Travis Baldree

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“Mind the blades!” cried Roon.

Viv hurled herself to the side as a pair of dirks whipped toward her. The street was narrow, though, hardly built with an orc in mind. Her shoulder slammed hard into brick, and she couldn’t make herself small enough to dodge them both. One purred past harmlessly, while the other sliced a red ribbon across her upper arm. She hissed and clapped a hand over the wound, baring her teeth.

Roon glanced back long enough to confirm that Viv was still breathing, and then the dwarf renewed his pursuit of their quarry. Gods love him, but he was already flagging. He’d never catch up.

As Viv pressed off the wall and stumbled back into a run, she could see the object of their pursuit, a slender elf in full flight, increasing her lead down the curving thoroughfare. Tossing those knives hadn’t slowed her up any. In seconds, she’d be obscured by the bend, and losing sight of her would be disastrous. Viv pushed herself to a dead sprint and outpaced Roon after only a few strides.

Gnomes scattered before her thundering approach, and she felt like a giant terrorizing a helpless village. A wild laugh escaped, her breath hitching in her chest.

“Fennus!” bellowed Viv. “We need eyes on her!”

She caught sight of him leaping gracefully across the sloping metal rooftops. He offered no reply — she couldn’t imagine him suffering the indignity of raising his voice — but she thought he’d be able to keep track of the fugitive woman.

For the first time since coming to Azimuth, she was grateful her greatsword was too menacing to lug around the city. Without Blackblood weighing her down, Viv began to close the distance.

The elf fled tirelessly, her long braid flying behind her as she tore through the crowd.

An intersection hove into view, and Viv demanded more from her legs. If the woman managed to duck into an alley…

Then Taivus flowed into the street like mist pouring from around the corner, his hands up and ringed in golden light. The fifth-finger sigils blazed on both his palms, and the elf’s step faltered, her legs scissoring together as though bound. She flew forward in what should have been a skin-shredding dive but recovered into a graceful tumble to her knees, even with her ankles pinned to one another.

Gallina emerged from behind Taivus with a knife in each hand, warily approaching the kneeling woman.

For just a moment, it seemed to Viv that the elf’s muscles boiled underneath her clothes. Her whole body flexed, and her skin darkened like a cloud had passed overhead.

Viv reached her first and drew her shortsword. By then, the elf looked just as she had when they’d first tracked her down in the marketplace a few intersections back. She clutched her side as if wounded.

Given who she was, Viv wouldn’t put it past her to have a few more dirks tucked up a sleeve, or something a hell of a lot nastier.

“Bodkin?” asked Viv, voice low and steady.

The woman stiffened and glanced over her shoulder at Viv. For a second Viv could have sworn her pupils were horizontal slits, like a goat’s.

Fennus dropped from the rooftop and alighted gently, tossing his hair over his shoulder and drawing his slim white rapier in the same motion. The gnomish folk murmured anxiously at the margins of the intersection. It wouldn’t be long before wardens appeared, and their crew was all tangled up in something inconvenient.

“You know why we’re here,” said Viv, patient and reasonable. Better her than Fennus, if they wanted this to go easy. She held her sword angled down, but ready. “My friend Taivus is going to bind your hands, and we’ll get you back on your feet. We all run out of road sometime. This is just the end of yours. Doesn’t have to be the end of everything, though. The law’s fair in Azimuth.”

The elf laughed, and her voice was deeper than expected, rich. “You act like you know who I am, but it’s clear as rivers you don’t.”

She pulled her hand away from where she’d been clutching her side and tossed something into the air, then tucked her head and covered it with both arms.

Viv caught the barest glimpse of three tiny silver stones wrapped in lines of green as they reached the apex of their flight and began to descend.

“Shit,” said Gallina, flatly.

Taivus was in motion, his hands up again and flickering alight. Fennus drew his cloak across his face and crouched, while Viv lunged forward with her free hand outstretched. If she could just get hold of Bodkin before those things landed…

Then the stones struck the street tiles, and a hot flash of light detonated into noxious black smoke.

Viv closed her eyes against it, still falling, fingers reaching.

They slapped bare stone.

Holding her breath and keeping her eyes shut tight, she dropped the shortsword and flailed around, scrambling through the cloud in a crouch, hoping to lay hands on the elf.

She seized an arm.

A squawk, then “It’s me!” Gallina grabbed Viv’s shoulders.

Viv felt a rush of cold air and opened her eyes to see the smoke winnowing away. Taivus’ eyes were closed, his fingers in spidery motion. Fennus stalked out of the shreds of darkness with an expression of cold fury. Viv spun in a quick circle, searching the crowd for any sign of the elf, but her fears were confirmed.

Bodkin was gone.

But in the space she’d once occupied, a small leather satchel lay half-open on the pavers. Viv scooped it up.

“Well,” said Roon, puffing up to them and putting his hands on his knees, blowing out his braided mustaches. “’Least we know it was Bodkin.”

***

Viv still couldn’t believe that such a precisely organized city could be so disorienting. Azimuth was arranged in concentric circles, with numbered streets expanding from the center like gears of increasing size. It was beautiful, orderly, and Viv couldn’t tell one spot from the next most of the time. She would’ve given anything for a little disrepair or the wobble of an indifferently paved road, just to have some landmarks she could remember.

Viv had spent too much time in one tunnel or barrow or another to suffer from claustrophobia. Still, the smaller scale of the gnomish city made her feel a little short of breath. Most of the structures were multiple stories tall, but more often than not, she found herself able to peer into the second floor windows.

They’d made a brisk exit from the spot where Bodkin had vanished. No sense waiting for suspicious wardens and suffering a lot of questions. Not that they’d have any trouble tracking a seven-foot orc bleeding all over everything.

The crew followed Gallina back to their rented rooms on the seventh ring road. The little gnome, of course, looked right at home.

