Sythyry's Journal

Mirrored from Sythyry.

(We have stopped at Oorah Thrassen, to let Saza off and take Ochirion on board. The latter is politicial. hCevian will not leave Feralan for sentimental reasons, and will not leave Vae for reasons of self-preservation. (I don’t want to leave such a powerful creature in close proximity to Oorah Thrassen in any case; that city does not need more magical power, in my opinion.) Since we have no way of restraining hCevian save persuasion, it seemed easier to bring Ferelan with us. And we might as well bring Ochirion with us.)

The students are, on the whole, behaving themselves. Some of them are even behaving each other, too. Furthermore, if the rumors I hear are correct, Arkathia, Balinbrax, Cluthe, Molazasrie, Sizzletap, and Unispike are behaving Inconnu, as well.

Alzagonde has mostly been hiding in her cabin, and having Hrone and Wetwetwet bring her her meals. Feralan tried to go there to apologize to her, but she didn’t want to see him. Grinwipey tried to go there to apologize to her, by which I believe he meant, threaten her more successfully than previously. I did not let him.

Inconnu has not been boasting about his conquests. I’m pretty sure that there have been conquests, for he has not been moping, but he has been almost alarmingly circumspect.

And then we got to Oorah Thrassen.

Afterwards

Afterwards — and by “afterwards” I definitely mean “afterwards”, in the sense that there was something quite distinct and substantial that occurred before the “afterwards” — Saza and I curled up in zir fireplace, for it was far too late in the evening to go back to Strayway and sail off towards Hanija. I am not in such a hurry in any case, except in the sense that I am already regretting accepting such a herd of students to take care of.

“But tonight you do not need to take care of any students,” whispered Saza. “Tonight you are my guest, in the half-circle of my wings and the leather-lined coziness of my fireplace, as I have long been your guest aboard Strayway. Tonight all that I can provide of comfort and pleasure shall be yours.” Zir words held just the smallest bit of a sting: as there had not been anything nearly so distinct and substantial aboard Strayway.

“Actually I think you’ve provided rather generously of the pleasure already tonight,” I said, because I have not really learned to talk so nicely as Saza yet.

We embraced a bit more … I am not going to talk about those embraces, other to note that embraces in assorted flavors occurred before, during, and after this journal entry … and, because it was very late at night, and we were going to set sail in the morning, I arranged for an extra private day-or-so for just the two of us.

“Ooh, so long…!” moaned Saza when zie saw the extra day.

Innuendable comments and activities ensued, which I am far too embarrassed to repeat.

Mirrored from Sythyry.

A copy of The Terrors of Tarragina was duly procured (from Vind — I refuse to allow more teasing of Alzagonde until she does something else horrible). The crudely-imagined and crudely-drawn cover shows a nearly-naked, voluptuous, and quite aroused Herethroy woman, holding a crowbar in a midhand, staring at it as if it were a serpent about to bite her. Beside her are four very full washbasins, one overflowing, and a Cani man with a hammer in one hand and a tremendous erection visible under his skirt.

I, sacrifically, read the cursed thing, since I have plenty of time on my paws when I want it.

Tarragina is the sixth daughter of a countess of Barency. She has a single passion in life: “rejoicining in elegant circumstances”. Through a sequence of misfortunes too implausible to mention, her family loses fortune and title in chapter two. (OK, I’ll mention the guntry race. They’ve got a prize running-guntry that always wins every race. They bet their last village on the guntry in a race against a stranger — who turns out to be a wizard, whose guntry is a transformed air elemental, and wins in a whoosh. Somehow they neglect to mention that this may be considered cheating.)

Anyhow, by chapter 3, Tarragina is condemned to wander the city and country in a life of toil, a thing which she finds utterly abhorrent. She picks up odd jobs here and there — helping a Cani family demolishing a shed in chapter five (hence the crowbar), and washing clothes for some Herethroy farmers in chapter eight (hence the basins). In each case, she attempts the job briefly throws up her hands and hand-feet at how horrid and vulgar it is, and, um, renegotiates the arrangement to be one in which she performs bodily pleasures upon her employers rather than having to do the work. Then, for reasons unspecified, she is off at a different employer the next chapter, evidently the next day.

