There Is Generally No Need To Do So, But Here Is Advice Provided For The Few Exceptions
The scene confused the authorities when they arrived and frightened the bank's manager upon his timid return. As far as the non-Drastlimez-speaking northerners could determine, they faced being restrained, detained, or maybe slapped around a bit by yelling Drastlifars when Onerid Paspaklest stepped in front of them and snapped her fan open.
The sight of a presumably genuine coat of arms worked on the Drastlifars like a fine stallion on Dvanjchtlivs or underdefended territory on Adabans. Nothing else mattered to them, for a time, and in that period Onerid reported in calm and concise words everything which had occurred to bring about the current state of affairs. Or so her associates guessed. Dirant heard “money” and “crime” a few times and extrapolated. “Responsible,” that sounded good. She worked “Stadeskosken” and “our company” in there a few times as well; surely wherever Silone was, he smiled without knowing why. By the end, her Drastlifan audience looked ready to build a new temple in her honor.
“The banker is easy to understand, but surely bailiffs are accustomed to command, or here do they act otherwise?” Banfol whispered.
Onkallant answered. “Mr. Banfol, you nearly lost your voice apologizing to a few sailors when you got in their way during some scrubbing.” He chuckled at the memory. “These men forced a lady to speak openly in public simply because of their inability. How much shame do they feel, do you think?”
“As much as possible, if they do not wish their superiors to force them to feel it yet deeper,” Dirant suggested.
“Likely so, just as you said it,” Onkallant said about as thoughtfully as he did anything.
The matter concluded as it must, with the failed robbers taken into custody. Only after their punishment could it be determined whether their experience had taught them not to rob or not to fail, and by then nobody there would have anything to do with them. Takki asked where the others stood on the issue's probabilities when the Stadeskosken band departed for the branch office. She skipped as she went and composed a song about solving crimes unlikely to have much play in the music halls.
The intimidating piles of brick and stone in the city's Adaban section, so called because it was too small to be a quarter, stood out like bulls among cows, generals among civilians, or buildings with spires among ones that mostly did not have spires. Stadeskosken rented offices there just as did other concerns run by or intended for the citizens of Greater Enloffenkir. The bank the northerners had just left probably ought to have been among them, but its founders had grander ambitions of upsetting the temples to become the capital's most depended-upon financial institution.
Once inside, in unhesitating contradiction of the deference earlier shown to Onerid as senior employee, Haderslant Rikelta's sixth son explained the incident to branch manager Hadolt Herafoken, a man whose dependable appearance suggested that somewhere in the GE was kept a manager bush from which managers were plucked in the proper season and put to immediate use. Dirant did his best to cast Onerid as the heroine of the day in case the dreadful fate looming over Delaosant Paspaklest consisted of comforting his daughter after her career stalled. Though if that was all, the topic of that priest of Holzd's next prayer would be the excessively dramatic sensations Divine Guidance (Hunch) caused.
“Normally it is so quiet here,” manager Hadolt commented. “Please do not be disturbed or request a transfer. We get along very well in this office as a rule.” Doubtless they did under him. Even his balding looked under control, so much so it was impossible to imagine he ever had more hair than that. Probably he would never leave his forties, perhaps wrapping around once he reached the end of them. Inside his office at least, the Stadeskosken employees might forget they were in another country. That made them eager to leave it, since they still possessed the spirit of the tourist, but knowing they had a GE sanctuary to which they might retreat comforted.
A week later, nothing contrary to the branch manager's assertion had occurred. Tranquility prevailed in Dirant Rikelta's life. He did wonder what he was still doing there, but far from causing distress, the evidence that Ritualists learned far faster than management imagined caused his professional pride to swell like the Ontoffemmiror River. The two Ritualists stationed there had learned and performed the ritual to his satisfaction long before, and already the popcorn setup delighted Stadeskosken's customers. Regardless of whether they liked popcorn, they appreciated a taste of home.
For as the branch manager had informed the new employees, Stadeskosken's Drastlif branch existed primarily to serve Grenlofers. Some of those were ambassadors and the embassy staff while many resided in Greater Enloffenkir and desired the occasional exotic import. For example, a certain Atkosol Tellanstal, notable in both wealth and political accomplishments such as formerly serving as a representative in the Entessihotka, often requested delivery of items such as fig trees from Choinfa to further his horticultural experiments. Then there were Drastlifan luxuries, pharmaceuticals from Tando OHW, private messages, conversation starters, and more. A great variety of low volume business.
Surprising to Dirant, it kept the two office Ritualists busy enough. Both were down at the docks at present to perform various sanitizing rituals necessary to keep intact an entire whale, not a large one admittedly, for the duration of its journey toward a prominent Mabonn's dinner table where it would become a shocking centerpiece.
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A sleigh for two leaves the third a lonely walk home, but in commerce, one must always be running. A confusing situation, but nevertheless, when the common mismatch between the supply of Ritualists and their demand occurred, Hadolt Herafoken exhibited decisive leadership. He put Dirant in charge of the popcorn station. Keeping the heat steady, checking the box for faults, accepting corn deliveries, and painting a little otter holding a popped corn on the side of the box all became the Ritualist's responsibility. He performed it well so long as one preferred one's otter pictures on the abstract side.
