Seeks-Square-Stars Strenata, wearing a great huge spangled green cloak and what is presumably a scarf with a round pillow in it but looks like a small gold-painted melon by her cheek, pounced upon me for a big and very clothy hug when I finally found which scarfseller she was scarfselling at. She talked with great excitement about The Cheeses of Oorah Thrassen, in which she is playing Mircannis. A very active Mircannis, who swoops across the stage trailing rings of light whenever one of the cheesemakers starts a soliloquy. If a goddess ever swoops across my life that way, I'm going to go hide.
But I don't actually spout soliloquies either, so I daresay I'm safe.
She had a fairly pleasant week, mostly as Kitiina Strenata. She was given a large crimson octahedron kite with peach streamers and a spinny thing on the back -- she did not say who gave it to her -- and spent a good deal of time trotting along the boardwalks, kite bouncing around overhead, attracting attention. The scarfseller encouraged her at this, to the point of sending her out kiteflying on the street with scarves tied to the kite when business was slow. The dance troupe encouraged her too, in the sense that, the second time she missed a rehearsal (viz. the second rehearsal) they replaced her in the troupe by another Orren, one who had decided to spend the entire week studying Old Creithian literature and hence was available immediately.
She actually did sell some moderate number of Ready Adulterer bound spells to one of the local spellbinders, in preparation for First Day. So she should be able to buy books for the spring term, I suppose.
I bought three new sets of ribbons for First Day tomorrow from Strenata's shop: light-green spangled, orange and white spangled, and crimson-threaded-and-very-very-spangled.
We acquired sausages and scones and steaming mint water, and perched on the railing of the boardwalk by the river, and had an hour without actual drama or even huge surprises in it. We talked only briefly about Spirshash and Havune and all -- she has currently decided that I am not the Grand Sorcerer Duke of Chaos in Spirshash's life, since this one happened when I wasn't there.
And at the end of her lunch hour, the last snow of winter started falling, big flakes the size of saucers; perhaps the weather elementals wanted to make sure they used up their supplies of it by the end of their season. And Strenata scampered back to work, and I went on to the next errand.
(For all monsters: I don't think that the weather elementals actually get supplies of snow. I think they produce it with Creoc Sustenoc Aquador spells, the same way that a real person would. One of my ~mother~'s friends went on a length over brandy at a dinner party about how the World Tree must be infinitely tall, for otherwise the elementals would eventually fill the universe with rainwater. He was considerably mocked -- e.g., if they can create water, they or some other elementals can presumably destroy it too -- but he probably knew the natural history of weather at least somewhat.)
If you fly into Floosh's bakery, and she immediately points her assistant to the counter and you towards the café next door, you know that you are in trouble. Or that someone is.
When Flounderbouncer was asking me many theoretical questions about transaffection, he was not preparing cloddishly to seduce me behind his Orren girlfriend Tliskit's back.
Now, nobody asks theoretical questions about transaffection, except for Rassimel professors working on Catalogues of the Foibles of the Upper Classes or some such. Floosh explained that Flounderbouncer had told her what he never told anyone else in her family, and what he should have and did not tell me, that he was not doing anything behind his Orren girlfriend Tliskit's back. He was, instead, showing off his Rassimel girlfriend Intliscindra to his Orren family, hidden under Cloak of Another God.
(A point of embarrassment: I had just written a Corpador examination on that spell. How could I have missed it?)
(The answer, of course, is that I was mainly paying attention to the Orren who had no obvious girlfriend.)
In any case, Flounderbouncer is very scared. He is nowhere near high enough status to have a Rassimel girlfriend in any sort of public way. Tliskit, Intliscindra, I suppose, could get to be the head of her Healers' Guild chapter, and buy a title, and thereby have somewhat the necessary status, but that's some ways off for a healer-in-training. Flounderbouncer's family might tolerate a quiet quick involvement, but they want to get entirely married, in a formal Rassimel way.
(An awkward aside: I must think of some way to ask about cross-species marriage customs without anybody thinking that I am planning a cross-species marriage myself. Obviously nobody will believe me when I say that it is an entirely theoretical matter.)
Tliskit, by the way, had slightly more status earlier, or at least better prospects. She evidently stole a boxed Cloak of Another God from a rich aunt, a noblewoman whom I have seen at the Duke's court. (Not that I ever could have seen Tliskit at the court, but having an aunt there is something.) A noblewoman who had left the boxed spell ungrafted for over two decades -- but nonetheless a noblewoman who was upset at its theft. Tliskit wound up as an apprentice healer somehow in consequence to that.
Tliskit's visit to Flounderbouncer's family was carefully timed. Wintertime, so that swimming would be limited: Tliskit is a good swimmer for a Rassimel, but not as good as an Orren. A short visit: although Cloak of Another God is a good spell, it is not generally recommended to wear it for more than a few days. And one is sure to slip up eventually, when one uses it for deceit -- when one practices any sort of deceit, really.
Flounderbouncer talked to Floosh about it, in privacy and in confidence. Floosh was not particularly encouraging about Flounderbouncer and Tliskit's prospects in general, but at least agreed that she would do nothing to worsen them. She also recommended that he discuss the matter with me.
I might have been more helpful if he had mentioned just what he wanted to talk about, instead of tricking me into thinking him a feeble and disorganized flirter.
There is more to say here, but the sun has long since gone out and tomorrow starts well before tomorrow.