While most of Bridgebay's waterfront was broken into wharves, the northernmost island of the river delta maintained a pristine beach of pink-hued sand. After squeezing through the stuffed streets of the commerce districts, crossing the bridge into Rosesurf was like entering a different city entirely. Wide avenues lined with entertainment establishments separated the rows of massive townhomes sequestered behind walls and private gardens. The residents lounged in open carriages for their neighbors to observe their finery as rare, high-stepping horses pulled them to and from their events. Canvas tarps stretched above them seemed the only concession to the frequent rain. Even the servants were dressed as well as investment merchants while they ran their errands.
In short, it was a terrible place for a group of Borealunders to try to lay low. Was there a soul in the district who would forget a straggly group of northerners?
But Iris Smelter was too gracious to comment on their appearances when she welcomed them into her shore-side home with its undulating stone architecture supporting multiple stories and apartments. She did outfit them with fresh clothing then spared little expense transforming her keeping room into a buffet parlor and her dining room into a boardroom. So the widow of one of Pillar's fellow generals was erring on the side of actually hosting royalty at the very least.
Said royalty retired to the canopy bed Smelter had made up for him and stayed there for twenty hours. Surely he needed the sleep. The lawyer Darkshoal, however, came to life after a cup of coffee. Well into the night, he sifted through the references and resumes Smelter's servants brought for him. When Able came down for breakfast, he made himself useful helping Darkshoal draft inquiries. They needed to be perfectly vague about who the client was and what was involved in the job. Wouldn't take much to start rumors in this town.
When Lark did come down, Able kept to this task to avoid looking too familiar with him. Though from the corner of his eye, he did watch Lark eat roughly his own weight from the spread and thoroughly charm the staff while he was at it. But by the time General Pillar arrived with a representative of Queen Eminence, Lark had vanished.
For half an hour, Able hesitated at the end of the table managing to overhear one house staff member after another tell the majordomo where Lark wasn't. General Pillar had fallen into conversation with Smelter while the queen's representative was asking Flower Hawking and Chessie about Borealund. Finally, one staff member jogged in to whisper that the prince was in the ocean.
Able sighed loudly for show as he turned and approached the majordomo himself. "I'll go talk to him."
The man was visibly relieved. "Very good, sir." It was fair for everyone to be on edge.
Able let himself out into the garden and followed the path to the seaside gate. Pillar had sent trusted soldiers to secure Smelter's home the moment she'd sent word. The two that had been guarding the gate had apparently followed the prince as far as the surf, and now stood watching him from the beach. That had not dissuaded him from leaving all of his clothes behind. But he wasn't swimming that far from the shore.
Able nodded to the soldiers and fortunately they seemed to recognize him as they only nodded back. Storm clouds lined the horizon, probably only an hour or two from landfall. So at the very least, Lark couldn't stay out here longer than that. Or...maybe he could. It was hard to tell what risks he might take.
"Able! You're coming in, right?" Lark had spotted him before he had decided how best to approach this.
"Are you intentionally missing the conference?" Lark might not hear him over the surf or pretend this was the case, but Able carried on for the sake of the guards. "It's your claim we're drafting, you know!"
"It's warmer than I remember!"
Able sighed again and removed his boots. He also removed then tucked his shirt and belt into his boots before he waded in and swam out. They could speak more freely out here anyway.
Lark grinned as Able joined him over a cresting swell. "You're so half-assed."
"Maybe I am still traumatized from the stories I was told about groupers snapping up free-floating flesh when I was five."
"The things they say to make kids keep their pants on!" Lark laughed.
"Sure. What do I say to you to get yours back on?"
"Lemme think." Lark rolled his eyes in a show of thinking before breaking into a devious smile and biting his lower lip. "You know...I have always wanted to make love on the beach in the surf? Like they do in those trashy operas?" Fortunately, he did not burst out in one of those songs.