For a bit of socioprosody of my own: the description of the chapter’s circumstances take 1-3 paragraphs. The attempts at performing the job, and Tarragina’s abhorrence thereof, take another 3-5. The seduction of the employer takes a single paragraph more. The rest of each chapter — five to fifteen pages — is a description of the encounter.

For what it’s worth: About half the time she’s involved with Herethroy, and half with other species. Nobody seems to find this the least bit noteworthy — not that there is much actual conversation involved.

Also, a half-page of action from chapter 5 appears again, word for word, in chapter 21. Perhaps the author did not think anyone would read that far. In any case, it was dull the first time, and extra-dull the second.

I cannot recommend the book, either as literature, pornography, or a source of threats.

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Perhaps this wasn’t strictly necessary, and perhaps it wasn’t even a good idea, but Grinwipey did volunteer, and I hesitate to deter my clients from acting on their own initiative. (Specifically, since they will act on their own initiative even if I try my hardest to deter them.)

Grinwipey: “Hoi there, Research Rassimel what’s wearing a sweater made out of possiquoll wool and with copper buttons!”

Alzagonde: “What do you want, Khtsoyis?”

Grinwipey: “Why, I makes it a point to have a word’n'a’turd with anyone who comes on board, wearing an arrasene camisole and having the utter bisibass out the batoozie not to have a matching blushing blossom blucked behind her ear.”

Alzagonde: “I’ll do no such thing with a Khtsoyis!”

Grinwipey: “Hoi now, what, do you think I’m a fresh-lipped crossypopper like these clomperhumpers? A ponce-flipper, a twingbat, a traffie, a master of the thorbies of another species? Do you think I flip the slippery cheese with all and sundry? Do you mean that I might mash morribles with mungies and their mollops? Do you insinuate that I am like Inconnu? His voice rose to a glass-grinding baritone. “Are you suggesting that I might be interested in a liaison with someone like you? Ignominious! Hint at that again, my drazzled drozolla, and we shall engage in the duello and not what you asked for!”

Alzagonde: “Nothing of the sort, O Khtsoyis. I simply mean that I will stick to the company of my peers, and I recommend that you do the same.”

Grinwipey: “And who do you think my peers might be, lassie who really ought to have a swash of lavender faille across her neck to keep that cornflower tabinet from looking so washed out?”

Alzagonde: “I neither know nor care.”

Grinwipey: “Well, half-right, Alza-dazzle. Half-right. You don’t know and you don’t care — that’s proper prissy prattle, it is, and polite and pointed and pompous as percale pantaloons! You don’t know, Little Miss Righteous Rassimel, and you don’t care, but you ought to know, and you ought to care.”

Alzagonde: “Whatever other Khtsoyis are on this trip is no concern of mine. Go back to your labors, steward. Surely you have beverages to bear about!”

Grinwipey: “And that I might, me and my friend Squadgin. Have you met my friend Squadgin yet?”

Alzagonde: “I have not made it a point to meet the servants on-board.”

Grinwipey: “Ain’t nobody much as met Squadgin, not if by ‘meet’ you mean ‘meet right and proper just as if he’s the sort of folk as has a regular-style body and can bear his broccoli’ — if you know what I mean and I think you do, being an educated woman what surely finds herself stuck in the most embarrassing situations imaginable from which there’s no way out except submitting to the carnal desires of them as most would find surprising, and many of those carnal desires seem to involve a crowbar and some very very full washbasins.”

Alzagonde: “What? I never!”

Grinwipey: “Good thing we’re not talking about you, we’re talking about Squidgin. Now, there’s some folks on board as calls Squidgin saying as he’s imaginary.”

Alzagonde: “Wait, that’s the plot of The Terrors of Tarragina! You must have broken into my cabin and searched my personal belongings!”

