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| Tuesday, June 30th, 2009 | | 11:41 pm |
Never, Ever Piss Off The Nendrai [19 Hispis 4385]
Vae heard Quendry screaming.
She hissed, "And what are your friends doing to my primes? The now I
excuse myself from being your hostage!"
The Cani Pirate holding Vae said, "Quiet, little girl." Then Vae curled her
tailtip around his staff, ringing her bell, and teleported herself and the
staff to Quendry. The council room erupted in a hideous melee, with five angry
and rushed pirates assaulting six or seven assorted wrongfolk. The wrongfolk
didn't have much of a chance. In a moment, some of us were broken, and some
fled. The five pirates took what money they could (mostly from Zascalle's
body), and started to rampage down the corridor rather
haphazardly. Duncan's Glory's onagers knocked another candle off
of Strayway.
Vae appeared in the nursery, still a young and nude Orren girl, twirling the
crow-staff in one hand. "Not a thing like this you must do to my primes!" she
proclaimed, and then burst into giggles from the pleasure of having gotten
something from a prime.
"What is with these people? First the shoggy tells us no, then the
bug-scromper tells us no, and now the flippin' little girl tells us no.
You need to learn to say 'yes'," said Brindled Woman. "You 'specially," she
said to Arfaen.
( Graphic nendrai violence here. )
Mellilot took the opportunity to scuttle over and slap her bound Heal the
Awful Wound on Grinwipey. Wipey poked up his eyestalks and moaned a bit.
"Sorry as the dashitzie, couldn't do much for you."
( Graphic nendrai language here. )
Brindled Man, not quite understanding the situation, started to strangle
Quendry. "Drop that staff damn quick, girl, or the kids all die."
Vae flicked her tail once, twice, thrice. The children's fur became furious
masses of lashing animated iron quills, each quill tipped with corrosive
flames. They struck at the pirates, again and again in a rain of vicious
burning pricks. The pirates had no real choice but to drop the children. The
children, perhaps more upset than the pirates, fled to Arfaen and Mellilot;
Vae let her spells lapse before they attacked the women.
"But why did you do that, Vae?", I asked her later.
"The I wanted the pirates to let go of them in a hurry," Vae explained patiently.
"But why didn't you teleport them away, O mistress of Locador powers beyond
nearly anyone I know?" I asked.
"Not a bit did I think of it!" she admitted. "The bit of a fury I was in, I
fear me."
(I fear you too, Vae my friend. Indeed I fear you.)
( Graphic nendrai violence here. )
Maceimel moaned "Sprex!" and teleported back to Duncan's Glory. Vae produced
a round doorway in nothingness, reached through, and dragged him back. Three
pirates, one of them a very burned Rassimel being tended by the other two,
expressed an assortment of displeasures and alarms. Vae continued to
vivisect him jauntily as the children wailed.
(Grinwipey quite mercifully broke Brindled Man's skull with his clubs while Vae
was distracted, if I understand what Grinwipey said properly.)
"How could you do that in front of the puppies?" Arfaen asked later.
"The good I thought it would do them, to see such a revenge," Vae said.
"But they're puppies!" Arfaen yelped.
"I'm not a puppy anymore, and I'm glad I didn't have to watch," I said.
"Not so well do I understand. Always a joy it was for me to see my
mother torture an enemy!" said Vae. She looked at Arfaen's face. "Not the same
way it is for Cani or Rassimel puppies, then?"
"Not in the slightest! They'll be puking up nightmares for months!" barked
Arfaen.
"As they would if they had seen us raped," added Mellilot. "So thank you once
again for saving us."
"Yes ... thank you," said Arfaen, who was rather less certain. She has endured
considerable time with unwanted lovers -- albeit friendly spouses, which I
suspect is a rather different matter. I do not know whether it is a difference
of degree or kind though; I hope I never understand perfectly. She could have
endured this too, I think.
"The sorrow is on me for doing it in an unsuitable manner, though," said Vae,
and two daggers of glass and blood trickled from the corners of her eyes.
Boots thumped in the corridor outside. A pirate barked, "That sounds like
Brindled Man screaming in there!", and kicked open the unlocked door.
"Oh, no! More pirates, Mommies!" wailed Quendry.
"The Brindleds!" wailed Oonanau. The Cani Pirate who had been holding Vae
tried to grab her again. She was having none of it, though, and teleported him
three hundred miles in the sky, to fall or rescue himself as best he could.
Other Rassimel became a small wooden rocking-horse, just Quendry's size.
Cheerful Orren got two steps away down the corridor before she became a bright
red rubber ball with blue stars painted on the side. The Khtsoyis and
Grinwipey traded insults, or, perhaps, taught each other insults.
"You were much nicer to that batch than the others," I noted afterwards.
"The they had been much nicer," said Vae. "The Cani Pirate even petted me once
or twice while he hostaged me. The year can pass to the next year between
times a prime will do that!"
"Fly, you fools! This is an enemy beyond you all!" barked Oonanau, or words to
that effect. She grabbed Cani Pirate's staff, which Vae had dropped, and
said "Sprex!" so that her bound spell took her to Duncan's Glory.
"Pleasure droppin' in on you like this. Look m'up if y're ever in town,
Wipey," said the Khtsoyis pirate, and sprexed off as well.
Vae screamed in rage. "The staff, the crow staff! The crow staff is my
staff! The Cani Pirate I took it from!" She leapt through her round doorway
to Duncan's Glory, whirling her stolen mace. Two pirates got in her way
-- in the sense of not getting out of her way quickly enough -- and she
disposed of them, one getting knocked off deck with the mace, the other by
transformation into a short curving roadway to Oonanau.
Oonanau, being a sensible sort of sorceress, took the instant to teleport
to the Dossimar city gate and bolt through.
"The crow staff, the crow staff that is mine!" howled Vae. "The Orren has
taken my crow staff into the city!" She could not retrieve it through the city
walls, so she set to work getting revenge.
"Why did you want the crow staff? It was all bloody and lungy!" asked
Feralan rather afterwards.
"The things I get from primes are hard things for me to give up quickly," said Vae.
"Oh.... I don't have a crow staff. I'll give you a cup with a pelican drawn
on the side!" said Feralan.
"The please, the please!" moaned Vae.
Zascalle took Feralan aside after he had given her the cup, and told him that
giving presents to the nendrai was not always a good thing.
Windigar and Drogimargue and Me
Drogimargue, hearing a commotion from inside the skyboat, kicked Windigar in
the belly and ran inside. He found a roomful of incapacitated and dead
wrongfolk, and no pirates; he roared to find his companions.
Windigar picked himself up and prodded at his insignia, hoping to get Vae's
attention. Vae was beyond any interruption at that point. I, however, was
looking for clues about what was going on; I noticed, and arrowported over,
and got a few essential hints.
So Windigar and I and the re-seven-winged burning thing rushed into the
council room. The burning thing politely distracted Drogimargue, where by
'politely distracted' I mean 'attempted to grill alive', which is quite polite
under the circumstances. Drogimargue fought back moderately effectively for a
bit, and then decided to sprex off. I fluttered to the wrongfolk and used most
of my remaining cley on several advanced healing spells.
Resurrection is only generally possible within a few minutes of death -- a
variable few minutes depending on how quickly the spirit of decedent gives up
and returns to the relevant creator god. Dancing in the Garden of
Statues is an excellent way to arrange to resurrect a half-dozen people
all at the same time, since the time I spend in the garden doesn't count
towards the limit of resurrection.
Then we followed the footsteps, and the advice of the furniture, and came to
the parlor with the children and the civilians and the dead pirates and the
door to Duncan's Glory.
Vae's Vengeance
A dozen or so pirates surrounded Vae on the deck of Duncan's Glory,
including Drogimargue the Nendrai-Slayer. They were terribly outnumbered by
Vae. And by Vae's elementals. She had turned a wind into a seven-headed
lightning bear, and Drogimargue's sword into a mushroom with a poisonous gaze,
and someone else's forearm into a spiky Locador demon. Vae was mostly
ignoring the pirates, except when they somehow got a spell or a sword within
six feet of her, at which point she produced another elemental to interfere
with them. They were not her concern.
The pirates were not fighting Vae out of personal fear, or professional
obligation. They were fighting her out of civic duty.
I joined the pirate's cause when I saw what was going on, of course.
Vae was ripping up vast tracts of countryside. She'd demarcate an area of some
twenty or thirty acres of fields or countryside. She'd carefully transport all the
people and animals in it into the nearest village, for she is a tidy monster.
(And by "tidy" I mean "happy to fill villages with all manner of beasts and
pests and vermin."). Then she would arrange for the direction "up" to mean
"towards the city of Dossimar, and with a force a dozen times as great as
usual", rather than its usual meaning of "upwards". Everything in the region
would fall heavily towards the city. First the loose things, fallen logs and
ponds. Next the weakly-affixed things: houses and trees, plants and buried
logs and loose soil. Finally the rest of it: all the soil down to the
world-wood.
The avalanches could not actually break the Dossimar city walls. But the
enchanted sphere rang like a bell struck by Tenmen's hammer; it squashed to a
hideously oblate spheroid, and then rebounded. The towers and homes on the
edge of the city were cast down and ruined.
And by this time there was quite a dike around Dossimar: soil and detritus
piled high. The gates of Dossimar were buried; and the moraines draped on the
walls loomed far above the tallest buildings of the city.
"Vae, Vae!" I called to her. "Please don't destroy the city!"
"Of course I will destroy the city!" she snarled. "The sorceress in the
city Took. My. Crow. Staff!"
I know this mood. I have seen it before, though never with quite so much
devastation. "I'll bake you a cupcake if you come back to Strayway."
Vae grinned excitedly at me. "And with chocolate frosting?"
"Certainly!"
She jumped up and down once or twice. "Let's go!" Then she stopped and looked
at the city, as if seeing her handiwork for the first time. "The bribe you're
offering me. And did I do another wicked thing this time?"
"We'll discuss that when we're back on Strayway," I said.
"The meaning of that phrase is 'yes, and a most extravagantly wicked thing',
is it not, Sythyry?" Drogimargue rammed a blazing metal-tipped spear through
her heart. She rather absentmindedly teleported the spear to me; the wound
wasn't serious enough for her to bother with. "And if it is so terrible, can
I still have the cupcake?"
"Come back home, and you can have the cupcake."
She dispersed her elementals, took a crossbow bolt through one eye, and came
home. I insisted on healing her, because I know from a century and more that
it is very, very, very important never to piss the nendrai off.
As I did, the shots of two ballistas and three flame-onagers wrecked various
bits of Strayway. Windigar used the replacement quick-escape device
then, and took us a dozen or two miles out of range of ballistas and
flame-onagers.
I baked for her, and healed people while we waited for the
cupcaked cooked. I was more or less out of cley, but we are a very friendly
ship, and many people gifted me with cley and embraces. [Transferring cley to
someone else requires a close hug. -bb] Most of them wanted bound Heal
the Awful Wounds, and, for those who had enough cley today, resurrection spells
as well. Tomorrow, I will spread bound defenses around even more.
The Score
| Topic |
Us |
Them |
| Deaths and other injuries |
None that stuck. |
Brindled Woman, Brindled Man, Maceimel; we did not see fit to resurrect
them.
Several temporary deaths on Duncan's Glory, but I'm sure
none of those stuck. Presumably Cani Pirate survived as well.
Unknown numbers of innocent victims from the smashing of the city:
perhaps none, perhaps many.
|
| Money |
Lost a few thousand lozens |
Gained a few thousand lozens |
| Booty |
A magic mace, a magic spear, a sparkling dagger, a sparkling shield;
various equipment from the captives that
we haven't sorted out. |
Nothing to speak of, though Vae still complains that they Stole. Her.
Crow. Staff. |
| Captives |
Three lost pirates; Other Rassimel; Cheerful Orren |
None |
| Other Damage |
Two candles and a great deal of architectural damage of Strayway |
Dozens of acres of forest and farmland ruined past all repair; moraines
of debris and dirt surrounding the city.
|
The Winner
I suppose we won on points. Unless we (Vae) killed a lot of people we (Vae)
didn't intend to in the city, which presumably counts against us.
It didn't feel like a victory in the slightest.
The Losers
Me. This sort of thing is precisely what I've spent the last 124 years
trying to keep from happening. Vae wrecking the countryside and assaulting a
city, that is.
Us. We are demoralized and scared. Vae and I took pains to put up
three scores very loud and blatant magical defenses: huge buzzy spells that
cradle the ship as a sea urchin's spines and shell cradles it. A dozen
exceedingly menacing elementals circle us constantly now, glaring outwards
with the faces of legendary devils, their limbs and wings abristle with
weapons. Not everyone finds this comforting: it is very much short of city
walls. I have promised that, as soon as we can find an otherwise safe place,
I will defend Strayway with out-and-out city walls. They won't be
Vheshrame's walls, but they'll probably be better than Dossimar's. (Note to
self: tracking down that Glory of Hren Tzen in Heleshario is more important
than ever.)
The Children. The children were beside themselves with horrors. (And
some of the adults too; as soon as I write this, I am going to go where nobody
can see me and indulge in an episode of the utter shrieking fantods at
Phaniet.) The families with children were discussing what to do next:
whether Strayway is safe enough for them, or whether they should ask to
get off at the next city, or beg to go home to Vheshrame. If the latter, I
will indulge them, and do my wall-working in the safety of Castle Wrong.
