Sythyry

I wouldn’t say that I am in love with Arfaen, not exactly. I wouldn’t say I am in love with anyone just now, not exactly, and Arfaen might or might not be on the top of my list if I were. I know for a fact that Arfaen’s not in love with me either. She’s got about four lovers on board whom she asks for various moods — I am the one she for when she is feeling serious and somewhat needing to be protected, or, of course, when she is or I seem miserable in a way that a bit of body-play could help with. Last night was all of those. It is a sad thing to finally be in a place where traff-folk could get married, or sort of, and not have anyone to marry.

So we woke up at four hours after dawn (I did slip out for a bit at dawn, for work), comforted and distracted each other for a while, and sprawled together in her bed chatting.

Arfaen: “I need to find a good place to buy snails in Hanija. Vae really loves them pickled, and I’m almost out.”

Me: “Actually, I think Vae rather overdid it on the pickled snails. You might try something else, like onions or those tiny eggplants.” More to the point, Vae actually doesn’t like pickled snails at all, but Arfaen thinks she does, and Vae asked my aid in stopping her from making them without telling her that Vae thinks they’re disgusting and always has, and just only been eating them and praising them out of politeness.

Arfaen: “I smell that.” Which I suppose means that she deduced the whole thing from my facial expressions. “Pickled onions it will be. They’ve got five different kinds of scallions here, did you know that? I like the chive-scallions best, but they’re so leafy, I don’t think they’ll pickle right, do you?”

Windigar: [speaking to me through the ship's devices] “Sythyry? I’m sorry to bother you, but there are some constables from Hanija here to talk to you.”

Me: “Oh, dear. I’ll be right out.”

Windigar: “In the Parlor of the Seven Batik Crabs. Oh, and is Arfaen with you? They’d like to talk to her too.”

Me: “She is, in fact.”

So Arfaen and I blinked nervously at each other a bit (“I wonder what Grinwipey’s done now?”), and got dressed and washed in a time-bubble, and trotted out to the Parlor of the Seven Batik Crabs.

Constables

The tall brown-and-white-splotched Cani man greeted me first. “Lord Sythyry, we thank you for your prompt attention to this hopefully-minor matter. I am Inspector Hajang-Guyof. This is Rassimel Constable Napamdo, and this Herethroy Constable Hasathyo.” So we greeted them right back, and introduced ourselves, and I promptly forgot Napamdo’s and Hasathyo’s names.

“And what can we do for you today, O officers of the law of Hanija?” I asked them.

Hajang-Guyof flattened his ears. “We are here on a rather delicate matter. We recognize that you are a mighty wizard, here in a warship of unknown potencies, with a terrible nendrai and a subtle demon and many strong warriors. Still, there has been a violation of the law of Hanija. We wish to attend to the needs of the law, but we must clearly do so in a way that does not lead to any sort of war or battle.”

“We certainly don’t intend to battle Hanija, or wreck the city-state, or do any other injury. We don’t intend to break the laws, either. I give you my word that we will settle the matter peacefully if at all possible,” I said. Leaving myself the option of, say, peacefully taking all my crew and passengers on board and peacefully getting a long way off so that Hanijan law does not apply and Hanijan law enforcement has nothing to say. That would be peaceful, right?

“Very good. We appreciate this attention to larger matters. Your prompt and cooperative assistance will be a mitigating factor should punishment become a necessity.”

I ruffled my feathers. “Wait, I’m the criminal you seek?”

Hajang-Guyof nodded. “With many apologies, we do indeed have the honor of investigating you for certain activities that, while they may be legal in many other city-states, do in fact violate the laws of Hanija. And there are circumstances which make this violation all the more pungent.”

I asked, “May I be permitted to learn of these activites?”

“Certain evidence has come to us that you are breaking the tofyof laws — indeed, that you are knowingly stinking upon them and scorning them. We wish to ascertain the truth in this matter and apply certain correctives.”

I curled my tail. “Well, I must say that I am not scorning them. I admire these laws; I wish that more places had them. For one example, many of my closest friends entered keeper-tofyof relationships last night, a circumstance which I gave my most enthusiastic approval and assistance.”

“Yes, yes, this is quite true. The reports of this matter came from the officials performing the ceremony last night. So you know of the tofyof laws? Your solicitor says that you, personally, listened closely to his exegesis thereof,” said Hajang-Guyof.

“I am hardly a solicitor myself, but I listened to one with some interest, and I read my passengers’ papers on the topic. I would say I know something about them — though I could easily be wrong about important points,” I confessed.