Grinwipey: “Oh, that’s not a nice way to say it, not at all. I’m a steward, you said, you said, so of course I go into your cabin on my stewardly duties, for to do my stewarding! And why would a nice girl-looking-thing like you be reading a book like The Terrors of Tarragina?”

Alzagonde: “Research for my term paper.”

Grinwipey: “Ah, that’s what they’re calling it nowadays?” As she didn’t respond, he returned to his previous attack. “Anyhow, this Squidgin. They all say as how he’s imaginary. That I made him up out of whole cloth — probably a kalamkari with lamé trimmings.”

Alzagonde: “This is ridiculous. Get gone!”

Grinwipey: “Now, would you be liking to meet this here Squidgin, and find out for yourself just how imaginary he is?”

Alzagonde: “I want nothing of the sort.”

Grinwipey: “Nothing of the sort, she wants, nothing of the sort! Smart Rassy girl, she is, smart Rassy girl! Doesn’t want to meet Squidgin, she says, she does. She’s met too many one too many imaginary friends already this trip, she has, and they didn’t all turn out to be so imaginary as she might hope?”

Alzagonde: “Get out of here!”

Grinwipey: “But don’t you know, Squidgin’s already got you on his social calendar. You might not believe that I can see the social calendar of my imaginary friend, but there you are, there’s too much you don’t believe already but that’s as true as the scorlet scorab. And you’re on the social calendar, never think you’re off of it.”

Alzagonde: “What are you getting at, madman?”

Grinwipey: “Madman, you say? Now that’s a word I haven’t heard for hours and hours — madman! What I’m getting at, Mingy Miss Mockado, is that I’m asking you politely-like to lay off the research program for the flight, or you’re going to have that meeting with Squidgin, and then you’ll see just how imaginary he is. And I hear he’s got a crowbar out of ship’s stores, and some very very full washbasins, all waiting for you and ready.”

Alzagonde: “You are a disgusting, disgusting man!”

Grinwipey: “Nah, I don’t read that kinda trash. Only one person in here who does.”

Alzagonde: “I don’t read it for fun!”

Grinwipey: “Well, maybe this Squidgin does, understand?”

Alzagonde: “Are you threatening me?”

Grinwipey: “I’m a-suggesting you be much more polite around here, and that’s just so as everyone is polite back to you. Everyone real and imaginary.”

Me: “Grinwipey, enough. We do not threaten our guests, no matter how they’re acting.” I turned to Alzagonde. “Well, most of us don’t. The nendrai can’t help herself of course, the Locador demon is truly alien, and, of course, the Khtsoyis and the Gormoror are more likely than not to follow the manners of their respective species. Still, be assured that neither your vicious questioning of me in class, nor your behavior towards my wards, will deprive you of the least bit of my protection while you are a passenger on Strayway.”

Alzagonde mumbled various things, and escaped as soon as I let her.

Grinwipey: “Was that bad-cop enough for you, boss?”

Me: “Everything I wanted and then some, Grinwipey.”

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Alzagonde lost no time in doing her research, at breakfast the next morning. She brought her bowl of fish stew and her chalice of kathia, and plopped herself down next to Feralan.

Alzagonde: “Young Rassimel! May I ask you a few questions?”

Feralan: “Are you being curious? Or would you say you’re more ‘inquisitive’?”

Alzagonde: “I’m trying to look out for your safety. What’s your name?”

Feralan: “I’m Feralan. What’s your name?”

Alzagonde: “I’m Alzagonde. I’m a senior student at Lord Caring University in Barency.”

Feralan: “Does that mean you’re trying to care for people, or that you care about people, or nearly something else?”

Alzagonde: “Lord Brandorff Caring was a great hero of Barency in the early days. But I do care about people, especially young people, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Feralan: “Well, you’re weeks too late on that.”

Alzagonde: “Oh, dear. What happened?”

Feralan: “I went to Jinteros to buy a watch, and the city guard killed us. That hurt.”

Alzagonde: “Jinteros? I don’t believe that your skyboat went anywhere near Jinteros. Besides, the city guard wouldn’t kill a child.”