Strayway. I no longer have a beautiful, flamboyant, and spectacular
sky-yacht. I have a half-ruined sky-yacht that will need massive repairs
before it is completely safe to live in, much less impress people with.
The Fourth Group of Pirates. All dead, and not in nice ways either.
Which does not distress me greatly: however it was that Brindled Woman had
affan in ... whatever she had affan in ... she cannot have come by it in any
decent way.
The Captive Pirates: Currently transformed into harmless objects. The
best plans are (a) to deliver them to the Sky Pilot's Guild for justice, or
(b) to forget about them and leave them transformed. (a) is particularly
cruel, as the Sky Pilot's Guild does not greatly approve of sky piracy. (b) is
particularly vengeful, as they will not be reincarnated normally until the
harmless objects are destroyed, which may be some long while. It depends on
the character of the Sky Pilot's Guild in the next port.
The Other Pirates: I don't imagine that they will be quite so eager to
attack the next ship, having had such a terrible loss on this one. Nor do I
imagine that Dossimar will be quite so willing to encourage them, having had
such a destruction due to them. (We didn't ask many questions of our
captives, but we think that the city condones the pirates to some extent -- as
far as I can tell, they impose smaller tolls on trading ships, but the pirates
decided on their own that a rich prime's yacht could be soaked for more.)
Vae: Any hope she has of being recognized as a decent and civilized
monster any decade soon are ruined. She nearly destroyed a city -- not out of
justice, as might have been acceptable, but out of anger at someone stealing
from her. She cried herself to sleep, with me listening and wiping the blood
from her face tonight, and I expect, for several more nights.
My Warriors: Yerenthax, Rheng, and Wipey are not feeling terribly proud
of how well they fared when outnumbered and surprised by pirates. The fact
that they mostly weren't equipped -- Yerenthax was fighting with a knife and
no armor against enemies with swords and chainmail -- doesn't count for much.
Also most of them are recovering from being dead.
Dossimar Mene: They lost about a square mile of arable land, and what
remains to them is clawed through and through with vast canyons reaching to
world-wood. The city is nearly buried: though its walls have kept the dirt
out, it will be quite hard to get in and out without flying or teleporting
until a vast quantity of soil has been moved back to the canyons. I don't know
about damage to people or the city.
City Walls: For all that I'm planning to protect Strayway with
the best walls I can manage in the space of a few months ... city walls are
not the absolute defenses everyone is taught they are. To be sure, Dossimar's
walls didn't let a bit of Vae's dirtstorm into the city. They couldn't have
stopped her from burying it in soil altogether. Cities are safe from direct
intrusions, of course ... but a clever and terrible monster has other
assaults.
The Winners (on technicalities)
Vae: Vae has managed to acquire one small sliver of sanity. She took
pains not to kill innocent people and animals in the countryside. This is not
at all natural to a berserk nendrai. It is a pitiful triumph, but retaining
any measure of personality and morality in that state is remarkable.
Drogimargue: Few indeed the heroes who can boast of
surviving two furious nendrai.
Sky Pilot's Guild: One nest of sky pirates substantially weakened.
The Judgement
If anything like this happens again before we're properly (which is to say
'insanely') defended, (1) Wake the wizard up! (2) Take every measure to get
far away quickly! (3) Negotiate payment without letting pirates on board! (4)
Warriors get their armor and weapons at the first hint of danger! (5) Try not
to piss the nendrai off!
Author's Note
[This is darker than my usual in Sythyry's Vacation, and darker than I
expect to be in the future as well. The story jumped on me, though -- inspired
in part by some of the comments in the inistella arc -- and I had to write it.
I'll be back to the usual style, albeit with somewhat shaken characters, next episode. -bb]
| | Monday, June 29th, 2009 | | 11:05 pm |
Toll Collectors [19 Hispis 4385]
Windigar:"Ahoy, Duncan's Glory and Drogimargue! We have
assembled your toll, and shall send it over!"
Drogimargue:"Excellent! You need not trouble yourself with
sending it, for, as a convenience to you, I shall come over in a sky-skiff
straightaway!"
He did, in a little blue flying raft of a thing, landing on a balcony. He was
a tall and mighty brown-furred Gormoror, with a vast two-handed enchanted
metal sword strapped to his back. Talismans and gnawed bones dangled on thongs
from his armor, and his boots were of nendrai-skin.
Windigar:"And here you are. We offer suitable and even generous
thanks for the safety you provide, and hope that your services are not
necessary again."
Drogimargue:"Ah, excellent. One more formality and you may be on
your way." He set off a Roman candle, showering blue fireballs in
the air.
Windigar:"What's that?"
Drogimargue:"The customs inspection, and, of course, the
tally of passengers. You would not wish to accidentally exclude anyone
from the fee, of course! We should both be so sad."
Oonanau's spell melted like ice. A dozen smiling prime warriors teleported
next to Drogimargue, shoved past Windigar, and boarded Strayway.
Drogimargue:"I notice that your fee is, in fact, somewhat
incomplete. You have neglected to pay for the cley to teleport the
inspectors: twelve hundred each, as the spells were bound, and another
twelve hundred for the return teleports as well. You are nearly thirty
thousand lozens short. I do imagine that the owner of as gaudy a
skyboat as this will be able to produce the money -- or the equivalent in
goods -- in short order, though."
Windigar:"I do wish that you would present us with the
full tally as soon as possible, so that we could settle up and be gone."
Windigar is wise, with a nendrai-killing warrior in front of him. If he
had objected too violently, we would probably need another pilot.
Drogimargue:"A sensible request. It is currently impracticable,
as the precise extent of your expenses has not yet been determined. It
may, perhaps, be necessary to spend a few more cley searching for hidden
crew members. Or, as sometimes happens, a passenger or two will object to
our routine and reasonable requests; the fee schedule for violence against
us is quite steep."
Windigar:"I have noticed that your fee schedules are generally
quite steep. Do you have any small fees?"
Drogimargue:"In point of fact, we do. We provide light
refreshments gratis. I am about to partake of some arrack; may I offer
you some as well?" He took a hearty gulp from an ivory hip flask,
and offered it to Windigar. Windigar held it to his mouth and pretended
to drink.
The intruders split into four groups of three, and wandered around the
interior of Strayway a bit. I suspect that they were not expecting
quite such a large interior.
Pirates and Lost
The first group headed into the corridors and got lost.
Pirates and Me
The second group followed the radience of power and headed for my workshop.
I was finished for the day. Indeed, I had been finished for the day for
most of the day (as I measure time, which is not so simple). I had then had a
full night's-worth of sleep (still on the same day), and was lying in the
fireplace reading a storybook (not in the fireplace.)
Oonanau:"Hey! Open up in there!"
Me:"Who is this?"
Oonanau and a pair of Rassimel warriors burst into my workroom. Bursting
involved breaking the door down with a mace. I was not terribly pleased at
this. Oonanau is an oldish Cani woman with pure white fur, wearing iron chain
armor, holding a sparkling dagger in one hand and a sparkling shield in the other.
Me:"Let me rephrase that. Who are you, and why have you broken my
door down?"
Oonanau:"Never mind that. Hand them over."
Me:"I beg your pardon?"
Oonanau:"You've got a room full of heavy magic items. Hand them
over."
Me:"Indeed. Allow me to start with a Holocaust War weapon that I
happen to have close at hand." I am not always so very quick on the
uptake, but some situations are clear enough.
Seven-winged burning thing: The seven-winged burning thing does
not precisely speak. It expressed delight at the opportunity for some
exercise, in part by emissions of intense purple light, and in part by
immediate and eager exercising.
One of the Rassimel:"Oh, dearie me, Oonanau. A good portion of
the left half of my body is well on the way to becoming overdone."
(His actual words were more succinct.)
Oonanau:"Pah. Zie's not a sorcerer. Zie's just got some magic
items. Take them from him, Rassies!"
Me:"In point of fact, I am no sorcerer. Indeed, I have not
bothered with that title for quite some time; I have quite outgrown
it."
One of the Rassimel: "Sprex!" The utterance triggered a bound
spell which teleported him away -- probably to one of the warships and a
much-needed healer.
Other Rassimel:"Chovio!"Another bound teleport, though
obviously bound with a different command word.
Oonanau:"Oh, bother! They've both popped off!"
The seven-winged burning thing fluttered its wings delicately at the loss
of two playmates, and then pounced at the third. Oonanau's protections were
more extensive than the Rassimels', and she cast a nervous Grand Armor
Turning Pyrador to help her avoid it.
I counted my cley. After a full day's enchanting (I'll explain that later),
they were not so numerous as I might like at the start of an invasion by an
unknown number of warriors and sorcerers. I let the burning thing dance with
Oonanau, and flew for the cabinet where I keep certain tools and devices
suitable for the occasion.
The seven-winged burning thing pounced at Oonanau. Her Grand Armor and
general nimbleness got her out of its way, but the fringes of three wings
brushed against her armor, melting a few links. Oonanau struck at it with
her sparkling dagger, and cut off two of its wings.
Me:"Not bad, but I've a trick worth a half-dozen of that."
Spending a cley seemed worthwhile, if she was that dangerous.
That trick is Dancing in the Garden of Statues: far and away my most
complex spell. I traded a great deal of work for it, and have not had many
chances to use it for serious purposes. Hopefully I won't have too many more
on this vacation. All things became still when I cast it, and the burning
thing's tongues stopped in mid-flutter. All things except for me and the
things I wished to have something to do with, that is. I grabbed a glove, an
arrow that never flew, and a tiny drum from the cabinet: the first things that
came to paw, and perhaps not the best choices. They came alive (or at least
active) as I touched them. I flew back to the statue-still Oonanau, deprived
her of her sparkling dagger and shield, and, abusing the poor glove's
side-enchantment of strengthening horribly, stuffed the severed flaming wings
into her armor. And that was all the spare time that Garden had made
for me; all things resumed their normal movements.
Oonanau:"This turn of events does not greatly please me!"
(Also not her exact words.) "Chovio!" (Her exact word. It set off
a bound spell that whisked her away.)
Usually-seven-winged burning thing: expressed annoyance that its
exercise was so soon over.
Me:"I wonder what that was about?"
I packed the burning thing back where it belongs, incidentally repairing it,
and had the arrow take me to Strayway's control room, where I hoped I
would find some answers. Of course nobody was there, so I teleported around
for a few moments before I remembered about the seven insignias. I am
sometimes quite smart, and sometimes ... not.
When I arrowported back to my cabin to get my insignia, Strayway
crunched and rocked terribly. Duncan's Glory was firing her onagers,
and they had taken off one of our candles.
Pirates and the Crew
The third group was: one Khtsoyis with three metal clubs, one red-and-brown
Cani wearing red-and-brown armor with a downright scary staff, and one a
cheerful Orren woman wearing a short green waistcoat and a long green veil,
far and away the most dangerous of the three. They cornered Kantele, Jyondre,
Yerenthax, Zascalle, Rheng, Umbers, and Vae. This was easy enough, for they were near
the balcony for Windigar's sake. Vae, incidentally, was a naked Orren girl of
about twelve years, with a garland of buttercups around her brow and a silver
bell on her tail. (The bell was to remind her not to do anything magical.
(It never works.))
Khtsoyis Pirate:"Hand over all your cash, jewelry, and magic
items, and nobody gets hurt."
Rheng:"We should have Grinwipey here. He could
translate."
Cani Pirate:"The concept is actually reasonably straightforward.
Even a Sleeth should be able to understand it."
Zascalle:"We've paid our three thousand lozens. That's
plenty."
Cani Pirate:"It will pay Drogimargue's salary for the week. I
need to earn mine too, wouldn't you know?"
Orren Pirate:"Times are hard all over! Especially for
you!"
Rheng:"Perhaps for you as well, rrai! Now we dance the dance of
claws and spells!" He crouched, ready to pounce.
Cani Pirate:"Now we dance the dance of brains and
hostages!" He grabbed Vae in one arm and held the dead crow's head on
his staff to her head.
"But why did you let him do that?" I asked her afterwards.
"The he wanted it so very much," she said. "The things that happened later
had not happened yet, also. The defense spells I set aside for his
convenience. Not so he could beak me, but so he could hold me."
Which is to say: nendrai are crazy; only a little bit of their minds are truly
their own.
Yerenthax:"Vae? What are you doing there?"
Cani Pirate:"She is my hostage."
Vae:"The yes! I am being his hostage!"
Yerenthax:"Come down from there this instant!"
Cani Pirate:"Actually, ma'am the dense Gormoror, the whole point
of being a hostage is that she can't come down from there. I'm
holding her tight, and if she moves, I'll have this here crow staff bite
her ear off. Maybe take a big gulp out of her brains."
Jyondre:"No, you won't. Vae, you're being ridiculous."
Vae:"Not a bit ridiculous am I being! Not a single prime have
they harmed or tried to harm. The comfort is as much here as there for me
-- he can hostage me all the hour if he departs peacefully in the
end!"
