The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Bridgebay

"Are those cows?"Chessie leaned on the bowsprit as though those two extra feet would improve her view. It was already an abnormally clear day for the wet season, and the port crew pulling the caravel up to the quay were probably enjoying the light load as much as the weather.

"Oxen," Able replied of the teams tugging away. Huh, he had not seen any cattle since he left Blueport, had he? "Cows are female. These are castrated males." And they were everywhere. The tall ships could go no further than the piers that populated the bay. They were instead unloaded onto barges that were then towed up the canals under the dozens of bridges for which Bridgebay was named.

The Larbant capital was large enough to fit three Blueports comfortably and maybe add a smaller city to the mix. Even Able had been overwhelmed the first time he had come here, but so far Chestnut Miller, witch of the wilds, was taking it all in stride. She had merely nodded to Able's information while continuing to look around. So it seemed Able was more nervous than she was.

He took a breath and closed his eyes. The sun warmed his skin even beneath his jacket. He'd gladly left his coat behind in the cabin, along with most of his other belongings. The plan was for Captain Arcway to idle in the port, ostensibly looking for cargo to take back to Pearlshore. Chessie thought they would not be more than a week in Lionstone. While she'd been seldom wrong, Able could not see how she could be right this time. That is, unless they failed to gain access to the archives yet were still lucky enough to retain their freedom.

The crew chattered about how ready they were for shore leave as they disembarked. Bit amateur after only eight days of relatively cooperative seas. But Able only clutched the bundle containing his first draft and notes to his chest as he walked down the gangplank. The Wave Walker was moored on one of the land-based quays, so they didn't have to wait for a ferry. Able began weaving his way through the dockside traffic and into the city proper with Chessie right behind him. Very right behind him.

"Maybe we should get clothes first," she said to the back of his neck, so she couldn't have seen the smile this prompted. She had resisted the idea of dressing like a Larbant while in Larbantry and was only persuaded when he'd pointed out the angle of the sun and her fish-belly white skin. But now with Larbant men pressed in on every side and staring at her, she was actually gripping the back of his shirt so as not to lose him.

"We'll see what there is on the way," he called back. He might have been amused by the reversed roles if he wasn't preoccupied with scowling at so many untoward comments from passersby. Did women deal with this every day in the streets, or was Chessie's blond hair attracting this much attention? Not enough space to give her something to cover her head and see.

Able managed to shoulder their way out of the crush of the shore markets and onto the upper streets, where pedestrians had more than a person's width between them. He caught his breath and straightened out of his hunch. Chessie wasn't ready to release her grip, though. This street led up to the crossing that could get them to the post station, so over the sun-scorched bricks he led them. He was glancing at the warm stone arcs and the establishments beneath as he passed them. Sundries, cobbler, pawnbroker—

"There." Chessie pulled first his shirt, then took Able's arm to pull him towards a shop with empty windows.

He was so used to this behavior that he didn't even ask what "there" was. Up three sand brick steps and into the bright interior of a clothiers. Well-spotted, however Chessie had done it. A stout middle-aged woman was poring over a thick ledger or something laid out on the counter and hadn't noticed them come through the door, open to let in a breeze no doubt.

"Hello?" Chessie tried.

The shopkeeper started then popped down from her seat. "Yes, yes, how can I help?" She eagerly came around to the storefront. "Oh, aren't you a pale, thin thing. Foreigner, just arrived? Yes, this won't do. We'll find you some proper clothes, right this way—"