I am taking a shower. I have given in to convinience rather than curiosity and dared use the cleaning spell on myself. That did instill the confidence to try more on me in me. Hence I am now featuring a full shock of hair again. Yet magical cleaning does not make me feel fully clean. Nor does it induce the mental effects of being inundated with warm water.
There are traditional reactions to getting a woman pregnant. I am even confident that either of the women in question would have agreed to a delayed wedding feast given the reality of Ragnarök. Would they agree to the wedding itself? Do they have a choice? I am pretty confident that by answering the last question in the negative and not caring about it I am finding out interesting things about myself. Again I know that at home admitting that would have been a major social breach, but I don’t know why. It must have been a nice place. Ill people got a bed in a hospital. Indeed it must be a much juster place. I should have noticed earlier that none of my companion said anything about the legal consequences of any of the bad stuff that has been happening here. It looks like I am pretty much above the law, as long as I don’t anger another wizard or too many powerful people.
But I am not dealing with either of them. I am dealing with both of them. The traditional reaction assumes that you have gotten one woman pregnant.
Neither do they assume that you find it necessary to ally with a succubus. Nor is just paying alimony, however generous – I can make a precious metal - an option. Not during Ragnarök. You cannot eat aluminium by whatever name they call it, though technically you can heat your home with it. An attempt to sell it would turn them into targets of outright robbery or attempted extortion. They’d need powers or an armed escort. Armed men, however, need to eat. If I make even more „mithril“, they’ll attract the attention of even more powerful people. Catch-22. And, again obviously, who’d watch the watchmen? Depopulating a town may become a reality as opposed to a term of rhethoric hyperbole. I suppose that was the reason I could say it. No, if they want to live they’ll have to stay with me and in these lands death is real enough that people will not put freedom over survival. They don’t have to like it, though, and that is a real problem if I want to have a comfortable life.
Could I kick the succubus out after a short term? The problem with kicking out people who know a lot about you is also obvious. There is also an obvious traditional solution to that issue, but she must know that and is still here. The familar feeling of almost remembering comes back. What is a TV series?
This line of thought has killed my shower mood. I no longer need a towel to dry myself. I snort at the thought that I do still put my clothes on conventionally. Maybe I could restore the older state of me wearing them. But my posture would not be the same. I dare not try this out.
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I need to find out what deal Zewrepa has gotten out of the succubus whom I better start thinking of as a person with a name.
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Anjali is meditating. Maintaing resentment at being unable to resent something is not, strictly speaking, a contradiction, hence the curse won’t outright prevent it. But it makes it hard. Nor is resentfulness helpful in meditation. She knows, but does not admit to herself, that she will ultimately fail. That does not stop her. If such considerations could stop her she should kill herself right now because she does not have enoug magic to achieve immortality.
Her eyes open. If she cannot maintain resentment, she’ll have to make the most of the time she can keep it for.
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It turns out that Zewrepa has been looking for me. „Good news?“ I ask. She produces a melody of two tones exactly an octave apart. Then she replies „If I personally were making a deal, I’d have made it. However, the condition demands something from you. I need to speak to you about it.“. That does not sound good. Something drives me to make a joke „Does she want my soul?“. Zewrepa answers „Not your soul. She wants you and me to help her slaughter a nearby village for their souls.“
Fate has a sense of humor I would very much approve of if I weren’t the object of its jokes. I thank Zewrepa „Thank you for coming to me. I think we better talk to her together. Should we limit this to only the two of us?“ Zewrepa produces a tone like metal pipes hitting a stone floor „We are the fighters. Our lives and our honor are at stake. You are wise to seek council to widen your knowledge. But your claws are attached to your arm.“. „Yet you told me that you’d take the deal.“ I respond. A low tone as from a wooden flute diminishing in volume „And mine are attached to my arm. I am a warrior for hire. I am more eager to take a deal which pays with my life instead of a deal for fame and silver. I took deals for fame and silver.“ I agree with her „That makes sense. But don’t the others have honor, too?“. Zewrepa stops in order to reply „Not in that matter. Matters of claw and armor are for those who have wielded them for the clan. You are in command. I am second. One voice must speak in this matter. I must indeed state my opinion on matters like this to you very clearly. Using them is a matter for the lead singeress, so that the choir sings at the same tempo.“
That matter seems very important and her reasoning makes a lot of sense. Even if I am referred to as a singeress. Does her language even have a male equivalent? So I respond „I understand. If we really have no choice, I am inclined to take her offer. I will try to offer her a larger share of the sacrificial spikes first, though. And I am worried about the reaction of the others. We are living together.“
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Zewrepa is content and surprised of her tolerance. She has gone and said it. A man is lead singer. A strange word form to even make, even though the rules of grammar are clear. He has even independent thoughts. She cannot comment on their validity. They are not her kind.
She judges it better to let him find out about the spikes by himself. He is still just a man.