There was a confused sort of impasse. My friends greatly had the martial
advantage, but the martial advantage refused to be martial, and was generally
helping the enemy. The enemy, for their side, thought that they had the
advantage, and refused to believe that the small Orren girl mattered as
anything but a hostage.
The impasse was complicated by the sudden arrival of another Rassimel warrior,
escaping from the seven-winged burning thing, teleporting next to the Orren
Pirate.
Other Rassimel:"What are you waiting for, you idiots? We've got
to act fast! There's a Zi Ri sorcerer in the back bedroom, and zie's all
pissed off!"
Cani Pirate:"Rightie-O. Zascalle, you must pony up, right away,
or I'm killing Vae."
Vae:"There's not to be any killing. At all."
Oonanau: [teleporting in] "Orren
Pirate, can you please put me out? That cursed lizard crammed some
flameystuff under my armor."
Confusion reigned for a few moments. Then Strayway crunched and rocked
terribly. Duncan's Glory was firing her onagers, and they had taken off
one of our candles.
Oonanau:"Right. Grab and run time, guys. This skyboat is going
down in flames."
Pirates and the Children
The fourth group -- two Cani of brindled mastiff styling, and a Rassimel man
holding a mace in one hand and a wand in the other -- soon came to the room
where Arfaen, and Mellilot were trying to keep the children calm, and
Grinwipey was trying to keep them safe.
Grinwipey:"Hey, I got three clubs, you got three shanderbucked
guys, works out all right."
They had a bit of a scuffle. Grinwipey got killed twice, saved twice
by Heal the Awful Wounds. He was only wearing two of them, so the third
time he stayed dead. The Maceimel tossed his body in a corner.
Brindled Man:"So much for him. Are you two fine women going to
interfere?" He grabbed Ochirion by the arm.
Arfaen:"What are you doing to him?"
Brindled Woman:"Just a bit of a hostage-taking, miss. For
convenience to encourage you to pay your bills, y'know." She grabbed
Quendry, and the Rassimel took charge of Feralan.
Quendry:"Mommies! Don't let them take me away, mommies!"
Brindled Man:"Mommies? The bitch I'll believe is your mommy, but
the other one's a bug-girl."
Quendry:"She's my mommy too! Mellilot! Make him let me
go!"
Brindled Man:"Wait, are you two scrompers?"
Arfaen:"I don't know what you mean. Let my son and his friends
go this instant."
Brindled Woman:"They are, can't you smell it?"
Brindled Man:"Bug-lover! Feh! Bet you did it with the shoggy
there too."
Arfaen: assorted furious denials and demands, all of them
ignored.
Brindled Man:"What she needs is a taste of a real Cani or
two to remind her what's what."
Arfaen and Mellilot: assorted angry disagreements.
Brindled Man:"Hey, Brindled Woman, you want first turn, or do I
get it?"
Brindled Woman:"I've got affan. I go first." She tossed
Quendry to Brindled Man. "Right, scrompey-bitch. Lick tight and lick
good, or Brindled Man's taking off your son's tail." She started
unlacing a bit. Strayway crunched and rocked
terribly. Duncan's Glory was firing her onagers, and they had taken off
one of our candles.
Quendry:"Mommy! Help! No! Don't do that to Mommy!" | | 11:50 am |
The Invaded Plot [19 Hispis 4385]
There was a quick council of war.
Concern for the Patron
The first part that they told me about
afterwards was this. (It actually occurred in less detail halfway through.)
Nearly Everyone:"We must consult Sythyry, for this is zir
skyboat, and, ultimately, zir money."
Kantele:"Sythyry is performing a particularly delicate
enchantment." Which was true, in fact. "Disturbing zir now might
ruin it." Which is false; Accanax does not want it ruined.
"As zir secretary, I recommend that we deal with the situation
ourselves." Which is excessive, since, by the normal World Tree time,
I would be finished in three or four ninths of an hour. I'm sure they
could have delayed that long.
Nearly Everyone:"Very well! We will spare Sythyry any trouble or
indignity from this situation!" I'm sure that nobody actually said
anything like this, though several people told me they did.
Not that I think I could have done any better than they did.
Concern for the Passengers and Crew
Windigar:"We're facing three warships -- we're surrounded
by three warships. They've all got weapons for attacking skyboats:
onagers, harpoon ballistas, rams. Strayway is neither defended nor armed
against such things. If we fight ship to ship, I promise no great
success, nor even much chance of escape."
Yerenthax:"There are other ways of fighting. Vae, do you want
to slaughter primes?"
Vae:"And why would I want to slaughter primes? The primes are
the ones I love, second to my mate and child."
Yerenthax::"Even the one calling himself nendrai-slayer?"
Vae:"Not so comfortable am I of that, truly.
The money is not so hard to come by, but friends are scarce and
troublesome to replace. The toll is not so very large, is
it?"
Zascalle:"It's ridiculous for a toll! Three thousand
lozens! A month's budget for all of Castle Wrong, to pass a single
harmless branch on our travel!"
Yerenthax:"And the honor! Surrendering so easily would bring us
scorn!"
Vae:"No so much shall we speak of it. The one who surrenders can
be I -- no great quantity of honor have I in any case. The money shall I
replace, somehow or other."
The Plot
Windigar:"I don't much like paying. But, like Vae, I like being
killed even less."
Vae:"Not that did I say!"
Windigar:"Well, I don't want any of us to be killed, and neither
does she."
Jyondre:"That goes without saying! Nobody on Strayway
should die; that is our ultimate concern."
Kantele:"With the possible exception of the stowaways... but even
there we are responsible."
Windigar:"How about this? Vae, can you take arcane connections
to the money we pay them with, so that you can teleyoink the coins back to
Strayway?"
Vae:"Yes, but also no."
Windigar:"I don't understand."
Vae:"Not a bit of teleportation can be done under Oonanau's
prohibition. But the prohibition shall not last so long, and it can be
removed in other ways."
Yerenthax:"Can you do it, though?"
Vae:"The most likely. The sorceress may have further tricks
against it; I may or may not be able to sneak around them."
Windigar:"So ... We pay the toll. We leave. At the edge of the
pirate's territory, we try to take the money back; then we flee as quick
as we can. Most likely we succeed, taking off with honor and treasury both
intact. If Vae somehow is prevented from getting the money: at least we --
she -- tried, and we all survive."
Kantele:"I approve of this plan, so far. Does anyone have a
better idea?"
Nobody did. Zascalle opened the safe, picked out thirty big round
hundred-lozen coins, and gave them to Vae to taste and gather connections.
| | Sunday, June 28th, 2009 | | 8:00 pm |
Toll Booth [19 Hispis 4385]
For our convenience and safety, the city guards of certain cities of the lower
branches patrol the sky. Indeed, the sky here is more dangerous than
in Ketheria. Our recent encounter with the inistella and insane philosophers
suffices to prove that. It did not surprise us greatly to discover a
substantial military force, nor that they were rather interested in us.
The battle-barge Duncan's Glory looks rather like a regular barge;
indeed, I suspect that it a recommissioned one. It's a long flat skyboat with
two top sails and two side sails. It is none too fast on its feet -- not that
it has feet per se, unlike Strayway. I don't think it needs to be. It
has been refitted (or maybe fitted, though I expect re-) with a respectable
device that can telepop it a quarter-mile a dozen times a day. The long flat
main deck is used to good effect. It has four big ballistas and four
fire-onagers, and a quite appealing battle-pergola heavily grown with
unfamiliar but presumably highly magical vines.
Accompanying Duncan's Glory is the xebec-o-war Soothing
Ointment. Soothing Ointment is a trim and nimble skyboat, with two
sails and two flappy wings. It's built for ramming, too, with a bowsprit of a
metal spike all ablaze with a harsh consuming flame. She's got only one big
weapon otherwise: a ballista loaded with a huge harpoon.
And the third of this martial trio is the luzzu The Terrible Bean.
Small and fast, she is, and with a fierce sentient flame in her painted eyes.
She's got wings like a dragonfly, and a tail like a scorpion, and a brace of
net-casters and another harpoon-ballista. I would expect she can use them on
her own, if her crew is otherwise occupied.
We were drifting down at a nice safe speed around Beltheia, presumably in the
sky owned by Dossimar. Duncan's Glory was suddenly in front of us,
with a loud flatulent thump of Locador magic. (I have gotten used to Vae's
teleporting, which is somewhere between plangent and piquant and very very
pointy. Primes don't teleport like that generally; but we do not teleport so
much as Vae. Duncan's Glory was particularly noxious about it.)
"Ahoy, the Duncan's Glory!" shouted Windigar from the control room,
presumably reading the name from the side of the war-barge. (I was in my
workshop, quite busy with an enchantment, so I didn't actually know much of
what was going on.)
"Ahoy, Strayway!" warbled the pilot of The Terrible Bean,
popping out of a cloudbank on our upper starboard. Soothing Ointment
oozed from behind the thick growth off the world-trunk, coming towards us off
our rear underneath port.
"Sorry to trouble you, but you've come to the domain of Dossimar," called
a Gormoror man from the deck of Duncan's Glory.
"Our periplus agrees with you on that point," called Windigar. "What is the
significance of this, beyond our proximity to your presumed city-state?"
"Well, first things first," shouted the Gormoror. "Have you seen any monsters
lately? Ulgrane in particular, or hugeng? They've been a terrible pestilence
on the skyways lately. Or any other dangers that you care to mention?"
"That we have not," called Windigar. "An inistella with a peculiar crew, but
that was days ago, and not aggressive."
"Excellent. The reputation and the might of Dossimar is keeping them off!"
"The skies have been clear, to be sure," said Windigar.
"The might of Dossimar is considerable! Note the ballistas and fire-onagers
behind me; note the ram and harpoon on Soothing Ointment; note the tail
and net-casters of The Terrible Bean!" boomed the Gormoror.
"Your armament is formidable, to be sure," said Windigar, who was beginning to
get the point.
"Our armament would, however, be barely consequential without the skills of
our heroes. The great sorceress Oonanau herself rides in The Terrible
Bean. Lorquan the Episcopicide is even now waving to you from the mast
of Soothing Ointment. And I am Drogimargue the Nendrai-Slayer."
"Respectable names indeed!" said Windigar. "I will confess a regrettable
ignorance of the deeds and sagas of Beltheia. Did you really kill a nendrai?"
"I did!" boomed Drogimargue. "Bahalizonne the Lar lies dead, grilled and
devoured by the citizens of Dossimar, and my hand the hand that drove the
axe-blade through his spine!"
("Anyone you know?" asked Kantele to Vae. "The N. varigatus who died here
a decade or so ago," Vae answered. "Not a personal friend was he, but once he
played chess with Oixe and I was jealous.")
"Well, that must have been a battle worth an epic and a half!" called
Windigar.
"I shall be most glad to declaim them at a suitable time! But first, a
practical matter. The heroes and warships whom you have hired to protect you
in this airspace are puissant and potent, and, additionally, numerous. Their
rates are quite cheap considering their quality and number!"
"Your choice of vocabulary is notable," said Windigar. "Perhaps the respected
and noble speech of Beltheia differs slightly from my native Ketherian. But a
mistranslation seems to have snuck in -- one which we will surely both laugh
about. In my dialect, the word 'hire' means 'requesting the labor and
services of someone, for pay'."
"I fear that -- alas! -- we must laugh most quietly. For that is indeed an
elegant and succinct synopsis of the situation!" boomed the nendrai-slayer.
"I am afraid I do not recall requesting your labor or service..." said Windigar.
"Is your memory so friable, so subject to the gremulations of even miniscule
smalliments of time? For did you not recently enter the domain of Dossimar?"
"Well, I would seem to be there now," said Windigar, lashing his tail
annoyedly in the privacy of the control room.
"Which is, of course, protected most mightily by myself and my fellow heroes!
Hence, you have hired us!" proclaimed the Gormoror.
"Ah ... The paperwork was unaccountably delayed," said Windigar. "We entered
relying solely upon our own defenses, which are considerable even by the
standards of a martial wizard of Ketheria." He knew exactly what was going on.
"And, to avoid further administrative effort, it will suffice for us to depart
without troubling you or anyone else for an actual hire. In any case, we are
well-used to dealing with nendrai and other such minor inconveniences; they do
not dare pester us." Which is approximately true, though by "us" he means
"Vae".
"Do not fear, captain of the Strayway!" said Drogimargue generously.
"The paperwork is a mere trifle! In any case, we must not let mere
administrative matters stand between you and true safety. Behold, even now
Oonanau exerts a mighty spell to protect you from horrors teleporting to
assault you! Unfortunately it also restricts your own craft's ability to
teleport ... but do not fear! You are surrounded by the protective aegis of
the warriors of Dossimar, as an infant Cani of a martial clan is swaddled by
the hardened leather wrappings of its mother!"
"Perhaps the paperwork can be disposed of," said Windigar. "What are your
rates?" He scowled, and scribbled notes to Yerenthax and Vae.
"Our rates are modest, even negligable! A mere eighty lozens per person
aboard your craft! Plus, of course, the six hundred for the cley of the spell
that Oonanau has already cast. And should any more cley or life's blood be
necessary in your protection, be assured that the same highly favorable rates
will apply to it." (For those uncertain about World Tree prices: these are
quite high. I rarely manage to charge half of that for a cley, for one thing.)