While they ascended the staircase, the hosteler eyed them warily, and Viv was grateful her injured arm faced away from him. She kept a hand pressed tight to the wound, doing her best not to bleed on the floor.

The ceilings were uncomfortably low. Although the Spires district had buildings more suited to her height, lodgings had been sparse there, and none had met Fennus’s minimum requirements of luxury. Viv hadn’t complained at the time but now felt the sting of belated annoyance. Still, she had to admit that the heated floors and flick-lanterns were nice.

She ducked and followed Gallina into the room they shared, and the others piled in after. Viv’s greatsword Blackblood gleamed on one of the beds beside their heaped packs.

Fennus looked like he was going to start in straight away, but Roon preempted him. “Sit down, an’ let me take a look,” said the dwarf, patting Viv’s leg.

While Roon dug out bandages and some clear alcohol from his bag, Viv slid down to the floor, wincing as her back protested. Honestly, that growing ache was more of a worry than a new laceration.

Fennus couldn’t wait any longer. “A less than satisfactory day’s effort, I think we can all agree.” His beautifully sculpted face was set. “Neither Taivus nor I will be able to locate her so easily next time. And we certainly can’t rely on recognizing her on sight.”

Viv grunted as Roon swabbed the deep cut along her triceps and began wrapping it in gauze. “Not so tight,” she said.

“Tight’s better,” he replied.

“If I flex my arm, it’s going to pop.”

“Maybe don’t flex your arm then,” he groused. “Think of that?”

Fennus had a way of being absolutely silent that was louder than anything he might have said. Roon sighed — quietly — and they both redirected their attention to the elf.

His unsmiling gaze swept over the room. Gallina sat cross-legged on one of the tiny beds, idly twirling a dagger, while Taivus loomed in the far corner. Finally, Fennus said, “If we intend to collect, there can be no further mistakes.”

Gallina snorted. “This is Bodkin we’re talkin’ about. We’ve all heard the stories. It was never gonna be easy. There’s a reason she’s a legend — and a dapplegrim into the bargain!” She snatched an artist’s rendition of their target from the bedside table and wrinkled her nose at it. The likeness was carefully executed, for what it was worth. “Why’d they even bother? She’s never gonna look this way again. She didn’t even look like it this time.”

“All the more reason for us to be at our best.” Fennus flicked his gaze pointedly to Viv’s arm.

A tiny spark of anger started to bloom in her, but it was swiftly quenched by a wave of weariness. Swallowing a retort, Viv picked up the leather satchel she’d retrieved and shook it. It clinked softly.

“We’re not totally empty-handed.” She flipped it open to sort through its contents.

“Could be what those artificers were after, anyway,” said Gallina, craning to see.

“Nope,” said Viv. She withdrew a few small glass bottles, capped with corks and wax. They shone with liquid in a variety of colors. “No schematics here.”

“Looks like paint,” supplied Roon.

Viv cracked the wax seal on one and removed the cork, sniffing. “It’s paint, all right. So little, though. She’s hardly covering barns with it.”

“Fabulous,” said Fennus. “At least we can enjoy some arts and crafts.”

“Still might be a lead. You never know,” said Viv. She replaced the cork and held the bottle up to the orange evening light coming through the window.

Fennus looked like he was mustering a rejoinder, but Taivus broke in. “An observation.”

They all startled and stared at him. The stone-fey was so gray and silent, it was often easy to forget he was there.

He continued as though he hadn’t noticed their reactions. “Radius and Tangent hired us to capture Bodkin and retrieve their stolen property. We might have better success with the latter. Perhaps they’d pay for that alone?”

“Not as much,” said Gallina. “But not nothin’. We’re a practical bunch.” She cocked a thumb at herself, clearly indicating all of gnomedom. “They care more about keepin’ her from sellin’ it to their rivals than anythin’ else.”

“Perhaps worth considering, then,” said Taivus.

Fennus’s mouth thinned. “Find her or find the schematics — one leads to the other. It’s moot. And I, for one, don’t see any reason to settle for half-measures. Successfully hunting a figure of Bodkin’s renown is worth more to us than the bounty alone.”

Viv thought about arguing the point, but it wasn’t worth the effort. “All right, then we need to be on it tomorrow. The city’s big, and I doubt she’ll leave it just yet. Why would she need to? She’s a dapplegrim. Who knows what face she’s using now? Do you think you can still track her down thaumically?” She glanced between Fennus and Taivus.

“Given time,” replied Taivus.

“Too much time, but yes,” added Fennus. “She’ll be on her guard, and she knows our faces now. We can’t traipse around the city in plain sight, flashing arcane light wherever we go.”

“Well, no reason for the rest of us to sit on our hands,” said Gallina.

Fennus arched a brow at her.

“Yep.” Viv held up one of the bottles of paint. “We should divide and conquer. Seems some detective work is in order.”

And as a side benefit, Viv could enjoy a brief reprieve from Fennus’s acid tongue.

***

Viv slept fitfully, stretched out on the floor atop her bedroll, her arm throbbing. Perversely, her wounded side was the only one she wanted to lie on. Lantern light from the street stroked Gallina’s profile and the edge of the knife she clutched in one hand as she slept. Her high, squeaking snores normally lulled Viv, but tonight they nettled her instead.

She briefly contemplated settling her mind by sharpening Blackblood but didn’t want to wake her companion. Instead, she quietly rose and rummaged through her pack. Withdrawing a notebook, she put her back to the wall under the window, letting the soft light fall across the pages as they opened to the scrap of paper that marked her place. She glanced briefly at what she’d written.

Well-nigh to thaumic line,

the Scalvert’s Stone a-fire

On the opposite page, she ran her finger down her notes. Rumors in the highlands north of Cardus. Spoor on a well-trod farm road in the east Territory. Sightings of a creature with a surplus of eyes near the mouth of a played-out iron mine.

Still not enough. Impatience rose in her, the pressing need to act — but she had to be sure. It was the Scalvert Queen or nothing. She’d never convince Fennus to make a second attempt.

