(2023-06-05) Meet the Family

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	Ben and Mizzy meet Ben's doppelganger, at last.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Chain: Bizzy

The late-spring morning is already warming to the promise of a hot early-summer afternoon, and the Callis Orchards are carpeted with a final snow of apple blossom petals among graceful green boughs. A horse moves along the oyster-shell path up toward the house. It is a horse of no particular interest, a general sort of all-purpose plodder, either a farm horse or, perhaps, a Southshore Rental Horse. The horse's rider may be of somewhat more interest, perhaps: He is a young man in well-kept if also well-worn workman's clothing, and he bears a strange and striking resemblance to the young lord of the Orchards. Heads turn as he passes, and looks are exchanged.

Ismene Hazan cannot be kept inside on a nice spring day, not when the apple orchards are still fragrant and flinging life everywhere. Bees bumble around the trees, determined to harvest up the last bits of pollen and nectar, too busy to care about the workers below. There aren't as many as there would be at harvest season; spring is mostly about pruning and dealing with early pests. There may be a whiff or two of a strong herbal concoction, lending the sweet blossoms a tangy midnote. The concoctor is, of course, Mizzy herself (wearing a very un-Mizzyish sturdy canvas apron over a rather drab set of pants and shirt, her hair covered with a kerchief) and she's demonstrating the use of it to a farm hand who's been doing this since before she was born. The expression on his face is one of patient indulgence.

At least, until he gets a gander of who's on the horse.

Ismene turns to see what could have snuck up that deserves such a face. Then she makes the same face. It's a kind of goodness gracious me oh my face that lingers even as she hurries to the path.

The young man on the horse reins in at the sight of a young woman hurrying toward him, and smiles a little uncertainly. He looks remarkably like Ben Hazan might have a handful of years ago: He is leaner and lighter of build than Ben, a couple of inches shorter, and though he has the same tousle-dark hair, his is shorter and distinctly more neatly-kept, perhaps better-acquainted with regular trimming and a comb.

As Mizzy nears, he nods respectfully. "I'm given to understand this is the Hazan place, miss?" he calls. Rather than a Westfall drawl, his accent has a slight northern burr.

"Ben," she says, because she is intelligent. She looks him over more carefully, head to heels and back again, slow and careful. "Hazan," she says, perhaps more astutely. Oh, but he asked a question. "Yes, you have the right place. Well, one of them. Who are you?"

Isn't she a bundle of welcome?

"Jonas," he says. "Hazan. And I've been getting that a lot." He might mean the Ben. He might mean the Who are you? "May I ask — sorry, who are you, miss?"

"Ismene," she replies. "Also Hazan. My husband is your Ben. I mean… Ben's my husband! You look like… well, not quite like… You– Does h– How di–" He might as well get used to this if he's going to be around. "Ben!" she calls over her shoulder, without looking away from Jonas. Is he even here? She's forgotten.

"Oh! You're Lady Ismene. I'm sorry." Jonas swings down from the horse but doesn't approach; he stands sort of awkwardly holding the animal's bridle.

"Mizmainy?" calls Ben in reply to Mizzy's summons, and a moment later he approaches himself from the direction of the stables; he's wearing his leather smith's apron, shirtsleeves rolled up and his shirt and hair both damp and sticking with perspiration. He's been working with Chester on shoeing horses this morning, and when he swipes his forearm across his face he leaves a sooty streak. "What's goin' —"

He halts and stares at Jonas.

"Uh huh," Ismene agrees. She moves so that she can see them more or less at the same time. "You can't have a son his age, right?" He's right there, Mizzy. She walks closer to the skinnier one. "Jonas, Ben. Ben, Jonas." And in case he didn't get it, she adds, "Jonas Hazan."

"I don't think," says Jonas carefully, "that he could have a son my age, unless he started at… three or four."

