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T hey had the building framed in another week.

Partway through, a cart filled with clay tiles drew up to the shop-under-construction. Viv looked at Cal, who shrugged.

She walked over, nodding to the driver. “What’s this?”

He was a big man, scraggly beard, beefy. The fellow beside him was well-muscled and lean. She had a feeling she’d seen them somewhere before, but couldn’t immediately place them.

“Delivery,” the driver said, helpfully.

“Yeah, but who from?”

“Can’t say,” he said, with no particular animosity.

“And no payment expected?”

The man shook his head and climbed down with his partner. They set to piling the tiles in stacks in front of the lot.

And then she remembered. She’d seen them in Lack’s gaggle of hoods, all those weeks ago. She allowed herself a surprised grin, thinking of fine gray dresses. Then, shaking her head, she got back to work.

* * *

Covering the roof was rough labor, but Cal rigged a pulley system, and Viv doggedly hauled up buckets of tile.

It took a week before it was all fully laid, and then they began work on the walls with some relief.

Pendry still showed up every other day or so, and Tandri was a fine hand with a mallet and nails.

Other help came and went, and Viv was never really sure from what quarter. Whether Cal hired them or the Madrigal sent them or they just happened to wander by and lend a hand—she stopped trying to guess.

Viv could see the skeleton of the shop fleshing itself in wood and stone, now with a proper staircase to the loft, the pantry relocated, and framing for more windows along the front.

Pendry bricked up a proper double chimney along the east wall where space awaited the stoves. He lined the new underground cold box, as well.

Thimble arrived daily with one warm delicacy or another, and Viv caught him eyeing the more generous kitchen footprint more than once.

Even Amity appeared from time to time. To the relief of everyone, she seemed none the worse for wear, although her perpetually sooty fur made it hard to tell. Like a great, gray ghost, she weaved her way between bare studs, gazing around in a proprietary way before disappearing, once more.

* * *

It was three more weeks before the walls were finished and plastered and whitewashed, the stairs and railing completed, the counter, booths, and table rebuilt. Summer was waning, and the teeth of autumn gnawed at them, morning and evening.

The lumber and materials kept manifesting, and Viv told herself when it was done, she’d ferret out the source from Cal and pay her benefactors back just as soon as she could afford it.

She kept sleeping on Tandri’s floor, albeit with a bedroll and pillow.

Viv felt guilty for staying, yet simultaneously reluctant to leave.

She made a few tentative attempts to move to an inn or to rent a room with her meager remaining funds, but each time Tandri told her she was being foolish, and Viv didn’t have much interest in arguing.

* * *

Viv stood with Tandri and Cal in the waning light of another hard day’s work, staring up at the face of the shop and the dark sockets of its glassless windows. As she was debating whether to temporarily tack cloth over them, she sensed someone approach.

When she looked down, Durias, the elderly, chess-playing gnome, greeted them with a nod. She wasn’t surprised when Amity padded up behind him and loomed like a sentinel, half again his height.

“Glad to see you’ve decided to stay.” He smiled up at her. “It would’ve been a shame to be robbed of such a fine cup of coffee.”

“No thanks to me,” said Viv. She nudged Tandri gently with one arm, and she thought the woman might have leaned into it, just a little. “It’s these two who made sure of it.” She indicated both of her friends.

Tandri continued to stare at the shop thoughtfully. “Maybe the Stone never did anything,” she murmured.

“Hm,” concurred Cal.

“Stone?” asked Durias, his bushy white eyebrows high on his forehead.

Viv didn’t suppose there was any reason to be evasive. “A Scalvert’s Stone. I feel like a twice-blasted fool about it, but I once heard–”

“Ahhhh, yes,” interrupted the old gnome, with a nod. “I’m very familiar. There’s a reason there are so few, these days—scalverts. Unfortunate. Nearly hunted to extinction, they were.”

“Really?” That got Viv’s undivided attention.

“Been many a year, but too many old legends and songs mythologized them. ‘The Ring of Fortune,’ and that foolishness.” He shook his head sadly. “Like lodestones for luck or wealth, or so many believed.”

“And they aren’t?” asked Tandri.

“Well,” replied the gnome, tugging at his mustache. “Not the way folk hoped.”

“So… it was for nothing, then.” Viv shook her head bitterly. “Hells, all it managed was to get the place burned down. If I’d never kept it here, Fennus would’ve left well enough alone. We could’ve avoided all this.”

Durias tipped his head and pinched his face in a speculative way. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

“But you just said–”

“I said ‘not the way folk hoped.’ Didn’t say it didn’t work at all .”

“What’d it do then?” asked Cal.

