The Familiarity of Things (38)

Ambiskar brought out a tray of mild ales and savoury treats, the tastes of home

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Ambiskar brought out a tray of mild ales and savoury treats, the tastes of home. Little pies packed with meat. Fried carrots, well salted. Parsnips and honey for dessert.

Godiar nibbled halfheartedly at the things on his plate, plainly itching to move on.

But Mother and I wallowed in the familiarity of these things, and how, if we concentrated just so, we could almost kid ourselves that we were back in Peledar in some little private corner somewhere.

I’d not been home in over a year, at least not in any tavern. And Mother? It had been some years since that hurried visit in my tiny chamber on the Black Isle, and Father had made sure to arrange an official exile for her, if only to explain her absence and temper the humiliation he must have felt.

It was remarkable that the two of them had been able to speak to each other at all after that.

At the time, I didn’t think of all these things. I only noticed her enjoyment.

Ambiskar pulled up a stool; his ample form would not have fitted between table and bench.

Ambiskar explained to Godiar what each dish was, but Godiar was no doubt familiar with them from his time in Peledar, presuming he’d told us the truth about that.

My patience only lasted so long. “You knew my father?”

Ambiskar grinned, and his glance danced fleetingly between the three of us, as if deciding how much he should and should not say. “I did indeed. He loved to gossip, almost as much as I do! Every conversation with him was a joy! Enlightening and entertaining!”

“That doesn’t sound much like Aranon,” Mother teased.

“Perhaps I am biased. We had a few interests in common!”

“Such as?” Godiar’s gaze was as sharp as a knife, but a smile filled his mouth.

“History! Language! Politics! He was a fascinating fellow, and I miss him sorely!”

“You don’t know who killed him, do you?” I couldn’t resist.

“I do not. This is what you mean to do? Solve this mystery?”

“We do,” Mother said. “And that is why we’re here. We’ve been to the house. We’re going up to the Citadel, guided by Godiar here, and trying to visit the places he would have visited. To see what we can glean.”

Did Ambiskar know about Traces? Did he have important clues to divulge? These and other questions battled inside me, with each other and with the need for prudence. What could I possibly ask him in front of Godiar? There were dice I didn’t want to uncover.

“It’s an incredible coincidence, to meet you like this, Ambiskar,” I said. It wasn’t entirely true, as Father’s Trace had led me here, but my sentiment was accurate in another way. “We have much to do today, up in the Citadel, and I don’t want to bore Godiar, but I bet you’ll have lots of stories to share when we can come back and have a leisurely chat.” I hoped he’d understand my intentions.

I didn’t know how subtle he was.

Ambiskar smiled, mirth in his eyes. “He was hilarious after a few drinks, your father was — a thing I’ll wager you never knew — and he had plenty of tall tales to tell, too many to tell now, like the time he met a certain young lady named Ollyna —”

“No!” exclaimed Ollyna. “Oh no, he didn’t — don’t tell my son that story, please! All the others, but not that one!”

Ambiskar shook with laughter. “As you wish, my Lady. I accept your terms.”

“I should hope so,” smirked Mother.

If there was such a story, I was certain I didn’t want to hear it.

Ambiskar turned to Godiar. “Is this your first time eating Kinnon food, friend?”

“With certainty, it is not.” Godiar stumbled a little with his Classical Abrilian, and I relished the disadvantage he faced, relieved that we could avoid Agalin for a while. “It is to be noted, however, that I have not before tasted these particular dishes.”

“And how do they suit you?”

“Somewhat beyond my expectations.”

I chuckled, and Godiar’s gaze fell heavy on me. He thought I was mocking his linguistic ability. “A few Kinnon foods are like that.” I hoped it was clear we were laughing with him and not at him. Or not much.

He smiled, as if accepting the humour of it all.

Continue reading with Part 39.

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