Ben is drifting closer to Mizzy, still staring at Jonas. "You're — okay. You're — Mayellen mentioned. The cousin. You're… my cousin?"

Jonas nods and looks from Ben to Mizzy and back again. "Surprise? I suppose. In both directions, I assure you."

She can't help it. Ismene starts giggling. She covers her mouth with one hand. "Ben with a northern accent," she squeaks. Oh well, at least her sense of humor has broken her fascination. Her smile is genuine as she extends a hand. "Come inside," she offers. "Welcome to the Orchards, at least the apple ones. The pear ones are over that way." She flaps the unextended hand. "Chester!" Lady Ismene Hazan yells a lot for other people. "Come and take our guest's horse! You're staying for a bit, yes?"

"I, er. I wasn't going to. I don't mean to impose, and my mother's just down in Southshore with the Hollistons…." Jonas looks between the two Hazans uncertainly as Chester comes hurrying to collect the horse and then stops and does the same doubletake that everyone else has done so far.

Ben looks from Jonas to Mizzy to Jonas to Mizzy to Jonas again, and clears his throat. "Yeah," he says. "Uh, you ought to come in. I am gonna have to get cleaned up a minute, but — yeah."

"See? You can't have meant to come all this way only to turn right around again. We won't make you, of course, but… But really, I hope you come in and stay a bit." She drops her hand to her side. "We'll have some cider and you can tell us…" There's a lot. "…everything."

Jonas clears his throat and offers his Rental Horse's bridle to Chester. "There's… a lot. Maybe?"

Gamely, he moves to follow Mizzy. Ben waits and falls in behind him. He's not looming. He's not looming on purpose. He's not looming very much on purpose.

Mizzy leads the little troupe inside and into the sitting room. It's a work in progress, with still overly ornate furniture resting on polished oak floors. The ceiling tiles overhead are once again warm beams, and here too the whitewash has been reapplied to walls and ceiling. But some of the knick knacks remain, marble busts staring with disdain at the homey environment in which they find themselves.

At least the cider is ready, and sandwiches too, in preparation for lunch. The sandwiches match the sturdy farmhouse, the plates match the decor. Heavy ham and slabs of cheese smeared with Mrs. Barnsby's own special recipe spicy brown mustard are served on delicate china, and the cider waits in cool crystal glasses. Ismene goes to the side bar to pick up a third glass, filling it with cider while everyone finds a seat that (probably) won't collapse under them.

"We've heard of you, of course," Ismene says. "I don't think anyone did justice to the resemblance, though. And you say your mother's in Southshore? I don't think I know the Hollistons."

Jonas is busy gazing all around, taking the place in. "They know of you. I mean, the Callises." He eyes the sandwiches avidly, but goes politely to take a seat first.

Ben pauses and tries to decide whether to stay here and Loom or whether to, as he'd promised, clean up a bit. "I'll be right back," he grudges at last and turns, and then there is the thud of feet running up stairs.

Ismene grins at her husband's departure and leans in to whisper, "I once said something to him about how nice Northern accents were and he's never quite gotten over it." Then she sits back. "Well, he'll want to hear anything you have to say, I'm sure. Help yourself to a sandwich. Mrs. Barnsby knows how to cook for Ben's appetite, so there'll be more in the kitchen if we need it. The Hollistons must not be anybody we employ; I've been so careful to learn everyone's names! Though I suppose a few new faces at Harvest might sneak in. What do they do, are they shop keepers? I have a friend who's from one of the merchant families there."

She runs out of breath and takes a sip of cider.

"They're… not shopkeepers. They're rather…" Jonas tries to figure out how to say it politely. "Money?" He reaches for a sandwich without requiring further exhortation. "Northern accents? I don't… suppose I hear it, myself. The Westfall accent is pretty dramatic, aye?"

Ben is in a hurry not to leave his wife alone with this shifty Northern-accented cousin, it seems; he can be heard thumping back and forth urgently overhead.