"Splendid. How much do you charge us for shooting a ballista bolt at us? Or
other of your siege weaponry, which, perhaps by coincidence, is better suited
for assaulting skyboats than monsters?" asked Windigar.
"Two hundred lozens, or more if the bolt has been ensorcelled," said
Drogimargue with a smile.
"I imagine that it will not be necessary," said Windigar to Drogimargue. "I
will consult with our accountant, to see how the funds are most easily
acquired."
To Yerenthax and Vae and Kantele, "Well, what should we do now?"
| | Wednesday, June 24th, 2009 | | 12:28 pm |
Not That Kind [19 Hispis 4385]
Dear Sythyry: Not that kind of assassin. A character assassin.
This is a very serious situation for us. We do not appreciate ridicule. I
daresay that you have never particularly feared character assassins. As you
are well-known to be transaffectionate, foreign, and monster-friendly, there
is hardly much more than can be said. In the case of my daughter, all threats
remain possible! I demand your immediate assistance and cooperation in this!
My daughter must return home to me, her tail tucked in shame between her legs!
Fortunately the actual shameful stories and bitter innuendo shall remain on
Srineia, and nobody of importance shall ever hear of it! Your assistance in
this matter is crucial! You must supply money and necessities to Far-Eyes!
But in restricted quantities! She is forbidden to enjoy Srineia! But she
must be provided with the fare for return passage to Oorah Thrassen! Alone!
-- Nangbang.
I haven't been so thoroughly insulted by someone who needs my help in at least
a week and a half. Unless I'm forgetting something.
The Conversation
Me:"What, precisely, did you tell your parents when you
left?"
Lost-Eyes:"I don't remember exactly."
Me:"Well, approximately?"
Lost-Eyes:"Something to the effect that I'd married an elderly
Orren knight-adventurer from Aradrueia and gone to live there. I could't
quite bring myself to mention Dorze."
Jyondre:"But they knew about Dorze. They were scandalized, you
said."
Lost-Eyes:[Looking a bit evasive.]"For a while."
We applied a variety of interrogation techniques. The unfeigned admiration of
Lithia did the trick.
Lost-Eyes:"I distracted them with other scandals. I gave cley to
one of the sorcerers at the temple, for one, and hinted that I was going
to do it professionally. I told them I was going trying to move to a
riverbum village in Mrasteia. That sort of thing."
Kantele:"Not bad strategy, that. There aren't all that many
things worse in the eyes of society than being traff..."
Lost-Eyes looked a bit shocked at the word. " ... than being
transaffectionate, if you prefer. Cley-selling will do it, though."
Lithia:"You're so clever. I wish I could be like
you." She petted Lost-Eyes's tail. Lost-Eyes did not seem much put
out by this.
Me:"Your parents want you to return to Oorah Thrassen, in
shame."
Lithia:"Feathermom! You wouldn't make her, would you?"
Me:"Lost-Eyes and her parents are less important to me than my
crew and my vacation." Everyone else looked a bit uncertain what I
meant. This is entirely appropriate. I didn't know what I meant either,
or what I wanted to do with the stowaways. Fortunately, being cryptic is
one of my supreme species abilities, and nobody asked me to explain.
Lost-Eyes:"I'm not going to go anywhere without Dorze."
Lithia:"You're not going anywhere!"
Kantele:"Except Srineia, for starters."
Me:"What we do from there depends on how you behave, I
suppose."
Everyone else looked confused at that. But I knew exactly what I meant. If
Lithia's love is requited, I'm not going to toss her sweetie off the ship or
send her back to Ketheria. Lithia's time is so short, and the general distaste
for her species so great, I cannot really deny her what little joy she manages
to scrape together. If not, I don't much feel responsible for the stowaways,
except to treat them decently and/or in accordance with law and custom.
I am avoiding the decision. I am glad to have a convenient way to avoid the
decision.
| | Monday, June 22nd, 2009 | | 11:06 pm |
| | Thursday, June 18th, 2009 | | 1:04 pm |
Further Letters [18 Hispis 4385]
It is a particular character flaw for a Zi Ri to be impatient. I have a
particularly flawed character, and in more ways than just that.
Dear Nangbang: I didn't kidnap her. I'm not asking for ransom. She came aboard
my ship without my permission. I want her off of it. I could just put her off
at the next port of call. But I thought you might have some opinion on the
matter. -- Sythyry
And,
Dear Kzip -- No, I don't want a spell scribe. In particular, I don't
want your spell scribe. I could just put him off at the next port of
call, but I thought you might want something in particular done with him.
-- Sythyry.
Nangbang's Response
From Nangbang, or, rather, from his wife:
Dear Sythyry -- Plz. accept aplgz. for prev. msg. Wild rush. Found elpng.
ltr. fr. Kiss-Eyes. Nangb. v. distraught. Hirng. assssn. -- Pulla
An assassin? A thousand perplexeties and bewilderments pierce the
mind. These include:
- He will assassinate his own daughter? More likely he's trying to
assassinate Dorze, actually, which might accomplish something worthwhile
from his point of view.
- How did he hire an assassin? There's hardly a guild of them which
for you to pop 'round on your errands between the dressmaker and the
greengrocer! I suppose that they have some sort of established relationship
with the Temple of the Dark Trinity... Perhaps the Temple even keeps one on
staff.
- What am I to do now? Tossing Dorze and Lost-Eyes out into civilized lands
is generally considered reasonable. Tossing them out to be stalked by an
assassin -- for, ultimately, the crime of being traff -- does not sit well
with me.
So I tried to poke them with a sharp stick, thus:
Dear Pulla and Nangbang -- Are you sure that's a good approach? I don't
think it's legal, even in Srineia. Nor do I particularly approve of
assassinations on my skyboat or on my vacation. Nor does the
nendrai. But if you have a less drastic alternative, please let me know. -- Sythyry
La Hish's Response
From La Hish:
Dear Sythyry, this is utterly unacceptable and must be rectified
immediately.
To La Hish:
Dear Kzip. Fair enough, and, under suitable conditions, I may be willing to
help rectify it. But, if you wish any particular rectification, please tell
me what you have in mind.
Rumors
My spies are everywhere!
(Unfortunately that's not true, or I would have found out about the stowaways
much sooner. But it is much more encouraging than to say, "People sometimes
tell me things.")
So the scene -- Zi-Ri-less -- is set in a parlor somewhere. A fretful Lithia
is confiding in some of her closest friends (Yerenthax, Jyondre, Thiane). Who
immediately afterwards betrayed her to me, of course.
Lithia:"Yerenthax, could I ask you a question?"
Yerenthax:"With wingèd words and wisdom wide / Your
hearing ears are soon supplied. Not one of my best staves, I'm
afraid."
Lithia:"I don't need staves ... can you tell me about, well,
Orren?"
Yerenthax:"I can tell you many things about Orren! But what do
you wish to know? You are half an Orren more Orren than I!"
Lithia:"I'm so confused, I don't know what parts of my
personality are Orren and what parts are Rassimel and what are just some
trash the gods wanted to get rid of."
Thiane:"Whatever the gods think about you or not, we love
you."
Lithia:"What I want to know is, can Orren fall in love with more
than one person at a time."
Yerenthax:"Never! They must not! The cheating churl who chafes
my chest / ... ... ... strikes forth staves beneath my best."
Jyondre:"What my one-and-only true love is trying to say is, some
of us do, and some do not. We're not like Cani, for whom monogamy is
unimaginable, and we're not like Gormoror, who are betimes moved to
violence if their lovers are even conceptually unfaithful. Not that I
would ever be even conceptually unfaithful! Sorry not to be very helpful,
but if you want consistency, do not look to the Orren."
Thiane:"Let's see. Windigar and Blenny aren't attached. Inconnu
should not be much of a problem; if you are in your Rassimel phase and
smile at him too much by mistake, he'll think you love him out both ends.
The problem is more prying Inconnu off your rump, not getting him there in
the first place.
You wouldn't be asking Jyondre in front of Yerenthax if it were him.
I hope you're considering courting Tingula?"
Lithia:"No ... not Tingula ..."
Yerenthax:"And not my Jyondre!"
Lithia:"Not Jyondre."
Thiane:"That leaves the stowaway Orren girl."
Lithia nodded sadly.
Jyondre:"She's traff. You'd be better off in Rassimel
phase, I should think."
Lithia:"Actually, I don't want her to know I'm a shifter hybrid.
I've been wearing my illusion spells."
Thiane:"I don't think that will work well for any sort of long
relationship."
Lithia:"It doesn't have to last forever. Ten years at the
absolute outside. But I don't mind if it's less than that. One night
with her would be more lovers than I've had my whole life."
To which there was much sympathy.
Jyondre:"I don't know her heart. But at least Dozer or whatever
her boyfriend is named is Cani. He is more likely to share than, let us
say, a larger and more delightful creation of Reluu might be."
Lithia:"Dorze is quite grateful to me, even if the help I gave
him didn't help very much."
Jyondre:"You might try to ask him, then. If he is your ally, he
will be far and away your best ally."
Thiane:"But don't expect much, from trying to romance upon a
traff Orren. "
Lithia:"I know! Anywhere else there'd be nothing at all
strange about one Orren girl and another."
Thiane:"Why don't you fall in love with Windigar? He's Orren and
not traff."
Lithia:"And a lot older than me, and he knows my nasty little
secret. And it's not like I can get a crush on anyone just by wanting to
-- much less having them get one on me."
Thiane:"True ... let me know if I can help anysohow with
Lost-Eyes."
Instantly -- by which I mean "within six or seven hours" -- Jyondre and
Yerenthax told me about it.
I hope things get simpler once we actually arrive in Srineia.
| | Saturday, June 13th, 2009 | | 1:42 pm |
Kidnapped! [17 Hispis 4385]
Nangbang's Reply
Nangbang sent me his answer almost instantly:
Sythyry! You are a traitor of honor, you are a traitor of friendship, you are
a traitor of the camaraderie of devotion to the god Accanax! May each of our
feathers be devoured by a separate furious chub-beetle! Not only do you steal
the attention of the dark god that was properly intended for a native wizard,
but you have the utter unmitigated overbrewed tea to kidnap my daughter!
Additionally, you are a spineless and amygdalate weasel of evasion and
cowardice! In your obliquely-worded and pusillanimous missive, you take pains
to gloat extensively of your capture of my defenseless daughter, but you miss
the key feature of the etiquette of kidnappers everywhere!
You have not named your price. Well, I can start the negotiations as well as
you can. I offer seventeen thousand lozens and a promise not to seek immediate
revenge. But this crime cannot go unpunished forever, you infamous squamous
menace! -- Nangbang, who is not as powerless as you might think!
I am fairly sure he was Wild Rushing while he was writing this -- the letters
are scribbled and frantic. Which is reasonable if he thinks I kidnapped his
daughter, I suppose. Still, I hereby swear off Orren for life again ... none
too impressive an oath, as I haven't so much as kissed one diligently in years.
Kzip's Reply
Kzip took only a moment longer, and took a rather different approach towards
utterly misunderstanding my utterly clear letter:
Oh, that's all right. Dorze is a fine spell-scribe, but I can spare him for a
while. Do I understand properly that you have some spell that you're planning
to teach him and have him copy? If it's an interesting spell, and if you
bring him back home in -- let us say -- two months, I can count the spell as
the price of his subindenture. Let me know. Sorry (and, honestly, just a bit
miffed) that you couldn't arrange this with me personally when you were in
Oorah Thrassen. But I suppose that making arrangements with the Destroyer of
All takes precedence. Anyhow,
I don't think she read more than a dozen words in my letter; she filled in the
rest with what she would have done in my place.
The Next Step
Poll #1415368
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: AllWhat should I do next? | | Thursday, June 11th, 2009 | | 12:43 pm |
Change of Plans [17 Hispis 4385]
Thank you, O monsters and such who read and reply. I was going to stop at the
nearest port and toss the stowaways off the ship (from a height of about five
feet) and let them fend for themselves. But after reading and musing on all
the discussion, I will not. I will let them off at my next port of call in
the ordinary course of things, which, with only a minor change of plans, will
be in Srineia. In the meantime, I need to borrow a few envelopes from Vae.
Borrowing Envelopes
I tracked Vae down! She was playing The Serpent of the Vortex with Ochirion
and Quendry. She was in the shape of a serpent with a row of butterfly wings
down her back, unmatched both stylistically and aerodynamically.
Me:"Hallo ... will you be much longer at the game?"
Quendry:"Yes! We won't be much longer! No! Yes! I'm going to
roll a seven and then I'm going to win!"
Me:"Are you now? I was actually talking to Vae."
Vae:"Not so long will the game be if Quendry rolls a
seven!"
Me:[in the Nice Language -- a horrible language which Vae forced
down my mind a long time ago, and which nobody else around here
speaks.]"And you wouldn't dream of ensuring that Quendry
rolls a seven, just so you could get out of the game?"
Vae:[also in the Nice Language]"Not that! The happy game it is,
and already have I asked Quendry and Ochirion for a rematch!"
Ochirion:"What? Whaa-aa-aat? Did you call me a porcupine,
Vae?" I suppose "for a rematch" sounds a bit like "is a porcupine",
if you are seven years old.