“That old song was a bit misleading. The Stones never granted fortune, but they were … gathering points, you might say. You’d find few who know it, these days, but ‘the ring of fortune’ is an old sea-fey phrase.

It means… a destined cadre, I suppose. Individuals brought together, like to like.

Which can be fortunate, of course. Sometimes, nothing’s more fortunate than that!

But that wasn’t what most were seeking. Although maybe they should’ve been, eh? ”

Viv murmured, “Draws the ring of fortune, aspect of heart’s desire . ”

His speculative look sharpened. “Yes… well… it seems to have worked out well, here, I think.”

Viv looked from Tandri to Cal, and back at the shop.

“Getting late!” said Durias. He doffed his little sack-cap. “Must be getting on, with the cold setting in. My old bones complain if I’m not at a fire by dusk. I don’t think it’s too early for congratulations, though? Or maybe it is, I do tend to get a little muddled over timing.”

“Congratulations? On rebuilding?”

“That, too! That, too. No, I was referring to… well. Never mind. Sometimes, I’m not sure which go-round this is. Could be I’m polishing the stone before the cut! A good night to you all!”

He turned and disappeared down the street, and after a moment, the big dire-cat slunk after him like a too-large shadow.

* * *

A few days later, after the doors and windows had been fitted, two enormous crates arrived on a large wagon, and with them, some unexpected visitors.

Roon and Gallina sat side-by-side on the buckboard.

“Are those what I think they are?” asked Viv. Gnomish print rimmed the edges, and they certainly looked the right size to contain two new ovens.

“Depends, I guess,” said Roon, easing downward and dropping the last foot to the cobbles. Viv went to give Gallina a hand, but the gnome flashed her a sharp look and leapt to the street with great grace.

“It was your girl behind it,” said Gallina, glancing toward Tandri, who emerged from the shop, still too far away to hear their conversation.

“My girl ?” Viv echoed in a low voice.

Gallina shrugged and looked smug.

“You brought them!” said Tandri. When she saw Viv’s face, she faltered a little, her steps suddenly uncertain.

“Did you order these? Tandri, how in the eight hells did you get enough–!”

“Little donation from us both,” interrupted Roon, nodding at Gallina. He patted the flank of one of the pair of horses.

“Tandri sent a letter. Let us know what happened,” said Gallina.

Viv looked at Tandri, thinking of the Stone. “Everything?”

Tandri took a breath, and firmly said, “Everything.”

“So you both know about the Scalvert’s Stone?” she asked her old comrades.

“Who gives a shit?” Gallina waved a hand like it was irrelevant.

Viv supposed it was.

“Fennus,” Roon snarled with sudden savagery.

“Have you seen him, then?” asked Viv.

“Not in weeks,” replied Gallina. “Didn’t part on the best of terms. Man’s always been a bit of a prick, but this?” The gnome shook her head angrily.

“Can’t abide a welcher,” supplied Roon. “Anyhow, help me wrestle these down, eh?”

Viv and Roon unloaded both crates and left them for Cal to unbox in the morning.

Roon left to stable the wagon. Viv couldn’t help but be amused, given that they stood in front of an old livery.

“So,” said Gallina. The three of them leaned against the crates while Viv caught her breath.

The little gnome withdrew a dagger from one of the myriad places she stowed them and toyed with it idly.

“Fennus. I know you didn’t wanna dirty your hands before, and I admit , that seems to’ve worked out fine.

Sort of. Apart from this shit. But.” She leaned around Viv and waggled her blade at Tandri.

“I know you’re all… non-violent , but ya can’t tell me it wouldn’t be a good idea to take just a finger or three. Can ya?”

Tandri snorted and made a show of stretching her back. “Don’t ask me . I’m too sore to be objective.”

Viv stroked her chin. “You know, if that old man was right, we might not have to.”

“Old man?” Gallina frowned at them.

“This grandfatherly gnome. You know the type. Very mysterious. He said the stone doesn’t work the way I thought it did. What’d he say about it…?”

“It draws like to like,” recited Tandri.

“Yeah. Well, maybe the same happens for Fennus, if he keeps it.”

“More than one Fennus in one place?” Gallina made a face.

Viv shrugged. “Maybe it’s more like caging a bunch of starving wolves together. Sooner or later, one of them is going to eat the weakest. And maybe they all kill each other, in the end.

“Can’t say I’m not disappointed we won’t get those fingers, though,” said Gallina.

“I’ll see if I can make it up to you when we reopen.”

“Maybe one of them rolls,” the gnome mused aloud.

Viv rapped a knuckle on the lid of a crate. “Gallina, I think I can get you a whole sackful.”