"My mother never let me develop an accent," Mizzy says philosophically, "so now I sound like everyone in Stormwind and it's quite boring. Ben's not really worried about me leaving him for someone with a northern accent, mind you. He's worried he won't make me happy enough, which is silly especially over an accent. And you must give the Hollistons my regards. And your mother, too, of course! Perhaps she could come by some time." More family! It's like a wonderful dream. Maybe. Hm.

Jonas knits his brow and glances up at the ceiling at the 'not happy enough' remark. He drops his gaze back to Mizzy and searches her gravely, perhaps for signs of insufficient happiness. "Ah," he says. "My mother would be glad to meet you, I'm sure. She's the governess for the Hollistons; Marin Hazan, she's called."

Mizzy purses her lips. "A governess, you say…" She is intrigued. "How old is the Holliston's youngest, then?"

Jonas is gazing longingly at the sandwich he holds, but he is too polite to eat before his host is present. He glances up. "Twelve, now, I believe? They're all growing out. Children do, or so I hear."

Ben comes clattering breathlessly back down the stairs in fresh clothing, his damp hair combed back. It is still, somehow, not as tidy-looking as Jonas's. "Hey," he says. "Hey, y'all. Sorry." He goes directly to the chair beside Mizzy and settles into it (he knows better than to drop into any of the chairs in the Callis house; he may have learned this lesson the hard way).

Jonas nods equably at him.

"Jonas was just telling me that his mother is a very respectable governess at a wealthy household," Ismene says, smiling at Ben and his neatly mussed hair. "Isn't that interesting?" She blinks at Jonas just sitting there, holding a sandwich.

Weird.

Ben eyes Jonas's sandwich and then Jonas a little warily. Who doesn't eat a sandwich?

Weird.

He leans forward to take one himself. "Mayellen wrote me about you," he says. "I mean, not much about you. But that you — are. I guess?" He considers Jonas, and eats half of his sandwich in two bites. "Where'd you —" He pauses, glances at Mizzy, possibly remembers that he's a Lord or a paladin or both now, and sits up a little, clearing his throat. "I must say I was pretty surprised to hear it. How'd you find out about us?"

"I'm assuming the same way we found out about him," Ismene says. She doesn't pick through the sandwiches to find the one human-sized one, but curls her hands in on each other. The faint aroma about her of herbal decoction may provide a clue why she doesn't. She stands and steps away enough to take off her apron and her hair kerchief, then pats the silky strands back where they belong (Ed note: So jealous). "Mayellen, I mean. Though maybe just from town gossip?"

She smooths her skirts before remembering she's wearing pants, hangs her apron and kerchief over a statue, then returns to sit next to Ben.

"It was from your book, actually," says Jonas, and has a polite person-sized bite of his sandwich. And then another, slightly larger. "I was in Stormwind and meaning to make my way further south, but I stopped to buy books for reading on the road before I left the city, and I found yours. I… knew my father had southern kin, but not who or what they might be up to. The name 'Hazan' was enough to make me pick it up, and when I asked around after, I was told you'd probably gone to Northrend personally, but that Cobalt Company was based in Ironforge."

He eats some more sandwich. It is beginning to disappear at a Ben-like speed.

"So then I went up to Ironforge and asked about, and people said you were a regular at Bruuk's, and a young lady at Bruuk's gave me the address of your house there. Where I went, and met Mayellen, and gave her… well. Quite a start, I guess." He makes a rueful face.

"My book," says Ben, and for the first time looks sort of pleased. He smiles at Jonas. "Damn, well." His smile fades a little. "So your… father was… ?"

Jonas looks grave. "Isak. Your uncle, it seems."

Ben's eyes widen.

Ismene's eyes go from one born-that-way Hazan to another. She rests a hand on Ben's knee, just in case the name "Isak" is enough to make him leap up and punch a guest in the nose. "I don't recall hearing any stories of an Isak," she says, picking up a goblet of cider with her free hand. In case she needs to throw the contents on someone who might leap up and punch her husband in the nose? Perhaps.

