The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Such a Friendly Town

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."