The task offered conversational opportunities to Dirant, who accordingly acquired Drastlimez (Basic) along the way. He spoke to clients, messengers, Dvanjchtlivs pretending not to be interrogating him, and colleagues stationed there, though little to those who had traveled with him. Onkallant and Onerid's skills were much desired by the manager it seemed, while Stansolt and Banfol needed to do something about a whale just then and had similar tasks at other times. After, of course, Stansolt had paid fifteen ezolas for delivery within city limits of a light package already in his possession, and if he used a different name, who was to say his dear grandfather had not called him that back on the family farm?
Non-employee Millim Takki Atsa meanwhile was living the tourist life. In Dubwasef's shops, she came across the watch denied her in Vigit Pikilif. The shopping experience taught her Drastlimez also, turning the watch into a two-for-one deal. Afterward, she purchased a book of fairy tales and puzzled her way through unfamiliar narrative conventions. “I can't tell if this captain is supposed to be an obstacle or the protagonist,” she complained, not that Dirant knew any more about it.
Such conversations with a fellow northerner, for all that Pavvu Omme Os was rather more north than Kitslof, may have prevented Dirant from being overcome by the homesickness which afflicted the long-time employees there, who mostly wished to discuss Greater Enloffenkir in more thorough detail than ever its residents did. The ambassadorial staff shared the proclivity. Dirant's acquaintance with a genuine condottiero, if the most boring member of that profession, gave him instant popularity in the office.
Outside of it, he struggled in his attempts to practice his Drastlimez on the locals. Not that the Drastlifars were unfriendly. A lack of shared interest was behind it. Common subjects in Kitslof such as intra-confederation disputes or the productivity of various mines had never been of interest to Dirant, but without them, he lacked a starting point. Meanwhile, talk of this family or that meant nothing to him aside from Nein-Cadops-Bain, Gren-Sofops, or Akard-Velgsin, and then only a little. Whenever their intricate doings or a matter of heraldry came up, Dirant recalled university lectures which relied upon terminology and theoretical underpinnings he did not realize he ought already to have known.
To become fluent in the local happenings was an undertaking which had fewer aids than learning the language itself. Nothing so useful as a grammar made it into the Drastlifan broadsheets, which were sterile beyond what libel laws demanded so far as his Drastlimez proficiency allowed him to interpret. Dirant thought that strange until the day he saw a dispute between two fellows over “that article packed with nothing but falsehoods and uncultured phrasings” concerning a relative of the shouting man which became a street-blocking brouhaha. Normally he walked around those without ever learning how they started. They ended with the participants hugging one another and crying more often than he would have anticipated before his visit.
There was the possibility of joining the religious community if only he could pinpoint which of their gods was Holzd. Even then, his involvement might descend into religious controversy. For instance, the Drastlifars bestowed the title of priest on people chosen by the families which supported the temple, whereas he thought it belonged to him. Then there were tricky issues such as what Holzd wanted from his worshipers, whether that was ceremonies and sacrifices or to do things in a circuitous way. On the whole, Dirant preferred to stay out of it altogether, though he did attend temple services once. Drastlif's temples each contained idols of many gods, giving him good odds of being in a place pleasing to his; moreover, having one god as an especial patron in no way reduced the veneration due the others.
In such an alienating atmosphere as that, most of the employees rejoiced when the branch manager announced a mandatory meeting of all personnel. Important news had come in from the main office, and nobody cared what it was. They had hints in Mr. Hadolt's serious expression and the tendency of the main office not to send a message congratulating employees for properly enjoying a lovely day, but if it was a warning that the whole of Greater Enloffenkir was covered in ash by an ambulatory volcano monster immune to iron weapons that was seen waddling toward Drastlif, at least it came from home.
The matter was not quite so alarming as that, though alarms were involved, or rather had failed to be involved. “An unknown person or group of people not yet apprehended has broken into the Fennizen main branch,” Mr. Hadolt relayed to the twenty-five employees who had gathered in the hall outside his office because they would not fit inside it. The few out on assignment would be informed later in order to fill them with regret over missing the thrill of the debut performance. “No removal of company property occurred, but there is no question but that files were gone through. The purpose of the intruders is not possible to ascertain with greater specificity than commercial espionage. Therefore company security must be regarded, and not that pertaining to our customers alone. Ensure all drawers are locked when not in use, doors must be locked after working hours, and above all, report unusual circumstances.”
The communication went on to describe various circumstances that might not be recognized as unusual. A noisy hinge gone quiet for instance, or footprints leading up to a window. Clearly the same warning went out to every branch, since to leave footprints on Dubwasef's streets required the weight and force of a giant wrought from iron, and everyone would have recognized that as unusual.
That was the subject of the meeting, and as the employees had hoped, the potential scenarios both behind and ahead gave them material for stimulating contemplation. Stretching a sinister conspiracy all the way from Fennizen to Dubwasef branch exercised their imaginative powers in a pleasurable way as they returned to their tasks, except for Dirant, whom the manager delayed.
“For you there is an additional letter.” The envelope Mr. Hadolt handed over had on it a seal, though not with any such fancy image as suns and dogs. Plain wax stretched the Stadeskosken budget enough as it was.