Vae:"Not that! And would you like to be a porcupine this
afternoon, Ochirion?"
Me:"I hope you ask Zascalle or Thiane before you transform their
children."
Vae: [suddenly rueful] "The I hope I do too."
Quendry picked up the dice and rolled a seven, completely fairly. He moved
his pawn the obligatory seven steps to the serpent's head.
Quendry:"I win! I win the game! Can you believe it? How could
I roll a seven? I rolled a seven and I win the game! How did I do that?
It was a seven! It was four plus three! How can that be seven? It is
seven!"
Vae:"The very good move, Quendry! Congratulations!"
Me:"Not that he was at one of the three places in the game where
the player can actually choose what to do." I hate that game.
Quendry:"You are both very good players! I am happy to play with
you! You make me happy! But how can I win? How can I roll a seven and
win? It was three plus four! I mean four plus three! It is
seven!"
Me:"Vae? While he's drunk on his victory, could you give me some
envelopes, to write to Kzip La Hish and Nangbang back in Oorah
Thrassen?"
Quendry:"I am making up the dance for seven! Here it is! The
dance for seven!" He cavorted awkwardly. "Ochirion, come dance
the dance for seven with me!"
Ochirion:"I'm dancing the dance for seven!" He might have
been, too, but I couldn't see how his dance and Quendry's were at all the
same.
Vae:"The certainly!" She transformed some cookie crumbs into
ferocious Locador scroll-tubes.
Diplomacy at a Distance
Here's the first:
Dear Kzip,
Your indentured servant Dorze the spell-scribe has stowed away on my skyboat.
I'm afraid I was unaware, and, indeed, unconscious at the time that it
happened. The Sky Pilot's Guild, of which I have the honor to be an associate
member, recommends that I put him aground at my next port of call, which will
be Eigrach in Srineia. But I recognize your particular interest in this
stowaway. If you like, I will lend you (with Dorze as your agent) the money to
buy him passage on a skyboat from Eigrach to Oorah Thrassen -- when I can find
one; Srineia has little direct commerce with Ketheria. I am not sure how
likely he would be to stay on such a skyboat all the way back to Ketheria,
since he has, already, recently attempted once to leave your service. Various
other arrangements are possible as well. I expect to spend at least two months
in Eigrach; you could, e.g., send an agent here to collect him --
assuming of course that he does not wish to flee further; I have few effective
and legal means of restraining him. Or at any rate, you can send a letter to
him urging him to come home (or whatever course of action you wish); I enclose
two return envelopes, courtesy of the nendrai Vaisessasilmin.
With apologies for any perplexities or expenses I have directly or indirectly
caused you, I remain, your hmbl srvt, Sythyry.
And here's the harder one.
Dear Nangbang and family,
I regret to inform you that your daughter Lost-Eyes was discovered stowed away
on my skyboat. The Sky Pilot's Guild, of which I have the honor to be an
associate member, recommends that I put her aground at my next port of call,
which will be Eigrach in Srineia. According to Guild rules, that should be the
end of the matter for me. However, I recognize that you may wish for your
daughter to have better treatment than that. I would be happy, for example, to
lend you (with Lost-Eyes as your agent) the money to buy her passage on a
skyboat from Eigrach to Oorah Thrassen -- when I can find one; Srineia has
little direct commerce with Ketheria. I am not sure how likely she would be to
stay on such a skyboat all the way back to Ketheria, since she has recently
left home and shows no great eagerness to return. I expect to spend at least
two months in Eigrach, and would be happy to keep your daughter comfortable
and safe there. My sky-yacht lacks prison facilities, and my friends lack
suitable training; I'm afraid that, if she stays with us, she will do so of
her own volition. In any case, I enclose two envelopes; you may write to her
as well as me, and urge her to do what you think best.
With apologies for any perplexities or expenses I have directly or indirectly
caused you, I remain, your hmbl srvt, Sythyry.
Perhaps I can behave morally and legally towards everyone concerned, even.
| | Tuesday, June 9th, 2009 | | 1:13 pm |
Lost-Eyes [17 Hispis 4385]
Kantele:"In summary, Dorze is an escaped indenturee of your
friend and colleague Kzip La Hish in Oorah Thrassen." Dorze said
nothing, but wagged his tail quietly. Kantele continued, "And of course
similar troubles come with Lost-Eyes."
Lost-Eyes:"Much less trouble than Dorze! I am a free woman,
unencumbered by legal obligations."
Kantele:"You are a wicked sort of free woman, if your concept of
'trouble' is merely 'legal obligation'!"
Lithia:"Kantele! That's not fair and you know it."
Kantele:"Bons mots aside, Lost-Eyes is, if anything, more
troublesome to have aboard than Dorze. Lost-Eyes, please be so kind as to
explain your ancestry?"
Lost-Eyes:"I am ultimately the descendant of forty-eight Orren
from Inihithre. They had several hundred names among them, and I can't
quote them all."
Me:"That is not particularly specific. Every Orren now living can
say the same."
Inconnu:"Not exactly! My mother's girlfriend knows all the
names of the first-created Orren."
Lost-Eyes:"I am therefore less unusual than Inconnu's mother's
girlfriend, and even less likely to be troublesome."
Kantele:"Your parentage, wicked girl!"
Lost-Eyes:"Oh, just an Orren couple in Oorah Thrassen."
Kantele:"The male of that couple being Nangbang, until recently
the chieftan of the ecclesiastical störmgething of the Temple of the
Dark Trinity in Oorah Thrassen. And, incidentally, he served as High
Priest in your so-very-eventful consecration not long ago. That is the
man whose daughter has stowed away on your skyboat."
Me:"Lost-Eyes? Has Kantele explained the matter
properly?"
Lost-Eyes:"Not a bit! She didn't explain that I am
the adult daughter of Nangbang -- I have been officially adult
for weeks now."
Kantele:"An impressive claim of maturity, to be sure. One
wonders what sort of amazing displays of rationality and sensibility you
will exhibit when you are months past that miraculous date. Still
... where do you live?"
Lost-Eyes:"Nowhere. I'm running away from home."
Lithia:"She got you on that one, Kantele!"
Kantele:"She did indeed, and she evaded the question.
Where did you live before you ran away?"
Lost-Eyes:"Well, that was mostly with my parents."
Kantele:"So, these two stowaways are closely associated with two
mighty wizards and priests of Oorah Thrassen."
Lithia:"Only one of each!"
Kantele:"In any case, with more mighty priests and wizards than
are present on Strayway. Thus they bring to us trouble in
generous baskets spilling over!"
Grinwipey:"Well, tell 'em to put it in the larder with all the
other trouble we brought."
Me:"They do bring us a good deal of trouble. Dorze, Lost-Eyes,
can you tell me how you got onto my skyboat?"
Love Story
Lost-Eyes:"We've been in love forever! Years and
years!"
Dorze:"I don't think that's forever to a Zi Ri."
Me:"It's close enough at your age though. Pray go on."
Lost-Eyes:"My parents were scandalized. They're very proper and
formal Orren. They want to be important; they want everything done right.
Well, I'm wrong and Dorze is wrong, but we want to love and live
together anyhow."
Kantele:"You certainly know the right word of 'wrong' to catch
Sythyry's attention. That sounds contrived to me, as if you know zir
history."
Lost-Eyes:"If it please you, we do know something about
zir history, about Castle Wrong and all. If we'd been in Vheshrame, we'd
have moved in there, sure as death."
Kantele:"If we'd allowed you!"
Me:"We're not that picky. We let Inconnu in, after
all."
Inconnu:"Hey! Chirp!"
Me:"Please continue, O stowaways."
Lost-Eyes:"We asked Sazandigraa for help. Zie is known to be
somewhat sympathetic to such matters, and zie is not particularly afraid
of La Hish or Papa. Zie told us to wait a few months -- this was a few
months ago -- and to ask you for asylum when you came to visit."
Me:"A sensible plan, which you are about to get around
to?"
Dorze: [with much tail-wagging] "Yes, please. We are a pair of
traff lovers, fleeing an unjust situation in Oorah Thrassen. May we
please place ourselves under your protection?"
Me:"May you please explain, before I decide, how you came to stow
away on my skyboat?"
Lost-Eyes:"Sazandigraa was supposed to introduce us. We'd made
arrangements with zir on the eighth of Hispis. Zie didn't want to do it
then, though."
Grinwipey:"Well, ain't that a Reluu-rumping
surprise!" (No, it is not. Grinwipey had just blackmailed Saza, and
I am not surprised that Saza was in no mood to help the couple.)
Dorze:"Zir secretary put us off a couple of days. It was a better
idea to take asylum right as you left, anyhow."
Lithia:"But you'd done that big consecration, and you were
asleep, and we couldn't wake you up."
Me:"Fair enough."
Lithia:"So we talked it over, and decided to let them on board.
We thought you'd approve of them, anyhow. Half the people on board are
your clients under about those terms."
Me:"Yes, and I insisted on interviewing everyone who came to
Castle Wrong before they moved in, too."
Lithia:"They're not exactly moving in. They're just
getting passage to Srineia."
Me:"Why are you going to Srineia? It's not particularly a good
place for traff couples. You'd be better off going to
Vheshrame."
Dorze:"We need to be out of range of Kzip's spells and Nangbang's
influence. Srineia is better."
Me:"Fair enough. Lithia, why didn't you check with me when
I did wake up?"
Lithia:"You spent the whole day breaking Vae's helpfulness, and
then went back to bed. Then we were going to, but we got that call
for help from that inistella."
Me:"Why not this morning, then?"
Lithia:"Well, we're out of spell-range now, and it's not much
longer to Srineia. It didn't seem that important to bother you
for just a couple days' passage."
Me:"I see. Any other surprises?"
Everyone, eventually:"Not that we are willing to admit at the
moment."
Quandary
And now I am sitting in a fireplace, thoroughly annoyed at everyone except
loyal Phaniet, trying to figure out what to do.
Sythyry the Shipmaster: The custom among shipmasters and sky pilots is
not to tolerate stowaways. Particularly obnoxious ones can simply be tossed
overboard, with a spell to help them survive the landing unless they are
unlucky if you are feeling kind. Ordinary ones are to be let out at the next
port of call. This is an important custom, according to my guild training. If
stowaways are treated with no unnecessary kindness, fewer people will be
inclined to stow away.
Also, I am rather annoyed with Saza and Lithia for taking such a troublesome
liberty with me. Saza, I suppose, may feel that it is a fair exchange for
the pile of trouble I gave zir. Lithia should know better.
Sythyry the Traff: They're not the first wrong-matched people to show
up on my door and ask for my help. (Of course, usually such people
stop at the door until I invite them in.) If they had started out
politely, I daresay I might well have helped them out ... maybe; see the next
paragraph for the troubles. And they did try a couple times to be polite
before they decided to stow away.
Sythyry the Wizard: I'm going to be dealing with Kzip and Nangbang for
a long while. Kzip is presumably as immortal as I am. Nangbang may or may not
be; I don't know. Starting out my relationship with them with
"I removed your indentured servant and your daughter from your city so that
they could indulge their unnatural lusts without your masterful and parental
attentions" is unlikely to lead to a comfortable, friendly relationship in
any sort of near term.
Sythyry the Reasonable Person: I certainly owe Nangbang gratitude, if
nothing else, for his help with Accanax. I imagine he is not terribly
delighted at his daughter's vanishment. Returning her to him would be an act
of kindness to a person whom I sort of owe such an act to. Kzip's claim on
Dorze is a widely-recognized legal claim, and any reasonable person
would feel some obligation to return him, too.
Sythyry on Vacation: I don't feel like flying back up to Ketheria at
this point. We're quite far from it. I suppose I could put Dorze and
Lost-Eyes on a skyboat headed back up. Which would mean paying their passage
out of my own accounts; they certainly didn't bring enough money for it.
And I'd have no particular assurance that they'd stay on that skyboat.
Sythyry with the Pet Nendrai: If I were truly annoyed, I would
introduce them to Vae and ask her to help them out. I can't imagine what she
might do. I'm sure it would be devastating. I'm nearly that annoyed with the
stowaways, but I don't think I want to be as random as Vae would be.
I will do what I will do, of course. I've mostly made up my mind. But what's
your advice?
Poll #1413449
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: AllHow annoyed would you be at Dorze and Lost-Eyes? (1 = not much, 10 = furious).
I'm going to answer this one so you can see how annoyed I really am. How annoyed would you be at Lithia, Wipey, and their quasi-mutinous
associates? (1 = not much, 10 = furious). How annoyed would you be at Kantele, who was trying to protect me but being
quite vicious about it? (1 = not much, 10 = furious). What should I do with Dorze and Lost-Eyes? What do you think Vae would do to or with them? | | Sunday, June 7th, 2009 | | 8:38 pm |
| | 5:25 pm |
| | Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009 | | 9:02 pm |
Digression: On the Proper Punishment of Disobedient Indentured
Servants
Rowyn asks an aggressive question:
Let's say that Kantele, after completing her education but some decades
before finishing her indenture, did something you found wholly unsuitable,
like fall in love with a norren. She then desired to leave your service so
she could pursue a relationship with her chosen norren. How would you
react?
