The Promise
Yesterday, we got an apologetic letter from the head of the Shipwrights’ Guild
that an expert in the topic of skyboat repair would arrive today (the 10th) at
the hour before noon, or not much later, to perform a preliminary inspection
and investigation to determine what tools and workers and materials are
needed.
Me:“I could imagine greater speeds on their part.”
Kantele:“I could also imagine lesser speeds on their part.
Indeed, I need not merely imagine them — I have seen them!”
Me:“I suppose it would be rude to insist that the expert
come this afternoon or some such.”
Kantele:“I am beginning to wonder if we might not want to seem
more rude and insistant, and less polite and accomodating … but that may
be at the next sign of inadequacy on their part.”
Me:“Which I expect to come at the first hour after noon tomorrow.”
The Actuality
And today started with a pair of surprises … and not my usual sort of
surprise, either.
The first surprise was at two hours past dawn, when Phaniet and I and
Vae-the-serpent were sitting in (or near, for Phaniet) the fireplace in one or
another of the parlors, discussing Locador things which had wandered very far
afield from the practical ones we had meant to discuss. Blenny knocked on the
door and called out, “Syffery? Ffere’s a Rassy fromma guild look at ff’ship.”
“Already? Well, show them in, and I’ll be down in a moment,” I said. I had
Phaniet brush the ashes off of me. Vae took care of herself — both the
ash-removal, and the healing (she’s not fireproof, but she insists on joining
me in the fireplace anyhow).
The second surprise was waiting for me in the parlor near the front door,
looking extremely nervous and tailtwitchy. Under his green leafy cloak with
the silver walnut at the clasp, and with his thrysus leaning in the corner and
his bicorne hat on quite straight. He was brown-furred with thin black rings
here and there, distinctly chubby, thin-tailed.
And I knew things about him that were not visible to see. The fur around his
waist is rather thin, for he wears his belts too tight. He tastes of cumin in
certain ways. He finds power quite appealing.
And there were some important things I didn’t know. Like, what the
manners are for meeting someone in legitimate public circumstances for the
first time, when one has met them disguised in illegitimate private
circumstances.
So I sort of boggled and fluttered in mid-air for a bit, and let him take the initiative.
He made a deep and carefully formal curtsey. “Ah, good day. I take it you
are the wizard Sythyry? I had not expected to have the pleasure of meeting
you; I understood that enchanters are generally busy of a morning.”
I smiled. “And a good day to yourself, O Rassimel tree-mage. My day’s labors
were finished early. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit — for,
indeed, I believe it shall be a pleasure to make the acquaintance of an
illustrious mage of Eigrach?”
He looked about two-thirds relieved. “I am Thenel oa Iretario, tree-mage and
carpenter, associate member of the Shipwrights’ Guild. And it is a great
pleasure to make the acquaintance of a mighty and subtle deep-mage and wizard
of Ketheria. I have volunteered to execute the first steps in the repairs
which you have requested.”
Phaniet carefully avoided quite glancing at me inquisitively.
I stood on the air. “Allow me to introduce my assistant Phaniet, and the
nendrai Vaisessasilmin. Their friends, among whom I hope you will come to
number yourself, refer to them as Phaniet and Vae.” Which is about as much of
a “yes, it’s him” as I could think of at the moment.
We spent several more minutes on formal etiquette — slightly discordant
formal etiquette, since the manners of Eigrach depart somewhat from those of
Ketheria. I often think of such minutes as wasted minutes (and I am no more
fond of wasting minutes than you are, even if I have a quite plentiful
supply). This time I was quite glad to have the formalities. I knew just
what to do, in a situation that could have been quite awkward and confusing if
there had not been a proper script.
But all safe things must come to an end. Etiquitte required only so much. Vae
departed, to go hunting with the chromodon I believe.
“I have never had the pleasure of having a skyboat repaired by the guild of
Eigrach,” I said. “How shall we proceed?”
“The first step, of course, is to assess the damages, and, knowing them, to
plan in detail what sorts of efforts and materials will be needed. Then the
materials and laborers will be accumulated, and the works performed, in a
cheerful and eager manner. It is a straightforward enough procedure, and one
which has been repeated innumerable times, with variations,” said Thenel. I
wished I knew if the echoes of double-entendres I heard were at all real.
“Simple in outline, to be sure. The details may be more complex, for the
damage was extensive; I do not know that we have catalogued it all ourselves.
May I have the honor of being your guide about Strayway, as I did much
of the original construction myself, and, in all truth, should be glad of
presenting much to a discerning and clever mage who, I suspect, is capable of
appreciating certain fine points?” The best I could do at the time; I was
rather nervous.
