After Famous Collections today, Thelvion (a Rassimel lad of no perceptible personality) assembled eight of us to get a late lunch at The Sloop In Soup.
For those of you who claim to be monsters and are perpetually denied the finer pleasures of Vheshrame ... don't feel bad. The Sloop In Soup is not one of the finer pleasures of Vheshrame. It is a home restaurant. One of the restauranteurs -- I think the Herethroy one, but it might be the Orren -- owns a tallish, narrowish building on the corner of Murzerpherzon and Vine, in the heart of the neighborhood of poor students and poor people in general. The Herethroy lives on the top floor apartment, with, as far as I can tell, a Cani who is more than simply a roommate, but less than nothing in the eyes of her clan anymore. The Orren lives on the next floor. The two floors under that are full of tables and waiters and students and whomevers and soup.
Lots of soup.
Lots of reasonably adequate soup.
Lots of reasonably adequate soup, mostly served "a la sloop", which is the restaurant's way of saying, "with a big thick oval slice of hosh toast covered in lots and lots of butter floating on it".
Which is to say, a fairly hungry and fairly penurious Orren can come here after a long swim, and call for a bowl of trout and lobster chowder a la sloop, and be quite well fed on cheap but very filling stuff for a third of a lozen. Or, of course, a fairly hungry Zi Ri can come here after a class, and call for a quarter-bowl of trout and lobster chowder raw -- no sloop -- and still not be able to finish it.
So here is the tally:
|Sythyry||Zi Ri, first year||1/4 bowl Trout + Lobster Chowder, raw||1/9 lozen||1/3 lozen|
|Thelvion||Rassimel man, second year, bland||Sausage and Raisin Soup, raw||1/3 lozen||1/3 lozen|
|Strenata||Orren woman, second year, appealing||Scallop and Leek Soup, a la sloop||1/3 lozen||1/3 lozen|
|Oonspath||Orren man, second year, appalling||Trout + Lobster Chowder, a la sloop||1/3 lozen||1/9 lozen|
|Iska||Rassimel woman, first year, foreign, inescapable||Salt fish and apricot soup, a la sloop. (She couldn't finish it)||1/3 lozen less a terch||1/3 lozen|
|Rarendico Mustergreen||Rassimel man, first year, ex-arrogant||Scallop and Leek Soup, raw||1/3 lozen||I didn't see|
|Yulmarn or something tedious like that||Rassimel, gender unclear, year unclear, makes Thelvion seem like a bowl of spicy Kottarnani pepperpot||Spicy Kottarnani pepperpot, a la sloop, with the chili butter instead of the regular||1/2 lozen||I didn't see|
|Claryelle||Herethroy woman, minor nobility, silk hat||Thistle Salad Soup, a la sloop||1/3 lozen less two terch||1/3 lozen plus two terch|
|Yarwain||Rassimel man, second year, frequently frequents my apartmentmate||Trout and Lobster Chowder, raw||1/3 lozen||I didn't see|
Claryelle was not particularly friendly to me, as she never has been. I noted with displeasure a few barbs tossed at me about the company I keep, as I vaguely remember from before. I don't think she's talking about Spirshash, though. Yarwain got a couple of those as well. I don't think I would have noticed particularly, last week. This does not please me greatly: my choice of roommate has made me disliked amongst a great fraction of my social class.
It doesn't seem to have done too badly for me among some of the lower classes, though. Strenata sat next to me and we chatted about: the habits of trout; the objects that seabirds bring to their nests to amuse their young; the theoretical possibilities of what flying trout would bring to their hypothetical nests to amuse their young; the theoretical possibility of making Claryelle fly to see what she would bring to her nest to amuse her young ... and that was the first third of an hour only. She is very, very Orren.
Oh, she is very very Orren, indeed. Her soup contained an adequate number of scallops, a respectable amount of turnips, a decent number of onions, and an almost vulgar amount of chard, but only a single leek. This offended Strenata's sensibilities! She then and there changed her name to Seeks-Leeks.
She seems to change her name at the drop of a hat, or at any rate at the drop of a leek. Her friends are quite used to it, and duly noted it without any particular alarm. Yarwain wrote "Seeks-Leeks" on a scrap of paper and stuck it in her hatband. (I asked later -- Strenata is her family name, which she is called whenever anyone is unsure of what her personal name may be, which is often.)
I have promised her a leek tart at Tulterillo's, which is beyond her usual budget.
Yarwain privately recommended that I bring her there sooner than later. She is unlikely to seek leeks for long.
(And when I got home, I discovered that Tethezai had painted Dustweed a rather impressive shiny orange. Later in the evening, a surreptitious and well-timed glance revealed that there were handmarks and whiskermarks in the paint, here and there; Tethezai had evidently not waited quite long enough for it to dry.)