Shurhaian modifies it:
Falling in love with a nonprime is a bit much to put into a hypothetical situation, no? o.o
(Falling in love with an orren Sythyry zirself was interested in, seemingly
mutually, now... and making plans to take said orren somewhere far
away...)
And it's an interesting and vaguely relevant question, with a complicated
answer, so I'm going to answer it here, at length, and Rowyn and Shurhaian
will Learn What It Is To Ask An Aggressive Question To A Zi Ri.
Actually, there are three sorts of answers. There's the answers
about me, a rather mild traff Zi Ri. There's the answers about how a
stereotypical (non-Zi-Ri) irascible wizard -- let us call her Flip La Lich --
is likely to behave. And there's the answers about how a stereotypical Cani
nobleman -- let us call him Count Pointer-Count -- is likely to behave. (Of
course these cases overlap: La Lich is probably rich and influential enough to
do nearly anything that Pointer-Count can do, and Pointer-Count could hire La
Lich or someone like that if he was sufficiently motivated.)
My answer to Rowyn's question as posed: I'm relatively not fussy about
arrangements. Kantele leaving would have been somewhat of an inconvenience,
since my previous secretary was retiring and I was counting on Kantele as his
replacement, and, if she had left, I would have needed a replacement
replacement. (Umbers leaving would not be a particular inconvenience, and
Blenny leaving would, honestly, be a convenience.) If Kantele had the
politeness to ask me, "Sythyry, I'm in love with Hark!, and I need to
move out of the city to be with her", I imagine I would complain a while, try
and fail to talk her out of such a stupid stupid thing, and then figure out
some sort of arrangement to let her do it and to at least pay me back for the
money I had invested in her education. (Which was a lot! Tuition, and an
allowance somewhat bigger than my ~mother~ gave me when I was in school -- I
wanted Kantele to learn how to dress and act like gentry, and of course I
wanted her to have a good time and regard me as a generous patron. Which she
did, and she did.)
If Kantele had had the poor grace to simply elope with Hark! rather than
negotiating something, there are a few things I might have done. (None of my
indentures have quite done that. People usually take advantage of me in other
ways, like Pleensy "borrowing" two graces of Mircannis.) But things that I,
myself, might do include:
- Complaining about her until my friends and clients were totally bored of
the topic, or, if I were particularly interesting about it, until they had
lost all respect for her. This is a particularly useful option if she has
gotten beyond my reach, or if further revenge does not seem worthwhile. I've
done this twice about indenture-related topics, and innumerable other times.
-
Taking legal action, if Kantele were still in the same city-state: suing her
for breach of contract. This would, if all went alarmingly well, turn back
into negotiations about how she might repay me. Probably worse for her than
any negotiations with me would be,
and she'd probably have to pay all the legal fees. I've done this once. It
was quite a hassle, even after I won.
- If I were particularly unhappy and didn't see any great likelihood of the
law working, I might arrange for, many times a day, Kantele to be
illuminated by flashes of orange light and crashes of cymbals, as a loud
voice from nowhere pronounces her misdeeds in orotund syllables. This will
make her life generally awkward. I have done this, once, though to someone
who assaulted me with a weapon, not a matter of indentures.
-
I might do something wizard-style or nobleman-style, especially if
Kantele had gone far away and been particularly insulting about it.
-
Grumble unhappily and vow to outlive the situation. An increasingly
attractive response when I'm feeling more disheartened than angry.
- (I would not get Vae involved. I would try not to mention the
matter to her until it was over. She's far too likely to do something
extreme and illegal.)
(Aside about me: I think I would be more offended if Kantele were betraying me
to take up with another Rassimel. I am much more tolerant of wrongfolk
behaving badly than I am of wrongfolk ceasing to be wrong. I expect I'd be
more cross if Kantele stole my lover, of course; what do you expect? (Though
that would be extremely difficult now. Note to self: take steps to make it easier.))
Flip La Lich, our stereotypical irascible wizard, has a few other choices at
the top of her list -- as long as Kantele hasn't gotten too far away. For, if
Kantele lived in La Lich's manse, there are surely arcane connections to her
that can be found: shed fur, worn clothes, an old toothbrush, a note with her
signature on it. Through these, La Lich can cast a variety of punative
spells.
First of all, note that La Lich can't legally kill or maim Kantele. If
Kantele is outside the city-state, La Lich might choose to kill her and most
likely will never face criminal charges -- but I think the querents were
mostly interested in what is lawful and customary, not what is possible.
So, some spells of torment that are fashionable at the moment include:
- Dottarnu's Labiodental Sphincter: This causes the victim's jaws to
snap shut, generally when the tongue will be caught in the teeth. They
remain shut for an hour or two. They are free for a few moments only,
(allowing the victim to eat if he's quick about it) and then snap shut again.
The standard version of this spell lasts for several weeks, though there's a
version that lasts indefinitely. Victims are quite miserable.
- The Prolongation of the Distal Phalanx: This spell makes the final
bones in the victim's fingers grow longer. The flesh does not grow with the
bones. After a few hours, the phalanxes pierce through the victim's
fingertips. They continue to grow for as long as the spell is in effect; the
victim's hands are largely unusable. The phalanxes can, of course, be cut
off, but that will leave them cut off when the spell is over and the bones
return to normal.
- A Personal Picnic: The aspect of a picnic that this spell induces
is the insectile one. Ants stream forth from each of the victim's orifices.
They behave like ordinary ants; e.g., they will swarm over the
victim's food, and will try to drag crumbs and dead insects back into the
victim's nose and ears. If an ant is squashed, the victim feels the pain
that the ant feels as it dies.
- Certain wizards do rather crueler things with Mentador, but that is cruel
and vicious and likely to cause the wizard more trouble later on.
Short-term versions of these are legal for use on indentured servants at the
master's discretion ... well, the first and third anyways. I'm not sure about
the Prolongation, since that actually draws blood. In the case of an
escaped indentured servant, "short-term" may be construed as weeks. In the
case of one who has fled to another city-state, it may even be perpetual. The
victim can, of course, come back home to plead her case in court, but (1) that
amounts to a return to servitude, and (2) the court will probably order the
wizard to turn the spell off, nothing more.
Count Pointer-Count, our stereotypical Cani nobleman (probably liver,
lemon, or black-furred), has a different set of
easy options. His spells are not so mighty -- though hiring La Lich to cast
spells is entirely possible, if he is angry enough. Most wealthy and powerful
people employ a few adventurers or guards; if not, they can hire them easily
enough. These people can be sent off to bring the forces of law, custom,
justice, and ferocity to the escapee. This has the advantage over the
wizardly approach of being, in effect, unlimited of range. It is somewhat
less accurate.
- Returning the fugitive to justice: The best option, I think, is for
the nobleman's henchmen to return the escapee home, using no more force than
strictly necessary. At home, the escapee can be put on trial. The law will
be overwhelming on the nobleman's side. The escapee can expect to be made
responsible for all charges and incidental acts of destruction that result
from the attempt to retrieve her.
- Immediate revenge: If justice is difficult, or does not satisfy the
nobleman, the guards can be instructed to perform their own approximation of
justice. Harsh beatings, or even minor maimings (severing the ears and
tail, say) would be typical here. Outright murder is not utterly
unheard-of. This option is more troublesome than justice. For one thing,
it makes the nobleman look unjust. For another, henchmen who are willing to
maim or murder are fewer in number and inherently less reliable than those
who are willing to achieve justice.
On the whole, law and custom favor harsh treatment of indentured servants who
try to break their contracts. Not as harsh as for slave -- slavery is
generally punishment for some prior and severe crime, and law and
custom really don't like that punishment being evaded. But harsher than
for other forms of service, or other contracts. In general, indentures permit
the master plenty of flexibility in punishment. Ridiculous as it may sound in
my case, I'm legally allowed to hit Umbers as hard as I like, as much as seems
appropriate to me, as long as I don't break her carapace or any other
significant injury (or, because it's in her contract, unless it can be
construed as an act of concubinage).
In any case, all these punishments rely on the escapee being fairly close. Should
the escapee manage to get a couple hundred miles away -- e.g., by
stowing away aboard someone else's well-guarded skyboat -- the master's
options are limited and expensive.
Now, aren't you sorry you asked the question? Or, at least, aren't you sorry
someone asked the question?
| | Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009 | | 8:34 pm |
Stowaways [17 Hispis 3285]
Which lead, inevitably, to interrupting my discussion of enchantment plans
with Phaniet, sitting on the emo couch in the library.
Kantele:"Sythyry, I regret to inform you that your stepdaughter
has been conspiring against you."
Grinwipey:"Sythyry, I regret to inform you that your secretary is
a blunkwad who shunders profligate prebs in her spare time. Under the
sickens and wipes!"
Me:"I don't understand either of you. Actually, I think I have a
better idea of what Grinwipey means than Kantele, which is pretty alarming."
Kantele:"I think the perpetrators had better explain
themselves!"
Yerenthax, fierce in her bloodstained pink armor, shoved two youths forward: a
Cani boy with golden retriever styling and an Orren girl with bright, bright
eyes, both dressed after the fashion of the skybridge cities.
Me:"Who are those?"
Dorze:"I'm Dorze." He curtsied and wagged his tail
politely and looked generally apologetic.
Lost-Eyes:"And I'm Lost-Eyes." She curtsied too, but looked
defiant.
Kantele:"They should be tossed out of Strayway. With
bound Heal the Awful Wound spells so they don't stay dead when they
land." She was snarling in a way that one does not usually associate
with social secretaries in their nineties.
Me:"Why? What are they doing on Strayway in the first
place? I didn't invite them."
Kantele:"Exactly. You did not invite them. They are stowaways!
They must be sent on their way as quickly as possible!"
Lost-Eyes:"We're not stowaways! The Zi Ri wizard said it was all
right!"
Me:"I did?" As the only Zi Ri and the only wizard on board,
I was understandably confused.
Lost-Eyes:"No! The other one! Sazandigraa!"
Me:"Why is my ever-so-generous cousin sending stowaways onto my
skyboat?"
Kantele:"Lithia and Grinwipey and Windigar and Inconnu did
it!"
Grinwipey:"Don't get your tail stuck down Shax Shay Shaz'
wax-way-waz, Kantele!"
Me:"Now I am hopelessly confused."
But the explanation was very simple.
And by "Very Simple" I mean...
Everybody:talk talk talk interrupt talk exclaim talk proclaim
talk yell TALK!
Me:"Perhaps, um, Dorze could explain himself?" After
somewhere between 7+12 and 712 variations on that request, he
was permitted to do so, or close enough.
Dorze: something about how Lithia and Sazandigraa ...
Me:"Maybe start by telling me who you are, aside from being a
Cani boy name Dorze, and, from the beginning, how you came to be asking
Lithia and Sazandigraa for passage on Strayway?"
Dorze:"From the very beginning, if it pleases you, m'lord. My
family was never well-off. My mother and father and some others died in a
house fire when I was nine. Who was left was only one uncle, but he'd
gotten the kids out, so he had seven of us. He couldn't take care of us
all, so he sold some of us off. He sold me to Kzip La Hish."
Lithia:"And that's bad enough! We should be helping him get
free!"
Kantele:"You will rescue Dorze, but you will not rescue
Blenny?"
Lithia:"What?"
Kantele:"Blenny is indentured to Sythyry. For that matter, your
mother was indentured to zir, too, before you were born."
Me:"And Este is, and Umbers, and ... what did we decide
about Arfaen?"
Kantele:"No, Este has been free for two years. And I have been
free for forty-two. Arfaen is not indentured at this point. She may take a
contract when we get back to Vheshrame, if Sythyry needs better legal
standing to keep Quendry with us."
Lithia:"That's different. That's just a legal maneuver."
Me:"Rather in the same way that a contract of marriage or
apprenticeship is a legal maneuver. Anyhow, Dorze? Pray continue."
Dorze:"Well, Lost-Eyes and I knew each other a lot, her mother
and La Hish work together a lot, and Lost-Eyes was over a great deal. We
... well ..."
Lithia:"They fell in love, mother, despite being different
species. Just what Castle Wrong and Strayway are all
about, in case you had forgotten."
(I haven't actually forgotten. And I'm not actually her mother, she just
calls me that when she wants me to be responsible for her or some such.
Dorze:"Yes, we fell in love. La Hish didn't approve at all, she
forbade me to see her any more."
Me:"Just out of curiosity -- and out of knowing how much legal
trouble Lithia has gotten herself into -- what sort of provisions did you
have for breaking your contract?"
Dorze:"A year's notice, plus repayment of whatever she had spent
on me."
Lost-Eyes:"That was a lot! She had set him to work as a
spell-scribe, copying spells into little wooden boxes.
She'd bought him a pile of spells for him -- he owes her for all of them!"
I suppose that's fair. After all, he does own the spells (and it is
physically impossible for him to give them back), and when he has bought off
his indenture, he'll be able to go into business as a spell-scribe on his own
with them.
Kantele:"How much is she charging you for them? Retail price, or
what?"
Me:"Kantele, are you being sympathetic to his cause now?"
Kantele:"No, but I do want to know the details."
Dorze:"I don't know. I've never bought a spell in a
shop."
Me:"Well, tell me the last couple spells, and how much she
charged you."
