Leofric

Ipomoea stood in the doorway for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the light, then made her way down the corridor to the kitchen. There she found her father, Leofric, basting a haunch of venison suspended over a fire in a large stone fireplace that took up most of the wall to her left. Similar haunches of venison hung suspended over similar fires down the length of the fireplace, having already been basted, apparently. The front of the house must be full this afternoon. On the opposite wall, long counters held platters full of delicate fruit pastries glazed with honey and blocks of cheese. A dozen or so loaves of fresh bread were cooling on the island in the middle of the counter alongside pans of roasted carrots, parsnips, and turnips. And in the far corner of the room, a young boy stood at a wash basin scrubbing plates, a pile of dirty dishes on the counter next to him. The pile was almost as tall as the boy himself. Ipomoea tried to remember the boy’s name, but it escaped her at the moment. He had only just started the other day, and he was a rowdy little thing. She had had little interest, energy, or time to get to know the child. She made a mental note to get on that later and returned her attention to her father.

Leofric had just finished with the roast, replaced the basting brush in a small pot on the hearth, and wiped his hands on his apron. Ipomoea went over a gave him a quick one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. Her father returned the hug enthusiastically before holding her out at arm’s length as if for examination.

Not for the first time, Ipomoea noted just how strongly she took after her mother, and how little she took after her father. Ipomoea and Calla were both slim and delicate figures, with smooth, iridescent scales that danced with color as they moved, delicate translucent wings, and round pupils in their large, expressive eyes. Ipomoea was dark where her mother was light, with deep purple scales and amethyst eyes instead of the lilac scales and cornflower blue of her mother’s eyes. And Ipomoea had a series of ridges along her head and neck that were tinged silver at the edges, rather than the small, pale blue horns that swept back over her mother’s head framed by delicate, papery blue frills. But minor differences aside, one would never doubt that Ipomoea and Calla were related.

Her father was a different matter entirely. Her was tall, broad, and muscular, and towered over both his wife and daughter. In fact, he dwarfed most of his customers and neighbors. His scales were not the smooth, sleek, tiny things that Ipomoea sported, but were large and prominent, each one overlapping the ones below it. It gave him a prickly look, a bit like a living pine cone. He even looked a little like an immature pine cone with his forest green scales. A bit dark for the full effect, but it had always amused Ipomoea nonetheless. Brownish grey diamond patterns ran along his sides and back in three long rows, and short spikes jutted out sharply from his brow line, curling in toward each other slightly at the tip. A ridge of scales started between the horns and ran the length of his body, tapering out only at the tip of his tail. His wings, though leathery, were thicker, the arms more pronounced and muscular, the fingers ending in claws rather than the dainty nails his wife and child bore. Everything about her father was sharp, Ipomoea reflected. Even his eyes looked sharp, with their slitted pupils. But she loved the color. Leofric’s eyes were olive green, but right at the center, following the line of the pupils, was a ring of yellow that reminded her of goldenrods. Everything about her father was sharp, except perhaps his personality.

“And how is my little Lona this fine afternoon?” Leofric asked fondly, using her hatch name instead of her chosen name. He was in high spirits, no doubt from the addition of the new kitchen helper. They had been short staffed for several weeks now, ever since the last kitchen boy had chosen a name and moved away to start his own restaurant in his home city, and her father had been run ragged trying to do the work of two people. The new boy must be working well for Leofric to seem so refreshed. Ipomoea mentally underlined her previous note to make the boy’s acquaintance.

“I just got a big order,” Ipomoea answered. “It’s an unusual one, and it’ll keep me busy for awhile.”

“Well, nobody told you to be so talented,” Leofric replied fondly. “And besides, I know you like to keep busy. You never did take well to leisure time. I assume this means we won’t see you outside of mealtimes for awhile?”

“I’m not certain just yet. I’ll have to check my stores and see what I’m missing. I may have to go shopping for some of the rarer ingredients.”

Leofric nodded. “Well, I’ll send Tumach up to fetch you when supper is ready.” He gestured at the dish washer. Tumach looked over at the mention of his name and nodded at the other two.