Feralan: “No, it’s really true! The nendrai glued me back together with a spare Locador demon named hCevian. Then the wizards had to split us apart. That was hard. It hurt a lot.”

Alzagonde: “Well, I’m sure you’ve had some wonderful adventures, but I’m here to talk to you about something serious.”

Feralan: “They were horrible adventures! I think they came out OK in the end. I like hCevian.”

Alzagonde: “That’s very nice. What species are your parents?”

Feralan: “Rassimel, of course. Do you believe me?”

Alzagonde: “I believe that your parents are Rassimel. Do you know what most of the adults on Strayway are doing?”

Feralan: “Do you believe me about hCevian? I think they’re mostly doing chores now. Windigar is probably steering the ship. Sythyry is probably doing enchantment. Arfaen is making breakfast.”

Alzagonde: “I’m not here to talk about hCevian…”

Feralan: “Does that mean you don’t believe me?”

Alzagonde: “It means I’m not talking about that now.”

Feralan: “You’re not supposed to confuse me about emotional states! My psyche is very fragile and covered with scars from the spirisection! I’m trying to learn how to communicate with people again, but it’s hard and you’re making it harder by not cooperating!”

Alzagonde: “I just don’t want to talk about that now. I want to keep you safe.”

Feralan: “Safe from what? hCevian is pretty good protection from most things. He promised that if a city was ever fighting me again, he’d whisk me away farther than they can possibly reach.”

Alzagonde: “Please, this isn’t about your imaginary friend. This is about how to grow up to be a good adult.”

Feralan: “I know! I’m trying! It’s OK if you don’t believe me about hCevian, but you’ve got to tell me whether or not you do! I think you don’t or you wouldn’t have used the word ‘imaginary’! But I need you to say it!”

Alzagonde: “Fine, fine. I don’t really believe your story about hCevian, but I’m not too worried about it.”

Feralan: “But if you want to protect me you need to believe in him. He’s the one doing most of the protecting of me these days.”

Alzagonde: “Well, I just want you to grow up right, is the main thing.”

Feralan: [nearly in tears] “I’m trying! I’m learning everything I can about it anymore!”

Alzagonde: “Shh, shh, it’s nothing bad. I just don’t want you — or any child — to get beaten or scorned when you grow up.”

Feralan: “I don’t either, but I dunno how to stop it. I’m going to be very, very, very strange, what with my soulmate and all.”

Alzagonde: “Soulmate? Oh, great staring gods — have all the traff-folk here been telling you you have to pick the love of your life, at your age? And it has to be someone a different species? Listen to me, Feralan, this is important. It’s fine to be friends with someone of a different species, but you do not have to marry them or love them in an adult way. No matter what the people on Strayway say. I think they’ve been abusing you very badly, and I shall … figure out what action to take.”

Feralan: “No! It’s about hCevian! When they did the spirisection operation bits of his soul got stuck in mine, and bits of mine in his. So we’re soulmates.”

Alzagonde: “hCevian is imaginary!”

hCevian: “No — simply implausible.”

Alzagonde: A very loud shriek as the demon appeared on all sides of her at once.

Feralan: “Hi! This is Alzagonde. She wants to protect me.”

hCevian: “She has very poor reflexes, and does not react to much effect when she is startled. I don’t think she really holds a candle to Vaisessasilmin, who also wants to protect you.”

Vae: “And she has a candle for me?” (Her earmuffs protect her from most prime words, but of course she can hear hCevian.) Vae was in the shape of a withered and wattled Khtsoyis hag, for reasons best known to herself but probably due to some misguided attempt to punish herself for, well, it could be nearly anything she’s done.)

Alzagonde: [recovering pretty fast, considering] “I’m not trying to be his bodyguard. I’m trying to protect him from a moral quagmire that it’s all too easy for him to fall into.”

Vae: “The candles do I love!”

hCevian: “Which one?”

Alzagonde: “The dread and stenchy bog of transaffection that yawns beneath his feet, wide and tempting in this ship of fools!”

