The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Good Hosts

"I shall, I shall," Lark soothed, "but first—" And he produced a jar from his pocket.

"Ohhh...is it some of Pleasant's jam?"

"Of course!" Lark grinned. "I had a feeling you'd be pancaking today."

"Clever boy." She chuckled and, after setting the jam on the counter, began spooning more batter onto the griddle.

"I'll be right back." Lark carried the brocade from the room.

"...can I set the table or anything?" Able asked after a moment.

"Oh, that would be most helpful, yes." Hatling smiled warmly and gestured with her left hand. "Over in that cabinet there for plates, and then the drawer under it has silver."

While Able set the table, Lark returned and prepared everything that wasn't pancakes for serving. Shortly after, they sat around and ate while discussing food that was in season and food that was soon to be in season. The picture his hosts painted of the way Borealunders eat made Able hungry even as he was spooning pancakes smothered in berry jam into his mouth.

When they had finished, Lark hopped up and began clearing the dishes away. Able was almost too stuffed to wonder how when Lark had eaten even more than he had. He lulled like a lump for a spell before he collected enough of himself to get up and retrieve his satchel. He returned and stood in the doorway watching Lark dry dishes while waiting for a chance to interrupt Hatling's gossip.

That shoulder...it looked like honey next to the cream sleeve that hung too low. Didn't seem to bother Lark or slow his movements, as he even knocked his braid back away from the dishwater with a reflexive shrug. Damn, what was he supposed to be doing again?

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Lark noticed Able. "I haven't forgotten! This will only take a minute more."

"Forgotten?" Hatling looked between them.

"I told Able I'd take him on a bit of a tour today. Get a lay of things."

"Oh, how nice! Make sure to take him up to the Light. It's the best view of all Fairbanks."

"I will, if he can hike that far." Lark grinned over his shoulder.

"I can make it to the lighthouse," Able protested then grimaced, for it was meant in fun, and he was no fun at all.

"Although if I'm taking him up to the Light, I might not finish Hawk's shirt before he comes..." Lark's face scrunched thoughtfully.

"Oh, it's fine." Hatling waved her hand airily. "I'll do as much as I can and complain of rheumatism if he shows up early." Between tax-dodging and faithlessness to clients these tailors were truly the model of honor.

With the kitchen returned to order, Hatling went down to the shop, which Lark had already opened, and the two Larbants made their way down to the street

"So, I was just going to walk us nearest to farthest, so they won't be in order like in your book," Lark said as he started walking.

"Makes sense," Able replied as he kept up. "And I can also get myself up to the lighthouse on my own, you know."

"That would be sensible, too." Lark wrinkled his nose over an embarrassed grin. "Let's plan on that?"

"Sure." Able's eyes strayed again to Lark's shoulder. "So, were you...running or something this morning?"

"Mm-hm!" Lark nodded brightly. "Something about dawn mist. Perfect for running."

"I'll...take your word for it."