Brigands & Breadknives (Legends & Lattes, #2)

by Travis Baldree

Always remember, although the unimaginative see life as a thread stretched from one point to another, birth to death, a life truly lived is a glorious tangle. One is never lost. And if one is lucky, one is never found, either.

As folk had done since time immemorial, she got on with things, because otherwise … who would feed the dog?

“Shit. Don’t look at me. I’m a mess,” protested Fern. She gestured at the detritus around her. “I came here to be with my people. This is a garbage-only meeting.”

“After ten centuries of doing this, do you want to know what’s really exciting?” asked Astryx, ignoring the question. Her gaze was direct, and almost hungry. Fern nodded. “Dry socks.”

Apparently the threat of hazferou had never materialized. Or he’d kicked them to death, she supposed.

“I think for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t looking backward … or forward, either. So maybe I was looking at whatever is between those things.”

“I’ve tried to make a habit of never talking about what I do until I’m out of anything else to talk about. In my experience, it’s a terrible way to get to know somebody—at least if you want to know anything worthwhile. I want to learn what you laugh at, what makes you roll your eyes, what gets you upset, or passionate, or puts you at ease. Work is just…” He flapped a paw as they ducked under the eaves in front of the mercantile. “The stuff that holds the rest of it together. It’s like describing a house by talking about the nails.”

“Okay, but really, what is that?” asked Breadlee. “Puts the jimjams in my haft.”

I just thought you should know that ‘avenge’ and ‘scavenge’ don’t rhyme, you feculent sack of shitweasels.” Somebody snorted laughter that was quickly stifled, and Fern saw Astryx’s shoulders shaking slightly as she strode toward the horses. “I’ll accept that as a stabbing,” said Breadlee. “That’s one! Onward and upward!”

“That books are a weapon against loneliness. Putting them in the right hands lets people see one another. It makes us … better to one another. I think that’s a worthy thing to do.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a fix. Maybe it was just a small piece of something bigger, and I fooled myself into believing it was the whole thing. Or maybe that sort of realization is like food. It fills you for a while, but eventually, you have to eat again.”

You have made my road a stranger, but I am so grateful to find my way by starlight again.