Hajang-Guyof looked to Arfaen. “And, Miss Arfaen, did you and Sythyry perform bodily conjunctions last night, or any other time while you were within Hanija Mene?”

Arfaen snarled at him. “That is none of your business.”

Hajang-Guyof tucked his tail between his legs. “With many regrets, is currently my business.”

I said to her, “Let us tell the truth, with scrupulous accuracy, Arfaen. It is safer and more gracious that way.”

Arfaen tucked her tail. “Then yes, we did.”

Hajang-Guyof asked us, “And is there any formal and legal arrangement of relationship between the two of you, either marriage or tofitude, or some other legal status from another city-state that has analogous stature?”

“Yes — I am Sythyry’s client,” said Arfaen.

“Is that a formal and legal arrangement?” asked Hajang-Guyof. “I know something about the laws and customs of Inner Ketheria, which gives me cause to wonder.”

“It is an informal and extralegal arrangement, though one which we both take quite seriously,” I said.

“Then, O Sythyry… You have been treating this woman as a tofyof, but you have not formalized her tofitude, nor have you provided her with the protections and fees suitable to a tofyof of one with your status. It is clear that you know perfectly well which relationships are legal in Hanija Mene, and that you have had the opportunity to make it properly legal, as many of your shipmates have done. You chose not to. Thus I must arrest you.”

Arfaen howled, “It was voluntary! I invited zir to my bed willingly — eagerly! I am the one who is breaking the tofyof laws — I am the one you should charge!”

Hajang-Guyof said gently, “Are you the wizard, or the cook? In any reasonable estimation, Sythyry would be the keeper, and you the tofyof. If you had wished the reverse situation, you should have arranged the matter yesterday when so many of your friends did. By Hanijan law, is it Sythyry who bears the responsibility, and, should the court so decide, should be punished.”

I flapped my wings. “This is embarrassing!”

“Being arrested for sex crimes against your friends is often found so, O Zi Ri.”

The Preliminary Interrogation

Me: “If I may ask a question about the customs of Hanija, what is the common celebration when one takes a tofyof?” I struggled to remember my Hanijan grammatical markers for questions. “Tasapahu?”

Zu-Sum: “Ropaf, you mean? There is not a great celebration, it is not like a marriage. A married person will properly give a treat to her wife and spouses, as fine a lunch as she can manage, but without the tofyof-to-be. Then after that the official filling out of forms happens, in the early afternoon, and the registration. Afterwards, the keeper and new tofyof take a private meal and night-together in an undistinguished but pleasant place. The next morning the tofyof comes to the keeper’s home, and the keeper spends the day alleviating any jealousy of the spouses.”

Heni: “Honestly, if the spouse is as uncivilized as I am, it may take weeks. Or if the spouse is as generous and well-behaved as Zu-Sum, it may not be necessary at all.”

Me: “I see that there is great wisdom in these customs.” It is important to say something like this when one is about to do utterly otherwise. “Still, most of us have no other spouses to placate, and may prefer greater festivities.”

Zu-Sum: “I cannot see why. Taking a tofyof is a matter of minor concern, and becoming a tofyof is a matter of, arguably, a small degree of shame. Are these things to celebrate?”

Me: “As we are largely transaffectionate, all of our relationships are a matter of some degree of shame. These are less shameful than usual, and that is what we will celebrate.”

Heni: [putting a hand on Zu-Sum's shoulder] “The customs of foreign lands are undeniably foreign to us, though undeniably dear to those whose customs they are.” It is important to say something like this when one utterly despises someone else’s behavior, but wishes to be polite and circumspect.

The Dancers

So, we rented a medium-sized entertainment hall in the Wezisef district. It wasn’t called the Wezisef Hall, but it should have been. We called for a vast buffet dinner, with a dozen of the most delicious and least intimidating foods of Hanija.

Dancers were procured. This also procured a certain degree of drama. I had hired the Yof-Bo Celebratory Dance Company to perform the Seven Gracious Movements, and the Yofhena Delightful Dance Company to perform the traditional Hanijan classic ballet, Tales of Yofpiji.

Any suggestion that I was enjoying the syllable ‘yof’ in all the names is entirely correct.

How could I be so foolish — so willfully wicked and wanton?

Yof-Bo: “What scorpitude is this? We see the wagon of a Delightful Dance Company outside of the entertainment hall!”

Me: “Yes… They’re performing after the ceremony, and you’re performing before it.”

