Graceful "Don't you think this is rather graceless?" Lawrence, Lord of Hinbaar, sounded grumpy. He was sat on a tavern stool outside the Forthright Inn drinking Raspberry Ale because the owner wouldn't let him go inside without leaving his weapon outside. As such his sword was now resting between his legs and on his chest, and he had to keep moving his head around the pommel to be able to drink. "I think she's exceptionally graceful, actually," said Falko. "And from the crowd and the queue, I think the people of Nair agree." "It's like prostitution!" "Only without the sex." Falko gestured at Ursula, who was seated on a high-backed chair that someone had brought out of their house for her, and was performing small blessings and cures for a moderate price. As the arthritic man at the front of the queue handed a handful of copper coins to Ingwene, who carefully counted them and nodded, he struggled to kneel in front of Ursula. She smiled beatifically, invoking her Goddess, and a yellow lambency engulfed both her and her customer. There was a momentary sensation of beating wings like a dove flying up into the sky, and a warmth that might have been love, and then the man rose easily to his feet moving freely for the first time in years. "It lasts for about six weeks," said Ursula quietly, as he started to cry. "You'll need a top-up after that. And I recommend praying on at least two afternoons out of five, just to show gratitude." "She's working," said Larry, putting all the disgust he felt for merchants into that sentence. "It's indecent!" "She's not doing it for free." Falko's voice was flat. "Our profit margins are slim, Larry, and I'm being quite generous to them when I say that. It would help enormously if you'd think before you buy things." "I have no idea what you're talking about, Falko. I only buy essentials." "You bought a cart and three oxen," said Falko. "For a road we could easily walk. And where only two oxen could pull the cart at a time anyway. To Nair, where cows are considered both unclean and sacred and we can't sell them for meat or service. So I still have the logistics of three oxen and a cart to get to our next destination, and sell, and you want to go haring off across the hills and steppes hunting for the lich that killed your brother. Rodney of Hinbaar, Larry's reanimated Zombie brother, groaned. For a moment there was a sensation of falling, as though the ground had opened beneath their feet into a vast pit. It faded again, and they all jolted slightly as though landing. Rodney shivered. "What was that?" asked Larry. "She's cured that group from lice," said Falko. "That was what you get when you commit death on a large scale, even if they're only small things that are dying. Stop changing the subject, Larry. You have to stop buying things unless Ingwene approves them first." "Graceless beancounter," muttered Larry, fighting with his sword pommel to get to his drink again. Rodney groaned again, and Larry sneered into his drink. "I think she worships Tara," said Falko, sounding reflective. "That's the one whose statues all look like pill-bugs. The priestesses tend to end up with similar anatomy after a while too."
2 comments:
Graceful
"Don't you think this is rather graceless?" Lawrence, Lord of Hinbaar, sounded grumpy. He was sat on a tavern stool outside the Forthright Inn drinking Raspberry Ale because the owner wouldn't let him go inside without leaving his weapon outside. As such his sword was now resting between his legs and on his chest, and he had to keep moving his head around the pommel to be able to drink.
"I think she's exceptionally graceful, actually," said Falko. "And from the crowd and the queue, I think the people of Nair agree."
"It's like prostitution!"
"Only without the sex." Falko gestured at Ursula, who was seated on a high-backed chair that someone had brought out of their house for her, and was performing small blessings and cures for a moderate price. As the arthritic man at the front of the queue handed a handful of copper coins to Ingwene, who carefully counted them and nodded, he struggled to kneel in front of Ursula. She smiled beatifically, invoking her Goddess, and a yellow lambency engulfed both her and her customer. There was a momentary sensation of beating wings like a dove flying up into the sky, and a warmth that might have been love, and then the man rose easily to his feet moving freely for the first time in years.
"It lasts for about six weeks," said Ursula quietly, as he started to cry. "You'll need a top-up after that. And I recommend praying on at least two afternoons out of five, just to show gratitude."
"She's working," said Larry, putting all the disgust he felt for merchants into that sentence. "It's indecent!"
"She's not doing it for free." Falko's voice was flat. "Our profit margins are slim, Larry, and I'm being quite generous to them when I say that. It would help enormously if you'd think before you buy things."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Falko. I only buy essentials."
"You bought a cart and three oxen," said Falko. "For a road we could easily walk. And where only two oxen could pull the cart at a time anyway. To Nair, where cows are considered both unclean and sacred and we can't sell them for meat or service. So I still have the logistics of three oxen and a cart to get to our next destination, and sell, and you want to go haring off across the hills and steppes hunting for the lich that killed your brother.
Rodney of Hinbaar, Larry's reanimated Zombie brother, groaned.
For a moment there was a sensation of falling, as though the ground had opened beneath their feet into a vast pit. It faded again, and they all jolted slightly as though landing. Rodney shivered.
"What was that?" asked Larry.
"She's cured that group from lice," said Falko. "That was what you get when you commit death on a large scale, even if they're only small things that are dying. Stop changing the subject, Larry. You have to stop buying things unless Ingwene approves them first."
"Graceless beancounter," muttered Larry, fighting with his sword pommel to get to his drink again.
Rodney groaned again, and Larry sneered into his drink.
"I think she worships Tara," said Falko, sounding reflective. "That's the one whose statues all look like pill-bugs. The priestesses tend to end up with similar anatomy after a while too."
Greg - hah, this is a fun group as well. Between these guys and the Inspectral story, I am feeling quite spoiled to start this year!
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