"Isak's — my uncle, yeah. He was… the youngest son, just older'n Aunt Nir. But he run off… I dunno. He ru– ran off before I met him. Before I was born, or roundabouts, I guess?" Ben studies Jonas. "Nobody talked about him much, and I reckon they sort've figured he was dead. I mean — or maybe that was just me that figured it. I knew Aunt Nir was still alive someplace because they wa– were pissed about her, but no one much talked about him."

Jonas nods mildly. His sandwich has somehow disappeared. Magic! "He came north. To Silverpine, and married my mother."

"Where's he at now?" Ben asks.

"He went through the Portal," Jonas says. "With the Sons of Lothar. When I was still… very small."

Ben sits in shocked silence for a moment. "He was — a Son of Lothar?"

Ismene's hands settle down now that no one else is throwing theirs. I mean, she leaves them where they are because touching Ben is always soothing, but she actually sips her cider. "He must've been very brave," Ismene says softly. "I'm so sorry you grew up without him. Have you heard anything since the portals reopened?"

Jonas shakes his head and, after a moment's hesitation, reaches for another sandwich. "I was aimed to go through myself. To look for him. It's why I was heading south, aye? When I paused in Stormwind." He looks between the two. "May thought it was a very poor idea. She introduced me to Sir Elohad — suggested I might be better off as Cobalt, and could go through someday with a team beside me." He studies Ben. "I don't suppose — I know you were there for a while. I don't suppose you heard anything of him?"

Ben glances at Mizzy, and then back to Jonas. He shakes his head with genuine regret. "I would've noticed, if there was another fellow called Hazan. I mean, the name would've stuck out at me, yeah?"

"But that's not to say he wasn't there," Mizzy hastens to add. "He might have heard of Cobalt Company, but not necessarily our last names. There were humans everywhere we went, refugees, children… It's a very dangerous place, and ther– I mean to say that… that there were places they were wiped out entirely but still, there's a little bit of hope. Was he a foot soldier or a mage? What did he do?"

"Foot soldier," says Jonas. "He was with Lordaeron's infantry, and then when Lord Turalyon was looking for volunteers —" He shrugs.

"Damn," says Ben. "I did not — sorry. That is not a thing I would have expected to hear. About… a Hazan. No offense."

Jonas smiles very faintly. "If you don't take any yourself, I suppose I can't either. I have… gathered, from some of my time in Westfall lately. About the rest of them. But I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, at last." He looks politely from Ben to Mizzy and back again.

Ismene has grace enough to blush. "Goodness, we've just been grilling you, haven't we? How rude. I hope you'll let me apologize; all I can say is that I'm so surprised, I hardly know how to behave! I will say every Hazan smart enough to find a way out of Westfall has been delightful. I married one, after all." She smiles over and up at Ben. "So we'll assume the same thing about your father." RIGHT BEN? RIGHT?

"Right." Ben glances at Mizzy. "Yeah, that's right. I am — I mean. I reckon he must've been a fine fellow, goin' in with Lordaeron's soldiers and then… a Son of Lothar. The ones we met out there, they were a hell of a group."

Jonas nods. "Thank you. Thanks. My mother — still speaks very highly of him. I'd like to know him better myself, so. But meanwhile I seem to have… picked up a few other Hazans, so there's that." He smiles at Ben.

He smiled at Ben, so now Mizzy loves him. "More family is just what we need," she says, leaning forward to put down her glass, then forward more to rest a hand on Jonas's knee. "You're welcome here literally any time. Just drop in, family doesn't have to ask. Bring your mother some time, too! Ben's here off and on, but I'm always here or at the pear orchard."

Before it gets too awkward, she leans back. "Oh! And you have to be here at harvest! For the cider pressing and the music and everything. Now that you've seen it here at spring! Have another sandwich, if you want. Ben usually eats two or three." She beams. Yay, family that isn't terrible.