Dorze:"There's Tapestry of Rippling Splendor for seven
thousand lozens, and Magic Resistance of Iron for seventeen."
Me:"That's less than retail price, at least. It's rather high
for spell-scribe rates. How much do you get paid for each copy?"
Dorze:"Two percent."
Me:"How does that compare to free spell-scribes?"
(Nobody knew, so we asked Zascalle, who said that ordinary non-indentured
spell-scribes in the employ of a typical wizard get, by age-old custom, 43%.
But wizards -- or other businessmen -- who do a lot of business in selling
spells prefer indentured scribes. The wizards have to invest a goodly amount
of money or time in each spell the scribes can write. A scribe can, in
principle, learn a spell, and then decamp and set up a shop stall in another
city selling it, and the investor's recourses are quite limited. Indentured
scribes have more trouble escaping without paying their debts -- if only
because foreign cities are likely to pay attention to indenture contracts.)
Lost-Eyes:"So you see, La Hish was a terrible, terrible
mistress!"
Me:"She was rather exploitative. I've certainly known
worse."
Lost-Eyes:"Well, Dorze started last year with five years left in
his indenture if he worked as hard as he could, and ended the year with
eight left!"
Kantele:"I've certainly known worse too."
Me:"Truly! Kantele's indenture ended forty-two years ago, and
she still hasn't figured out that she can leave me."
Dorze: [Loyally, because he's a Cani] "Well, I did
complain about it and she did promise to stop having me buy spells.
The eight years is still about right."
Lost-Eyes:"And you trust her to keep her word? You could take her
to court if she doens't, but what'll they say -- 'You signed the contract
(or your uncle did for you), and she's being lawful and treating you well,
so you live with it. The law's not on your side when you're
indentured."
Lithia:"It's not! There's nothing fair about it!"
At about that point I noticed that Lithia was actually in Rassimel phase, but
wearing an illusion that she was Orren. She doesn't usually do that.
Some Indentures
And, for your reference and mine, here are some details of three contracts
from Castle Wrong, prepared by Kantele for the purpose. Plus Dorze's contract.
| Topic |
Blenny |
Umbers |
Kantele |
Dorze |
| Reason |
Abandoned, crippled child who couldn't take care of herself. Under a
moderate amount of Ducal pressure, I agreed to accept her into my
household.
|
Umbers left her native village and came to Vheshrame as a peniless,
naive country bug. She quickly fell in with the worst that Vheshrame has
to offer, including some relatives of Grinwipey, and found herself working
jobs lacking in legal, moral, or financial value. When she escaped, she asked to be
indentured to place herself firmly under my legal, moral, and financial
protection.
|
When Kantele defied her parents as an adolescent, she was tossed onto the
street with only the clothes on her back -- and those clothes scorched
from an angry maternal Fire Flower. She took refuge in the early
Castle Wrong. We discussed a number of options, including living at Castle
Wrong the way most of the residents do. She decided that she'd take the
one with the most value to her: getting an education, and paying for it by
her indenture.
|
Sold for his own support, by his uncle.
|
| Duration |
Until terminated by mutual agreement. (Note that I can't simply evict
her or toss her on the street. An abusive indenture-holder who was trying
to get rid of her could make her miserable to force that agreement.
Castle Wrong puts up with worse than Blenny, though.)
|
12 years: a typical term. After which, we hope Umbers no longers needs protection.
|
30 years. A very long term, but Kantele wanted (and got) a very expensive
education and had no better way to pay for it.
|
Indefinite term at first. It was made definite a few years ago, as
"Until his debt to La Hish is paid off." Except that she can, in effect,
order him to increase his debt.
|
| Requirements on the indentured: |
Serve me to the best of her abilities. Since her troubles are both
physical and mental -- she is not very smart, and she is stuck
between land and water forms -- this is mostly housecleaning. Which
means she works about as hard as non-indentured people like Inconnu and
Mellilot and Tingula: she's at her duties several hours a day. She is
rather in the gate district [Earth idiom: bottom of the totem pole] and
probably gets assigned more latrine-scrubbing than the others. That's
probably because she can't complain as effectively as the others, not
because she's not free.
|
Serve me to the best of her abilities, with certain exclusions that she
asked for and I was happy to accept. Umbers mostly helps take care of the
children, on Strayway. Not as much as the parents -- Arfaen is a
particularly attentive mother -- but quite a bit.
|
Be an assistant to my then-secretary by way of apprenticeship, and to take
over as my secretary proper when my then-secretary became my
then-not-a-secretary-anymore.
|
General obedience and working in her scribery. |
| Requirements on the indenturer: |
Provide suitable ("and generous" in the words of the standard contract
that we used) food, shelter, clothing, education, entertainment, spending
money, and so forth. According to Zascalle, Blenny costs about half again
as much as a live-in servant would. She was quite hard to educate; we
needed to hire a special tutor to teach her to read, and even now her
arithmetic is rather more surprising than accurate. "And generous" is
left by law entirely up to my interpretation. I have some idea of what
the usual range for indentures like hers is, and I try to be in about the
top sixth, but not actually the top. The bottom third or so doesn't even
seem suitable to me, much less generous.
|
Protection, plus room and board and clothing and spending money and such.
I am specifically forbidden to employ her as a concubine or prostitute (I don't),
and she is specifically allowed to have five nights out of every nine free
to spend in whatever bed she wishes (she does). I am, naturally, allowed
by Vheshrame law and custom to exert myself rather more forcefully to
protect my property than I am to protect my friends. I don't much want to
get into a fight with the Khtsoyis quarter of town -- less so after seeing
Grinwipey wipe my cousin's grin off zir face -- but we hoped that they
would not want to get into a fight with me either. (And they mostly didn't.)
|
Education, plus room and board and clothing and spending money and such.
Not Vheshrame Academy, but she did have two years in a university in
Daukrhame.
|
Providing suitable food, shelter, and so on. Dorze's education was
rather focussed on the few topics that make for a good spell-scribe. He
can concentrate quite well; he has a great deal of cley. He's not terribly
good at magic himself: she found no particular reason to have him able
to cast the spells he was copying.
|
| Afterwards: |
I expect Blenny to be my indentured servant as long as she lives,
unless, by some miracle, she is able to take care of herself at some point
and wants to.
|
No particular plans at this point. I don't think Umbers will stay in
Castle Wrong, somehow. Which is fine. Unlike Blenny, Umbers can take care of
herself; unlike Kantele, I am not training Umbers for a job I particularly
need filled.
|
At the end of her indenture, Kantele took a four-month vacation, and
then came back to Castle Wrong to continue to be my secretary. We
renegotiated her contract. I'm paying her a lot more now, plus room and
board. Not clothing when we were in Vheshrame, but on Strayway
I'm providing clothing for everyone. She gets lots more vacation time
than when she was indentured, too.
|
Unclear.
|
Anyhow, indentures are one of the most formal legal and social instruments
available. They're weaker than adoption, but stronger than simply hiring
someone. They place some obligations on the indenture holder, and,
potentially, lots of obligations on the indentured. They
aren't exactly undignified, not quite like being a slave, but they
certainly aren't dignified. And they're risky for the indenturee: law, custom,
and balance of power favor the indenture holder. I am wimpy, and tend to
treat my indentured servants the same way I treat everyone else who lives at
Castle Wrong. This is not exactly unusual among indenture holders; but
neither is it unusual for indenture holders to want to get every terch of
value out of their contracts.
| | Monday, June 1st, 2009 | | 11:50 am |
Moral Quandary of the Day [17 Hispis 3285]
The moral quandary of the day is not how to treat Vae. The
philosophers made a few suggestions. Vae absolutely refuses to the
suggestions which are hers to do -- e.g., it would be very helpful if
she announced her presence with a display of miniature fireworks and the scent
of burning violins or something. With that, everyone would be constantly aware
of her presence, and would be careful to watch what they say. Vae rejected the
idea as undignified and immodest and humiliating. I am not quite sure why
someone who generally lounges around the yacht in the shape of a snake with
seven butterfly wings thinks this, but there you are.
She might, however, try to map the borders of her most unfortunate compulsion.
A brave, brave volunteer (Yerenthax?) will make increasingly importunate
requests for assistance, and we will learn just how much self-control Vae has
before being helpful. Perhaps, in time and with practice, Vae will be able to
increase her self-control. I expect to spend many days fixing our brave, brave
volunteer.
(After which, we sent the philosophers and their monsters on their way.
Grinwipey emphatically exclaimed at how they had cheated me, and how it would
be choons with glorzy jelly if he could cheat people so easily out of
so much.)
No, the actual moral problem is this.
We (and by 'we' I exclude myself) were at lunch in the galley, enjoying a very
fancy salad buffet made by Calla the night chef, who is, once again, compelled
to be diurnal. Calla had prepared a batch of herring croquettes for those who
need to eat meat.
Lithia:(Orren phase)"These are very good herring
croquettes."
Thiane: (waitress of the meal) "I'll be sure to tell our poor
kitchen-slave Calla that you said so."
Lithia:"Inconnu?"
Inconnu: [Looking at Lithia with his mouth full of
croquette.] "Oh no, what, what?"
Lithia:"The croquettes are delicious. Also, they are filling,
being composed of herring, powdered biscuit, pureed turnip, butter, and
eggs, and then deep-fried. A few of them would be quite filling indeed,
especially for people who have been complaining about hunger
lately."
Kantele:"Who on wood has been complaining about hunger lately?
Calla and Arfaen have been cooking constantly -- to say nothing of
Mellilot, Thiane, Blenny, Inconnu, Tingula, Umbers, Zascalle, and the
boys. I imagine I'll be begging Grinwipey for new clothes by the time we
get to Srineia, and that is not many more days."
Lithia:"Never mind. They're just excellent herring
croquettes."
Inconnu:"Right! They are!" He emptied half the tray of
croquettes into his purse.
Kantele:"Inconnu! Are you the greedy glutton today, or
were you just been immersed up to your ears in the Astral Sea of Rudeness
as an infant? What on wood was that about?" (I do not know
about any such mystical realm as that.)
Inconnu:"NO! It's not what you're thinking!"
Kantele:"A remarkable utterance. Would you care to tell me what
I am thinking, as well as what the truth of the situation is?"
Lithia: [sighing] "Inconnu!"
Grinwipey:"Stinking little excuse for a skeef-wronching
butter-and-bread you are, Inconnu!"
Inconnu:"No!"
Kantele:"Oh, my. Grinwipey's involved in whatever-this-is,
too. This can't be good."
Grinwipey:"It ain't
stuffed-up-Mircannis'-yanabloonie bad either."
Kantele:"You'd better tell me more."
Grinwipey:"Aw, sure thing, old woman. Up in the Cathay row, the
lizard breath asked us, 'Hey, these these foozers are all on the scuddery
vay, and they're nearly ready to be vimpered and get the glootie, so go
ratch them, spango?' So we're like 'Dotch, dotch, we're rostic with the
mangeree baking in the skates-and-sled , and the old
limp-and-sink is coming with the cley.' And got told back, 'Razzers, but
the gin-dorms are full of gin, and the snapping's coming up with
flattery!' So we says, 'Nah, the frain can dummel on the pancakes, we're
not a delivery service, but maybe we are.' So it's no gnawing on anyone's
fudd-whucker, see?"
Kantele:"In point of fact, I do not, as you so eloquently phrase
it, 'see'."
Lithia blinked at Grinwipey. "I was there too, I've been getting swearing
lessons from you, and I didn't understand what you said."
Grinwipey peered one eyestalk at her. "Cathay Row is Ketheria, see?
Skates-and-sled is from rhyming, you can figure that out."
Kantele:"Lithia! Perhaps you would be so good as to explain the
situation."
Lithia:"Um ... can I talk to my stepmother? Zie's probably going
to understand a bit better..."
Kantele:"Pleading with Sythyry for mercy already? What
trouble have you caused now?" | | Sunday, May 31st, 2009 | | 8:36 pm |
OOC: more publishers
I'll get back to the story soon, I promise.
In the meantime, a helpful non-LJ person has recommended
Twilight Times Books to me.
If you'd like to second the recommendation, or warn me against it,
please do!
(Sorry I can't just add this to the poll in the previous entry,
but polls are not editable.) | | 10:28 am |
OOC -- Looking for a Small Press
I'm still looking for a small press for Wrath of Trees. (I am not
planning to look indefinitely; if I don't find a suitable small press soon enough, I'll take some other approach.) Here are the most promising ones I've turned
up.
- Sofawolf, a reputable furry
publisher. I don't know the publishers myself, but we have many friends in
common; and they've been around for years. (Disadvantage: Wrath of
Trees is more "nonhuman alien" than "furry" per se. The main character
has bark, not fur, and the animal aspects of characters are not strong.)
- EDGE / Tesseract They seem to
like some things I'm good at, like unique settings, alien life forms, and
magic systems.
- Swimming
Kangaroo
- Tyrannosaurus
Press
- Sense of Wonder Press
- Gryphonwood
Press
- Echelon Press
So here's a poll to make things easy. I'd appreciate comments if you have any
more details -- or a private note if there's something that shouldn't be quite
so public.
And, thanks very much for helping me with this.