Yof-Bo: “This is beneath dignity and honor! I would sooner cut off my tail than share a rental with them!”

Me: “H’m. How about if you leave before they start?”

Yof-Bo: “As you are a foreigner and thus quite ignorant, I allow you a third of a minute to retract that ignominious suggestion! After such a time has elapsed, I will draw my scimitar and relieve you of your tail!”

Yerenthax: [looming terribly] “I do not permit such a violence.”

Yofhena: [popping his head out of his supply wagon] “Oh! Oh, no! We are ruined! We have committed a terrible act! Surely our costumes and properties will be burned in a fire of vile skunk-maple for this!”

Yof-Bo: “And properly so! How could you dare to challenge a Celebratory Dance Company!”

Yofhena: “Only through the most dark ignorance — which this our employer has produced, as if zie were to fart a vast cloud of elemental miasma that covers the land!”

Yof-Bo: “Upon you and our employer I shall take a most dire revenge!”

Yof-Bo and two of his dancers started a rather tedious pavane on the boardwalk in front of the hall. Dozens of passers-by stopped to stare and point. “The Rite of Ceremonial Disgust!” they whispered. Yofhena knelt by his wagon and started to pound his head against it, very loudly.

Strayway Healer: “He’s going to hurt himself with that.”

Yerenthax: “He is not. The wagon-side is hollow and resonant. They use it as a drum.”

The Rite of Ceremonial Disgust proceeded, with Yof-Bo curtseying to the other two dancers, then waving his hands in big circles. Bystanders gasped in horror.

Me: “What should we do about that?”

Hall Representative: “I have no idea — nobody has ever been so wild-willed as to hire a Celebratory and a Delightful Dance Company at the same time before.”

Jyondre scurried into the Wezisef Hall kitchen, returned with a bucket of fish entrails and onion skins, and tossed it full in Yof-Bo’s face. Many bystanders yowled in laughter. The Celebratory Dance Company packed up and departed in a hurry.

Me: “You are no longer sharing a dance hall with a Celebratory Dance Company. Would you be interested in a somewhat larger contract?”

Yofhena: “Indeed I would!”

The Officials

Four highly-placed and highly-dignified officials of Hanija came to perform the officiations. They were officiant, and efficient.

Unfortunately, the highly-placed and highly-dignified officials of Hanija had stayed for the Delightful Dances.

The Happy Couples and Triples

There was much rejoicing and happiness.

The Unhappy Singles

Arfaen: “Sythyry, I know you’ve been terribly busy, and surely continue to be terribly busy, but might you be willing to give me a bit of company?”

Me: “You look like you’ve been crying, or maybe trying not to. Seeing Mellilot marry someone else must be hard on you.”

Arfaen: “It is. I might get over her sometime, but not now and not for a long while. You look a bit sad too.”

Me: “I miss Mynthë. Zie would have loved this.”

Arfaen: “I’ll distract you if you distract me…?”

Which seemed like an excellent arrangement — one which I have made with her for far less of a reason than that — and so we did.

Phaniet

Phaniet will take both Este and Mellilot as tofyofs. It is hardly surprising that she is taking Este as a tofyof. The two of them have wanted to have a more formal and legal marriage for years. This is the closest version that they have come up with. Since Phaniet is distinctly higher-status than Este, it even fits the official scheme of tofitude.

It is surprising that Phaniet is taking Mellilot as well. The rest of us had been under the impressions that (a) Phaniet and Este were amusing themselves with Mellilot more or less equally, and (b) it was simply a matter of amusement, nothing more. (a) may still be true — while it is, technically, illegal for Este and Mellilot to indulge themselves carnally with each other (or rather, it will be after the tofitude), I suspect that the enforcement of such laws is rather scanty. I suspect, in fact, that the authorities will not learn about violations of the law, unless someone considers themselves to be forced into it.

(b) certainly surprised us. By “us” I mean Arfaen, who was Mellilot’s girlfriend for years, and, me, who is Phaniet’s boss and frequent co-conspirator. I was not involved in this conspiracy! I am not, ultimately, all that worried about the details. Arfaen is quite distraught, and I have spent two natural and twenty-eight constructed hours in the last few days trying to reconcile her to her fate — Arfaen to Mellilot’s fate, of course. Mellilot is already reconciled. Mellilot, in fact, seems eager.

Yerenthax and Jyondre

Yerenthax will take Jyondre as a tofyof.

In some ways, this is not nearly as surprising. The two of them are thoroughly devoted to each other.

