Mirrored from Sythyry.
Strayway was four miles from Barency, and all the students were packing — except for one or two who were going to stay with us for a bit longer. Arfaen (not a student) and Invincible Fire Demon (not leaving yet) cornered Alzagonde while she was folding her shirts.
“At this point, I think you’ve pretty much escaped all possibility of punishment,” said Arfaen. “But we wish to know something. And we will find out, one way or another. I don’t think you’d like the ‘another’ very much though. You know we’ve got some monsters on board with lots of magic and not much respect for the laws or dignity of people like you.”
Alzagonde tucked her tail between her legs. “I don’t appreciate being threatened.”
“And I don’t appreciate being thrashed by an angry Khtsoyis dressmaker in the fallout from one of somebody’s plots,” said Invincible Fire Demon. “This one sounds like one of yours.”
Alzagonde sighed. “You’re asking about that note to Inconnu, right?” The wrongfolk nodded. Alzagonde said, “Well, yes, I sent it. I needed to see what he would do if he thought he’d somehow become temporarily cisaffectionate.” She used a form of the verb “needed” used by Rassimel in the grip of their lifelong obsession.
Invincible Fire Demon glared at Alzagonde. She added, “And I’m quite sorry about your arm. I couldn’t know that he’d somehow target you for his revenge. I was expecting him to figure it out and target me.”
“I suppose that’s all the apology I’m going to get from you,” said Invincible Fire Demon. “I’ll take it.”
“What do you expect me to do? Throw myself on the floor and grovel at your feet and wail, ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’?” snapped Alzagonde.
“We have long since given up expecting any sort of decency or proper behavior from you,” said Arfaen.
Invincible Fire Demon shrugged. “OK. And, while we’re on the topic, how can you keep complaining about all of us being traff, when you take your ringy Rassimel tail to bed with an Orren? That’s still sex with an Orren, even if you’re temporarily turned into an Orren yourself.” (The whole point being to reveal to everyone that Alzagonde was actually traff.)
“I did nothing of the sort,” snapped Alzagonde. “What do you take me for?”
“We take seriously all the mutterings that you’re so devoutly anti-traff as a way to hide from you being traff yourself,” said Invincible Fire Demon. “Or maybe we take that note you wrote seriously.”
“I am not traff myself,” said Alzagonde, her ears flat with anger. “Stop saying that. It’s disgusting and offensive.”
“It’s nothing of the sort,” said Arfaen. “I have investigated, thoroughly, and I know.”
Invincible Fire Demon, who is calling himself sort-of-traff these days on the flimsiest of evidence, curled his tailtip embarrassedly. “Be that as it may, who did do it? If it happened at all?”
“I think you’d better talk to Frippin about that,” said Alzagonde. “And now, get out of my cabin. I’ve got to finish packing.”
“The sooner you’re off Strayway, the happier we’ll all be,” said Arfaen, and stomped out.