Chapter 94: She Asked for Plumbing, They Picked a Husband

Dove pulled out a chair for the driver and put a cup of cocoa in front of him. Thorne sat beside her with their map, while Edrik stayed near the closed frontage. The keeper remained long enough to explain that the man had delivered food to the military base three times.

"Start with the letters," Dove said. "I’ve heard about walls and showers. Nobody mentioned that the showers might be behind a wall they won’t let me through."

The driver drew four rough bands on a spare sheet. District D lay on the outside, where new arrivals and the poorest residents lived behind a watched outer fence. There were tents, converted sheds, day work, and long waits for better accommodation. Protection existed, but comfort mostly belonged to people who could bring their own.

District C had heated dormitories and crowded housing. Residents still queued for shared services and counted supplies carefully, but they weren’t trying to sleep through another Michigan night beneath a tarp. The driver had passed its receiving gate and eaten at a public kitchen there.

When the driver reached B, Dove leaned over the drawing. Real streets ran between stores, repair shops, and rows of housing. There was working heat and running water, kitchens serving decent food, and room for merchants to rent. He’d unloaded in its freight yard and slept above a restaurant. She wanted to hear that part again, slowly, preferably while somebody fed her.

"It works like a town," he said. "Not a rich one everywhere, but a town. You can find a job instead of waiting for somebody to let you carry boxes for dinner. A good merchant could do well there."

A occupied the inner district. According to the staff he dealt with, it felt almost like life before the freeze: comfortable homes, reliable services, stocked stores, and people with enough influence to choose who joined them. The district noticeboard listed fourteen female residents. He had seen the number, not met every woman.

"You need people inside willing to speak for you," he added. "A pretty face might get someone interested, but that isn’t the same as being offered a home on your terms."

Dove tapped B on the drawing. "That one sounds worth asking about. I want a room and customers, not an invitation to spend my life thanking somebody for plumbing."

Thorne studied the roads leading toward it. "We might find a good strong male there too," he said. Edrik nodded as though they had been discussing extra blankets, then asked whether the base hired experienced guards.

"What the fuck?" Dove looked between them. "I asked about a town, and you’ve started husband shopping. Can I look at the apartments before you pick someone to put in mine?"

Thorne laughed and kissed her knuckles. Edrik told her he preferred knowing the options before she needed them, which did nothing to improve her opinion of the conversation. She took back the map and asked the driver about entry rules herself.

He could explain temporary merchant permits in B, issued through its receiving office after goods and references were checked. Permanent residence was a separate process. He couldn’t promise her a permit, a room, or that his contact would still be working there when they arrived.

The old direct approach had flooded. A longer southern route remained in use, with escorts around damaged sections. A month had always been an estimate for people on foot, and the changing roads had made it less reliable.

Dove copied the route he had actually traveled. B was worth investigating; that didn’t mean she would drag her men across unfamiliar ground tomorrow. They still had a stall, goods to sell, and questions about whether residents could leave freely once admitted.

Day Thirty-Nine began with her daily pool wash and the third lesson behind the counter. Thorne watched the frontage while Edrik made her repeat the same escape step until she stopped leaning away from his hand.

"Again," he said when she tried to rush it. "You don’t get a better result by being irritated with your feet."

"I’m irritated with your mouth," she told him, moving properly on the next attempt. His pleased smile was brief enough to feel earned. Sprout privately completed the training requirement; the nine-hundred-Favor manual was now available, still unbought. She had earned the exercise reward too, although her sore legs were less interested in that part.

Three party-size sausage pizzas waited in the daily delivery, each cut into twenty-four generous pieces. Sprout wanted two sold. "Now that’s a reasonable way to get my attention," Dove told it, opening the first box. "Keep the pizza. Lose the husband alerts." It cheerfully reported that both categories were performing well and offered a covered serving cart on the reward shelf.

Thorne’s delight at her excitement finished the Favor target. She paid four to keep a pizza for dinner and opened the other two beneath the awning. The cart could wait. She hadn’t stood over a whole hot pizza in far too long, and someone would have to pay before she let them near hers.

The keeper bought one for off-watch guards; a work crew pooled goods for the other. Flour, dried fruit, cloths, and a sturdy jar changed hands. Her eighteen-coin reward raised her normal purse to one hundred eleven, and storing the jar finished today’s task.

Would the insulated carrier keep supper warm until closing? Sprout said it slowed cooling; it couldn’t heat cold food or refrigerate groceries. Dove paid twenty-four normal coins and put their unopened pizza inside. Tonight, she wanted to finish working before dinner went cold.

At dinner they filled their plates, argued over the best pieces, and talked about the running water in B. Dove missed eating pizza over her old kitchen sink after work. She said so without making a joke, and Thorne moved the box within reach while Edrik listened.

"I could be happy with a sink," she admitted. "A stupid sink, a room, and nobody deciding where I’m allowed to sleep."

"Then we look for that," Edrik said. Thorne squeezed her hand beneath the table. Neither promised a palace, which made believing them easier than she expected.

Their three paid nights ended with this one. Dove intended to discuss renewal in the morning, but the keeper knocked before dawn with water dripping from his boots. The cold-storage ice had melted, and its meat was warming.

Behind him, Saffra waited in her carried chair, surrounded by men holding crates. She pointed at Dove’s counter and told the growing crowd that the fox had a magic shop, so she could replace whatever spoiled. Then she smiled and asked why Dove hadn’t offered already.