Vae: “And what sort of candle is it?”

Alzagonde: “Excuse me, beldam. I have no candle for you.”

hCevian: “I do not believe that Feralan has yet formed a clear image of what sort of prime he will love. Speaking as someone who was attached to his mind and soul for a long while recently.”

Vae: “The candle from you, that is what I desire and demand!”

Alzagonde: “You’ll get nothing from me, step-grandmother!”

Vae: [becoming a twelve-clawed monster] “The candle — give it to me!”

Alzagonde quite sensibly attempted to flee. hCevian blocked her, giggling. Vae hissed and threatened and demanded. Feralan teleported to a pantry, got a candle, teleported back, slipped it to Alzagonde, and told her to give it to Vae. Vae wriggled in involuntary and much-despised delight. Feralan teleported her to a parlor, and followed himself.

Feralan: “I think you need a bodyguard, Miss Alzagonde. Not me.”

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Invincible Fire Demon

Invincible Fire Demon is a chubby Orren lad with a big smile and a small hat. A small purple hat with a wren’s feather tucked in the brim, and seven tiny glass mock-diamonds. The whole hat looked as if it were trying to look like it cost a hundred lozens, but actually barely cost one. I presume he was wearing other clothes. I didn’t dare look beyond the hat actually.

Invincible Fire Demon: “Um … excuse me, O honored Rassimel lad.” He was speaking to Feralan, who was helping out direct our new passengers, due to his supreme comprehension of Locador and consequent ability to find his way around Strayway more easily than anyprime else. “Could you tell me where my cabin is?”

Feralan: “Do you mean that in a friendly or an antagonistic way?”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Friendly, of course. I haven’t any idea how to say that antagonistically.”

Feralan: “Oh, good. Who are you?”

Invincible Fire Demon: “I’m Invincible Fire Demon.”

Feralan: “Why are you Invincible Fire Demon?”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Just my name, lad.”

Feralan: “I’ve got a Locador demon.”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Do you really?”

Feralan: “Yes, really. He’s not invincible though.”

Invincible Fire Demon: “I suppose that helps you keep him under control, the threat of death at your fierce spells, does it?”

Feralan: “He’s not under control. I wish he were — invincible I mean. We’d be a lot safer if he were.”

Invincible Fire Demon: “I suppose I see. If utter blindness can be considered a modality of sight.”

Feralan: “But you, you’re not a demon, and you never were?”

Invincible Fire Demon: “No, no, not me. It’s just a name.”

Feralan: “I used to be one. Half of one at least.”

Arfaen: “He was, too.”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Did he get better?”

Arfaen: “Only by the greatest wizardry from our great Captain Sythyry.” (Feralan insisted on repeating that line to me verbatim when he told me about the conversation afterwards. Several times. I think Arfaen is trying to set me up with every Orren possible.) “And the magical backlash of the curing was such that it cast us into another entire universe!”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Oh, my. Does that happen often around here?”

Feralan: “Everyone who sails with Captain Sythyry is doomded — Doomded — DOOMDED!”

Invincible Fire Demon: “I suppose that’s why Mump sent us travelling this way?”

Arfaen: “Most likely. May I ask you why you are called Invincible Fire Demon?”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Oh, everyone does, I think my father gave the universe wholesale permission to ask me about it when he named me that. It’s just a traditional name in my family. I keep trying to change it though, but it never works out right.”

Feralan: “Why not? What happens?”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Well, first I tried to change it to ‘Gossamer Air Angel’, but everyone thought I meant ‘Goosimer’, as in ‘more like a goose’, and kept honking at me and poking my rump, so I gave that up. It was too rebellious anyway. So then I tried going for ‘Moderately Tough and Pleasantly Warm Salamander”, which is sort of like my real name but has the sharp edges blunted off. Everyone thought I was just being wimpy. Then I tried ‘Foff the Flippant Fool of Foolyville’. Nobody argued or complained the least bit. That got me so depressed I switched back to ‘Invincible Fire Demon’, and have kept it from that day to this.”