Ben eyes the remaining sandwiches and then Mizzy. Damn, woman, giving away his sandwiches?

He looks back to Jonas and nods. "I am up to Northrend mostly, these days, but now that portals are workin' I try to get back. Mizmainy — Ismene, that is — has the managin' of this place mostly. She is the business brains. And yeah, you should come by whenever you want. For harvest or anytime. I will like to meet your mother."

Jonas eyes Ben eyeing the sandwiches and decides not to risk it. "Thank you. She'll be glad also, she never met any of my father's kin either. He… made it pretty clear they were not on terms, I guess."

"You met Niris, though," Ismene points out. "She's wonderful! I was helping her run an apothecary for a little while. Did you introduce your mother to Niris? She should know more of the good Hazans." Ismene beams at Ben. Like Ben. Ben is wonderful, too. "But it'll be good to have family so near when Ben's away!"

"I haven't, actually," Jonas admits. "Introduced my mother yet, that is. I've just been — she works, and there's been so much going on with Cobalt and everything, and I suppose… I really ought to introduce her to Mayellen, actually. Perhaps she — I should see whether she can come to Ironforge. Meet the lot."

Ismene cocks her head and latches on to the odd bit. "Why Mayellen specifically?" Then she frowns a little. "I barely know Mayellen. This is unsatisfactory in the extreme. What does she do, where does she like to spend her time? I should make an effort. Ben knows her very well, of course." Of course. Ben knows everyone and everyone loves Ben.

Ben and Jonas look at each other, and Ben clears his throat. "She'd be Jonas's cousin too, I reckon, since she is my half-sis–"

Jonas shakes his head. "She's not," he says quietly. "She… had it looked into. Because she'd hoped. But."

"Oh." Ben sits back a little. His expression is hard to read. "Well, good for her. I guess."

Jonas looks at Ismene. "She's my girlfriend," he clarifies, and then casts another look at Ben, a little wry. "So it's good, aye. That she's not."

Did you know that when you started dating her? Ismene does not ask, very loudly. What she actually says is, "Ben liked her, so congratulations. Which, I suppose, makes it a little less pressing that I get to know her well, since she's not yet family. But what about you, Jonas? What do you do to fill up your time? You see I have the orchard, so if you like doing any farming things, you're welcome to come here. Oh, you should see the pear orchard, too! It's a proper little village now."

"I would be glad to see the orchards," says Jonas politely. "I'm afraid I'm not much for farming. My mother and I spent a great deal of time on the road. She's settled now in Southshore but I find I like to keep moving. Mostly I get by as a hunter and trapper. I enjoy — reading. Drawing. Fishing. That kind of thing?" He glances at Ben.

Ben also enjoys those things, but he has fixated on something previous. "Yell is your girlfriend? She's got a — did you know? Before you started courtin' her? That she was not your cousin?" You may not be from Westfall, buddy, but anyone can be Westfall strange.

"I did," Jonas hastens to reassure them both. A faint stain of red has appeared on his cheekbones and ears. "I did. We didn't start — ah, until after she learned. Until quite recently, in fact."

"Ben! You could just assume it was a… a non-problematic relationship." Then Mizzy grins. "Though it's nice to know he blushes like you do. I think it was smart, waiting to date until she learned. But how romantic, that you wanted to and couldn't! Was it wonderful to find out?"

"It — honestly, I hadn't thought to court her until after, even. I had just — have just, to be honest — come out of a betrothal, myself. And she introduced herself to me as my cousin, so." Jonas shrugs, a little awkwardly. "I wouldn't… say that it was wonderful to find out. For May's sake. She was… pretty devastated, in fact."

Ben stares at him. "What? For why?"

Jonas holds his gaze steadily, a little apologetically. "I think — she very much wanted to be your sister. Part of… a family with you and Aunt Nir." He pauses. "You know her own family has not… been good to her, lately."

