Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

Hat Tricks[18 Thory 4261]

The conical romantical hat with the long trailing cloth is proving valuable. A pity I didn't get one earlier.

I was lurking in the Cafe du Fronde. When I say "lurking", I mean "sitting on a table, playing diamond chess very badly against Iska, and complaining in a very loud voice as she gobbled my pieces." I also mean "occasionally breathing fire in the general direction of Yarwain, who was sitting at the next table over and offering inadequate advice." (Adequate advice in this case would probably only be, "Don't play against Iska until her next lifetime.") I also mean "eating olives from a bright red triangular tray".

One does these things when one lurks, does one not?

And of course Milirant Tavanth plopped himself into the seat I was not occupying, squashed my conical romantical hat with its all-concealing strip of glowing green yavalle-dyed cloth, and moved two of my pieces.

Which was particularly perplexing, considering that it was Iska's turn.

I expressed displeasure -- distress -- disliking!

Milirant excused himself slightly! "I'm sorry, O Zi Ri. I didn't see you there! Oh, well, no harm done." He moved the two pieces back to their previous squares. Or, rather, he moved the orren back to its previous square, and, instead of the zi ri (which he had moved), the khtsoyis went to where the zi ri had been.

I expressed disbelief -- disgruntlement -- disagreement!

Milirant looked at the hat. "A cheap bit of frippery, that. Suitable only for a bit of sleething around." He shrugged, and ripped the veil in half.

Milirant is a fop. He should know the cost and the value of clothing! Especially clothing dyed with yavalle! Especially especially romantical hats!

I demonstrated the incorrectitude of his position. My logic was impeccable! My knowledge of facts vast! My use of a potentially-aggressive talisman made by one of my famous grandparent's five-centuries-old apprentices was perhaps unwise but probably legal!

In fact, he does know the cost and the value of clothing, or, at least, his fur. He was compelled to accept the incorrectitude of his position, and he did. I was not compelled to vanish the seven-winged burning thing that was making everyone in the Cafe du Fronde stare at us, and I did not.

He offered recompense, but mentioned that he did not, in fact, have the price of a yavalle-dyed veil on his person at the moment.

Iska pointed out that he did, in fact, have a rather complicated Mutoc Aquador Locador talisman in the shape of a pair of mismatched fishes, one a sleekly curved stylized arc of clear glass, the other a wobbly wiggle of mottled stained glass. Iska has very sharp eyes, which I would generally grumble about but in this case it that would be ungracious. Grumbles upon them.

Milirant, it turns out, was willing to trade the Mu-Aq-Lo talisman for a withdrawal of the implicit threat expressed by an undismissed seven-winged burning thing.

I expressed disgust -- disrespect -- dismissal!

"Sythyry, I have never seen you so angry!" said Yarwain.

"I, too, have never seen me so angry!" said I.

I tipped very very well. Triple the price of all our food, in fact.

The talisman transfers alcohol from one beverage to another. Without limit on the number of uses per day. Odd!

And the milliner was able to heal the veil at only a moderate cost and without a visible seam. There's an invisible magic-side seam.

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