In other ways, the details are quite surprising. Since this was a domestic dispute, they settled it in the traditional heterosexual way. (That’s heterosexual Gormoror way.)

Part 1: Neither one of them really wants to be the tofyof of the other. Both of them volunteered, because such is the depth and perfection of their love that they were both willing to.

Part 2: They agreed that the proper way to resolve the issue of who was to be whose tofyof was to fight a duel with natural weapons in the great and traditional Gormoror tradition of greatness.

Part 3: They had a huge argument about whether knives were suitable dueling weapons, or whether the only proper duel was claws and teeth. Jyondre, as befits the Gormoror man which he is not, argued that claws and teeth were the only dignified weapon for domestic disputes. Yerenthax, whose grasp of tactics and battle-wisdom is far greater than Jyondre’s, noted that Jyondre’s claws and teeth were relatively tiny things, even compared to hers, and both should use knives. Jyondre, in the great Gormoror tradition, lovingly broke a stoneware plate over Yerenthax’s head. So they agreed that it would be claws and teeth.

Part 4: Jyondre snuck into my bedroom and stole a Cloak of Another God cloak. At the actual duel, Jyondre was a brown and brawny Gormoror boy — even calling himself Jyonderex. Yerenthax was giggling so hard that Jyonderex nearly took off her ear in a mighty smash.

Then, of course, she demolished him with brutal skills and vicious clawsomeness, and became the keeper-to-be.

*-Eyes and Dorze

And now, finally, we have official confirmation that Dorze and Temple-Eyes are involved! Temple-Eyes is taking Dorze as a tofyof. This is, as far as I understand, the utterly traditional and correct use of the institution: a same-species married person picking up a bit on the side in a legal way.

Except of course Lithia, Temple-Eyes’s wife, is not really an Orren; she’s a shifter hybrid. And, from all I hear (which is very little), she’s involved with Dorze as well.

If anyone gives them any difficulty, I shall respond with undue and surprising violence.

Arkathia and Frippin

On the whole our students are not particularly taking advantages of the tofyof concept. They are mostly arranged in convenient groupings already. Or, if they are like students when I was that age, they are arranged in groupings they consider convenient today, but will mostly change them around within a few months.

Still, Arkathia is taking Frippin as a tofyof. I do not particularly know them, and they are the same species, but I will congratulate them and generally wish them well at the big tofyoffing party we’re going to have.

Molazasrie and Arkathia

And, in our Important Task of the Infliction of Perversion upon the Innocent Students of Barency, Molazasrie (Rassimel) is going to take Arkathia (Orren) as a tofyof.

Inconnu: “I have converted Molazasrie! I have introduced her to the utter delight that is an eager Orren lover, and she must have one all of her own!”

Prince Rastomil: “While I would not dispute the delights of your brown-furred squirmy embraces, I fear that I must dispute the conversion. Molazasrie was, after all, sent out from Tauvane in disgrace. A topic that we have discussed at great length.”

Hrone: “If my nose does not deceive me, the “great length” you have discussed it at was probably about six inches or so, and you didn’t wash off afterwards.”

Prince Rastomil: “Well, the “great length” started off at about fifteen inches — vertical — of vodka in the bottle. That diminished to zero, and, somehow, further events occurred that might not decrease anyone’s disgrace.”

Inconnu: “Oh, you princer, you! You needed to get her drunk to get her in bed. Not so the Orren! She was more than happy to revel with me, quite sober.”

Hrone: “Inconnu, I do wish you wouldn’t be so careless spouting your stories around. Molazasrie might be in trouble already, but I know for a fact two of your other lovers need to keep your games very secret.”

Inconnu: “I am the very serpent of discretion where it counts!”

Not Hops and Tingula

Hops will not take Tingula as a tofyof, nor vice-versa.

Hops: “I love Tingula. I am not taking her as a concubine or play-toy-girl. Taking her as a tofyof is just reinforcing the popular stereotype that traff-folk are really in it for the kinky sex. Well, I’m in it for love, real solid permanent love, and if I don’t get to marry her in a way that says that, it’s just wrong. I don’t want a teaspoon of it’s-not-right-but-it’s-what-you-get. I want to do it right!”

Phaniet: “I want what I can get. This is more than anywhere else. And I had to work a bit to even get what I wanted — unmarried Cani confuse the system beyond measure.”

Hops: “You are simply kow-towing to a corrupt system devoted to crushing you under its heel. Why the grash-hog you and Sythyry don’t go start a new city-state on a nice clean branch, I do not know.”