Able's first thought went to places he did not want sand, oddly enough, before he turned to regard the two men standing just beyond the reach of the waves. "Some other beach, perhaps?"
"It was a joke!"
Able frowned and turned back to him. "You meant it."
"So?" Lark was looking out to sea instead of at Able. "Sometimes I say things I mean as jokes."
"Both, fine," Able said and sighed. "Are you aware the general is here?"
"I was until I successfully let my mind go blank!" He then broke into the oncoming wave.
Able floated over it. "Okay." He waited for Lark to resurface and shake his hair out. "They're getting anxious and suspicious in there. Hard to convince them you exist without you. And...I am not comfortable with drafting your claim without your input."
"I just got here. I'll come in when I'm ready."
"Look—" Able stopped and rubbed his face. "If you don't want to do this—"
"Why would I get on that godforsaken ship and drag you all over here for something I'm not going to do?" Still he looked out to sea instead of at Able.
"Your behavior is looking a little self-sabotaging right now."
"Fuck god in the eye," Lark hissed, not easing Able's impression in the slightest. "I'm gonna do it, okay? I'm gonna get over it. I just gotta whine like a little bitch for a while before I can get over it, and if you can't get that, just leave me to it, alright?" He turned over and floated up the face of a wave only to dive when it crested.
Able stayed floating himself, tried to ease into weightlessness and clear away his agitation. The small piece of all this that had ever been in his hands had already slipped away. All he'd ever wanted was to make an impact, and now that he had, the reverberations were beyond his control. Everything from here could be his fault, but never again his responsibility. Only Lark's.
But Lark still needed him. And while he'd say he needed Able to be Able, he clearly needed Able to be something specific right now.
"Hey, speaking of operas," he tried when Lark surfaced near him again. "I believe I saw at least four playhouses on the way here."
"Yeah?" Lark wiped the water from his eyes and was finally looking at him.
"Just wondering if I could bribe you. You go in there, make nice, write a letter to your mother, and then you and I can sneak off to a show tonight."
"To a Gilded Carpenter?" Lark's eyes lit up. "His plays were my favorites! God, does he even still compose?"
"I think so." Able had attended precious few performances in his life, and yet this was a name he knew. The opera-junkies at the university must have mentioned him only several thousand times.
Lark began to lilt. "If you could look at me once more with all the love you felt before—" He dropped his pitchy note with an embarrassed grin. "Sorry. The songs are just so..." He dropped his head back with a blissful sigh to float on his back, easily the most positive feeling he'd expressed about Larbantry.
"A Carpenter play, then. I'll look in the other districts if I must. Do we have an accord? A simple one to warm up on before pursuing larger ones?"
"I will go in for a night out," Lark replied with a shrewd grin as he paddled by, "but I'm not writing a letter to my mother unless you write one to yours."
"Ah." Able grimaced then cleared his throat. "Dear Ma, I am now in Bridgebay, but I do not know if I will make it home or not, and I cannot tell you what I am doing. Also, if you haven't been receiving my salary, talk to Method straightaway. But don't mention I might not make it back. Done?"
"I'll write her one too." Lark dropped his feet so he was upright again, and soberly began, "Madam Houser, deepest apologies for taking your husband from you permanently. He was a good man and the world is worse for his loss. I shall endeavor not to repeat the performance with your son."
"...are you trying to get me to go?"
Lark shook his head. "Just getting it off my chest before I commit a selfish act." Lark somehow found Able's hand under the water. "Please don't leave me here."
Able raised an eyebrow and squeezed his hand. "Asking me not to do something I wouldn't for all the stars in the sky is selfish, now?"
"...thank you," Lark whispered, eyes downcast.
Fortunately, Able remembered they were being watched before he gave into his urge to pull Lark close. Instead, he looked back at the shore. "You ready to go save Borealund yet?"
"I dunno, are we really sneaking out?" Lark also gazed at the two soldiers on the shore and swallowed like he was straining at a collar around his throat. Had he lived a day of his life without someone hounding him and trying to bring him to heel?
