Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,
Sythyry
sythyry

Wingsa [22 Nivvem 4385]

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Wingsa: “Hello. The guard who called for me did not explain too clearly precisely what needs to be done.”

Me: “Wingsa! A pleasure to see you again!”

Wingsa: “I am not wholly certain of that. Or, at any rate, I am not wholly certain that it is a pleasure to see you again. After hearing the news about you, I would just as soon avoid you for the next seven years.”

Me: “Oh, my marriage, you mean? This isn’t about that.”

Wingsa: “Your tofitude to your own servant. What in walls possessed you to do such a thing? Did you think of the insult to the name of Glikkonen even for an instant?” Glikkonen being my common ancestor, with Wingsa.

Me: “Glikkonen’s reputation is safe in many, many history books — as is yours. My own reputation is less so. In any case, the current issue is not about that.”

Wingsa: “This injured Rassimel?” Zie looked at the body of Prince Rastomil, still unconscious and badly wounded — and carefully kept that way because, while it was certainly his body, it was certainly not his mind and spirit in it. “What is he, that he requires a wizard to heal him, when there are so many fine and well-trained members of the Healers’ Guild about?”

Me: “I am one!”

Wingsa: “You, Sythyry, are the kept lizard of a mediocre chef.”

Me: “True! But my marital duties have not caused me to forget my advanced training as a healer. Or as a wizard, for that matter.”

Wingsa: “Then why didn’t you heal him?”

Me: “He’s actually occupied by the spirit of the Lady Noshi … or perhaps Lord Kethji or even the supposedly-dead wizard Nanggi-Zi. We haven’t sorted the matter out for certain yet. “

Wingsa: “Nanggi-Zi? Nanggi-Zi is dead these decades, and the World Tree is a better place for it!”

Phaniet: “Who did she marry? Or do you have some other reason for despising wizards?”

Wingsa: “Lord Kethji. That wasn’t the problem. She was a subtle and vicious Mentador mage.”

Me: “Still is, I suspect.” And we explained matters.

Wingsa: “Fools! I don’t suppose you discussed the matter with the supposed Lord Kethji?”

Me: “… We’ve been a bit busy.”

Noshi

So we went back upstairs, and untied the doddering Lord Kethji, and administered various purgatives, curatives, remedies, and washings. He really needed the washings; the household routine had been rather disrupted by the battle in front of Kethji’s cell.

Jagraton: “So! Who are you, in there?”

Noshi (in Kethji’s body): “I am Lady Noshi. I’ve been trying to tell you that all along.”

Jagraton: “You were not!” But we looked at his record of events later, and, indeed, Noshi had several times corrected someone who called her by the wrong name.

Wingsa: “Now! Tell us about Nanggi-Zi!”

Me: “And how you came to be in Lord Kethji’s body.”

Noshi: “Oh, I’m still in … “ She wailed.

Rastomil: “And I seem to have yours. I will attempt to take good care of it — now that I’m not tied to a table and fed on dazing-drugs!”

Noshi: “Can I have it back please?”

Rastomil: “Now that we are rescued, perhaps it would be time for a spot of victim-restoring, what?”

Wingsa and Me: “We hope it is that easy, but rather anticipate complications.”

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