Phaniet: “Can you imagine what a city-state that Sythyry set up would be like? Zie’s good at some things, but zie’d run the government like zie runs this ship.”

Me: “Hypothetically, I wouldn’t have to run the goverment.”

Phaniet: “And the city would be a total doom magnet.”

Me: “Oh. Right.”

A didactic essay by Vind, Alzagond, Hrone, and Invincible Fire Demon.

Much has been written in Ketheria about the Hanijan social role of the ‘tofyof’. Unfortunately, much of what has been written has been written in ignorance, leading to many horrible misunderstandings of this remarkable feature of Hanijan culture.

Ordinary marriage in Hanija is, crucially, a marriage between people of similar social status. By preference, the status will be equal. In practice, it is often necessary to allow one or perhaps two degrees of separation (there are, loosely speaking, seven ranks in Hanija), especially in large upper-class Cani marriages where there simply aren’t enough eligible Cani of the highest degree.

Still, all spouses in a marriage are considered to have the same rank after marriage, and to be equals in all ways. This is not true in practice of course (one spouse may own a bank or a village that the others do not have rights in), but it is a socio-cultural ideal, and honored in law and custom.

In Hanija, as everywhere, not all people are willing to confine their amatory attentions to their spouses at all times. Hanija attempts to regulate this tendency, and to ameliorate its worse abuses and defects, by the creation of the ‘tofyof’ status. (The word comes from tofju, attached, and zo-choyof legalization).

The only form of non-spousal body-play that is legal in Hanija is between a tofyof and their keeper. All other adultery and fornication are punishable by law, in greater or lesser degree. These laws seem to be taken quite seriously: it took our expert investigators several hours longer than usual to find prostitutes. Despite some stories about Hanija, it is far, far from a country of libertines.

A tofyof is assumed to be of lower rank than their keeper — if the tofyof is of a higher or equal rank in reality, their effective rank is lowered for the duration of the tofitude. A typical keeper is, say, a Rassimel of middle years and some financial success — a master-crafter, say, or a doctor or tree-mage — if not actually a noble. The keeper must be or have been married after the fashion for their species, or be of a sufficient age and stature to have been married even if they are not currently married. The tofyof must not be. Beyond that, certain social restrictions that apply to marriage do not apply — in particular, a tofyof may be of a different species or a different city-state than the keeper.

There are a number of laws and customs surrounding tofyofs. Most of these are, remarkably, designed for the protection of the tofyof. There is some historical force to this — in the first decades of the topic, tofyofs were abused in certain famous cases to a serious degree, and the laws were amended and strengthened.

