Able must have gotten used to Fairbanks, a bustling city by morning but a sleepy town after lunch, as this locale felt energetic even though it would be typical Blueport. But the only hint that anything like a riot was going on was that people seemed tense, looking to each other with apology in their eyes as they hurried about their business instead of talking in the streets.
Where Fairbanks was more uniformly brushing off disrepair, Aimsby was a patchwork aggregate with proud new structures rising here and there out of the rubble of their neighboring lots. Some areas were torn up worse than others, but looking up to the city's highest ground, a wall and other heavy fortifications appeared to have weathered things out, which raised Able's hopes that he would find records from the Dagobari takeover.
Lark didn't take them up, though, instead passing through the neighborhoods full of homes and workshops to where his friend lived. Once they'd pulled up at a pleasingly structured house with a nicely arranged yard around it, Lark swore and hopped down to quickly tie the horses. Then he ran up the steps to the front porch.
"It looks empty." Able was doing his best to follow after him on stiff legs and with a bruised side.
"It is empty." Lark ripped a sheet of paper from the door. "Here, you wanna see what one of these looks like?" And he shoved it into Able's hands then started prying the lock open with a small knife from his pocket.
It was a notice of seizure. Able tried to put it back on the door that Lark had left open when he rushed inside.
"Wouldn't this be illegal trespassing, then?" he called after him and couldn't make out Lark's reply but could guess at it. He waited on the porch and watched the street. They didn't seem to be drawing any attention.
Fortunately, Lark came back out moments later, much calmer. "Most of their things are gone, so it looks like they vacated rather than were arrested." He headed back to the horses.
"Why would they have been arrested?" Able followed him.
"Who knows. Does anything Sheriff Reeve does make any sense?"
Able demurred from replying yes, as Lark clearly didn't want to hear that. "So what now?" he asked instead.
"We'll go to his parents' house." Lark had already gathered the ponies' leads and started walking down the street. "And hope what happened was the twenty-five percent hike knocked them and they decided to pool their wealth to save the larger house. Never thought I'd see the Bays reduced to something like that, but never thought I'd see a lot of things."
"Why wouldn't he have told you?"
"Hm? Oh, well...Vench's not the sort to think of telling people things." Lark chuckled ruefully.
Able was something of that way himself, wasn't he? In fact, he did not comment as much.
They walked the horses past a couple storehouses and a barn to another house, larger than the last. Lark's back seemed to deflate. Able started towards him with worry until he also noticed the tiny child with a halo of near-white hair playing in the yard out front—Lark was relieved. He tied the horses at the post and made his way over to it.
It looked up and squealed with delight. "Wak!"
"Pinky!" He laughed and scooped the child up and spun around. "Where's your daddy? Inside?"
"Gone." It squinched its face up.
"Gone?" Lark frowned, worried again. "Maybe your momma will tell me." However, he first turned around. "Pinky, this is my new friend, Able."
"Hello." Pinky waved a pudgy hand. "Peased meet you."
"Oh, such nice manners!" Lark grinned proudly. "This is Gift, my goddaughter."
"Oh, I see. 'Pinky' is just a nickname, then."
"Yep, because she was nothing but a little pink lump at first. But look at you, so big and pretty now!"
The child giggled while Lark carried her up to the front door and knocked on it. Able followed at a safe distance. A woman with hair nearly as pale as Gift's and a face set in consternation appeared at the door holding an infant.
She turned and called into the house, "I got it, ma!" She closed the door and stepped onto the stoop, her nose pointed up to Lark's chin. "What do you want, Lark?"
"To talk to Venture," he replied evenly, though stepped back to reclaim some personal space. "What's going on, Ash? I saw the seizure notice."
"Yeah, that's really none of your business—"
"Did they take him?"
"No!" She drew a breath. "Okay, fine, look, they reappraised our home and we couldn't afford it anymore. I didn't want him to get taken, so I tried to talk him into leaving the place and staying with his folks until we figured something else out. I thought I had succeeded, but yesterday he was so straight up pissed about it all that he stormed off and joined the mob at the blockade."