Feralan: “… really?”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Sort of.”

Feralan: “Well, your room is down that corridor to the left, across the ballroom with the potted palm trees, up the green stairway, down the blue stairway, and all around.”

Invincible Fire Demon: “All around?”

Feralan: “Yes, the blue stairway descends into the middle of your suite. It’s very nice. Except for having a stairway in the middle of it.”

Invincible Fire Demon: “Right then. Cheerio!”

Sizzletap

We asked lots of students and such about Sizzletap. And got lots of answers.

Alzagonde: “He shouldn’t be listed as not-a-student. He is a student. Very much so.”

Hrone: “Sizzletap? He’s in the class. Must be some administrative mistake that he was listed as not being.”

Strappie: “Sizzletap is coming? Excellent, we’ll have the best converstations [sic] then!”

Rastomil: “I personally vouch for Sizzletap — if he gives you the slightest trouble, I shall pay his expenses and damages a dozen times over! Nay, a thousand!”

Wentalilla: “Sizzletap? Not a security risk. Not my problem.”

Vind: “He told me last night he’s not going to come. His seventh aunt fell ill, you see, and Sizzletap had to be at her side. Because she’s rich.”

Cluthe: “I’ve never known Sizzletap to be the least bit interested in other Orren — I have never seen him in the company of one! I suppose that might be why he’s coming along.”

Unispike: “I talked to him this morning. He’ll meet us in Flowdeen on the 18th.”

Arkathia: “Oh, yes. He’s on board already. The boy with the Locador demon sent him to his suite. “

Invincible Fire Demon: “I daresay he won’t be missed back in Barency!”

At which point we were thoroughly confused and bewildered. So we cornered Invincible Fire Demon, who was readily available and looked easy to intimidate despite being Invincible, and interrogated him with some or all of: thumbscrews, pitchforks, clotted cream, Mentador spells, pleading to his better nature, good and bad cops, good and bad and ugly cops, good and bad and ugly and beautiful cops, choking pears, the bastinado, triremes, scones, the pillory, brandy, and the releasing of the ravenous rats. The scones did the trick.

Invincible Fire Demon: “Oh, Sizzletap isn’t a real person at all. He’s a fake student — has been for decades. Students are obligated by custom to pretend he’s real and make up excuses for him as needed. “

Me: “Excellent. I expect to see him gamboling and gambling about with hCevian straightaway.”

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Jagraton and Wentalilla are a semi-matched pair of Rassimel. Jagraton is male, tall, and very dark-furred — he uses a sort of blue-black fur dye, according to Phaniet’s nose. Wentalilla is squirrel-styled. They both wear black leather armor, carry a tiny arsenal of weaponry (rapier, parrying dagger, throwing knives, buckler, staff) and of bound spells (heavy on the Cure the Awful Wound and Spirit Reunion end of things), and a few actual enchanted items (a wand that creates walls of wood, a device to teleport someone to a safe place).

They affect an aura of menace. When they speak, the very tone of their words hints that they are inexorable powers, more important than you and far more dangerous. This would work much better if we hadn’t spent so much of the last few months dealing with pirates, gods, Locador demons, wizards, accountants, evil high priests, nendrai, and other such dangers.

I disliked them instantly.

Jagraton: “Captain Sythyry. We’re Jagraton and Wentalilla, bodyguards to Prince Rastomil. We’re here to improve your security arrangements.”

Me: “Ah, excellent. The lightning spirits should go over there; the hurler of small mountains in the left spire; the incendiary disintegrator in the right. The force field generator should be placed by the bridge, where I can install it myself.” They had not brought any such things, of course.

Jagraton: “We’re not here for nonsense.”

Me: “Can you be sure of that? Would you know if you were?”

Jagraton: “Let’s start again. You are captain of this skyboat, are you not?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sure that any of the blue-feathered Zi Ri you see around could do that job.”

Jagraton: “If you are not Captain Sythyry, please be so efficient as to direct me to zir.”