And if they succeeded? Well, the future beyond that point yawned white and empty. She’d find something to fill it. Of course she would.

She glanced at her sleeping friend, and her heart pinched with the ache of a truth untold.

Then she crawled back to her bedroll and stared at the ceiling, clutching the notebook to her chest until at last she drifted off.

***

“Luck,” said Roon, saluting Viv and Gallina before trotting after Fennus and Taivus. Fennus had insisted on having the dwarf’s company, in case muscle was required.

“Eyes open!” Viv called after him, raising a hand.

Fennus didn’t acknowledge her, but Taivus matched the gesture.

Gallina took a huge bite of her breakfast. “Hand me one of those bottles,” she mumbled around her mouthful.

To free herself up, Viv polished off her own meal — a thick, custardy square of egg and ham the hostel had served warm in the lobby. Her estimation of the place crept up another notch. She wiped her fingers on her trousers and fished one of the paint bottles from the satchel. The line on her arm burned as she stretched to hand it over.

Gallina bounced it off her palm and snatched it out of the air. “I’m thinkin’ we head to the Athenaeum.”

Viv wrinkled her brow. “A library? I figured we’d ask around a trades district or something. We know it’s paint. Why do we need to look it up?”

“Never been to a gnomish Athenaeum have ya?” Gallina grinned up at her.

“Well, no, but—”

“Just trust me.”

They headed north. Again, Viv was happy to let Gallina lead, because Azimuth was truly enormous. They passed titanic statues of geometric abstraction, dizzying to follow with the eye. Everywhere, long steam hoses were strung across the streets in tidy bundles and neatly bracketed to the walls. When Viv passed under them, she could hear them hissing. Garlands twined around many of the hoses, and groomed walls of ivy were staggered along the thoroughfares, every vista checkered with emerald. The net effect was overwhelming, at least for Viv.

Even though it was probably useless, she scanned the crowd for signs of Bodkin. Azimuth might have been a gnomish metropolis, but plenty of other folk were well-represented. She saw humans and elves, stone- and sea-fey, dwarves, a hob or two, and even a little crowd of rattkin scurrying past, clad in some sort of religious habits.

Bodkin’s reputation as a thief meant they could hardly expect to stumble across her on the street. Given her inborn talent for stealth, it was even less likely. Still, it never hurt to be alert.

Gallina was a game tour guide and kept up a running commentary as they wove through the press. Viv was careful not to tread on anyone and made appropriate nods and murmurs of acknowledgment as her companion pointed out the sights.

Viv saw the Athenaeum long before they reached it, a ring of seven towers, networked with enclosed walkways. The marvelous feat of architecture was embellished with angular promontories and complex linework etched into the facings. It had clearly been built to a scale that most buildings in the city were not. Viv could already tell she wouldn’t have to duck to clear any doorways.

“They have that many books?” breathed Viv, genuinely awed.

“A fair few,” replied Gallina, her eyes twinkling. “Lots more than books though. Like I said, trust me.”

They ascended the steps to one of the towers and passed through two sets of big brass doors that hissed open at the touch of a button. Emerging into a cavernous interior hallway, Viv’s breath caught at the size of the place. Every wall housed enormous inbuilt shelves, packed with volumes. Narrow walkways ringed the tower at vertical intervals, and a webwork of staircases connected them. Research desks and tables clustered here and there. Tall, dark-tinted windows admitted only muted light, but flick-lanterns cast a steady yellow glow over the whole place.

“How do you even find anything in here?” breathed Viv.

Gallina gestured at a set of metal plates on nearby shelves, with labels like ORGANELLE and OVA and OWLERY. Beneath each was a series of black pips in clusters.

“There’s a system,” she said. “But we’re not here for the books.”

Viv felt a pang of disappointment. She could spend days in here, given half a chance. Weeks, probably. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”

“You want to know somethin’, and you want to know it fast, you talk to one of the Scholars of the Seven Aspects,” replied Gallina. She shot Viv a sly smile. “You know about the Seven Aspects, yeah?”

Viv gave her a flat look. “You know I don’t.”

“Want me to explain it?”

“I mean, yes… but not right now, I guess.”

Gallina withdrew the bottle from a pocket and held it up. “I figure this is Third Aspect, which means third tower. We head there and see what the Third Scholar can tell us. You check the books for what somebody used to know. You check with the Scholar for what somebody knows now.”

Viv looked around once more and spied a raised platform in the center of the tower with a short staircase curling around it. A line of locals — and a few taller folk — were queued up to speak to a gnome stationed at the center of the platform. She cocked a thumb at him and raised her brows.

“First Scholar,” said Gallina, with a nod. “Organisms. Living things. You want to come with me to the third tower, or…?” She trailed off, smiling a little at Viv’s expression.

“You wouldn’t mind if I looked around here, just for a while?” asked Viv, anxious to do so, but feeling guilty about it. “I mean, if I’d be any help at all, of course I’d want to—”

Gallina laughed, interrupting her. “I know that look. Stay. Knock yourself out. All you gotta do is remind Fennus of how damn smart I am the next time we see him.”

“I will extol your genius,” said Viv gravely, then flashed a smile.

The gnome was still chuckling as she departed, leaving Viv to her own devices.

***

Alone in what seemed an edifice constructed entirely of books, Viv felt a thrill dance from the tips of her fingers to the back of her neck. She glanced briefly at the slow-moving line of supplicants leading to the First Scholar, then decided she’d rather find her own answers. She didn’t know the protocol, and besides, this seemed like the right tower for her subject of interest. That was practically a sign, wasn’t it?

A nagging voice told Viv that she was wasting moments she could have devoted to their current task, but she quashed it. Gallina had that well in hand.

Viv made a brief circuit of the floor, noting the alphabetical arrangement of the plates on each stacked tier. There was some sort of subject-based organization in effect as well. The little black pips probably made it clear, but she decided to wing it.