Lark frowned. "Blockade?"
"Yes, a bunch of idiots got it in their head that if they blockaded the new road to Adeptsby that it'll show the Banders good. Welp, now the Banders are pouring in from all sides, and they're all trapped inside their stupid barricade, and I'll be damn lucky to still have a husband when this is over. Sure showed them, didn't it?"
"Ash," an older woman said soothingly from the doorway, "his father will bring him back. Good to see you, Lark."
"Mrs. Bay," he acknowledged.
"His father," Ash's voice rose, "thought he could talk some sense into him, but how's he gonna do that if he doesn't have the sense to see that trying to sneak through the barricade at night is just as bad an idea? For all we know, the Banders got him!"
"If they're not back tonight," Mrs. Bay retained her calm voice, "we'll worry about what to do. Until then, we'll have to believe his plan worked."
Ash huffed, clearly desperate to conceal her distress.
"Is there anything I can do?" Lark asked.
Ash looked like she wanted to say something rude, but her cold glare flicked to Mrs. Bay and she held her tongue.
"I don't think there's any sense in you getting trapped in there too," Mrs. Bay said. "We'll all just have to be patient, as hard as that is."
"All right, I'll leave you all to that." Lark passed his goddaughter to her grandmother.
She gave him a sympathetic smile. "If you want to come by tomorrow morning to see if there's news—"
Ash stormed inside and slammed the door.
"I'm sorry about that."
"She's understandably distraught." Lark smiled gently. "Take care of your family." And he made his way back down the walk, leaving Able to follow uselessly.
"'Understandably distraught,' is it?" he whispered at the end of the lane. "What is she so upset with you about? It's not like you had anything to do with it."
"Ash never really liked me." Lark shrugged as he untied the horses once more. "Thought I was too weird. And then I'm pretty sure she found out that Vench and me did some fooling around back in the day before he decided it just wasn't for him, and now sees me as a threat."
Able froze, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. Lark had said it so casually, did he even mean...that? "But...if that..." No, don't stutter, say something! "I mean, he ultimately chose her, right? So, shouldn't that prove he's not...doing that anymore?" Although, of course, it really didn't.
"Sure, if you want to be all logical and self-secure about it." Lark flashed a wry but winsome grin. "The two of them like a badger and weasel sharing a den, but while it doesn't bother Vench, I think it bothers Ash quite a lot."
"Oh..." Able swallowed. None of this was any of his business. None of it. "So now what?"
"Yeah, now what, indeed. Well, we need to get the horses seen to... What would you say to going halvsies on an inn room?"
Able hadn't been expecting to pay for board, but neither had Lark, so that seemed fair. So the real question was could he manage sharing a room with Lark which...why was he questioning that? They probably would have been sharing some sort of guest accommodations anyway, had things with the Bays gone as expected.
"That seems fair," he replied and hoped that Lark did not notice his trepidation.
If Lark did, he at least did not mention so. He found them an inn that wasn't too pricey, perhaps because it was so tight in space, and once they got the horses and a room squared away, they went two boroughs up into the city to see Heedful Fairweather. Able had thought a walk would do his stiff body some good, but trying to keep pace with Lark uphill was only making his legs and lungs alike burn.
The broadway was as wide and busy as the one in Blueport, though you couldn't mistake this city for that one what with the way the buildings were built at a level angle off the rising grade made them appeared stacked on top of each other. None of the lots lining the street were empty, though not all the establishments were fully constructed. Many that were encased in scaffolding had their shop fronts open. Able would need to explore it some more when he wasn't preoccupied with not losing Lark in a crowd. His friend seemed as adept as weaving through people as he was with foliage.
Able was finding his own self with a bit of space, though. Most pedestrians were not noticing him, but the ones that did watched his face warily and veered from his path. He kept his eyes fixed on Lark's back and reminded himself that if any of the residents had the thought that there was only one Larbant, it wasn't true. Still, it came as a great relief when Lark turned off the broadway into a neighborhood.
Lark spotted someone at the district well right at the entrance and called to her. "Chessie!"