Me: “Zi Ri are not generally concerned with efficiency, especially where busybody minions are concerned.”

Jagraton: “Fine. We’ll take it as read that you are Sythyry. Now, for the prince’s quarters, we’re going to need your largest suite of rooms, of course.”

Me: “Oh, dearie. My largest suite? Really?”

Jagraton: “This is the prince of Barency we’re talking about.”

Me: “It’s the sixth-from-the-top prince. Pretty minor.”

Jagraton: “He is the prince. Further considerations are irrelevant. He outranks everyone aboard the vessel.”

Me: “Well, I wouldn’t say ‘outranks’ exactly. Still, he can have the largest suite, if he wants it. Are you planning to bring the whole population of Barency along?”

Jagraton: “Whole population…? What? We’ll have no more of your nonsense!”

Me: “My nonsense is more sensible than your sense. My biggest suite could adequately house several tens of thousands of people. Strayway is an extremely large skyboat, on the inside. Is that the suite you want? You’re welcome to it.”

Jagraton: “… We’ll take your best suite for a dozen people.”

Me: “You’ll take the third suite off that corridor. Or one that’s two miles off yonder, if you keep annoying me. Your call.”

Jagraton: “There had better be only one door into it, or we’ll have to block off all but one, for better safety…”

Me: “Just precisely what are you worried about? The nendrai? The Locador demon? The Mircannis angels? Me? And which of these do you think will be stopped by the bulkheads of Strayway, which, while elegant and well-carved and modestly magical, are not in the slightest designed for defense?”

Jagraton: “No monster will be permitted to trouble the Prince.”

Me: “Well, nothing short of city walls will keep the nendrai out if she wants in — and even city walls will only do so much. I don’t have any good way to keep the Locador demon out if he wants in, even including city walls.”

Jagraton: “That is not acceptable!”

Me: “If you don’t like the Strayway for him, he can stay home. I don’t actually need to bring your silly little prince along. “

Prince Rastomil:[coming around the corridor] “I’m a silly little prince, then?”

Awkwardness ensued — a short but intense awkwardness, rather full of apologies, after which I flew off with an unbecoming alacrity.

Mirrored from Sythyry.

In certain places, at certain times, the pilot can hear anything that happens in Strayway. This allows certain amounts of eavesdropping. Windigar was paying attention to our incoming passengers.

Student 5

Student 5: “I don’t see why I have to go on this trip.”

Mump: “It is your own fault for taking a project that diverges from the noble purity of socio-prosody! Since it is so abnormal, you need to do some actual fieldwork! You are contemplating a lifetime of study of the prevention of transaffection in children. Well, there are children aboard Strayway, children of transaffectionate parents. You will surely learn something of use from this situation alone! Furthermore, Hanija is a city in which young adults are outright encouraged to be transaffectionate. Discover the means of this encouragement! Contemplate how one might apply a counter-force!”

Student 5: “I still object and complain and protest and register seven mule-loads of sharp-spined disagreement! I am being rusticated, nay, exiled! Sent off amidst and among the forces of the ignominious and wicked, as if I were of no more account than a muffin-maker’s daughter!”

Mump: “Bah! I have arranged this excursion largely for your benefit! Go, or I shall have thee expelled from the department! Ah, here is our host. Sythyry, I wish to introduce you to my senior student Alzagonde, who shall be in charge of the spiritual, moral, and ethical nurturing of the rest of the students.”

Alzagonde is a tall and well-dressed Rassimel, with classic Rassie styling and brilliant blue eyes, looking quite sharp. When I say ‘well-dressed’, it was in that odd graduate student style: she wore a basic wraparound skirt and a sweater, in a very unimpressive style, but the material was quite fine: speaking as a couturier, I would venture eight or nine lozens simply for the cloth, and that’s not counting the copper buttons.

Me: “Welcome aboard … wait, I thought you disapproved of transaffection?”

Alzagonde: “No such thing! I simply disapprove of harm coming to the transaffectionate as a result of their perversions.”

Me: “Please be so kind as to choose your words more carefully upon my skyship.”