She ascended one of the staircases, feeling absurdly slow tramping up the shallow, gnome-scaled steps. Trailing her fingers along the spines of multicolored volumes, she inhaled the spices of paper and ink.

The first few books she sampled were too broad, treatises on western Territory fauna in general. She needed something more exotic and probably older. She frowned and looked to the higher tiers. Viv had no idea how much time she had before Gallina might return.

At last, she decided she could ask for a little direction. Approaching an elderly gnome busily re-shelving a series of leather-bound folios, she hunched down and cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me?”

He glanced up and blinked at her over a pair of rimless spectacles. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m, uh, looking for something on…” She hesitated, then resolved to be as specific as she could. “…on scalverts.” Viv felt absurdly childish, like she was asking for a storybook.

He looked her up and down, then pursed his lips. “Histories or practical?”

“Both?”

The gnome nodded and trotted off toward a nearby staircase. Surprised, Viv followed.

He directed her to three different shelves and seven different volumes. She was relieved she’d asked, because even after hours of aimless wandering, she never would have located them on her own.

She thanked him and took the stack to a nearby table. It was too short for her to use properly, and she doubted the chair would hold her weight, so she leaned with one hand on the tabletop and began flipping through them. After a few minutes, she pulled out her notebook and took up her stylus. With growing absorption, Viv filled pages with fresh research.

The sting in her arm became muted, and in her mind’s eye, she looked up from her well-trod path toward an indistinct but promising horizon.

***

“There you are!”

The clack of the paint bottle on the table snapped Viv’s attention from her reading. She instinctively flipped her notes closed, too fast to be anything but suspicious.

Gallina squinted at Viv’s notebook and the hand splayed protectively atop it. Her smile faltered into momentary speculation, but then flashed back more brilliantly than before.

“Knew you’d keep busy,” she said breezily, as though she hadn’t noticed.

Viv forced a laugh but didn’t think she sounded terribly convincing. “So, what did the Third Scholar have to say? Let me guess, you handed him the bottle, and he told you Bodkin’s address and how she likes her eggs?”

The gnome stuck her tongue out at Viv. “Ha. You’re very amusin’. No, but I do know exactly what this is. And…!” She picked the bottle back up off the table and waggled it. “…exactly where it came from.”

“I thought we’d all agreed it was paint?”

“Well, sure, but the kind of paint is important. It’s an oil paint with metal flakes in it, I guess. Used for real detailed stuff, tiny brushes and so on, something about the mix. Best for very specific kinds of wood. Like you said, nobody’s paintin’ barns with it.”

“Huh. So Bodkin is secretly an artist? All right, maybe that helps us somewhere down the line. How many places in Azimuth sell this then?”

“That’s the best part.” Gallina’s grin widened. “Just one.”

***

The shop’s interior was a startling contrast to the order of the street outside. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine overwhelmed the senses. Densely packed cubbies covered the back wall, stuffed with a riot of hues bottled in glass. Sheets of canvas draped over a few wires strung from rafter to rafter, like laundry on a line. Easels sprawled in a skeletal tangle in one corner, while a set of tables of inconsistent heights overflowed with boxes of paintbrushes in all sizes.

Viv had to lift the dangling canvases with the back of a hand to pass under them.

Behind the counter, a birdlike gnome tied the bristles of a sable brush with thread, then carefully trimmed the ends with a tiny pair of shears, her tongue between her teeth.

She slid the thread off the tip of the brush and examined the result critically, snipping away an errant strand before glancing up at Viv and Gallina.

“Help you, m’dears?” Her voice was as thin as her delicate fingers.

“Sure can!” Gallina set a bottle on the counter, the blue paint gleaming under a low-hanging flick-lantern. “Friend of ours is runnin’ a little low on supplies and sent us to see about gettin’ a refill.”

The woman behind the counter appraised Viv with a frown. She wondered if she shouldn’t have waited outside.

To her relief, the shop owner returned her attention to the bottle, picking it up and holding it close. Her tongue appeared between her teeth again. “Mmmm. Metal flake. Cobalt forty-seven.”

“Sounds right,” agreed Gallina brightly. “Big project ahead, I guess. Definitely gonna need more.”

“Leyton should know I need time to prepare this,” replied the woman, frowning in disapproval. “Of course I don’t keep this on hand.”

Viv and Gallina exchanged a quick look at the name Leyton, and Viv experienced a burst of elation that only one customer bought this particular blend.

Gallina forced a laugh. “You know elves. Got all the time in the world, so they figure the rest of us must, too. ‘Specially when they get real focused on somethin’.”

“Mmm, yes, the clocks are quite—” The shopkeeper blinked. “Elves?”

“Oh, um, like an elf, is what I meant to say.” Gallina forged swiftly ahead. “Well, anyway, we can leave it here until you can mix another batch. Do you need payment now?” She started fishing in a pocket. Nothing smoothed over a blunder like the promise of money.

“No, that’s quite all right.” The shopkeeper resettled on her stool, her brow clearing. “I’ll need the afternoon, though. Best drop by in the morning.”

Sliding a few silvers across the counter top, Gallina insisted, “Just so you know we’ll be back for it.”

The woman’s eyes widened at the coins, and Viv thought Gallina might have offered a bit too much, but before any further questions could be asked, they turned and hustled out the door.

***

“So, either Bodkin is walkin’ around as Leyton, or she stole that bag of paint from ‘em and this is a dead end. Gotta say, my first impression? Bodkin didn’t seem the artsy type.” Gallina led them under a long — and thankfully high — awning a few hundred paces from the shop and out of the noon sun. She made a sour face. “But I’m not real keen on Fennus bein’ right.”

Viv shrugged, then winced at the lance of pain in her upper arm. “It’s still our best lead. Nothing strange about a hobby. Clockmaking, I guess? Or clock painting, at least. You never know what somebody might get up to in their off hours.”

