The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

One Week - Day 3

On the third day Able was in Adeptsby, he decided to pay a visit to the financial analyst. Hardy Northrise's office was sequestered on the upper floor in the shadow of the tower. He recognized the scent of hashish before he knocked on the door, so he gamely knocked a second time when there was no response and mused at what he might find within.

"Yeah, come in," came the distracted response, and Able opened the door. The smoke took him straight back to the evenings in the University residence halls. He had never partaken himself as he could neither afford to be as unproductive as the hashish enthusiasts were nor had he trusted his fellow students in the event he had a bad reaction to it. The source of the smoke was a simple rolled cigarette forgotten at the elbow of the man Able assumed was Hardy Northrise. All his attention was currently on the admittedly impressive four-level house of cards on the end table before him. This was situated before the narrow solitary window, and he had pulled up a bench to sit with his knees against it. His desk was in the center of the room and nearly bare.

Able took all this in and considered giving this cause up for lost.

"Did you want something?" the man had carefully withdrawn his hands from his precarious creation.

"I did. I was wondering at your thinking over the state of the county's financial affairs."

"I am thinking I should fake my death and change my name," he said this with such lucidity that Able couldn't help but chuckle at which point the man actually looked at him. "Shit. Oh...sh—landing ships, yes. Who are you?"

"Able Houser. Independent chronicler affiliated with Fourwind Heights."

Northrise hastily stood and stubbed out his smoke, and the hapless cards tumbled all around. He straightened and strode to his side table, "were you looking for any particular reports or sheets?" He poured himself a cup from the coffee pot.

"I've looked through quite enough down in records and wanted to discuss my findings with you."

Northrise gulped down his coffee and made a face, "I'd offer you some, but it is cold and vile. Please have a seat."

Able looked at the empty space in front of the desk, then went to fetch the bench.

"Oh—let, uhm..." Northrise awkwardly smoothed down his jacket front as Able pulled the bench to the desk and sat on it. While he was smoothing, he became entranced by an loose button.

"I can come back at a more opportune time," Able offered.

"Nope—er, no," Northrise sat. "My schedule is clear right now, so. Now is a very opportune time."

"Really? Because you don't appear to have all your faculties right now."

"Of course I do," Northrise sat bolt upright. "It's just that the job is very stressful, and I really need a little help dealing with it. It's a health thing. All it does is help me relax and keep my blood pressure down."

"Oh, is that all it does?"

"Have you never tried it?" Northrise apparently missed Able's sarcasm and fished the roll out from his pocket.

"No, I haven't," Able replied then after a pause took the offered cigarette. "You just inhale through here?"

"Yeah, exactly, that easy. Take it slow, though." While Northrise lit his lamp, it occurred to Able that he would have hesitated to do this before he had come to Borealund, and how silly that seemed now. This might be the easiest time he'd have winning over a source yet. Then again, he had gamely inhaled quite a bit before it occurred to him that he had just intentionally filled his lungs with smoke, and they were responding accordingly. He started coughing so hard that he felt as if he would never breath again. His throat burned more with every desperate wheeze.