The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Thoughts of Obligation

It seemed a long way back into town. Able failed more often than not to resist reaching for Lark's arm to steady him when he faltered, which fed Lark's irritated mood, which was largely caused by Lark's remarkable stamina betraying him. Still, when they reached the stairs to his home, Lark stopped all proffered help with a marvelous glare of his own.

As Able watched him ascend the stairs, he couldn't help smiling in admiration. Yes, Lark had been foolishly stubborn, but he had not misjudged his capability, so far beyond Able's own. He followed Lark up the stairs and into the house where he closed the door and took off his boots while Lark ignored both these tasks in favor of easing himself onto the couch.

"Ah...you boys are back." Splendor Hatling came out of the dining area with her hands nervously folded across her belly.

Able immediately started in with, "Do you have any nettle or anything similar you use to ease pain? We overdid it on our walk, I'm afraid, and Lark's very sore from all his coughing." Lark hadn't coughed once, so this risked giving away what Able knew. Worth it to get suitable medicine.

"Oh, of course!" She looked at Lark with concern and said, "I'll go brew some up, all right, dear?"

"Thanks." Lark forced a smile and watched her head back into the kitchen until Able sat down beside him, so he gave him a side-eye. "I'm not getting up again until bedtime, okay? You don't have to watch me."

"I like sitting with you," Able answered honestly then added wryly, "especially when it lowers the chance of my being stabbed to death in a dark alley."

"I... I'm sorry I alarmed you like that." Lark heaved a shallow sigh. "I can't promise there's no danger of that, but I really should be able to assuage any of their fears regarding you." They. So the Black Sword traitor was involved with some group, Sons or not.

"I figured as much...or hoped, maybe. I think I've gotten used to being in a conflict area, at least, as I'm not overly disturbed."

Lark just smiled to himself.

...damn it, that ride back from Kettlebrook. Lark had known exactly how Able's encounter with the Shadow had gone. "So..." Able started, his throat forgivingly clear even if his face wasn't, "should I not leave the house while you're laid up?"

"Oh, I think you can. Just stick to ah, populated areas. And maybe stay away from the docks."

"I'm fine laying low. Nightwatch has more books I can borrow."

"That's handy." Lark let his eyes close again. "Glad you finally found a verifiable source."

"Yeah..." Might as well ask before Hatling returned, "Hey, you're not going to be in trouble, are you?"

"If I'm lucky, I'll just get an earful," he murmured.

"...and if you're unlucky?"

Lark started to shrug but stopped himself. "I'll get two or three." That didn't seem worth tears. But then again, that fracture alone must really be hurting him, then adding all the guilt and trauma from the fallout of his being kidnapped. He really was a tough person.

Hatling returned with a steaming pot on a tea tray which she set before Lark. She encouraged him to finish the whole thing, then settled into an armchair and began idly chattering about the neighbors. Lark showed interest at first, but as he made it to the bottom of the pot of medicine his fatigue was such that he was no longer listening.

"—maybe you should go to bed, dear," she interjected into the middle of her own tale about someone's distant grandchildren's ventures into woodworking.