“Uh-huh.” Gallina regarded her shrewdly, leaning against the wall under the shade.

Viv pretended she didn’t notice. “Anyway, we’ve got a name. And how many non-gnomish clockmakers can there be in this city?”

“Best bet is to head to the Spires.” Gallina smiled wickedly. “Absolutely gonna find her before Fennus does.”

“Maybe it’s smarter to wait for the others,” Viv mused aloud, worrying at her bandages. “Bodkin gave us the slip last time, and now she’s on her guard. Besides, Roon will feel left out.”

“Are you gonna make me list all the reasons why we shouldn’t wait around?”

“You’re telling me there are reasons?” Viv grinned at her.

“I can make some up.”

Viv thought about Fennus.

“Nah. Hells with it.”

***

Crossing the border between Azimuth proper and the district known as the Spires was surreal. The scale of the buildings abruptly changed, and as Viv glanced back over her shoulder, it all seemed a trick done with mirrors. The street wasn’t any wider, but seeing doorframes higher than eye-level made her feel like a cramped muscle had suddenly unknotted.

The Spires only occupied three sections of ring-road and relatively little of Azimuth as a whole. Still, due to the curving streets, once you walked a bit and the smaller buildings were out of view, it was easy to imagine you were in any other city in the Territory, albeit one with more gnomes than usual.

Now that they were closing in, the risk they’d be spotted and their target would bolt was much greater. Given the circumstances, there wasn’t much they could do about that except hope that fortune favored them. Viv did her best not to draw attention to herself, but she’d seen maybe four orcs during their entire stay in Azimuth. The streets here were much less busy than elsewhere, and it was hard not to stand out like a pig on a poultry farm.

Leyton’s name, some polite questions, and a few coppers pointed them in the direction of the right workshop, and Gallina and Viv found themselves in a surprisingly clean alley, at the foot of a set of iron stairs.

“Looks like a clockmaker’s sign to me. Kind of out of the way, but this must be the place,” murmured Viv. Beyond the railing of a narrow upper porch, a red door was visible, upon which a set of thin metal gears and two clock hands had been artistically mounted.

She waited while a pair of dwarves hauling toolboxes passed them and turned the corner onto the main thoroughfare. Then the alley fell silent and empty, but for the two of them.

“Check nobody’s home, then try the door?” asked Viv.

“I mean, she’s a thief. It’s gonna be locked,” replied Gallina.

“Well, when I say ‘try,’ I mean…” Viv made some vague lockpicking motions with both hands.

Gallina snorted. “Wait down here, ya big lump. Try to look small.”

The gnome mounted the stairs and peered through a narrow window to the side of the door.

“Nobody there,” she called down in a loud whisper. “Not unless they like the dark. Shutters on the other side are all closed.” Then she withdrew a tiny wrench and pick and addressed the handle and its mechanism.

Viv was surprised when, a few moments later, Gallina descended, tucking her tools back into a pouch.

“Trouble?”

“Nah, I unlocked it. But look. They’re not home. Somebody needs to search the place and wait in case Bodkin comes back. The other should check around the neighborhood and ask a few more questions. I don’t wanna judge you based on height or anythin’, but if one of us is gonna blend in…”

“Yeah, yeah. Duly noted. Be careful, all right? And if you come back to the door, knock twice on the window first. I don’t want to bruise you when you come in.”

Gallina chuckled and flipped one of her daggers to catch it by the blade between forefinger and thumb. “Tempted to ignore that just to see if you’re as fast as you think you are.”

They nodded to each other, then Viv ascended the stairs, slipping quietly through the door and locking it behind her.

***

The interior of the workshop was dim, and it echoed with Viv’s footfalls. The glass housings of flick-lanterns gleamed faintly in what light there was, and as her eyes adjusted, the furnishings of the room took rough shape.

She blew out a slow breath in surprise. There must have been three or four rooms, but the center of this one was completely empty. She almost thought it was vacant, at first, but no. Hulking shapes crowded the corners.

Viv glanced back at the small window beside the door and decided to take a risk. Better that she got a clear picture of her surroundings. She turned the little knob on the base of one of the flick-lanterns until a sharp click sounded. A hiss and pop preceded the blooming of a small blue flame, and she tweaked the knob to bank the light as low as she could manage and still see.

Set into a dividing wall, an archway permitted a dim view into another area with shuttered windows. A long worktable was tucked next to the wall, with a surprisingly small number of tools arranged neatly atop it, a sturdy stool beneath. An ornate, half-assembled clock lay spread out in an orderly arrangement of cogs, gears, and spindles. The facing was finely carved wood, half-painted in some kind of naturalistic motif. Slim brushes and bottles of paint stood ready.

Stacks of shipping crates towered in each corner, and a rug was rolled up and propped on its end against one pile. The walls were bare.

She stepped quietly through the archway into a small kitchen area, again, mostly barren. A few plates were stacked near a basin, and a table and two lonely chairs seemed dwarfed by the room.

Viv spied a bed and dresser through another doorway. A staircase led down to what must have been a front door. She wondered again why the workshop’s main entrance was located in the alley but supposed it wasn’t exactly a storefront.

She put her hands on her hips and looked around in consternation. “What in the eight hells? This is a master thief’s lair?” she murmured.

A nasty suspicion was growing that she and Gallina were going to prove themselves a pair of fools. Still, since she’d already gone to the trouble…

Viv didn’t like the risk of two points of entry. She hauled one of the chairs down the front stairs and tipped it to rest between the lowest step and the door to prevent it from opening.

Back upstairs, and with no obvious sheets of schematics in evidence, she took a slim wood-chisel from the workbench and popped the lids on a few crates. Several contained little wooden trays filled with clockworks and some completed clocks carefully nestled in piles of shavings.

Viv shook her head. It seemed like more than a hobby, that was for certain. Awfully skilled and detailed mechanical work for a renowned master thief. Although she supposed Bodkin had the finger dexterity for it.

