Inventing a Tinker

Part 3

There were a hundred little restaurants scattered throughout the twisted streets of Buou. Choosing among them in any objective manner was an effort in futility. Jennai claimed to be new in town, but already had a preferred establishment. They headed to an Acardian-style bakery called Arden's. The building was a typical three-story, with apartments above and the eatery on the ground level. There were tables with umbrellas to shield outdoor patrons from the middday sun. Even in early springtime, the day grew too warm for comfort in Buou.

"I've never heard of this place," I admitted as we took outdoor seats near the bakery's window. "And I've lived here ten years."

"How many of those were cooped up indoors?" Jennai asked. In the sunlight, her face shone. The northern coastal area of Khesh was home to a rich stew of races, from fair-haired purebloods native to southern Khesh to black-skinned Takalish from the northeast. Most of the locals had mixed for so many generations that the features were muddied. I felt drab and common sitting across from her, an exotic creature from beyond the seas.

"I walk to and from work each day," I said. "It takes me eleven minutes. If you count the occasional stray errand, plus my daily round trip, I'd say that on average, I'm outdoors half an hour a day. Out of ten years, that would add up to ... seventy-six days out of doors, leaving—"

"Still almost ten years," Jennai finished for me. "That's 117.5 months out of 120."

I shrugged. "It's just a rough estimate."

Jennai looked up past the edge of our table's umbrella and into the cloud-dotted sky. "I'm ruining your average."

"You're ruining nothing," I replied, unsure where those words had come from. The smile she gave in response confirmed that it had been the right thing to say, but it wasn't true. She was throwing off my average, even if it wasn't something I was trying to maintain.

"Jennai," a deep voice said. It was our waiter, a chubby Acardian in a white apron. "A might early for your shift, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm here for lunch," Jennai replied. "Greuder, this is Cadmus. Cadmus, meet Greuder. He's the brains behind this place, even if his father's name is on the sign."

"You work here?" I asked. The answer was obvious before the question. It explained how she knew of the place, despite being fresher from the docks than the day's catch.

"Acardians visiting Khesh come here a lot," Jennai explained. "They like seeing an Acardian face on a serving girl. Tip money is better than I'd make in most jobs."

"She can't bake worth a lick of salt though," Greuder said, taking up a slate and chalk. "What'll you have?"

"Nothing fancy," Jennai said. "Spiced crescents for both of us, and I'll have a honeyed milk."

"Drink for you, sir?" Greuder asked.

"Black tea," I replied. "Nothing added.

Greuder nodded, then departed for the kitchen.

"That some sort of Acardian delicacy?" I asked.

Jennai chuckled. "Nope. Most people hate them. They're dry, and the filling isn't very sweet for a pastry. You'll like it, though."

"I'm not sure how to take that," I said. She projected every confidence in her presumption. It was a confidence I wish I could have mirrored. Table service always put me on edge. A tinker's hands always want something to do. Back at Mr. Kodahl's, at least I had a clock to keep them occupied while we talked.

When our crescents arrived, Jennai's assertion proved true. Never one for sweets, bakeries and pastry shops fell far down my list of eateries. My breakfast of choice was oatmeal, but the spiced crescents were not so jarring a switch, even as a lunch.

"And?" Jennai asked, leaning in and looking up until our eyes met. She saw something there that put a smile on her face. "You do like them! I knew you would."

"So," I said, swallowing a mouthful of pastry. "Have you worked here long?"

"A few weeks," Jennai replied. "I've been in Khesh since my parents died, with no money to travel back to Acardia. Not that I'd want to, mind you. There's nothing there for me to go back to."

"Your Kheshi is excellent," I remarked. "You've got the most adorable Acardian accent, but there's only a hint of it left."

She batted her eyes. "Adorable? Really?" She had me by the hook already, and she knew it.