"S'true, I don't reckon the Frummagemian philosophy works so well outside've Sharteshane. Asides, there's scads of territory inside the country ain't been conquered yet. We only just got the last've the Wurts kicked out've Hanghorse so we don't got no competition at the harbour. Aye, there's yet too much Sharteshane left t'conquer t'be settin' sights outside it. Another reason Stockyard's a vinegar-breathed imbecile!"

There was a time I might have found it fascinating. You have cured me of that.

((Ashley: Duane hates your questions :3 ))

I will not waste my time debating the nonsensical with a Crescian.

I have had but few personal encounters with any of their number. Alderode is a hazardous land for the Ilganyag and they seldom venture there without dire need. Their practises are illegal and heretical, and their organisation barred - that is enough for me to abhor them.

"Aye, well, Black Tongues is all over Sharteshane. Savvy coves know where to find 'em when ya need a favour or a job done. They're too dangerous for me own tastes; ya annoy 'em and they'll kidnap ya forever for experimentin' or skin ya and do things with your skin. I need me skin for holdin' things in! Hahaha, that rhymed."

"What's a die-no-soar?"

"I could take 'em."

You sound like some poxy Crescian. Women are no more equal to men than men are equal to women.

"They smack of Black Tongues to me. I don't wanna truck with no Black Tongues."

"Your world ain't no fun."

Fresh water will not accept flammability but sea water will. It is extremely unstable however and produces strange side effects. There have been a number of interesting experiments conducted in this area, I can point you towards a few papers.

At'gwe? Ahh, "finally" or "at last."

"S'proof that I'm a holy warrior chosen special by Yerta to one day rule all creation through mugging."

"I'd hollow the purse, put the empty skin on his person, then go t'the guard and tell 'em there were a suspicious Aldish wanker tryin' t'fleece a gullible bint out her lucre."

This is why you have no friends.

"You shouldn't be talkin' up strange women!"

It was a hypothetical!

"You're a hyper thetical!"

"I dunno, what the hell're some "social taboos" where you live? You gits is pushy."

I beg pardon. If I had known there was a lady present I would have curbed my tongue.

"No, no, no, he'd be SEAMAN DWAYNE hahahaha!"

...

If you must ask, you are not old enough to hear the answer.

"It'd make him finally be int'resting. Reckon I'd craft him a badge to wear."

When I've a handy hour while Sette is burning her supper and a campfire is spilling gold across my journal, I record them already. I have kept journals since I was a boy. It is good that you write; it settles the heart and orders the mind.

It would surprise me little, lamentably. Few people heed even the feeblest codes of conduct in these miserable times. A man should endeavour ever to place himself between the weak and the tyrannous; the usurper and the innocent. Yet idle fools prate on of the corruption of this world, claiming even the noblest act is no more than pissing into the ocean, so drowned would it be by the tide of the wicked. They forget that Ssael tells us we alone are the Good in this world and that we alone redeem it. If a man cannot be moral, just, and of good use, he is not a man at all, and he should slink back into the spume with the other dull-eyed, hunger-driven, blood-obsessed sharks. I cannot tolerate a villain, but shorter is my temper for indolent defeatists and their self-serving sophistry.

She claims she has not stolen anything at all from me. You and I both know this to be poppycock.

"He does. Sometimes he gnaws on his own bum like a itchy dog, too. I seen it."

No.

There is no limitation. I am told I cast aloud betimes, yet I truly do not realise I am doing it. It is akin to how we sometimes move our lips when we read to ourselves, perhaps.

She will only want to arm herself with them.

My physical form is in need of repair, but my spirits are high. Battling the Plat was enjoyable in its way. Now we are at the threshold of the fulfillment of Sette's poxy mission, and once that is concluded we make for Sharteshane again! All in all, this could have gone much poorer.

You must first tell me what a "ninja" is!

"I can play drums!"

Striking the cooking pot with the cooking spoon is not 'playing drums.'

"Is so, ya just don't comprehend the complex melodies. It's a new manner've modern drumming."

I am no surgeon but pymary does have an application in clotting and cleaning severe lacerations. Solidity may be used to cap arteries but this is not a task for laymen with no understanding of biology, lest they send a clot into the heart and kill their patient.