1. Tofitudes are registered with the civic government. (Marriages are not.)
2. A keeper’s spouses may forbid the keeper from having tofyofs, when the tofitude is contracted. If the spouses do not exercise this option then, they must be carefully well-behaved towards the tofyof. Certain offenses that would not require legal action if performed against a passer-by on the street can inspire fines or even beatings: e.g., if the spouse insults the tofyof more than three times in one day, the tofyof can sue for an extra week’s salary, and these suits are generally successful when there is corroborating evidence.
3. Tofyof relationships are for a fixed term — seven years for most species of tofyof, though only one for Orren and four for Herethroy. After this time, the tofitude is dissolved automatically. It may be renewed easily, and (anecdotally) often it is.
4. If the tofitude is dissolved, the former tofyof returns to their prior social status. There seems to be little social stigma attached to having been a tofyof. It is proof that one was (at that time) appealing and compliant, and of low social status: not a particularly good thing, but not a particularly bad thing either. Indeed, many respectable middle-class people were formerly tofyofs, and used their wages from that time as the seed of gaining status.
5. The keeper is required to support the tofyof, providing certain minimums of food, clothing, shelter, entertainment, medical care, and so on, increasing with the rank of the keeper. These are similar to those of a live-in servant. In practice, most tofyofs seem to be treated far better than the minimums.
6. Tofyofs are granted a certain salary, increasing with the rank of the keeper. This salary is placed in an escrow account which the keeper is forbidden on pain of execution (resurrection automatic) to meddle with. Neither keeper nor tofyof can touch the escrow account during the term of the tofitude.
7. The penalties for sexual misconduct — that is, activity outside of the scope of a tofitude or marriage — are variable but generally seem rather higher than in most places. In particular, an unregistered concubinage, in which a high-ranked person takes a lower-ranked lover, makes the law quite wrathful: such relationships can be done legally, so the law is enraged when they are not. (Conversely, naive embraces between lovesick adolescents, say, are punished merely by mild beatings.)
8. A keeper can divorce a tofyof before the end of the term, but in doing so must pay half the estimated remaining upkeep and salary of the tofyof. But it is a serious crime, punishable by execution (resurrection automatic), for the tofyof to attempt to force a divorce.
9. The tofyof is required to be perform certain customary duties, which the law is quite coy about. These can include actual work, but only two-thirds as long and hard as the keeper and spouses are doing — the other one-third being the coyly-described marital duties of the tofyof.
10. Tofyofs are subject to corporal punishment for serious violation of their primary duties — infidelity in particular. (Infidelity between a tofyof and a keeper’s spouse is a very troublesome topic, and about a quarter of the tofyof laws concern it. Much attention is paid to making sure that the spouse is not coercing the tofyof, or that the keeper is not coercing both of them, into unwanted sexual entanglements.) Actually performing the punishment requires a routine visit to a civic court, and the beatings are administered by a court official. (Servants, by contrast, can be cuffed several times a day without such formalities.)
11. A tofyof has either a single keeper who is not a Cani, or a married Herethroy triad collectively considered their keeper, or a full Cani marriage who each individually is their keeper.
12. Children from the union of a keeper and tofyof are legitimate children of the keeper, and must be adopted by the keeper’s other spouses. (This is often used in same-sex marriages.) The tofyof retains certain quasi-parental rights with respect to them even after the end of the tofitude.
13. There are certain species-specific further laws. Cani, for example, can only keep tofyofs if all the Cani spouses in a marriage enter separate, independent tofitudes with the tofyof — in practice, Cani are all but forbidden to keep tofyofs, for it is quite expensive. The theory behind this is that Cani instinctively share with their spouses, but it is a humiliation and an inappropriateness for a tofyof to be shared, so the tofyof must be kept by all concerned.

There is no great dignity to being a tofyof. It is better than being a prostitute (which is illegal) or seduced (which is also illegal but less often punished). It is not quite a humiliating social position, and a significant number of respectable people in society were tofyofs in their early years. Indeed, it is a means for social mobility — a low-ranked person who serves as the tofyof of a prince is likely to be mid-ranked afterwards, due to the salary, connections, and training in upper-class manners that come from the connection.

First Steps towards a Statistical Understanding

The civic records of Hanija are open to Hanijans. Our well-paid Hanijan informant was able to acquire statistics of the last hundred tofitudes entered. Of these, 78 were same-species and 22 were different-species. Contrary to previous essays on this topic, we find that even in Hanija, same-species relationships are greatly preferred.

Furthermore, seventeen of the twenty-two different-species tofyofs were Orren. This fact, plus a certain amount of listening to people talk, suggests that Orren tofyofs are — or can be — taken far more lightly than those of other species. They may be regarded far more as medium-term prostitutes than the quasi-marriage that tofyofs of other species enjoy. (The rights of Orren tofyofs are the same, but the duration of the tofitude is one year rather than seven, and thus the costs of early divorce are far less.) It was impossible to tell which of these seventeen are people who particularly enjoy Orren, and which are people who wanted some extra-marital attention but wanted to keep the costs and potential difficulties under control and were willing to accept an Orren in that role.

Twenty of the hundred tofitudes sampled were renewals. This suggests that, though tofitudes are intended as short-term matters, a significant number of them result in long-term relationships. (Anecdotal evidence confirms this: we met one Rassimel tofyof who entered tofitude in her adolescence, and has renewed it nineteen times, though she and her keeper are quite old and decrepit.)

On the Social Status of Keepers

The civic style of Hanija seem to change every two decades or so. Currently, tofyofs are in-style. Anyone respectable who can afford to keep one, does so. More precisely, a crude attempt at a statistical sample of forty high-ranked adults found that thirty-one of them had tofyofs, for a total of thirty-four tofyofs. Two decades ago, the number would have been more like ten or twelve.

An even less reliable attempt at statistics suggests that a gap of approximately two or three ranks (out of the seven that Hanija recongizes) between keeper and tofyof is preferred. Larger and smaller gaps are certainly known: indeed, last decade, an unmarried child of the royal family was a tofyof to a mere but married guildmaster two ranks below him, as that was the only way to consummate their love legally. This situation was considered quite romantic, but fairly foolish. The royal’s rank was restored upon their automatic divorce.