The other crates were packed with folded clothes and cloaks, cutlery and knickknacks.

“Somebody’s leaving the city,” Viv whispered.

Of course, if this was Bodkin’s bolthole, then she’d hardly have left her prize out to be spied through a window.

Viv swiftly investigated the workbench for any hideaways and rifled through the kitchen, knocking on the cabinet walls and checking the undersides of every surface. She tested the floorboards with one heavy foot for any squeaks or hidden joins.

Eventually, she checked the bedroom, lifting the mattress single-handed and peering into the drawers of the dresser. At last, Viv approached a small vanity. After satisfying herself that it was empty, she rapped on the base, smiling at a telltale click.

Well then. Score one for detective work.

When she popped out the false bottom, a sheaf of fresh, folded parchment slid into her waiting hand.

Viv stood and peeled them open, holding them up to the thin light filtering through the shuttered, street-facing window. Elaborate linework packed each page, sprinkled with measurements, annotations, and more of those cryptic pip arrangements Viv had noted in the Athenaeum.

“And there you are,” said Viv, marveling that a few ideas caught on paper could be worth so much. She glanced back over her shoulder, contemplating the rooms behind her. “Now, I’ll have to admit that Fennus was right, though. No reason to settle for half-measures.”

She returned to the workroom, extinguished the flick-lantern, and dragged the stool into a corner to wait.

***

Viv was impressed. She didn’t hear so much as a creak from the stairs outside.

The window wasn’t visible from where she sat, but a brief disturbance of the light cast across the empty floor immediately put her on alert.

After a barely audible snick, the door slowly swung open, and evening light spilled across the length of the room. No silhouette.

The door didn’t close.

Viv’s fingers itched to draw her shortsword from the sheath she’d hung in easy reach from the corner of the table, but she resisted the urge.

Then Bodkin stepped out of an interior shadow and stared directly at Viv.

“Where are the rest of your friends?”

Viv immediately recognized the voice, purring and low. “Might as well get the light so you can see me shrug.”

“I see fine in the dark.”

“Well, I don’t, and I have something to show you before you figure your next move. Humor me so I don’t hold it up backward and make an ass of myself.”

Bodkin remained motionless for a second before taking a backward step and igniting one of the flick-lanterns. Then she took another sidelong step and smoothly closed the door.

Viv squinted in the sudden glow and tensed in case Bodkin decided to make any further moves. She didn’t.

When her eyes adjusted, Viv saw that Bodkin looked mostly as she had the previous day, which was honestly surprising. She’d have put money on a new guise, given the circumstances. Odd.

Fine elven features, practical clothes, hair in a long pale braid… and three of those wicked dirks fanned out in one hand.

Viv held up the schematics, pinched between two fingers. She remained relaxed on the stool with one leg crossed over the other. “You might hit me with all three of those, but I have to tell you, I’ll probably keep coming. And I’ll be in a really shitty mood.”

Bodkin made a disgusted sound, snapped some kind of amulet from around her neck with a jerk, and tossed it to the ground. “Worthless piece of trash. I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh, whatever that is probably works fine. Didn’t track you down with magic. It was the paint.” Viv gestured at the bottles on the worktable with the folded parchment. “Unlucky hobby, I guess. So, you’re Leyton, then?

For the first time, Bodkin registered something other than icy, impatient fury. Instead, she showed an almost comical expression of shock, and the barest flicker of concern.

The dapplegrim recovered swiftly, however, and Viv recognized the speculative gaze cast between the shortsword, the schematics, and Viv. She’d weighed the odds enough times herself to know the look.

“Anyway, I was a little surprised you hadn’t fenced these yet. But I guess it’s safer to do that when you’re already on your way out of the city.” Viv patted the nearest crate.

“You’re chatty, and nobody is bleeding yet,” said Bodkin. “They want me alive, then?”

“‘Left to the party’s discretion’ is how they put it.”

Bodkin nodded.

“So,” said Viv. “All things being equal, I’d rather—”

But Bodkin was already moving, and Viv didn’t waste her breath on an oath, shoving the schematics down her shirt with her left hand while drawing her shortsword in a whisper of steel on leather.

The dirks whined across the room, but as Viv’s blade cleared the sheath she kicked off the stool into a roll, coming up fast to one knee. The dirks thumped into the plaster, jetting plumes of powder.

The elf’s flesh flexed and rippled beneath her clothes, and she seemed to expand, even as her skin flushed blue-black, like ink soaking through clean linen. At the same time, her pale braid and irises shot a bloodless white, pupils twisted into slashes, and fingers scrawled into pale claws.

So that’s what a dapplegrim looks like, Viv thought. Chat’s over, I guess. She came the rest of the way to her feet, sketching a quick cross-body slice with her sword to maintain the space between them.

“Don’t want to hurt you, but I will. And I think you’re out of knives,” said Viv grimly, the point of her blade leveled at Bodkin’s chin.

“Fuck you.”

Viv sighed. Even without the sword and with an injured arm, she had to have five stone over her opponent. In a purely physical contest…

With incredible swiftness, Bodkin slapped Viv’s blade to the side with the flat of a hand, dodged under her guard, looped an arm behind Viv’s elbow, and threw her across the room.

Viv’s leg clipped the workbench, arresting her motion and cracking her spine across the far edge. Her back lit up in a long line from left to right, and she fell hard onto her shoulders and neck. Tools and paint jumped into the air, bottles shattering across the floor. She tumbled quickly and was on her feet, nauseous and disoriented from the twist to her neck. She’d lost her sword.

Bodkin did not pause her assault, lunging across the room, all patience for witty banter clearly exhausted. Those claws were sharp, scoring several deep gouges along Viv’s forearms as she fended off a flurry of slashes.

Viv’s mind went cold, submerged in icy waters that only permitted thoughts of survival.

She managed a grip on one of Bodkin’s wrists and hauled her in close, then bent, hooked her other arm around the dapplegrim’s waist, and heaved up, lifting their feet off the floor. Both of their breaths came hard, panting in one another’s ears.

