The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Back to School

"Trying to get an idea of...?"

"How dark is 'dark,'" Able replied. "Do people here call your skin dark?"

"Oh." Lark made the more typical inward thoughtful face this time. "...maybe? If I think back to when I was a kid, people seemed sure I was a Larbant without me saying so."

"Do you avoid the sun?"

"What?" Lark laughed.

"To avoid tanning so you fit in better..." Able stalled at Lark's amused expression.

"Able, I'm pretty sure if I avoided the sun, I'd wither up like a neglected daisy."

"The sun here must not be that strong at such a low altitude." Able frowned up at it. "...at least, I assumed that's why people here were so pale?"

"Oh, I think they find it plenty strong. Northlanders do not get, ah, darker in the sun. They turn red."

"They turn red?"

"Like tomato soup." Lark grinned impishly. "Go down to the docks and you'll see."

Able had been at the docks and he had seen only had attributed it to exertion. "That's...wow. Okay." He shook his head in bemusement. After a decade of being admonished for his study habits making him the palest, all he'd had to do was go to another port to be the darkest—wait: "But, if it's not the sun, why are you so much paler than me?"

"About that, my father was generations back a Larbant of Larbantry, but my mother..."

"Wasn't," Able quickly fathomed and had to chuckle. "You're both."

"Both!" Lark concurred enthusiastically then laughed. "I don't mind going around and asking people if they'd describe my skin as dark, but there is that."

"It'd be more efficient to ask them to describe mine."

"Sure." Lark's eyes fell, but before Able could ask if he was okay, he nodded up at the grocer's looming ahead of them. "Start with Bundy, I guess?"

They visited several shops to obtain a variety of foodstuffs. Then, at Able's request, Lark took him to a cartography workshop that evidently had not seen many customers in recent years, which was a shame because the surprised and under-dressed cartographer's work was so beautiful that Able couldn't resist purchasing a highly detailed map of the territory as well as a more affordable chart of the nearby sea. Like most the other Borealunders asked before him, the cartographer described Lark's skin as "a little brown" and Able's as "brown," and "hazel" continued to be the popular choice for Able's eye color.

"I am no longer pale nor pale-eyed," Able mused as Lark, who had insisted he was not burdened by their purchases, led him on to see if the town elders were home. "Say—is there a library or at least a bookseller?"

"No library—I mean, probably people still have their private ones." Lark rolled up his eyes thoughtfully. "A few booksellers left, sure, but...probably the histories you're looking for would be something they'd have to order for you?"

"Who said I'm looking for histories?" Able chuckled wryly.

Lark laughed with him then said, "There's the school, though—the primer school is still running, I think."

"Oh?" Able raised his eyebrows in surprise. "As in a Dagobari primer? That's not been shut down?"

Lark shrugged. "It's been open when I pass it on West Way. Although it's probably closed right now for the day."

"Huh." Able scratched his chin. "I'll have to ask Nightwatch how he's managing that without the public system—unless the magistrate is paying for it?"