Towards an Ethical Understanding of Tofitude

Our impression is that tofitude does not so much encourage or legitimize as regulate. The relationships that it governs are common in all places — powerful and high-ranked people, by a variety of means, command the sexual attention of weaker and lower-ranked people, of whatever prime species. The tofyof laws do not say that this is a good thing. They seek to minimize the damage that it inspires — in effect protecting the tofyof against the keeper and the keeper’s spouses.

With this understanding, we consider the tofyof laws to be good laws. However, we would not, ourselves, choose to be tofyofs. We can, at least, understand how someone else might choose that — under the pressure of penury, or under the pressure of passion. And, if we were somehow required by whatever pressures to be concubines, we would prefer to do so under the formal laws and protections of Hanija, rather than the informal customs and scant protections of (let us say) Barency.

We hired a dignified Rassimel man named either Kupozo or Kuhozo (I never figured it out), who wears a truly impressive corded orange frock and more ribbons than I could count in my whole life — or at least, more than I could attach to my body — and whose every action and movement bespeaks the gravest dignity and forethought. I am sure we are paying sixty lozens for the frock alone, with another forty lozen surcharge for the ribbons. Hopefully he will be worth it.

Kupozo: “It is unusual, to say the least, for foreigners to engage a solicitor immediately upon their arrival in Hanija. One might be moved to wonder if you have illegal — or potentially-illegal — activities to engage in.”

Me: “I don’t think so. Some of us are interested in the theoreticial ramifications and intricatices of the tofyof laws…”

Phaniet: “And some of us are interested in the most practical applications!”

Me: “And, since we have managed to get quite severely misinformed about them …”

Grinwipey: “We want what is red and blue!”

Me: “What?”

Lithia: “We want what is true, he means. Not that I’m worried about it myself. I’m already married”

Kuhozo: “For a truly remarkable fee — explicable only if one considers my costume — I will be glad to explain matters to you and offer both theoretical and practical advice. And as a necessary codicil to that agreement, I note that our conversations are considered evidence.”

The Crucial Question

Invincible Fire Demon: “The crucial question is, can a tofyof be a different prime species from the keeper?”

Kupozo: “Indeed, certainly. How could one imagine otherwise?”

Vind: “And can a tofyof be the same prime species as the keeper?”

Kuhozo: “Certainly, indeed. How could one imagine otherwise?”

Hrone: “Which is more common?”

Kupozo: “I should have to say that same-species tofyofs are far and away more common.”

Alzagond: “Is there any punishment or treatment for keepers with different-species tofyofs?”

Kuhozo: “No more than for any other legally-permissible activity.”

Alzagond: “Does this not shred the moral fiber of your city-state, rendering it as repugnant as a pool of rotting eel entrails left in the heat of the hot-Surprise day?”

Kupozo: “Ahem. It does not. People are going to take adulterous lovers, concubines, other-species lovers, same-sex lovers, lower-class lovers, foreign lovers, non-prime lovers, less-than-adult lovers, nonsentient lovers, conjured-elemental lovers, and all manner of such things in any case. No amount of law or custom could prevent that. The tofyof laws single out those cases which are not utterly horrid, and regulate them so that the weak and innocent are not harmed. The utterly horrid cases — adulterous, non-prime, less-than-adult, and so on — are of course altogether illegal. The rest, perhaps regrettable and perhaps merely inevitable, are made safe for all concerned. And what, after all, is the purpose of law, except to keep people safe?”

Alzagond: “I would hope it was to keep people decent as well. I suppose I would not say that someone who has fallen into transaffection is safe — that is a terrible spiritual injury!”

Me: “No, it’s not. Healoc Spiridor, and Healoc Mentador for that matter, do nothing at all to transaffection. Decency doesn’t exist.”

Alzagond: “Decency exists! You have simply never encountered it in your lifetime!”

Me: “Decency is like language, say: it’s not a substance that any form of magic can detect or manipulate.” (Which is only approximately true, even for language. I don’t know much about the magical treatment of decency; there is little theory and less practice.)

Kuhozo: “Decency is a legal concept in Hanija, and one that is not casually defied. The tofyof laws are entirely decent.”

Invincible Fire Demon: “So, what are the basic tofyof laws?”

Kupozo: “I now present a two-thirds-of-an-hour lecture upon that matter!”

Students: “We take careful notes!”

Practical Tofitude

Phaniet: “Suppose I would like to formalize my relationship with Este — the Rassimel man who was here at the beginning of the session but seems to have wandered off — under Hanijan law. What would I do?”