Bodkin managed a few awkward slashes across Viv’s back, shredding her shirt, but Viv was already turning and rushing toward an interior wall. She slammed Bodkin into it back-first, obliterating the plaster with the impact as they continued through, snapping a pair of studs in a hail of dust, wood, and gray chunks before tipping over to hit the kitchen floor hard.

Viv’s full weight came down on Bodkin and blew the breath out of her. The dapplegrim wheezed raggedly for air and instead got a cloud of atomized plaster. She coughed in short barks, eyes streaming, black skin gray with dust.

Breathing through her nose, Viv managed to get up onto an elbow and then to grab both of Bodkin’s wrists. She spat a mouthful of dirt to the side before hoarsely growling, “Don’t make me show you how hard an orc’s skull is, all right? Already got enough of a headache.”

Bodkin managed a few clean breaths, blinking her eyes clear.

Viv could feel the dapplegrim’s body tensing beneath her, like a winch cranking tight. Eight hells, she’s not done, Viv thought wearily.

The dapplegrim bared sharp, pearly teeth.

“There’s no way—” Viv stopped short and cocked an ear.

Bodkin heard it too, her eyes flicking to the side.

A clunk from down the front stairs. The chair bracing the door banged against the bottom step as someone tried to push their way in.

“Valeya?” a man’s voice called, muffled by the half-cracked door.

Viv blinked down at her quarry and drew her head back. “Valeya?” How many damn aliases does she have?

But a look of genuine fear and panic flashed across Bodkin’s face, unmistakable. With an effort she erased it, struggling with renewed fury against Viv’s restraining fists.

“Valeya, darling, are you up there? Only, I’ve got an armload here, and I could use the help!” The door thumped against the chair again, followed by frustrated muttering.

“Darling?” whispered Viv. And suddenly several gears slotted into place. “Hey, look at me,” she said urgently, voice low. “That’s Leyton, isn’t it?”

Bodkin bucked under her, lips writhing in agonized frustration. This time Viv didn’t think the tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes could be blamed on grit.

The fight went out of Bodkin all at once, and she met Viv’s gaze. She showed her teeth one last time, then gave a short nod.

Viv was silent for several seconds, staring up and through the dust to the shuttered windows and the light filtering through. Bodkin’s heavy breaths pressed in and out against her chest, but they weren’t fighting anymore.

She glanced down at the dapplegrim, whose eyes were rapidly searching Viv’s face for some inkling of intent.

Then Bodkin whispered one word. “Please.”

“You’ve got one chance here,” said Viv, voice still low. “I’m going to let your wrists go, one at a time. Don’t screw this up.”

Viv slowly uncurled her fingers from the left, then the right, then slid back and up onto her knees, straddling Bodkin.

There was a silent moment where they stared at one another.

“Oh, hells,” muttered the voice at the bottom of the stairs, banging the door one last time against the chair. Then the clatter of something dropping in the street and rolling away. “Oh, hells!” it repeated. A clamor of tumbling metal, the tinkle of shattering glass, and some sterner curses rang out as Leyton presumably fumbled the rest of his burden.

On any other day, Viv might have winced in sympathy. Now, she felt nothing but relief. His misfortune might have bought them a little more time.

Viv hauled herself off Bodkin’s legs and the dapplegrim scrabbled back until she came up against a table leg. Bodkin closed her eyes and took a series of slow breaths in through her nose, while the blue-black skin bled back to pale elven flesh, although heavy bruises now ringed her wrists. Ears shortened and gold bloomed across hair. When her eyes opened again, they were hazel, bloodshot, and their pupils were perfect circles once more.

She kept breathing heavily through her nose, studying Viv, waiting for the orc to make a move.

Viv sighed and fell back onto her ass in the dirt and debris. “He’s the clockmaker?”

“Yes.”

“You two are…?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Does he know?” Viv asked, wearily.

Silence.

Bodkin sat with her eyes closed, her mouth working. Viv had a feeling Leyton would be climbing the back stairs any moment now, and the time for deliberating would be at an end. She opened her mouth to speak, but Bodkin beat her to it.

“One last score,” she said quietly, in a tone of bleak amusement. “It’s a joke. Every job, it’s just one last score.” She laughed, a broken sound. “And for the first time it really was. Leyton gave me a reason to finally want out. And I almost made it.”

Viv stared down at her own hands, gray and caked with grime. She thought about sleepless nights, furtive research in stolen moments, her notebook, and the blank pages she hadn’t figured out how to fill.

After a few seconds, she nodded and hauled herself to her feet, groaning as the wounds and the bruising on her back burned bright, like a brushfire catching a fresh gust.

She patted her chest, where the schematics were tucked away. “I can’t let you have these,” she said. “And I can’t do anything about this.” She gestured at the wreckage of the wall and beyond. “But I can leave you to find your way out. You understand?”

Bodkin managed to get to her feet, wincing. The skin around her eyes tightened, but she nodded.

“All right, then. I’d wish you luck, but I’m not really feeling up to it.”

Viv turned toward the front stairs, since it sounded like Leyton had given up on the blocked door and was probably circling to the back.

Bodkin brought both fists together with all the force in her body onto the wound on Viv’s upper arm. Viv swallowed a shout and fell to the side, reaching for the banister and failing to catch it, hitting the floor hard.

“I can’t start at the beginning again,” breathed Bodkin, standing over Viv with a knife reversed in one hand. Her skin was still pale, but her irises were black slits again, and her flesh quivered like the surface of water before the boil.

“Then it’s gonna be the end,” a high, sharp voice broke in.

Gallina stepped into the kitchen, floating dust billowing around her like fog.

“How long have you been there?” croaked Viv from the floor.

“Well, it was a real nice moment for a while, and I didn’t wanna mess it up.” Her gaze hardened as she stared at Bodkin, a brace of knives in each fist. “But I’m happy to mess somethin’ up now.”

