The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Chasing Shadows

She nodded like she expected that. "I hope you didn't come looking for work in Adeptsby," she remarked as she stopped at a door with a helpful "3" on it and gestured to it. "Seen many turned away disappointed. They've got so many indentured men working up there that they don't need to hire free men."

"Well, I'm not looking for employment." Able found the key opened a charming, cozy room with a full bed and area rug under it, a dresser, and washstand that would have easily run twenty-five cees back in Blueport, if not more. He belatedly added, attempting to be charming himself, "not from the count, least-aways."

Her eyebrow quirked, and her smile seemed warmer. "What's your trade, then?"

"Scholar and writer, actually," he replied as he set his things on the bed. "I've come to Fairbanks to chronicle your recent happenings."

"Huhn." The inn girl set a hand on her hip and looked him up and down.

Oh...was she interested? Able tried to remain cool, but his track record with impressing girls was abysmal. In fact, already there was an awkward pause underway.

But she ended it. "So, when you say 'recent happenings'...?"

"All this stuff about the Shadow Warrior. It'd make a pretty good story, don't you think?"

"You should talk to Lackaday...forget his real name, everyone just calls him Lackaday. Scraggly gray-haired fellow. I'll point him out to you. He saw the Shadow in person. Hasn't been the same guy since. Pretty soon we might not call him Lackaday anymore."

"He's downstairs?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to bring my notebook, then."

Dinner was being served, so Able had to wait until people were seated and eating to try to get close to Lackaday, as he was one boisterous wagoneer surrounded by many more. It was simple fare and subpar at that with the ale being watered, the stew thin, and the bread flat. Actually—the bread was tasty, especially once it soaked up the stew. Perhaps the Borealunders habitually made do without yeast, instead of it being in shortage.

The discussions had, perhaps because of Able's brown-skinned presence, shifted from the roads and weather to heated accounts of town members who had recently been arrested on suspicions of aiding the Resistance. It seemed that Nightwatch's secretary wasn't the only public figure to have been rounded up. Able was therefore nervous when he took the opportunity to approach Lackaday about his encounter with the Shadow Warrior.

The tone of the room shifted immediately with other folks second and thirding Able's request. He found himself crowded in by eager Fairbanks residents and travelers alike. This might have eased his own mood had they not all towered overhead. He'd never thought of himself as a small man before, but his height might be lacking in this land and contributing to marking him so efficiently as a Larbant.

He put the thought aside to focus on Lackaday and his audience. The graying wagoneer had settled back in his chair and was scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"Well, let me see, it were 'least six months ago now. I never been good with dates."

"That's why my shipments are always late, is it?" put in a fellow three seats down.

"Ah, quiet, you," Lackaday replied with a hand wave and good-natured grin. "Now then. I was bringing a load of lumber from Oak Ridge on up to Aimsby, and I was maybe an hour outside Heathwaite when this group of rundown folk come out of the woods and are asking me if I have room. Crossed me mind that they might be 'dentureds on the run, but I figured that's none of m'nevermind, so I didn't ask.