Mother Vale was counting bowls when Iven found her. She had arranged them in rows on the kitchen counter, each one filled to a different height with lentil stew. A small boy stood beside her holding a ladle that was nearly as long as his arm.
“Which one?” Vale asked him.
He pointed at the fullest bowl.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the biggest.”
“Is it the biggest bowl, or does it have the most stew?”
The boy leaned close. He changed his choice twice before selecting a smaller bowl filled almost to the rim. Vale handed it to a woman waiting by the door, then gave the boy a clean spoon and sent him to carry the next bowl to the table.
“You have a face like a man who’s just been made to count every lentil,” she said to Iven. “Sit. I’ll be with you when the people here have eaten.”