He looked, in Phaniet’s estimation (which she told me afterwards), 37% happy
and 19% nervous. (I just saw “happy and nervous.”) “If you can spare the time
and attention for such a minor matter, I should be quite glad to get the full
benefit of your experience and skill.” Perhaps a double message, perhaps not.
Well, there was no help for it. I was going to have to force an explicit
conversation to clarify our position, even if that’s very much not the
Srineian style.
“Well, then,” I said, “Let us start in the least likely of all places, saving
perhaps my clothes-closet. In my workroom on board there are the original
plans for the Strayway — that is, all the available notes on the work
I did. And, for that matter, a lace banner of illusions, suitable for showing
you the forms of the ship before the pirates’ efforts. Phaniet, in the library
there is a folio of green leather containing the original original plans for
the skyboat that was to become Strayway. Could you do me the kindness
of hunting it down and bringing it to, let us say, my workroom, in a third of
an hour?”
She knows as well as I do that the folio is ordinary brown leather. I was
quite sure I didn’t need to tell her to take the full third of an hour
fetching it.
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I’d say that was handled well, O Zi Ri. I hope, if I am ever in a similar circumstance, to do as well.
It’s certainly better than the person who made a point of saying “I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on” to me at a party, leaving me to explain that he had been one of several dozen people at a (swimming) pool party a few months previous.
Thank you! Perhaps you will continue to think I did well when my translator gets to the rest of the day.
Your Orren friend does seem to exhibit one of the disadvantages of the congenitally Orren, I must say.
I hope your new shipwright performs all necessary functions to your much-greater-than-anticipated satisfaction! It would be sad indeed if he disappointed you, as you have been expecting the shipwrights of Eigrach to disappoint you.
Which functions are necessary, and which are simply desirable optional ones?
I’m not sure a third of an hour is really long enough to properly explore the options available. Or did you expect to need Phaniet’s assistance?
Which ones, O Zi Ri, do you consider necessary? I should think that attending to one’s mental, physical, emotional, and other forms of health so that they are sound are as necessary as ensuring that one’s mode of transportation is sound.
Oh wow… way to go with the subtle zi ri language! You are learning to do that well.
Has he seen you in zi ri form?
oh come on, surely Orren aren’t the only primes that like to go to swimming parties, are they? I am quite sure that MANY prime species are plenty capable of being enthusiastic with vocal outbursts as well as going to and enjoying swimming parties!
Why, her friend might not even be an orren! The friend might not even be a *prime* for that matter, or even on the world tree. What how many Primes do you know of that read and reply to your journal? Less than a dozen right?
In the arms of your love, a thousand years is as a third of an hour. In the arms of your hate, a third of an hour is as a thousand years.
I was in Zi Ri form for this entire scene.
Oh, right. I forgot you were a wizard of speed and time.
ba dum bum!
(I still have to see that movie..)
I meant prior to the scene, though! Sorry if I didn’t make that clear.
Does the fact he’s working for you now mean you’re not allowed to play with him anymore?
It’s entirely my rule in any case, and the affair was started beforehand (and had nothing to do with him getting hired), so I probably won’t worry about it in exactly those terms. There are plenty of other terms available.
Yay! Hopefully I’ll finally found out the mysterious mechanics of Zi Ri eroticism. ;>
Basically, we can do whatever we think won’t plague our consciences ten million years later. Which, in the case of a diarist, doesn’t seem to be that much.
I might have appreciated it more had he been an Orren.
Why, rebuilding the Strayway to full working order, of course. Of course, to do a truly satisfying job one would wish him to exceed the minimum requirements and to perform many desirable but optional services, some of which doubtless would be things it had not occurred to you that you really wanted until he did them for you.
Well, the case of a certain particular diarist, anyway!
And whether or not you can see the picture I include, I am being slightly mean with it. (:
Thoughts
>>I often think of such minutes as wasted minutes (and I am no more fond of wasting minutes than you are, even if I have a quite plentiful supply).< <
Well, sure — just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you have less to do, or even more time to do it (excepting “Extra Sleep in the Morning,” which I do envy you) but rather that you will be wildly busy for more years of life.
Good luck with Thenel.
Re: Thoughts
As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “How much of human life is lost in waiting?”
I am the puzzled Sleeth.
Vae is mighty with Mutoc even among nendrai. Cannot Mutoc Corpador, perhaps with Pyrador, render her immune to the fire with only the quick flick of her tail?
I am the puzzled Zi Ri.
She had plenty of ways of avoiding this particular fire, including not sitting in it in the first place.
(Actually: Vae takes a great many opportunities to injure herself. Some of these are emotional, of course. Most of them — not an exclusive set — are practical: they are exercises in vitality. Vae can use all the [Life Base experience points] she can get.)