"Lark," she returned his greeting nonplussed when she straightened with her bucket of water. She was a stick of a woman with a tired, freckled face under a mismanaged pile of dirty blond hair.
"You were told I was bringing someone to interview Heedful, right?" Lark said more quietly once they had closed the distance between them.
"I was told," she assured him dryly, "not three hours ago. You sure don't waste any time."
"Nope!" he agreed brightly.
"Well, maybe you should have. I've only just gotten her dinner, and now I'm trying to get her a bath, so maybe do everyone a favor and come back tomorrow, after breakfast?"
"Right. We'll do that. Yes."
"Good." Chessie turned to go, seemingly satisfied.
"Nice to see you, too!" Lark called after her, then turning away, announced, "Aimsby is such a friendly town!" And he laughed.
"We should go get dinner too," Able suggested. Surely Lark was putting on a brave face, so in lieu of anything actually useful and helpful Able could do, he added, "Is there a place you really enjoy? My treat."
Lark gave Able a consoled smile that surged far too much gratified warmth through his system. "I'd like that. Let's do that."
Lark led them back several blocks to a little bistro where it appeared many of the locals had the same idea of distracting themselves from their troubles by eating out. A trio of street musicians were entertaining the people waiting in line to be seated, and Lark lit up at the sight, or perhaps sound, of them.
The ensemble was comprised of two mismatched drums tied together, a stringed instrument resembling a cittern but was played with a bow like a viol, and finally a box-shaped instrument with many strings. This last one was played by a seated fellow who warbling through a ballad. His voice was pleasant, but the lyrics were indecipherable—no, when he went into the chorus the words about the passing seasons became perfectly clear. Interesting, was the first part some lost language or just nonsense?
Able waited for the song to end to ask Lark about it.
But while the crowd was still applauding, Lark cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "How many times has Aimsby burned?"
"Lost count, but we've always returned!" chorused a largely enthusiastic response, though a handful of groans also dispersed through their ranks.
The musicians laughed and launched a jaunty intro that had the crowd clapping and shuffling into the street to dance.
Chief Sharp Graycloud's bride got cold feet
When she heard Servant Bluesky's prophecy.
He sought to make the Eagle pay
'cause he won't be disrespected that way.
Bluesky foresaw the drums of war
'cause what else is this vantage good for? (Ha!)
Raining bolts and stone from higher!
So the bruised chief set the nest on fire!
It's always someone marching up
With vengeance and assaults anew.
Stones and spears to shatter a
Mountain? What else can we do?
They can burn us, but not break us.
We'll rise on smoke and soar alight.
When Aimsby is on fire
You cannot put out our fight!
Into the next verse, yet another leader found a reason to besiege Aimsby, and its citizens sang along and danced while Able was stranded in disturbed fascination. Lark stood out among them, swirling perhaps the most lightly and cheerfully of all to the tune of a clan lining up catapults at the city's base. He was unbiased with his partners, gliding from dancing with a woman to a man and back without missing a step. With a gleaming grin and outstretched arm, he enticed many an edge-stander to join in to the swelling circle of celebration.
Nigh entranced by this performance and...worried Lark might turn that glowing smile on him, Able decisively folded his arms and backed into the crowd until he could lean against the bistro wall. He then pulled his attention back to the song because now Pristine Fires was calling the Bear-Servants liars, and Able was probably never going to get "bragging Dags" out of his head.
And then...the next verse started. Mutterings of disagreement broke here and there in the crowd.
"You're really gonna rhyme 'Bander' with 'candor'?" shouted one incensed participant.
"We'll sing it your way when you're on the stringbox!" the singer replied with a laugh.
The song shakily resumed, and Able hunkered against the wall and surreptitiously glanced around. Most people had their backs to him, but one large man with a bushy beard was fixing him with an ugly glare while nodding along to the beat. A pair of women watched him from the sides of their eyes while speaking to one another. Able just about jumped out of his skin when someone started towards his left.
But it was only the bistro host asking if he'd like to be on the list for a table.