"It does! S'why I make him keep his hood up, his face is all half fallen off and withered like the ballsack've a dog dead of dehydration. I don't like plods much either but no one does. They stink and at home the labourers is pissy for the plodmen're comin' inta town and takin' all the jobs. Da were workin' with the ashmen's guild t'chase the plodmen out and got paid to beat 'em up and torch their warehouse. Soon as they was gone though, new ones come in. Plods is fine for Cresce but ain't so fine for Sharteshane."

They are the threshold of a new week, shining and bright with possibilities. Wish no day away; they are all of them precious.

"Ahhh! Be a frog! You do jump real good and good thing too 'cause it let us flee that crypt when ya blew the wall up and jump-spelleried out it."

You are growing increasingly difficult to transcribe. E-nun-ci-ate, my dear. Our mouth is not a sack of marbles, hmm?

"Rrrrrribbit."

I am stubborn.

"Aye, what's that?"

It is a white rodent with a long and bushy, striped tail. In eastern Alderode they are popular meals; in the west, we keep them as house pets. I have never understood it myself.

To my great displeasure, I am not.

"I don't wanna be wooed by no one, piss off."

I would not.

Aye. Two owls, a merliput called Fluff, and a white squirrel called Dash that was trampled to death by goats in the garden. I have never done well with animals.

"Whiskers and fear."

...

"I dunno if it's pymary but First Materials smell real nice 'fore the wrights have stunk 'em up with their enchantments."

What if she is able to shed her tail like a lizard? The girl can smell my spells, I put naught beyond her.

I am afraid that is in the domain of her father. I would ensure her remains returned to him safely however.

"Oi! I ain't gonna die! And if I do die the first thing I'ma do is FIRE YOU for FAILIN' to do the one thing ya was tasked to do!"

I would well deserve it, too!

Sonum Ssael was a Tainish twin of Tirna who aided Alderode's first kings in their conquest of Tain and the northern territories. After receiving revelation from Tirna, Sonum Ssael rejected the Gefendur religion and its gods, left the service of Alderode, and began his own opposition sect. For many years he preached against the Gefendur and its Twins, gathering followers, detailing his revelations and philosophies, and trying to atone for the actions he had taken against his people as a young man. When his political power was at its peak, he was betrayed by his grandson and slain by Gefendur warriors who allowed their tame leonine companions to feast on his body.

In death, Sonum Ssael amassed an army of dissident dead and rose against the Twins. Save for Tirna, they were destroyed. Ssael was buoyed by the belief and love of his army, and made custodian of the Twins' seized powers, becoming Lord of the celestial Outside. Ever after from his perch the one God sits in wait to share the prize of eternity with his brothers and sisters when they are ready to accept it.

Such decisions are in the hands of the Temple.

The word's not familiar to me. Are you referring to secularists such as the March? I once butchered them for a living, if that is any indication of my opinion.

"You killed 'em? Were you like a Redemptionist?"

Of a sort. The March are anarchists and murderers; their rejection of spiritual truth and law is the least of their crimes.

"'Cause they say their god killed the Twins and that's some kind've rubbish I don't even got proper words for."

"Set 'em on fire, I reckon."

"...they need t'put you in the madhouse."

"Just a zombie."

"Uh, I dunno. They don't make very interestin' spectacles when they get hanged, no beggin' or weein' their smalls. Rogues is best for hangin' and last year they strung up Steelpate Trelawney for burnin' down the tanners' hall and he told the whole crowd and the governor and all the priests t'go suck a dead dog's balls 'fore they put the hood o'er his head. We all threw eggs at him, it were grand."

What a ridiculous notion.

I have never met one, but I imagine they would be fascinating individuals.

God only knows.

I am all but certain Sette does not realise I am Ssaelit, and I have no intention of bringing it to light.

"...aye? I heard tell once that his Majesty's a poofter and spends all his days queerin' about with other poofters while the Chancellor and navymen and gen'rals run the big government-gang, but I didn't think it were accurate. But wait, if your da's a poofter, how'd you get here? Did ya come out his backside? Dwayne, can two blokes make a-"

I am not here.

"These things is both true."