"Oh," Mizzy says, deflating a little. "I don't thin– I mean, I can't make her into family and friends aren't the same thing at all. I had a terrible family as well, and believe me I'll be doing you a favor by not introducing you to my mother, and I know that marrying Ben was the best thing I could ever have done partly because his family is so wonderful." She pats Ben's knee. Yes, Ben, for other reasons too.

She brightens again. "But I can let her know she's still welcome. Didn't she move out of your house in Ironforge, Ben?"

Ben nods. "She did. I told her she could have it for real cheap rent — she would not let me give her it for free — while I was up to Northrend, but then she left it."

Jonas clears his throat and looks apologetic. "She, ah. Decided it was inappropriate. To stay in the home of a married man she isn't, after all, related to. So she moved into a boarding house."

Ben stares at him again, disbelievingly.

Ismene stares at him, disbelievingly.

"But… it was empty? Ben wasn't even there." Ismene tsks. "That's silly. Where can I find her so I can tell her that, as Ben's wife, I find nothing untoward about her staying there. If she's terribly concerned, she can get a female roommate."

Jonas looks between them, still apologetic. "She's at Inkstone's Boarding House, edge of the Military Ward. She's — I mean, it's where I stay also — not with her or anything, that would be inappropriate too, I guess, but… you know. Also boarding there." He flicks a look back at Mizzy. "She's an incredibly sensible girl, on most things. Very practical. It's just… this one thing that's a little… odd, for her."

"Oh, well maybe she won't want to move then. That sounds very convenient." Mizzy sighs. "Maybe it was also because she was so hurt over not being related, she just wanted to burn all bridges rather than be somewhere she's reminded daily she's not family. Which isn't practical, but is understandable."

Ben winces. He glances at Mizzy. "We should — I dunno. I mean, it ain't different that we aren't kin. I still have known her pretty much forever, and we still are friends."

Jonas nods wordlessly.

Ben sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "Maybe I will go and talk to her? Maybe you and her could come up to dinner sometime or somethin'." He looks to Mizzy again for approval.

Ismene brightens. "Oh, that would answer nicely!" Then not so bright. "But I don't want her to feel the only reason we're inviting her now is because she's walking out with Jonas. That might just reinforce her notion that she's only welcome because of a family connection. Maybe we could meet with her to assure her she can stay in the Ironforge house, and then later bring everyone together for dinner."

Jonas nods and offers Mizzy a smile. "That might be nice. I expect she'd be glad of it." He looks between them again and his smile fades. "You heard about… the incident? She had?"

"Incident?" Ismene looks at Ben.

Ben looks blankly back at Ismene, and then at Jonas. "What incident?"

Jonas grimaces. "Ah. You heard about — you're watching the election and all, I expect you heard about Lord Wishock? The poisoning? There was a… test case, before he was killed. An earlier poisoning." He pauses. "Mayellen."

"Fucken what?" demands Ben, already halfway out of his chair.

Nor does Ismene restrain him, except to say, "She lived through it, obviously." But she is Displeased. "I didn't hear the end of the investigation, only that Lord Elohad had a theory that seemed sound. Have they determined who the culprit is?"

"We — they do think they know, yes. May and her friends — myself included — have been looking into the matter. Lena Coit, as well. Sir Elohad saw the connection between May's poisoning and Lord Wishock's almost at once, but that proved inconvenient for him at first, as he was arrested on suspicion. A Lord Lescovar's doing, I understand?"

Ben is standing now, glaring, one hand a fist. "I heard that. I heard there was some… Lescovar horseshit, but that Mr. Shaw… that SI:7 put a stop to it."

Jonas nods gravely. He looks at Mizzy again. "And she did. Live through it. She's had some… persistent nerve damage, however. Her leg is… she walks with a cane, now."