Poll #1408609
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: AllHave you heard good things about: Have you heard bad things about: Are you at all aware of the existence of the press? (This will tell me
something about their advertising and publicity.) Anywhere else I should think about? | | Saturday, May 30th, 2009 | | 11:26 am |
Chatting up the Inistella [15 Hispis 4385]
While I was busy not in the slightest degree seducing Bazamvey and Hark!,
Vae released the nycathath, but that was boring and unfriendly.
Windigar was out having a conversation with Doöaru.
I gather it went
something like this.
Doöaru:"Good morning! How are your passengers getting along
with my passengers?"
Windigar:"Less tense than at first, though I don't imagine that
your problematical passengers are ever going to be very friendly with my
perverted passengers."
The physical arrangements of the conversation are not so obvious. Wingidar
was sitting on one of Strayway's occasional balconies. Strayway
was sitting on one of Doöaru's scales. Doöaru was not sitting; he
cannot sit. He was gliding slowly downwards, in the general direction of
Srineia -- and in the general direction of most of the inhabitable universe, I
suppose. He had produced an Orren-sized illusion of himself on his back,
through which he could presumably see and hear.
Doöaru:"Perhaps my problematical passengers profess
portentious paradigms and pretend perfection? Perhaps your perverted
passengers prefer polyamorous performances and prominent
protrusions?"
Windigar:"You may be wrong, you may be right, but you are
certainl alliterative."
Doöaru:"It's natural for inistella. It comes from the fins,
you know." The image wriggled the backs of its wings.
Windigar:"I didn't know."
Doöaru:"They are the alluring ailerons of
alliteration! Or so the females of my kind tell me."
Windigar:"Oh? What are the courtship habits of inistella like?
We who dwell largely upon the land -- and weakly in the water! -- are
unaware of such aerial attractions." He can do it too. I presume
this is because master-pilots are taught about vessels with sails and
those without.
Doöaru:"Well, in the Month of Moveable Marriage -- Trandary,
you call it -- in each Year of the Yum -- as we term years which, when
divided by fourteen, have a remainder of three -- we gather in an inverted
vortex over Vulturia. We hold dirigible dances and poetic promenades.
At the end of the month, each individual inistella must mark a mate, pick
a partner, select a spouse. Afterwards, we indulge our inclinations for
copulation, procreation, dissimulation, aggravation, elevation,
desparation, destination, and disintegration for seven years. Then comes
divorce and a certain while of solitary exploration."
Windigar:"Isn't the current year 313 x 14 + 3?"
Doöaru:"Is it? Oh! It is!"
Windigar:"And the current month is Hispis, so your Vulturian
vortex vows should have evolved about two weeks ago..."
Doöaru:"Alas! Arithmetic gives me the lie!
Perhaps you could tell me some lies about the
courtship habits of the Orren, and then we'll call it even?"
[OOC note: I didn't intend the current year to be the Year of the Yum;
I can't divide 4385 by 14 in my head. Oops! -bb]
Windigar:"Well, it is our invariable custom to concern a
Cani to gingerly introduce us to a Gormoror who will happily point out a
Herethroy who will cautiously indicate which Khtsoyis who will recommend a
Rassimel who will select a Sleeth to zero in on a Zi Ri who will find a
spouse for us."
(In case any reading monsters are uncertain, this is not how it is
done.)
Doöaru:"A complicated arrangement!"
Windigar:"But very prime. That's why I'm working for Sythyry --
zie's the last link in the chain. When we return to Vheshrame, I shall
have my necessary and nifty nuptuals!"
Doöaru:"How charming!"
Windigar:"Charming indeed, and indescribably romantic.
Unfortunately it's not true: I have no guarantee that Sythyry, or anyone,
will find a spouse for me. And the Strayway is not the best
place to seek one: the Orren here all prefer Rassimel or
Herethroy."
Doöaru:"Alas indeed! I share your trepidation about
marital prospects; women seem to prefer clippers or trefoils."
And the conversation continued in mutual sympathy.
| | Friday, May 29th, 2009 | | 8:00 pm |
Seducing the Orren [15 Hispis 4385]
I didn't get to talk very much with Bazamvey and Hark! (the exclamation point
is part of her name, so don't blame me, please). The Rassimel were doing most
of the talking. I had been eyeing them whenever I could, and they were quite
pretty Orren indeed, all lovely sleek brown fur and quick eyes. And, after
all the Rassimel were healed and sent to bed, they went sliding around on
Doöaru's scales. They stayed in water-form all the time. This is odd,
because they weren't generally in the water, but (a) some Orren can do it; (b)
some Orren like to do it; and (c) it wasn't even close to the strangest thing
going on on Doöaru's back.
So I invited them to breakfast aboard Strayway.
Which is not as inconvenient as it might seem at first. We had
parked Strayway on Doöaru's back -- Strayway has a flat
bottom, after all, and the antelopes don't mind being on the ground. (My
not-good-friend Urgentia has made the last seven of his skyboats unable to
land, despite having shapes that could reasonably be seen on the ground -- two
of them were drawn by glass and ivory swans, but, for reasons best known to
himself, Urgentia decided that they would be legless glass and ivory
swans.)
I didn't have great actual hopes. Really, I didn't. They looked like husband
and wife, though that's not always a limitation for Orren. We're not planning
to stay on Doöaru very long: a day or two more at most. I've barely
flirted with anyone in decades -- not a lot since Mynthë died, come to
think of it, and that was about sixty years ago.
But that last is the reason. I need practice in flirting. Reading books and
looking at pictures is only so helpful. Admittedly, some of the books and
pictures may be interpreted as case studies and practica in flirting and
related relationship issues ... though, in some cases, the flirting is
cursory and the related activies are extensive and detailed and very, very
enthusiastic. Pity real life isn't quite like that, or mine isn't, anyways.
Umbers' used to be, until she escaped.
So, breakfast, with a bowl of scallops poached in shrieking wine (now
soundproofed), a tray of egg and eel and elk and elm custard cut into little
polygonal shapes (I'd asked for triangles, but got squares and hexagons too),
and chalices of kathia with a few drops of perfume and brandy. Arfaen did
quite a nice job. We were in a private parlor, with a low round teak table,
no chairs, and three thin feather pillows on the table next to the plates.
This is a comfortable luxury for small people.
Bazamvey:"This is quite pleasant!"
Hark!:"It's nice to get fresh fish! There's a pond or two on
Doöaru!'s back! But we can't eat them all! Or we wouldn't have any
left! "
Me:"Well, what do you eat there, ordinarily?"
Bazamvey:"Snails!"
Hark!:"We eat lots and lots of snails! They slither up and down
Doöaru's scales!"
Me:"Scale snails!"
Bazamvey:"I like scale snail tails!"
Hark!:"I don't! Scale snail tail fail!"
So that was all very fine and giggly, and very Orren.
Me:(somewhat later) "Where are you from?"
Bazamvey:"We're from out along the branch!"
Hark!:"We're wandering wizards!"
Bazamvey:"We're sauntering sorcerers."
Hark!:"We're meandering mages!"
Bazamvey:"We're thravelling thaumaturges!"
Hark!:"We're eloping enchanters!"
Me:"Are you actually eloping?" Which was a question I had
generally been wondering.
Hark!:"I think we're married!"
Bazamvey:"And I don't. Hark! didn't register the wedding
properly."
Hark!:"I tried! I don't know how to write!"
Me:"You don't? You must have grown up in a riverbum
village!" Which is a perfectly ordinary thing for Orren to do, and
riverbums aren't always as determined to give their children a rigorous
education.
Hark!:"I did! Sort of! Three of them!"
Me:"Oh? Why three of them?"
Hark!:"My parents kept getting kicked out! They used too much
Mentador!"
Well, that's an unusual and a distressing thing to admit in public. I didn't
really know how to respond, so I responded badly:
Me:"Oh, my! Bazamvey, what is your background?"
Bazamvey:"Much the same. Five villages."
Me:"Heavens."
Bazamvey:"Mentador isn't that popular."
Me:"So you're both the children of riverbum Mentador
mages?" Which sounds quite odd to me. Riverbums aren't the sort of
people that you'd really expect to learn enough Mentador to bother people
-- much less to have enough money to by the requisite spells.
Hark!:"Oh, that! Yes! We're Mentador mages ourselves
too!"
Which is not something that many people admit in polite company, much less
like that. I was doing my best to look like an open-minded and friendly
wizard. (Which I am, pretty much. Open-legged, too, though I hope it
wasn't that obvious.)
Me:"What is your specialty?"
Hark!:"Mind control!"
I will admit that I checked various protective and investigative devices, as
surreptitiously as I could manage. Specialists in mind control had best be
specialists in teleporting as well, or something else useful for escapes -- if
not actual combat magic -- for there are fewer less popular magical disciplines.
Me:"Really?"
Bazamvey:"Yes. Practical mind control. We help Orren
domesticate deer and river-dolphins, by rendering the animals less fearful
of people for a while. The Orren would feed the animals, and make friends
with them. When the control spells wore off, the animals were still
friends with the primes. That sort of thing."
Me:"Oh! Not controlling other primes."
Hark!:"We're not primes!"
Me:"You're not?"
Hark!:"We just look that way!"
Me:"..."
Bazamvey:"But once in a while we'd control primes too. One of
our customers had a terrible habit of ripping out her own fur. She hated
it, but she couldn't break it. A control spell was good for
that."
Hark!:"Or that man by three ponds! He was too fat! He wanted to
eat less! We made him eat less! He was happy!"
Me:"Wait ... you're not prime?"
Hark!:"We're norren!"
Me:"... really?"
Bazamvey:"Really!"
Me:"I didn't know there were any norren in Ketheria." By
"Ketheria" I mean "Vheshrame Mene" here -- I have no idea about the rest of
my native branch, much less the rest of Ketheria. I was a bit rattled
though.
Hark!:"There might not be! We're not from Ketheria!"
Oh, right. We're not in Ketheria anymore.
Digression
Norren look like water-form Orren, which is to say, they look like animal
otters. They're smart and charming -- by all reports, and all my experience
with them too. They're pretty good at magic, especially Mentador and
Illusidor. They've got a poison bite, too, and they're very resistant to
magic, if I
read my reference books a long time later recall correctly.
They are monsters.
They are monsters of the most insidious and insinuative sort.
They're not specifically dangerous. They're not like a nendrai or nycathath,
able to be a martial challenge to any prime hero in the world. They're not
even like perdithorne, who hate Cani and fight them mercilessly.
They're just ... friendly.
They like Orren.
Orren seem to like norren, too. Except for the Mentador and the being stuck in
water-form, norren and Orren are two of a kind: charming, friendly,
exciteable, unreasonably attractive to Zi Ri, and all like
that. So norren often live in Orren villages -- until they get kicked out for
using their best skills and powers, I suppose.
Oh, and norren kind of like sneaking into cities, by reputation at least. I
don't know if that's a compulsion, or just a fun thing. I haven't heard that
they've done anything worse than, oh, go swimming in the public pond and see a
puppet show, or some such -- or, sometimes, to cast Mentador spells on people.
Harmless enough spells, but still, they are Mentador.
Still, norren in cities is doorwaying. There is no worse crime. And the
Mentador just adds unpopularity-or-crime to unpopularity-or-crime.
I think Pararenenzu must have made them -- zie made the Orren, after all. The
alternative is too horrible to think about.
Back to Breakfast
I did my very best to radiate aplomb, and, indeed, to appear as if I had
always understood that Bazamvey and Hark! were not actually Orren, or might
not be. I succeeded brilliantly, of course. I imagine I was able to close
my mouth and stop gaping in a matter of mere ninths of an hour.
Me:"Ah! That's why you're travelling on Doöaru, with Kazrie
and the other philosophers."
Hark!:"We want to live with primes!"
Bazamvey:"We like primes!"
Hark!:"Primes like us too!"
Bazamvey:"Except for the Mentador!"
Hark!:"We do jobs that real primes don't want to do!"
Bazamvey:"Important jobs!"
Me:"It certainly sounds that way. Mentador is not well-loved, but
it is one of our twelve Nouns, and there are things that it can do that
cannot be done nearly as well in any other way."
Bazamvey:"I'm glad you approve!"
Hark!:"I'm glad too!"
(I don't actually approve, but I have the diplomacy not to say that.)
I didn't rush the rest of the breakfast, I really didn't. I did my best to be
polite and friendly, and, after I recovered from the surprise, I think I sort
of managed it and had some more good conversation. But I didn't flirt any more
either.
I'm going to count this one as "a narrow escape".
| | Thursday, May 28th, 2009 | | 12:04 pm |
OOC: Wrath of Trees whine
It is not greatly surprising that Wrath of Trees got another rejection;
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) ysabetwordsmith said of it, "The Wrath of Trees is a delightful and exceptionally original story … at a time when the mainstream publishers are favoring (based on the review copies they send me) lightly tinted variations on Same Old Stuff and Hot New Thing Everybody’s Doing."
I'm more annoyed with Sam's Dot Publishing for taking six months (and six
prompts) to get back to me, after telling me it would be six weeks, than for
rejecting it.
Anyhow, do you have any suggestions for what I should do next with it?
Another small press, maybe -- but which one? Try to find an agent?
Here's the first chapter, anyways. Enjoy, or not.
( First chapter of Wrath of Trees ) |
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