Mercer Asterion's Arc

Chapter 9 of 10

Mouse turned. The tension left her shoulders in a slow drop. A woman stood a few stalls back, waving from behind a wooden counter draped in vines. Milk bottles lined her shelves. Glass jars glowed faintly with cream. Her red hair caught the light. She held a cloth in one hand and a ladle in the other. "Rae," Mouse said. Her voice went easy. "Sorry. Didn't hear you the first time." "Come here a minute," Rae called. "Sample table's got leftovers. They'll spoil by evening." Mouse looked at Mercer. "Friend," she said. "Dairy stall. She's alright." Mercer followed her back to the counter. The dog sniffed at a basket of butter rounds and thought better of it. Rae watched them come. Her smile was small and steady, the kind that didn't ask anything. "Cheese won't keep in this warmth," Rae said. "Better in you than the pigs." She nodded at a worn wooden bowl on the sample table. Cubes of pale farmhouse cheese. Grapes, purple and green. A few crumbles at the bottom. Mouse pulled a wooden bowl from her satchel and set it on the counter without a word. Rae tipped the cheese and grapes into it. She didn't fuss with the amount. She just filled it. "Thanks," Mouse said. "Thank the cow," Rae said. Mercer's eyes moved past the bowl. On the back shelf sat a small crock of chocolate syrup, dark and fresh, a wooden spoon resting across the rim. Beside it, glass bottles of milk cooled in a shallow tray of well water. Something turned over in his chest. He hadn't thought about his mother in years. She used to stir cocoa into cold milk at the kitchen counter, back before the jumps, before any of it. He could almost taste it. "Two chocolate milks," he said. His voice came out rougher than he meant. "If you'll make them." "Copper apiece," Rae said. "Two for a copper if you drink them here." "Two for a copper, then." She poured. She stirred. She corked two small bottles and tied cream paper labels at the necks with twine. She set them on the counter. Mercer slid a copper twig across the wood. He picked up both bottles and held one out to Mouse. He couldn't find the words for what he wanted to say. Thanks for the guiding. Thanks for not asking. Thanks for the bread errand and the tomb and the pouch count. "For you," he said. "For—" He stopped. "Because of the loaves. And the rest." Mouse took the bottle. She looked at him a second too long. Then she pulled the cork with her teeth and drank. "You're bad at this," she said. "I know." Rae wiped the counter. "Sit if you want. Bench is free." Mercer sat. The bottle was cold in his hand. For the first time since the crash, he wasn't in a hurry.