"For good?" Ismene asks, appalled. "Who took care of her, who's seen her? She's seen a healer, certainly!"

"Aunt Nir and Sir Elohad saw her," says Jonas. "It was — the design of the poison was something nasty, I guess. I didn't really… I'm not a healer, I didn't really follow the whole conversation. She's lucky to be alive, is what I know."

Ben is staring, opening and closing his fist unconsciously. Jonas eyes him uneasily. The man is lorge and clearly wants to punch something.

"Who?" Ismene asks quietly. "You think you know. Who?"

"I really —" Jonas eyes Ben again and then looks at Mizzy. "It's an investigation, aye? I mean, we want to get her. By law. So people know that it's not… all warlocks, and for proper justice. It's been… Sir Elohad wants it all quiet, so May's not still a target. So we — he doesn't want people, you know. Roaring in. Aye?"

Ismene sighs. She reaches up for Ben now, touching his arm and sliding her hand down to take his hand in hers. "We do tend to roar in," she says, rueful. "Remember throwing Sil's sister to the sharks?"

Jonas looks profoundly disquieted by this question. His gaze flicks back and forth again.

Ben stands for a moment longer and then takes a breath and relaxes his shoulders by force of will. He squeezes Mizzy's hand gently, ruefully. "Yeah," he says, and after a moment sits down again heavily. (But not too heavily. He has learned.)

Jonas's expression says he is wondering whether he should maybe make his excuses and skedaddle.

Mizzy doesn't release his hand. She even scoots closer, shoving her chair over so she can wend her fingers through Ben's. "All right, we won't go roaring in," she says. "But we will be talking to her, and visiting Elo and Niris's to talk about the matter." She turns big brown eyes to her husband. "So much goes on without us, these days."

Ben nods grimly. After a moment, he nods again, wearily. "Yeah," he says, and drags a hand through his hair. "I can't even — I mean. I been so far away so much, and shit just seems to keep — it does keep on happenin', don't it?" He exhales. "I feel like I ain't — I feel like I ain't half the places I need to be, these days."

Jonas watches them both solemnly.

"You're every place you need to be," Ismene says firmly. "Just not every place you'd like to be. Fight Arthas. Survive that. Jonas will take care of Mayellen, won't you, Jonas?" She looks over at Skinny Ben, as if daring him to say otherwise.

Jonas nods seriously. "I will," he says. After a hesitation, he adds, "I promise. And — I'm in Ironforge, aye? With Aunt Niris and Sir Elohad. I can — I've got eyes on."

For the first time, Ben is gazing at Jonas with genuine warmth. There is a touch of the ol' puppy-eye about it. "I — yeah. Okay. I will — I mean, I will like to be wherever I can. For everything. But." He looks from Jonas to Mizzy, back to Jonas, back to Mizzy. "I guess there is… I mean. There's a few of us now, huh? Hazans. To — y'know. Look out. Together. On shit."

Jonas's lips twitch at that last, but he manages another solemn nod.

Ismene smiles and squeezes Ben's hand tighter.

Hey, wait a second…

She does her own looking back and forth between Jonas and Ben.

"Bennarin Hazan, how very dare you suggest that I need Jonas to come look after me while you're gone! I am not some young miss, I am a priestess of the Light and more than capable of looking after myself, I'll have you know." She frowns and would stomp her little foot but she is sitting down.

"What?" Ben protests. "I was not suggestin' any such thing, Mizmainy! I wasn't, I promise you. I was thinkin' of you, too, bein' a Hazan — because you are one now — and lookin' in on shit while I am away, if you ain't gonna be in Northrend with me. Keepin' an eye here but also on Aunt Nir and Sir Elo and Baby Dane, Mayellen, all of it. I was not suggestin' that Jonas should —"

Possibly to persuade her of this, he fixes Jonas with a stern look and says, "Leave Mizzy alone." This may not create exactly the effect he meant, but.