"Pymary smells and ain't for Frummagems and I got no interest in it no matter what some runt whitehead says! I think he was wrong all the same; he had some fancy words for the khert but the khert ain't all that. The khert is where ya go when ya die! Right, Dwayne?"

I am not starting this conversation with you.

It would be a dangerous turn for me. The Eye is no friend to my people. I know not one man of theirs who can match my spellwork however, so I believe I could make my escape. Yet, starting over elsewhere would be terribly disheartening; I have grown fond of New Tawhoque.

You realise these queries first pass through me, do you not? Get thee gone ere I fetch your mother.

"Dwayne IS a hostile fart."

What? What have I done?

"A fine notion. You might have some Frummagem blood in ya."

"...don't muck with me mind."

"The ocean! And goat pie."

"Balls. It is a good word. Dwayne's still thinkin', it could take him days t'pick just one."

What is there to debate?

We keep meeting under unfortunate circumstances. I imagine we will come to blows when next we encounter each other.

"I like his hound, it's pretty."

She was a fine woman and a good mother, loving but firm. She died when I was eleven and my father was not the same afterwards. I never once saw him take interest in another woman.

Copious carafes of coffee. "Cramming" is not advised for students of the arts, however, for a keen eye, a sharp wit, and acute concentration are as necessary when sitting exams as any memorized spells. You will sabotage yourself if you do not sleep! Ahh, but of course one should never ignore a maiden, a rival, a colour show or a revival, so schoolwork cannot always be the priority a young man ought to make it.

"Ya played hooky to buss girls?"

To kiss them? Heavens, no! To make them wish that I was..? Perhaps. What is this intimation that you are not sleeping sufficiently? Is this the cause of your bile?

"All these persons is mad, Dwayne, ya can't believe nawt they say."

"Fff, who gives a flyin' dog."

"I got a Aldish warrior attack zombie galit wright! I ain't afraid've Stockyard. Me and Duane'll get the drop on him at dawn when me zombie's sharpest, and I might have t'burn his whole ken down if he don't heed me. I hope we do have to! It'll give me name more renown and frightfulness than me only gettin' some lucre off him. I ain't afraid've Stockyard!"

I am. First Material shortages will cause man to resort to more extreme methods of changing his environment and generating power. Already it happens among the kussen of Alderode, who are tapped like syrup trees for every possible ounce of energy. Surely methods of recycling First Materials or even generating them anew should be investigated, but these efforts are ever stymied by the stubborn Copper, blinded by easier centuries, comforted by few tomorrows, who prefer the easier path and little understand the concerns of the Window and wrights. It will come to a head one day and someone will have to give.

What is special about the Soud is that we are not special at all. We are not bound by the Dammakhert in the manner of the other sultet. In pursuit of pymary some of us are simpletons and some of us sublime.

I have encountered a few. I struck at them, and they struck at me. I tell you the character of a Crescian is of little concern; they are damned regardless by allegiance to their Crown, and it is a mercy to cut them down and allow them the opportunity to follow a wiser path in another life.

In truth, I do not know. My heart sings of a gallant rescue but my wits intrude, and I wonder what future the boy could possibly have away from his ghers and country. I would in the end, I suspect, relinquish the decision to prayer and ask my Lord for insight.

"I agree! He says he's got no interest in it but I'ma win him over with promises of meat and books and things."

"Fuh, what wouldja say if I toldja I seen your da in a dress knockin' back shots've applejack with the King of Sharteshane?"

I like to leave the boasting to Sette, but my handwriting is exceptionally fine. My father was a printer and at a young age I was made his apprentice, tasked with writing out bills of sale, quotes, and receipts. He was a man of high expectations and impeccable standards, my father, and would accept little less than perfection from my script.

Continuing that perfection has become an interesting challenge these last few years, but careful maintenance of my hands helps enormously. I have never had a customer complain, in any case.

"It is! And it hurts! But it hurts them most when I bite their face for doin' it. You lookin' at me tail? You thinkin' of bein' a hero? I'm watchin' you."

I intend to murder no one.

"Aye, we got a brothel and a public house and they turn over good profit."

He was all flash and artifacts. Truthfully I cannot properly gauge if there was much of substance beneath it. Stripped of his gruftgramary and his pymarics, forced to comply with the rules of engagement, his only asset would have been his God-given khert stability but had he the clarity of mind to make use of it? I do not know.

