Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,
Sythyry
sythyry

Interrogation of my Assistant [6 Chirreb 4385]

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Me: “Please explain!”

Phaniet: “Simple enough. Nalche was being held in a basement. Her aunt had put a prison-brace on her: if she tried to leave the house without permission, or tried to take it off, it threw fire bees at her. Light ones, but very stingsome and painful. She’d tried it out, as you recall.”

Me: “Yes, I remember the burns. How did you get it off her?” I know Phaniet’s magical skills intimately; while she is not weak, she is not mighty either. Though stronger than when we set off…

Phaniet: [with a proud flagging of her tail] “We tricked it off.”

Me: “Oh, do tell?”

Phaniet: “We found out what was going on with a bit of scouting and spying: Nalche, basement, prison-brace borrowed from the city guard. Rehit is such a treasure! So we dumped a bottle on Inconnu, and made him invisible and inosmible, and he crept into the basement with a couple of useful little tools from your collection.”

Me: “Inconnu will gladly leap to the rescue of a bitch in distress!”

Phaniet: “Exactly. I’m curious to see if he gets the traditional reward from her, traffed up … She’s not exactly traff, but she’s not exactly not traff, if you know what I mean.”

Me: “I have not the slightest clue.”

Phaniet: “I’m not a spirit-doctor …”

Me: “Alas that you are not, for if you were, you’ve a splendid patient … whom I left in Oorah Thrassen. Pray continue.”

Phaniet: “Anyways, I get the sense that she isn’t missing just the Cani emotions; she’s very insensitive to some normal ones too, probably including the ability to love.”

Me: “So sad!”

Phaniet: “Yes. I think she can probably learn to love, or at least to share affection, but it will not come naturally to her. Still I am not a spirit-doctor; I could be wrong. Anyways, I have no idea what Inconnu has gotten out of her, or, more likely, gotten into her.”

Me: “Ah, yes, Inconnu had gotten to her…”

Phaniet: “So Inconnu gave her a talisman to turn into a Khtsoyis, make the prison-brace invisible, and gave her three big spiky clubs and a stereotypical loot-bag. And Nalche floats up to her mother in the pantry, and she says, says she, ‘Oi! Here I am, somehow in your house, but you’ve seen me. Mind if I stay here for a while and inspect your valuables and maybe your rump?’ Well, the mother says, ‘Out! Out of my house!’ Nalche says, ‘I hope you don’t mind if I take some of your most expensive treasures out of it when I go?’ The mother says, ‘You may not! Leave all our possessions and get out, or I’m calling the city guard on you in about half of no time.’”

Me: “Ooh, very clever. Permission to exit the house and leave the prison-brace there. Nice trick, that! You didn’t need me a bit; I’d have just tried to pry the thing off by sorcery, and probably woken up half the city doing it.”

Phaniet sat on the divan, and grinned, and wag-wag-wagged her tail. It was obviously her plan, or mostly, so I fluttered over and kissed her ears and generally praised her. That’s why she really stays around, you know. The traff-community trick, the substantial wages, the promise of immortality: those are just lagniappe.

Me: “Not that explain. The other explain. About why Mellilot needed to ask you about leaving Strayway.”

Phaniet: “Oh! That! You know the stereotype of two-mammal traff couples? That we really have Herethroy envy, and want an insectile third person to play with.”

Me: “The ever-classic ‘hot bug babe’. Yes. Mynthë got propositioned for that quite often; she was thoroughly sick of it.” (And once in a while accepted the offers, but never mind that.)

Phaniet: “Well, it’s a stupid stereotype really, but it’s a stereotype for a reason.”

Me: “You and Este have been together a long time. Are you starting a Serious Relationship with Mellilot, or just playing, or what?”

Phaniet: “Not exactly sure yet. We’ll see how it works out.”

Me: “Well, best of luck and skill and affection to you!”

Phaniet: “Thank you strongly!”

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