Jonas holds his hands up and nods. "Mrs. Hazan is a capable woman, I imagine," he says.

"Oh," Mizzy says. "Well then. I'll apologize nicer later, Ben. And not entirely alone, of course, Jonas. I do want to get to know my family better." She pauses, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation. Nope, it's gone.

Jonas clears his throat. "And I'd like the same. My mother as well, I imagine. We haven't — got much of my father left. I don't really remember him, even. And I realize" — he looks at Ben — "that you don't either, but Aunt Nir's been helpful. It was… unexpected, to walk south and accidentally right into kin." He smiles faintly. "I'll tell you it gave me a start to see the name on the spine of a book."

Ben's disgruntlement is gradually fading; at this last remark, his ears turn red.

"It's an important book," Mizzy says earnestly. "Even Lord Fordring has a copy." Because she sent it to him but whatever. "I was in the healer's tents the whole time, and reading it gave me a… more of an understanding what it was like."

"Mizzy was amazin'," Ben asserts firmly. "You should have seen her workin' herself to the bone, pulling 'em back and trying to."

"It's my job," she says, brushing that aside. "All of the healers were doing the same. Oh! Jonas, since you're a hunter, I wonder if you could come to the pear orchard and give some more hints on shooting and trapping to the farmers there. I'm sure you know how bad the horde can be, and they're so small up there. Mind you don't go alone, though, or Blossom might have something to say about it. She's the worg they raised and she's the size of a small horse now."

"Blossom," Jonas repeats carefully, as though the word is foreign and he's trying to get the pronunciation down. "The… worg. I'll… be sure not to surprise her. Or anyone. But aye, I'd be glad to teach some, if it will help. There's a decent bounty on lion pelts down in Southshore right now, as well."

"I'm so pleased," Ismene says. "Will you stay for dinner, Jonas? If you want, you can go get your mother and bring her along."

"I would — oh. Is that an imposition? My staying?" Jonas looks a little uncertain that he wants to stay. "I couldn't — my mother's working. I couldn't go and get her right now. But certainly she'd like to come up sometime. And meet you."

"It's not an imposition." Then she blushes and looks down at herself. "Especially since it's hours yet and we're both in the middle of working. You can stay, though! Maybe um…" What, watch as everyone else works? "Maybe… or another time?" She looks at Ben. Ben, halp.

It's Jonas himself who intervenes helpfully: "I make a living on the road, picking up odd work here and there. If you point me at what needs doing in the orchard, I can pitch in? Work up an appetite for that dinner?"

Ben looks at Mizzy. "You need orchard hands? I reckon — I mean.” He looks back to Jonas. “You know how to shoe a horse?"

Jonas nods, sitting up a little. "It's what I did — um. Not a farrier, but I worked in the stables for the Hollistons. I can lend a hand with that, if you like."

Mizzy hops up, excited. "I'll just go let Mrs. Barnsby know we'll have an extra guest at dinner. Oh, this is wonderful." She starts to leave, then stops. "If you could help Ben out, that'd be lovely." She starts to leave, then stops. "Of course, you don't have to! You can just walk around if you like." She starts to leave, then stops. "Or you can come with me, I mean! We're spraying for bugs!" She starts to leave then finishes leaving, heading toward the back of the house.

Ben and Jonas stare at each other for a long moment. Jonas clears his throat. "Mrs. Hazan is lovely. Very sweet."

Ben continues to regard him levelly — watchin' you, buddy — and then abruptly breaks into that big, chipped tooth smile. "Hell yeah, she is," he agrees. "I am pretty lucky, I reckon. You want to come see these horses?"

Jonas nods, rising to his feet as Ben does. "It's — sorry if it all seems awkward," he says, as he follows Ben toward the door. "It's just — discovering all of this, having family? Has been a little surreal, these last few months."

"Yeah," agrees Ben. "Know what you mean. But you get used to it. C'mon."