The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Women's Quarters

"...how many of the women here are used for...uh, comfort?"

"Well, he doesn't have a lot of it," she scratched her neck, now. "And nominally, the women here are off-limits, but he hardly has perfect discipline. Capstone does though, and I'm sure this lot is grateful for it."

"She-" he cocked his head. "Is there evidence for that?"

"Evidence for what?" she cocked hers.

"Er, maybe I misunderstood what you meant by her 'discipline,'" Able shifted. His mind had been going to lot of strange places lately. "You meant over the ranks, didn't...you...oh." Honor's pale face had turned quite pink. She whirled, as if to march away, then whirled again and pushed him back down the hall. He did not resist, then waited quietly while she appeared to collect her thoughts.

"I meant that-that," her stammered whisper was as harsh as the redness in her cheeks, "yes, Capstone is good at protecting the branded women. I don't know how you picked up on-on anything else, but I can't have you nosing around about it, so fine-I had a couple dalliances with her and you will not tell anyone, especially Reeve."

"Of course not, I wasn't-"

"I know things about you that can get you in trouble," she hissed. "Always remember that."

"I wasn't about to-"

"And you stay away from me," she backed away a few steps. "I own that I am keeping as many options open as I can, but that doesn't mean you get to be one of them!"

"If you would listen for one damn minute!" he finally completed a sentence and was not impressed with himself for it.

"Ugh, creepy pervert," she shuddered and stalked away.

Able sighed and leaned against the wall a minute, as the only way out was the way she had just gone. It was probably for the best. He might have rushed into confiding in her had she remained friendly, and her apparent anxiety about having it both ways was hardly encouraging.

He listened a while to the echoes of the clatter of pots and chatter of their wielders before making to emerge from the hallway.

Easily two dozen women were crammed into a kitchen that was giving off delightful waves of heat. Honor was lounging against a counter near the stove.

"Is it ready now? I tell you, he's in a mood."

"And what put him there, I wonder?" snapped the closest pot scrubber.

"What kind of mood?" asked a dough kneader.

"Ohhh, you know, the one where he's all like 'I can't believe the Shadow got the best of me again."

The kitchen erupted with cheer and a dozen questions. A female enforcer rounded the corner with a scowl, and Able accosted her with questions of his own about breakfast to give the indentured women a moment longer to enjoy themselves.

He then took a walk in the fresh sunshine while he waited the half hour to join the enforcers in the mess hall. After that, he approached the Count's secretary to request an audience. He was almost pleasantly surprised that it would only be a four-day wait.

That done, he made his way to the records room. This took up a good section of the main floor beside the tower. One of the two guards posted at the door nodded to Able and opened it for him.

Able thanked him, then inhaled the scent of paper and ink as he stepped into a hall lined with shelves laden with paperwork. He was bemused by the impressive height of the ceiling as he stepped up to the decidedly unimpressive table that was trying to be the front desk. Four scribes seated at low tables further in glanced from him to each other before one finally got up to meet him.