...had Able not just been that someone?
He nearly swore, but as that would hardly reassure anyone, he swallowed it down and instead said, "It's what you want, right? I'll figure it out."
Lark nodded once and began to swim.
Able returned to the board room with wet pants and sand in his shoes while Lark stepped out to dry off and change. Darkshoal was peppering Pillar with questions, which the general seemed happy enough to answer, while Flower Hawking had worked her way into an animated discussion with the queen's representative. Able let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.
Maybe he had time to change himself—oh, no they had noticed him and quieted. He straightened. "I thank you for your patience. The prince will be along shortly."
"He has cold feet?" Pillar suggested with a grandfatherly, sympathetic smile.
"Very," Able replied with a grateful nod. Fascinating that he could just as easily picture the general scowling with grandfatherly disapproval as he called his men to arrest them for fraud. But Pillar seemed content to return to his conversation.
Everyone else as well, leaving Able to stand there dripping on the floor. Maybe he should go change? He hadn't asked Lark how long he might be for fear of nagging him. He did not want to be away when Lark got here, so he stood and dripped.
Lark did not keep him long. "So, hi?" He stepped into the room, hands in the pockets of his fairly casual suit, hair loose over his shoulders, tendrils still glistening with seawater that— Able pulled his attention back to the others.
Pillar had quite forgotten himself and stood with his eyebrows raised and his mouth partially open. The queen's representative at least had the dignity to cover her mouth with her hands. She collected herself and started around the table towards them.
Lark had yet to collect himself, though he did blink the shocked look from his eyes. "Nana?"
She looked up at him and put her hands on her ample hips. "It's not like my meadowlark to come down so late."
"What? I was down before you were here!" Lark looked like he was attempting to fidget away an impulse to hug her.
"Well, I'll have to hope I can't be held responsible for all the manners you never learned while running around those forests like a wild child. Yes, these ladies have told me a fair bit that I didn't find surprising."
Able glanced at the two Servants to see Flower looking a tad sheepish. Chessie, of course, did not.
Lark slid his tunic off. "I imagine that you want to see if that tadpole finally grew into a frog?"
Now he was untucking his shirt. Oh no, did he mean to take it off? What would the general think of those tattoos? ...then again, his trusted soldiers had already seen them and would likely tell him anyway.
But Lark had only slid the fabric halfway up and had turned his back to the assembled. Right, he had those two birthmarks below his right shoulder blade. One was round while the other beside it was more of a squiggle. It was easy to imagine this woman coaxing a rambunctious child in and out of clothes and baths with playful notions.
"Still a tadpole," she announced but then scraped at it with her fingernail to make certain it was real. "Even if you aren't. What'd the Bors feed you to make you so tall and thin?"
"Ah, is now a good time to regale you with tales of how I hunted the wild boar bare-handed?" Lark turned to grin mischievously at her while he tucked his shirt back under his belt.
She helplessly shook her head at him. "I'm not supposed to do this." And she gave him a hug.
He rested his cheek on her head while he returned it and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he mumbled through a choked up throat. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Able chanced a glance at Pillar again. His eyes were bright, and he rubbed his chin as though intrigued. The sight banished Able's imaginings of the man saying "You did your research, I'll give you that" before the guards closed in around him.
...and the shadow of the emperor himself loomed in their place.
"You haven't changed, Houser?"
Able caught his startled breath then looked at Lark who was seating himself before a sheet of paper.
Lark flashed him a smile, a reassuring one that turned bright and cheery as he turned it to his old nursemaid. "What sort of letter was Mama hoping to get from me?"
Seeing as Lark had this under control, Able left to get dry pants. He then approached the majordomo for some funds so he could run some errands. He could only hope the amount he requested would be enough for tickets as he went to investigate the playhouses. Maybe he'd have time to drop into the Royal Chapter as well. The nursemaid recognizing Lark was a start, but the more people who did, the more pressure on the king to do the same.