not to burn the place down between now and then.

” He favored her with one of his thin, but genuine, smiles.

Then he took his drink and his roll and ambled into the dining area.

* * *

Later in the day, business held steady, with customers trickling in and out often enough to keep them occupied but not harried.

As Viv dried her hands for what must’ve been the eighth time after washing mugs in the basin, a big fellow with the look of a farmhand entered the shop.

Viv was perplexed to see some kind of lute tucked under one arm.

Thick sheaves of yellow hair kept falling over his eyes, and his hands were as enormous and rough as her own, which seemed odd for a musician.

“Help you?” she asked.

“Er, hello there. I wanted to ask if I… wait, um. Uh, hello,” he stammered, starting over. “My name is Pendry. I’m a….” His voice dropped very low, almost to a whisper. “A bard? ” It sounded more like a question.

“Congratulations,” replied Viv, in an amused tone.

“I was… was wondering if I could, maybe… maybe entertain? In here, I mean?”

Viv was taken aback. “I hadn’t really thought about anything like that before,” she admitted.

“Oh. Oh, well, um. That’s… that’s fine.” He nodded hugely, his hair flopping against his cheeks.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might be relieved .

“Are you any good?” asked Tandri, coming around the counter and crossing her arms.

“I, uh. Well, I….”

Viv snorted and nudged Tandri gently in the ribs.

“Tell you what,” said Viv, thinking of the Scalvert’s Stone and that feeling of snapping closed she’d experienced, everything slotting into place. “Why don’t you go ahead. You’re not asking for anything but permission, right?”

Pendry looked a bit sick to his stomach. “Yes. I mean no. I mean… okay.”

Then he just stood there.

Tandri made a shooing motion. “Go ahead, then.” Her expression was severe, but Viv could tell she was trying not to smile.

The farmhand, or bard, or whatever he was, shuffled into the other room and looked around with barely-suppressed horror on his face.

He made his way to the back, head down, and turned slowly around.

Nobody paid him much attention, and he simply stood there for a few minutes, strangling his lute, fidgeting with the tuning pegs, and murmuring under his breath.

Viv was pretty sure he was arguing with himself, and she peered curiously around the corner at him.

The lute was odd. She’d never seen one like it before. There didn’t seem to be an opening on the front for resonance. Instead, there was a slab of some sort of slate-like stone underneath the strings, with silver pins embedded in it.

She almost thought he’d fold under his anxiety and slink back out of the shop, but he took a deep breath and began to strum.

The noise that emerged was unlike anything she’d expected, and all conversation cut short.

There was a raw, wailing edge to the notes, much louder than any lute Viv had ever heard before.

She flinched and saw others do the same as Pendry began playing in earnest. The sound the man produced wasn’t unmusical , but there was something almost savage about it.

She wondered if maybe her trust in the Scalvert’s Stone to draw what she needed here might have been a bit too blind, because if this was its doing….

Viv glanced at the patrons, who looked uncomfortable. A few rose as though they were preparing to leave.

She started to approach the young man, who, for a wonder, looked fully relaxed at this point, lost in the music. As she drew near, his eyes fluttered open, and he saw her. He glanced around the room and absorbed the shocked expressions of the people there, and abruptly stopped playing.

“Pendry?” Viv held up a hand.

“Oh, gods,” he moaned, clearly mortified.

And he fled the shop, his lute held before him like a shield.

* * *

Viv felt sorry for the kid, but the afternoon rush put him out of her mind.

Demand for baked goods tapered off enough that Thimble could rest, and eventually Viv sent the poor rattkin home.

He was knackered, and Viv got the impression that if she didn’t cut him off, he’d work himself into unconsciousness.

As she returned from clearing tables, she found Tandri standing by the front window.

“It’s not Kellin again, is it?”

“Hm? No, nothing like that.”

“What then?”

“That old man.”

Viv leaned out the door to look. Seated at one of their tables was an elderly gnome wearing a curious bent cap, like a small sack, and dark spectacles.

Before him was a mug, a cinnamon roll, and a chessboard with little ivory pieces on it.

Nobody was seated across from him. Curled around the base of the table, however, was Amity, purring in a contented rumble.

The huge cat remained an infrequent visitor and shunned the bed of blankets they’d made, so it was a surprise to see her in repose.

“Huh, Amity seems to like him.” Viv shrugged. “I must be missing something though.”

“He’s been there for an hour. He came in a little after our would-be bard.”

“And?”

“I can’t figure out who’s moving the other pieces.”

“He’s playing by himself?”

Tandri nodded. “But he never seems to move for the other side. Or at least, I’ve never caught him doing it.”

“You managed to track that out of the corner of your eye?”

“I mean, at first, I didn’t pay any attention, but now I can’t help but keep glancing over.”

“Well,” said Viv. “We’ve had hell’s own bard here, today. Why not a chess-playing phantom?”

“I’ll catch him doing it some time,” Tandri said, nodding decisively.

Then two Gatewardens crowded through the door to buy out the rest of the rolls.

They promptly forgot about the gnome.