It was difficult. My legs pained me, the children were a distraction, and the Plat's blatant treachery inspired a distracting ire. The pressure blast was decisive but it was dangerous and sloppy. I may have won the engagement but there was no honourable thing present in that duel, and I shan't crow over my victory.

Alderode rejects international tourism. It is a land loathe to open its interior to the corrupting influence of the southern royalists and Crescian tyrants. You would be turned away at the border, sir.

...

"Ya put me in mind've Bodkin. Only, Da cuffs him 'cross the gob when he prates on with his blood-fouled tongue. Da says ya spill blood, you're gonna tread in blood, and you're gonna track that blood everywhere ya walk. Asides, Yerta rewards a person as follows the Law. Me and Duane 'vadin' that crypt ended poorly 'cause it's against her Law to disturb the dead. Later I kept Dwayne from killin' the guard in the wood and I met with fantastic fortunes in the city! Against the Plats, we fought courteous and square and escaped even the law and that stoopendous construct! The Twins is watchin' always, and a clever cove trusts in 'em."

You DO have a sense of morality! It is twisted and malformed, but it does thrive!

"Course I got morals! Pig-stoopidity like yours and Bodkins' is why the whole world needs a dictator like me to conquer it and make it a more better place."

"Home with Da!"

"Kedises is just kedises. They're nawt extra-ordinary."

They do not like me.

"No animals like you, you're a monster thing."

Would you blunt for me that poignard 'twixt your teeth were I more a man than a monster?

"I doubt it. You'd still be Dwayne."

Why can I not do precisely that? There is a deep satisfaction in a day's honest work; to take parchment and ink and quill and make of them something for which men will pay good coin. Scrivening puts a roof over my head and a distraction at my fingertips. When this Frummagem nonsense is dealt with I shall return to it, and you may call upon D. Adelier at Criseyde Way should you have need of a document duplicated or a letter read or written.

Would it not tax your tongue less to lose the "face" and restrict my name to Duane?

"Betimes Da talks cross of thievin' and burglin' and goes on of the fancier rogueries in Court among the politickers. He says he ain't clever enough for it and ain't got proper connections, but if that could be learned in school I'd learn it for him and then go to Court and make the Frummagems famouser in a noble way. I think it's about stabbin' the King mainly, aye?"

Mainly. Sette is already a marvellous hand at sums; she's added numbers in her head that would have given me pause. I suspect she would enjoy higher maths.

"The bandages is helpful. When he's wrapped up proper he's comfortable as a good chair, but too cool for cuddlin'."

Indeed not, that is a faux pas in most circles. A foolish custom, but it was seldom worth protesting. I will admit that I changed the shape of my nose twice or thrice while courting, and more than once sang away the shadow of a day of lapsed shaving.

"Did ya have a big nose afore it fell off?"

Some said so.

I should like to know where his mother is.

I am well rested and equitable this morn. I cannot say the same for Sette, she appears to have awakened in a temper.

"Lions are better'n you are. If they were still about they'd likely eat all your babies and pets and poo in your garden."

"Nawt you can prove me guilty of in a court've justice!"

Ephsephin was the brutish fellow in the unfortunate hat. You introduced him to asymmetry and infection, I should say.

"Ooohhhh, that one. He tugged on me tail like a handbrake when you was playin' with the Plat's bugs. I had to bite his face to defend me dignity and rearmost property! He won't die; no reason t'get worked up."

"You're a queer sort, don't talk t'me 'less it's to gimme money."

"It were serviceable. Of course he'd have to be a good spellwright or Da wouldn't've chosen him to be me flesh-protector. I got no worries for when we meet Stockyard, he's gonna piss himself!"

"Sometimes he sings in that other tongue he knows. It's the most awful noise, like a hound sickin' up its own half-alive puppies after it ate 'em in a fit of madness."

"I can smell pymary and everythin' else as well! Da says it's like me tail's off a rat or a sickly hound, but I always thought it were lionish. I got other lionish qualities like nobility and pridefulness and a powerful leap and a fierce bite and the cleverness of seventeen cat brains. Not like no rat nor awt else so low t'the earth. I'm a lion!"

"Town is best. Deer got no pockets."