Alzagonde: “I did not use the word in its vulgar meaning! It is a technical term of long standing in my field of study, and I intended it in that sense! It is no more offensive than a mathematician calling the square root of two ‘irrational’!”

Me: “When the square root of two owns a skyboat and has agrees to be your host and protector for a longish trip, without charging you a terch for it, you may wish to find an term for the concept of not being the quotient of integers that does not also suggest at madness.”

Alzagonde: “Very well. I shall be circumspect in word and action on this trip.”

Typical Student

One of the Orren families:

Strappie: “Hello, Captain Sythyry!”

Me: “Hello! Who might you be?”

Strappie: “I’m Strappie! I’m a student! This is my husband Burbot! That is my wife Arkathia, over there, sitting on a table and chatting with your servant Inconnu! She’s a student too! We’re really looking forward to this trip!”

Me: “Glad to meet you, and welcome aboard…”

Strappie: “We’ve never been out of Barency Mene! Will we run into pirates? Will you destroy them with your nendrai and your Locador demon and your wizardry? Can we watch?”

Me: “I hope we don’t have any more pirates, though Strayway is quite well-warded even without Vae’s help.”

Strappie: “That’s wonderful! Do you speak Pofnu, like they do in Hanija? We’ve been studying it all week! We’re really good at it now! We can teach you!”

Me: “It would be good to learn a bit before we go…”

Strappie: “Great! We’ll run a class! We’ll teach everyone aboard! This’ll be fantastic! It’ll be such a great trip!”

Me: “You’re not afraid of … any damage to your reputation?”

Strappie: [in a bit of a Wild Rush] “Oh no everyone knows we’re all married and besides Inconnu isn’t going to be seducing us because he’s Orren and we’re Orren and he’s traff and we’re not so everything is going to be all fine!”

Me: “I am glad that Inconnu’s reputation has eclipsed that of the Orren-fanciers aboard!”

Strappie: “Oh no we didn’t think about any Orren fanciers are there any?”

Me: “One or two, but nobody you should worry about. Everyprime on board takes ‘no’ for an answer, and most of them won’t even ask.”

Strappie: “That’s great! Burbot, isn’t that great! It’s great!”

Burbot: “Calm down, Strappie, calm down.”

Strappie: “But we’re so glad to be doing something interesting for school this term!”

It's time to pay the piper!

And that means -- a poll!

Which you must fill out!

(On pain of not having your answers recorded if you don't.)

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Me: “That’s rather a lot of students.”

Mump: “Bah! Sixteen students? That would be a small class — a tiny class!!”

Me: “I am not, however, a teacher.”

Mump: “Nor do I expect you to teach them! Alzagonde, Hrone, and Vind are going — they are senior students, which in Vheshrame you might term graduate students, and they will instruct and guide the others!”

Me: “That improves matters somewhat. Still, this list of passengers is quite large.”

Mump: “It has been trimmed down to the barest essentials!”

Me: “The barest essentials average out to more than one non-student per student!”

Mump: “What, do you expect Prince Rastomil to go without a retinue, a bodyguard?”

Me: “There’s a prince on there?”

Mump: “I do not know how it is in Vheshrame, but in Barency, the flower of the nobility attend our school, and many of them study Behavior of Primes. After all, to govern people, one must first understand people.”

Me: “He seems to be specializing in the transaffectionate. This shows his excellent judgment and impeccable taste.”

Mump: “I suppose that is one way to interpret the situation. In any case, many students are bringing along their spouses. This is a matter of some urgency to them! They do not want to be thought to be going along to be transaffectionate themselves!”

Me: “Understandable, though rather insulting. I would like an annotated list, explaining who these people are and what their relationships are like. Otherwise I shall be tremendously confused.”

Mump: “Ridiculous!”

Me: “I shall not fly them otherwise; they may not enter my skyboat.”

Mump: “After various further remonstrations, I shall agree to have a graduate student prepare it.”

And here it is. Even with the list in hand, I am tremendously confused.