Page 25

A s Viv returned from a lunchtime break, thumbing through a chapbook she’d bought, she paused near the table out front. She glanced at the one-sided chess game in progress, then at the little old gnome studying it. “This seat taken?” she asked.

“Not at all!” He smiled at her and gestured toward the chair.

Viv slid it out and sat, placing her book on the table. She offered her hand over the top of the board, mindful not to upset the pieces. “Viv,” she said.

“Durias,” replied the old man, shaking her forefinger with his tiny, knobbly hand.

He carefully sipped the drink before him.

“I must say, I do enjoy your wonderful establishment. Real gnomish coffee? Never thought I’d taste it again.

In my day, you couldn’t get it so easily, even in the bigger cities like Radius or Fathom.

And to find it here? Well. A rare pleasure. ”

“That’s good to hear,” said Viv. “Glad it passes muster.”

“Oh, indeed. And these pastries?” He waved one of Thimble’s confections. “An inspired pairing.”

“Can’t take any credit for that, but I’ll pass it on.”

Durias crunched into the Thimblet and closed his eyes in appreciation.

“So,” said Viv, shifting in her seat. “You don’t have to answer, but my friend in there is going crazy over your chess game.” She pointed at Tandri, who was looking at her suspiciously from behind the counter.

“Really?”

“She swears you never move the other pieces. She’s been trying to catch you doing it and says she never has.”

“Oh, I definitely move them.” The gnome nodded.

“You do? ”

“Certainly. But I did it a long time ago,” he said, as if that made any sense at all.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know,” said Durias, without clarifying in any way whatsoever, “I used to be an adventurer like you. I’m also a retiree, now.”

“I, uh….”

“You’ve found a very peaceful place here. A special place. You’ve planted something, and now it’s blossoming. Very nice. A good spot to rest. My thanks to you for letting an old-timer shade under the branches of what you’ve grown.”

Viv’s mouth hung open. She hadn’t a clue how to respond to that.

The moment passed as Durias cried, “Ah, there you are!”

Amity stalked around the corner and deigned to allow the gnome to scratch behind her enormous ears.

She stared balefully at Viv, then curled around the base of the table.

The gnome rested his feet on her back, where they were lost in tangles of sooty fur.

“What a marvelous animal,” he said, with real admiration.

“Certainly is,” murmured Viv. “Uh, well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your game. I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Not at all!” said Durias. “You go tend to what you’re growing.”

When she returned to the counter with her book, Tandri eyed it approvingly, then whispered, “So… what’s going on with the chess game? Did he say?”

“He did say. But I’m not sure he answered,” Viv replied.

* * *

Around noon, Thimble scampered off after making a series of gestures that neither Viv nor Tandri could interpret. He obviously had some errand in mind, and Viv waved him on his way.

He returned later with a small parcel bound in twine, and when there was a lull at the front, he placed it on the counter, delicately untying it. He folded away the paper to reveal several rough, dark slabs and chunks of something brown that gleamed with a soft waxiness.

“What’s that, Thimble?” asked Tandri.

The baker broke off a sliver, popping it into his mouth and gesturing for them to do the same.

Viv and Tandri each snapped off a small piece.

Viv sniffed hers. The earthy smell was slightly sweet—almost coffee-like.

She put the fragment on her tongue, and when she closed her lips, it melted, spreading throughout her mouth.

She tasted dark bitterness, but with subtler flavors of vanilla, citrus, and in the far back, a hint of something that reminded her of wine.

It was bold, both creamy and harsh, but alluring.

Honestly, Viv doubted you could eat very much of it. That bitterness would overwhelm you. But the old spice-seller was right. The kid was a genius, and she couldn’t wait to see what he had planned.

Tandri thoughtfully rolled the taste around in her mouth. “Okay, I’ll ask again, because I have to know. What is this?

He leaned forward, whiskers aquiver. “ Chocolate. ”

“You’ve got something in mind?” asked Viv.

He nodded and produced another of his lists. Shorter than before, but with a few requested pots and pans.

Viv squatted to stare him in the eyes. “Thimble, anytime you have any big ideas, you can assume I’m on board, all right?”

His velvety face wrinkled in a pleased expression that squeezed his eyes nearly shut.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Viv to gather Thimble’s requested items. When she returned to the shop, she drew up short on the threshold, a sack over one arm.

Kellin was back, standing stiffly before the counter.

Viv’s expression hardened, and she prepared to drop the sack, pick him up by the back of the neck, and haul him bodily into the street.

Tandri caught her eye, though, and gave a small shake of her head.

The succubus passed a folded waxed paper sack across to the young man, who moved as though to snatch it, but mastered himself, reaching for it gently.

“For the Madrigal,” said Tandri.

Kellin nodded jerkily, like a marionette, and said in a strangled voice, “Thank you, Ta– miss .”

He turned with the sack in hand, startling when he saw Viv. Recovering quickly, he rushed out the door.

“Huh,” said Viv, watching him go. “I’ll be twice-damned.”