Viv managed to get a hand on the banister and pulled herself up, groaning. “Timing could’ve been better.”

“You turn your back on somebody with a knife, you don’t get to make jokes.”

“Didn’t know she still had one.”

“Plus, you were gonna let her go.”

Viv stared at Gallina and felt inexpressibly tired. “Still am.”

The tension ran out of Bodkin in a rush. She dropped the knife and slid bonelessly to the floor beside it.

“Eight hells, Viv. No.” Gallina’s exasperation was serious, furious.

“Her husband, lover, whatever… he’s going to walk through that door any second.”

“Don’t much care,” Gallina replied, gritting her teeth.

“Gallina. If I have to ask it as a favor, I will.”

“For her?”

Viv held Gallina’s gaze. “Not for her. For me.”

Footsteps rang on the metal stairs in the rear.

Gallina snarled and snatched Bodkin’s abandoned knife from the floor. She didn’t spare a look for the dapplegrim. “Well?” The gnome gestured down the stairs with the knife.

They descended quickly. Viv grabbed the chair and tossed it up the steps, where it landed with a bang and a clatter.

Then they were out into the street and away.

***

Limping back to their hostel in tense silence, Viv reflected that she’d leaked an awful lot of blood on the streets of Azimuth in a very little time.

There was no hiding her wounds from the hosteler now, and she was grateful to ascend past his disapproving gaze. Odds were good they’d need new lodgings tomorrow, if not sooner.

In the room they shared, Viv withdrew the schematics and tucked them into her satchel. She stripped off her shredded shirt and sat in silence, head bowed, while Gallina unpacked medical supplies with jerky, angry motions.

Still, she was gentle while she dressed Viv’s wounds and bound what could be bound. Donning a relatively fresh shirt, Viv couldn’t suppress a small moan as the gashes in her back bunched and stretched. The heavy bruise where she’d struck the table edge throbbed in sick waves with every beat of her heart.

“Serves you right,” muttered Gallina, speaking for the first time since they’d left the wreckage of Bodkin’s home.

“Thank you,” said Viv quietly, wringing out a rag over the basin on the side table, then mopping the dust from her face.

When she was done, they stared at each other for a moment, Gallina biting her lower lip fiercely.

And then, in the way of things between old friends, they let the knot of tension untangle and were both glad of it.

“Don’t know about you,” said Gallina, “but I don’t wanna sit around this room and watch you ooze until they come back.”

Viv nodded mutely.

Gallina studied her for a second more, then marched to the door and yanked it open. “C’mon. We’re gettin’ some air.”

***

Night eased from the shadows in a cool wave. With a pop and a hiss, the streetlamps burst to life all at once. They strolled aimlessly through the streets, although Viv couldn’t hide a limp. She was very conscious of the stares she drew, her arms nearly mummified in linen and reeking like a distillery.

Gallina cleared her throat. “So, I’m thinkin’ we tell the crew that she got the jump on you, then escaped.” She waved generally at Viv’s battered condition. “I figure all this backs us up, huh?”

Viv snorted. “Should square with Fennus’s estimation of me just fine. I got the shit kicked out of me, and the mark got away? He won’t bat an eye.”

“He’s wrong though,” said Gallina quietly.

“Yeah… Yeah. But for once, it’s useful.”

“'Least we got the goods.” She grinned suddenly. “And we still found her first.”

Viv laughed a little. “We did.”

Then she stopped short. Gallina continued onward until she noticed, turning back with a quizzical expression.

“What is that?” asked Viv.

“What’s what?”

“That… smell.” It didn’t take long to discover the source. Just ahead, yellow light puddled in front of a small establishment sandwiched between walls of ivy. Tiny tables were scattered in the glow pouring from two large, glass-paned windows that fronted the building. The mumble of conversation and the tinkle and chink of cutlery filtered from inside.

“Oh,” said Gallina, wrinkling her nose. “Yeah, I guess that’s sorta new. Coffee. There’s a couple places like this now.”

The scent wasn’t like anything Viv had ever encountered. She breathed deeply, and it was secret warmth and rich earth and old wood and toasted nuts and… peace.

“Hang on,” she murmured. “I’ll just be a second.”

She drifted in the door, her limp suddenly subdued, forging deeper into what felt like the comfortable border between sleep and rested wakefulness.

A long marble counter bisected the small shop. Intricate gnomish tilework in white and cornflower blue patterned the interior. A massive slate board hung on the back wall, chalked with a precise list in neat block letters, half the words foreign to Viv.

Two gleaming machines topped the counter, hissing with vapor, burbling through pipework, gurgling something dark and steaming into porcelain cups.

Patrons clustered around small tables, deep in soft evening chatter, sipping hot drinks, stirring with tiny spoons.

As Viv approached the counter, one of the gnomes manning a machine craned to meet her gaze, brows raising. “What can I do for you, miss?”

Towering over him, entirely too large for the delicacy of this place, but nevertheless dreamily comfortable, Viv asked, “Can I get a coffee?”

“Anything more particular?” He gestured to the board behind him.

“Whatever you think is best.”

Viv waited near a window, watching the bustle while remaining absolutely still, as though afraid any sudden movement might crack the world around her. She was peripherally aware of Gallina entering and giving her an appraising look. Her companion must have seen something on her face, and chose to remain silent.

When the gnome behind the counter offered a tiny cup to her, she took it carefully in both huge hands and stepped back, holding it to her face to inhale deeply.

There was nowhere to sit that could accommodate her, but she didn’t mind.

Viv closed her eyes, brought the rim to her lips and tentatively sipped.

The heat of it filled her like heart’s blood.

“Oh,” she breathed.

In her mind she saw that distant, indistinct horizon.

A landscape began to come into focus, and she wished she’d thought to bring her notebook.

There were blank pages to fill.

Content

Travis Baldree
Pages to Fill