Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

Another Rescues Attempt [19 Nivvem 4385]

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Guard-Mage: “Hsst! Miss Sythyry! Sythyry, arise and come to the door!”

I helpfully woke up. The guard-mage was calling to me through the feeding-slit under the door.

Me: “Wait, you’re trying to rescue me too? I really don’t want to be rescued today.”

Guard-Mage: “There is a situation outside the city of which your attention and assistance may be the proper solution.”

Me: “I should think Wingsa and Yiseth-Epu are more than competent to handle nearly any sort of emergency. For one thing, I am an enchanter, and thus, fairly slow about things. For another, the majority of my tools are currently unavailable.”

Guard-Mage: “It’s scared up the roads, it’s making monsters, it’s asking for you!”

Me: “Don’t you confounded Hanijans ever use antecedents in your sentences?” Rude, but I don’t so much like being woken up so often.

Guard-Mage: “The nendrai! It’s in a fury, it’s attacking the city!”

Me: “Oh, I suppose she would do that.”

Guard-Mage: “She insists that we return you and Arfaen to her!”

Me: “Well, tell her I’ll be back tomorrow night?” Which never actually works with Vae, but I wanted to go back to sleep.

Guard-Mage: “Right away!”

He slammed and bolted the feeding-door, and presumably ran back upstairs.

After a third of an hour, he came back and called to me again and woke me up again.

Guard-Mage: “Hsst! Miss Sythyry! The nendrai wants you now!”

Me: “So what am I supposed to do? I promised to stay here. If you want me to go tend the nendrai, that’s sort of up to Hanija and the judge and whoever, isn’t it?”

Guard-Mage: “I’ll ask the Captain of the Guard. Oh! Miss Sythyry! How dangerous is the nendrai?”

Me: “She’s very nice and sweet usually. But she did ruin one city-state when she got upset. On the main trunk, at that. Can I go back to sleep yet?”

He ran off. I curled up. After another third-hour he called to me again and woke me up again.

Guard-Mage: “Hsst! Miss Sythyry! The captain and the judge say that you’re to be released on your own recognizance!”

Me: “Arfaen as well, I presume? Vae did ask for her too.”

Guard-Mage: “…. I’ll check…. “

He ran off. I curled up. After another third-hour I was woken up again.

Arfaen: “Sythyry! Come out!”

Me: “Arfaen! Hi! How have they been treating you?”

Arfaen: “They put me in a cell with prostitutes and dancers. We had a grand time.”

Guard-Mage: “Hurry, hurry!”

He unlocked the door. There was a bit of a melee, as four violent and dangerous and sleep-deprived prisoners tried to fight their way out against thirty guards, and were driven back. I waved jauntily good-bye to them, and sat on Arfaen’s shoulder, and, when we got to the top of the staircase and the Wizard in Helpless Fury had worn off, healed the three who had gotten injured. Not particularly because I am nice, but because I had cley I wasn’t going to use before dawn, and because I wanted to confuse matters with Hanija.

Then out to the city gate, to confront Vae (in the form of a gigantic thousand-legged cat) and her gigantic army of elementals.

Me: “Isn’t this a bit excessive? I was only going to be gone one night.”

Vae: “Not so well could I sleep, when you were in prison and a deep and vile cell, and so the many war-beasts did I make.”

Me: “Rather a lot of them, truly. Were you actually going to use them?” Vae burst into tears, so I added, “Don’t answer that. Can you dispose of them now that I’m out?”

Vae did so. Some she sent to the Verticals, and some she destroyed, and some she cast into distant universes, and some, I’m sure, wandered off and became guardians of some ancient treasure for future adventurers. I petted her until she was legless, a long furry cat-headed serpent wrapped around me.

Me: “I don’t think I should leave Vae alone tonight. Mind if I put a tent here and call it a prison cell? I promise not to leave it. Unless there’s another emergency.”

Guard-Mage: “I suppose that will be all right.”

So we constructed a nice warm tent, right in front of the city gate. By “we” I mean “Vae”. By “warm” I mean, um, that the cloth of the tent was weasels: live weasels biting their own tails, hooked together like chainmail rings. It was quite warm. It was also quite baffling, and the Guard-Mage spent some time staring at it. If Arfaen and I did anything to spite the excesses of Hanijan law while his back was turned, well, it would have been done in a bubble outside of space and time, and thus, not in Hanija Mene. I am fairly sure.

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