* * *

As they prepared to lock up, Tandri went into the pantry and returned with a linen-covered handbasket that Viv hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s that?”

Tandri opened her mouth to speak, then fidgeted the basket to her other arm, and finally said, “What… do you have planned for the evening?”

“Planned? Nothing. I’m usually bushed and turn in early. A bite to eat first, maybe.”

“Oh, good. Er. I mean… I thought that, given how things went, we should… celebrate? If you’d like.”

Viv wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Tandri properly nervous before. She had to admit, it was charming.

“Celebrate? I guess I hadn’t thought about it.

Sure, the Madrigal isn’t a big worry, now, but I don’t think it’ll take Fennus long to figure out a different angle to–” She saw Tandri’s expression grow pained and caught herself, suddenly feeling very stupid.

“Um. I mean, yes. A celebration sounds good. What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing fancy,” said Tandri. “There’s a little park above the river, west of Ackers. Sometimes, I go there in the evenings. Used to, I mean. The view is nice, and I, um, I packed some things. So. A sort of picnic. Ugh, that sounds childish.” She winced. “And not like a celebration, at all.”

“It sounds wonderful,” said Viv.

Tandri recovered some of the pieces of a smile.

* * *

It was a nice view. The spot wasn’t so much a park as a groomed area featuring a statue of some long-robed Ackers alumnus, whose countenance was undoubtedly more imposing in stone than it ever was in life.

Cherry trees and hedges ringed him, and he presided over a little rise above the river.

The vantage provided a lovely sunset panorama of the university’s copper steeples.

Little twirls of smoke dotted the rooftops, like freshly extinguished candles.

They sat on the grass, and Tandri unpacked some bread and cheese, a small crock of preserves, some hard sausage, and a bottle of brandy.

“I forgot glasses,” she said.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” replied Viv.

“It’s really… not much.”

Viv opened the brandy, took a swig, and passed the bottle to Tandri. “Feels like a celebration to me.”

Tandri took a solid glug, as well, while Viv sliced the sausage and slathered some preserves on the bread.

They ate and drank and talked about nothing much as some birds came to roost in the cherry trees. The sun drew down, and the chill of the river crept up in a slow, shivering wave.

They shared an easy silence in the waning light, and then Viv asked, “Why’d you leave the university?”

Tandri looked at her. “Not, ‘why did you go in the first place?’”

Viv shrugged, “I wasn’t surprised by that, at all.”

The other woman looked back out over the university steeples and thought for a while.

Viv guessed she wouldn’t answer and regretted asking.

“I wasn’t born here. I fled here.”

Viv almost said something, but waited.

“Nobody was chasing me, if that’s what you’re wondering.

I was fleeing… the trap of what I am. This,” Tandri touched the tip of one of her horns, and her tail lashed.

“I thought, a university? That’s a place where ideas are challenged.

Where what you do matters, not where you came from, or what you came from.

A place where logic and math and science would prove that I’m more than what I was born to.

But it seems I take that with me wherever I go. ”

“You attended, though.”

Tandri nodded grimly. “I did. I scrimped together the tuition, and I was granted admission. Nobody stopped me. They took my money, absolutely. There are no bylaws keeping someone like me out.”

“But?”

“But… it didn’t matter, not really. What’s the saying? They followed the letter of the law, but not the spirit?” She sighed. “The spirit was unenlightened.”

Viv thought about Kellin and nodded.

“So, I fled. Again.”

They allowed the silence to resume, and Viv passed Tandri the brandy.

She drank more deeply, and when she wiped her mouth, she looked over at Viv. “No pearls of wisdom?”

“Nope.”

Tandri’s eyebrows rose.

“But I will say….” Viv glanced over to regard Tandri solemnly. “Fuck those motherfuckers .”

Tandri’s surprised laugh startled the birds from the cherry trees.

* * *

Viv carried the basket while walking Tandri home again, this time all the way to her room. Neither was unsteady—they hadn’t finished the brandy—but they were both pleasantly warm and liquid.

Tandri opened the door at the top of the stairs, and after a moment’s hesitation, ushered Viv inside.

Viv stooped to keep from banging her head on the low ceiling. The tiny, single-room apartment featured a tidy cot, some shelves bursting with books, a tasseled carpet, and a small vanity.

“Stayed here when I went to Ackers,” said Tandri, waving a hand at the room. She took the basket from Viv and set it on the vanity. “I just… never bothered to move.”

She looked up at Viv, who could feel the warm glow that sometimes peeked out when Tandri was at her least cautious. But she didn’t think it was responsible for the prickling warmth that burned deeper inside herself. The brandy, surely, was the culprit.

“Viv,” began Tandri, but her gaze dropped and she lost what she was going to say. Viv didn’t let her find it again.

“Good night, Tandri.” She was very conscious of the size and roughness of her hand as she reached out and squeezed Tandri’s shoulder. “And thank you. I hope I never make you flee.”

And then, before her friend could say anything else, Viv left, quietly closing the door behind her.