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V iv handed Laney one of her own plates with a fresh and steaming roll on it—something she’d been doing for a few days now. Laney always left a clean plate on Viv’s counter before closing with four shiny bits on it, and every morning, Viv returned it less the coins and plus a pastry.

“Well, thank ya, dear!” cried Laney, taking the plate with eager hands. “You tell that rattkin lad if he wants to trade recipes sometime, I’ve got some corkers.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Viv replied, wondering what Thimble would make of Laney’s cakes.

“Jes’ so proud to have you as a neighbor.”

Viv glanced back at the shop. “I hope so, because it looks like you might be stuck with me.”

Laney nodded. “Good to see you settlin’ in. All that t’was needed was a partner.”

“A partner?”

The old woman’s eyes grew distant. “My ol’ Titus used to say we filled each other’s gaps. ’Course, when he said it, it sounded dirtier .”

While Viv puzzled over that, Laney wafted the steam from the roll to her nose. “I don’t mind tellin’ you, this beats the smell of horse apples, any day of the week.” Her eyes disappeared in the dried-fruit crinkle of her grin.

“I’d always hoped we’d clear the high bar set by horseshit.”

Laney burst into cackling laughter, and Viv returned to the shop, shaking her head.

Taivus was waiting beside the door, gray as morning smoke and just as quiet. He wordlessly handed her a folded scrap of parchment.

Viv thanked him, and he nodded, then ghosted down the street.

She unfolded and read it.

Freyday, at Dusk

Corner of Branch & Settle

Come Alone

Unarmed

Her meeting with the Madrigal was set.

* * *

“I don’t like that you’re going alone,” said Tandri.

“It’s not really up for negotiation.” Viv set the crossbar across the big doors and moved to douse the wall lanterns.

“I could watch from a distance.”

“Even if they didn’t notice you—which they would—it wouldn’t do any good. The Madrigal isn’t at this address. Likely they’ll cover my eyes, and we’ll walk far from there. If you followed, they’d definitely notice.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

Viv shrugged. “Not much point.”

“That’s exasperating.”

“I learned to stay loose and level a long time ago. Things always turn out better that way, usually for everybody.”

The shop was fully shut, and they stood outside as Viv locked the door. The sun was coming down slow, but sure, and the light burned red.

“Go home,” said Viv gently. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

“If you’re not here in the morning, then what should I do?” asked Tandri grimly.

“I’ll be here. But if I’m wrong….” Viv handed her the spare key to the front door, and after a second’s thought, she unstrung the one around her neck. “And this one’s for the strongbox.”

Tandri turned them over in her hands. “This isn’t exactly reassuring.”

Viv grasped her shoulder and could feel the tension there. “It’ll be fine. I’ve been in worse scrapes, and have the scars to prove it. And I don’t expect to have any new ones tomorrow.”

“Promise me that?”

“Can’t promise, but if I’m wrong, I guess you can clear out the cashbox.”

Tandri gave her a thin smile. “I expect the door to be unlocked tomorrow when I get here.”

* * *

Viv didn’t have to wait long on the corner of Branch & Settle, far south of the shop. She could see why they’d chosen it. The intersecting streets were intermittently lit, and the corner itself was overlooked by a big, splintered heap of a warehouse.

A familiar face emerged from a darker scrap of shadow, and doffed his hat.

“We’re well on our way to becoming fast friends, it seems. It won’t be long ’til you find yourself using my name.”

“I guess you can put in a friendly word for me, then,” said Viv. She looked around but didn’t see anyone else. She knew they were there, though. “How’s this going to work?”

“Follow me,” said Lack. He gestured at a small doorway into the warehouse.

She did, and once they stepped inside, he produced a hood.

“A blindfold won’t do?”

Lack shrugged. “You’ll breathe just fine.”

She sighed and tugged it on. Only a little of the warehouse’s dim light filtered through the weave. Lack’s hand found her elbow, and she didn’t flinch at his touch.

He steered her through the building, and then she heard a metallic shriek.

Viv felt the boards under her feet jump as he flipped open a pair of doors in the floor with two dusty bangs.

He led her down a set of creaking stairs, touching the top of her head to warn her of the frame so she didn’t crack her skull as she descended.

She smelled earth, at first, and then the growing scent of the river. They passed through pockets of coolness and cross-breezes, and they turned several times. Sometimes, the floor was stone and gravel, and other times dirt or wood.

Eventually, they ascended another set of stairs, rising into the smell of wood oil and cleaner and fabrics and something more floral that Viv couldn’t quite place.

“All right,” said Lack.

Viv removed the hood from her head and took in what was before her. “Well, I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”

The room was cozy. A pair of huge stuffed armchairs sat before a small, tidily bricked fireplace with an ornate folding screen, the low twinkle of flames showing behind.

Polished tables flanked the chairs, one holding a tea service heavily illustrated with twining plants.

A large, gilt-framed mirror hung above the fireplace, and red velvet drapes bordered big, paneled windows.

Enormous bookshelves towered against the walls, positively crammed with thick volumes.

Crocheted doilies covered a long, low table, and a luxurious carpet was soft underfoot.

A tall, elderly woman sat ensconced in one of the armchairs, her silver hair in a severe bun, her face regal but not unkind. She was crocheting a fresh doily and took her time completing a round before absently looking at Viv.

To Viv, it was blindingly clear from her bearing, and from the deference Lack showed, that this was, indeed, the Madrigal.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Viv,” said the woman. Her voice was dry and strong.

Viv did.

Before she could speak, the Madrigal continued.

“Of course, I know a great deal about you. That’s at least half my business, knowing. And connecting. But I confess, I was surprised when Taivus reached out. Of course, he went by a different name when I knew him.” She glanced up from her crocheting. “Did he mention how he knew me ?”

Her expression was mild, but Viv sensed a great blackness beneath that question. “No, ma’am.”

The Madrigal nodded, and Viv couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if she’d answered differently.

“Taivus’ appeal might not have been enough for me to agree to meet you,” she said. “If it hadn’t been for another mutual acquaintance.”

“Another?” Viv was confused.

“Indeed.” The movement of her crochet hook was hypnotic.

It only took another moment for Viv to catch on, and it should’ve taken less. “Fennus?”

“He did provide me with some interesting information. And as I said, knowing is my business.”

“So he had a tale to tell. Something about a scrap of an old song, maybe, and a new visitor to the city?”

“All of which is why you’re here, not because of some monthly dues.” She fluttered a hand as though they were of no consequence. The woman’s mouth pinched. “Also, I’ll be frank. Despite what you might think, given the circumstances, I don’t have much use for assholes .”

Viv couldn’t stop herself from snorting. “You agreed to meet me out of spite .”

She thought she caught a twinkle in the Madrigal’s eye. “Let me be straightforward. At my advanced age, I’ve found that the fast cut bleeds less.”

That wasn’t exactly Viv’s experience, but she understood the sentiment. If this woman wanted directness, she’d oblige. “What do you want to know?”

“You have a Scalvert’s Stone?”

“I do.”

“Somewhere on the premises, I imagine?”

“Yes.”

The woman nodded appreciatively. “I’ve read a few of the verses and myths. Fennus supplied some, as you’ve guessed. But my own resources are extensive.”

“You could take it from me.” Viv had a twist of nausea but also a wild feeling of boldness. Almost like the old days.

“I could,” agreed the Madrigal. She looked sharply at Viv. “Would it do me any good?”

Viv thought about that for a moment. “Hard to say. Based on what I know, location matters. And I’m not entirely sure it works.”

“My dear, there was a derelict livery at that address, ruined by an impotent moron with a drinking problem, and in a few months you—a woman who deals mostly in blood—have rebuilt it into a successful business that is gathering attention across Thune. Let’s not be coy.”

“I guess I’ve seen enough coincidences that I find it easy to doubt. But you’re probably right.”

“I’m rarely wrong. It’s been known to happen, but I don’t like to let on.”

“So. Are you planning to take it from me?”

The Madrigal put her crocheting in her lap and stared hard at Viv. “No.”

“Can I ask why not?”

“Because the information available is open to interpretation. I’m not convinced I’d benefit.”

Viv frowned thoughtfully.

The Madrigal continued, “Now, about those monthly dues.”

Viv took a deep breath. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. But I’d rather not pay.”

The Madrigal resumed her crocheting. “You know, you and I aren’t so different.

” A side of her mouth quirked up. “Well, you’re certainly taller,” she said drily.

“But we’ve both journeyed between extremes of expectation.

I’ve simply traveled in the opposite direction.

I feel a certain kinship with that sort of ambition. ”

Viv remained respectfully silent until the Madrigal continued.

“There are precedents to maintain, however. Now, I have a proposal for you.”

“I’m listening.”

After the Madrigal made her offer, Viv smiled, agreed, and reached out to shake her hand.