Kuhozo: “Well, for you, it will be difficult.”

Phaniet: “What, because I am foreign?”

Kupozo: “Because you are Cani. All of your spouses must also take him as their tofyof as well. This is difficult to arrange in most cases, and quite expensive. I have only twice helped a Cani family take a tofyof.”

Phaniet: “Well, I am not married.”

Kuhozo: “What? Not married, a Cani, at your age?”

Phaniet: “Precisely.”

Kupozo: “That introduces another set of difficulties! The laws concerning tofyofs generally require that the keeper be married according to the usual customs of her species.” He held up a hand to shush Phaniet, which somehow actually worked. “Extra legalities must be observed, exceptions which are routinely made must be made. Formalities only; they are never denied. Less of a formality: is this Este willing to endure the morganaticity, and accept a lower social status than you for the duration of his tofitude?”

Phaniet: “He does already, I think. I’m one of the captain’s closest advisors and friends, and he’s just a handyman and carpenter.”

Me: “A good carpenter!”

Phaniet: “A good carpenter, and the love of my life. And even in Vheshrame, a full step lower in social status than me.”

Kuhozo: “Allow me to instruct you in the rights he will have, and your responsibilities to him.” And a third of an hour later, he concluded with “Are you prepared for all of that?”

Phaniet: “I can’t insult him more than three times in one day? Or he can sue me?”

Kupozo: “I’m afraid that is the case.”

Phaniet: “I’ll have to watch my tongue then! Still, I get to inflict corporal punishment if he violates his tofyoffy duties?”

Kuhozo: “No. The court may inflict corporal punishment. It is an administrative manner, not an actual court case, but it has to be done properly. You cannot so much as box his ears, as you would an ordinary servant.”

Phaniet: “I suppose that will have to do!”

Me: “Do you actually swat him at all?”

Phaniet: “You do not need to know the full details of our soon-to-be-marriage bed!”

Me: “I am going to go hide in the fireplace for a while now.”

And so it is that Phaniet and Este are going to get married. Well, not married exactly, but Este will become Phaniet’s full and legal concubine, which is the closest any of us have come to that.

I am writing this while sitting in a fireplace in the dining hall. From under the table I can see the legs and tail of Yerenthax and Jyondre, as they debate which of them will be the tofyof of the other.

An explanatory, apologetical essay by Vind, Alzagond, Hrone, and Invincible Fire Demon.

The authors of this essay recently engaged on a detailed socio-prosodical study of the ‘tofyof’ phenomenon in Hanija, from the vantage point of the great university in Barency. Some conclusions were reached that seemed remarkable — seemed to say important, if not crucial, things about all primes everywhere! The conclusions, while not precisely endorsed by Prof. Mump, were strongly supported by him, the methods verified in detail, and the study urged to continue.

However, upon arrival in Hanija, it was determined to be utterly wrong.

In this essay, we explain what went wrong.

The single most terrible mistake was that we did not understand the true significance of the word ‘tofyof’. Hanijan language is not quite the same as standard Ketherian. The Translating Dictionary of Gi-Shozempi the Great translates ‘tofyof’ as “registered concubine, in the special sense of Hanija”. We followed Prof. Mump and our predecessor students, who decoded this “special sense” to mean “other-species”. The decoding was based on many love-poems written to a tofyof, in which the tofyof is clearly of a different species than the writer.

There is nothing wrong with these love-poems. They are, in fact, an utterly commonplace instance of tofitude, and a quite standard piece of the poetic life of tofyof-keepers. However, they miss the point altogether, and substitute for it an utterly divergent point that, while true, is not the essense.

The true nature of tofitude will be discussed in a later essay. For the moment, the question is — how could we make this error?

Upon thinking about it at some length, the question should be — how could we do otherwise than make a thousand such errors? For the following reasons!

1. We are reading about Hanija — or a thousand other distant places — from books. In our favor, the books are actual books from the region of Hanija, or translations thereof. In this regard, socio-prosody exceeds in accuracy other disciplines, such as socio-geography, which credulously accept the most sensational traveller’s report or often-repeated story as data for statistical understanding. However, if we do not understand the books, what kind of good research can be done?
2. Hanijan often uses unitary pronouns, which do not reveal the species of the person in question. In Ketherian, one will often write “re loves rer”, to say that one Rassimel loves another. In Hanijan, one may well write “pe1 loves pe2″, (translated as “the former one loves the latter one”), using the general pronouns that can refer to any primes. In Ketherian, this would often be deliberate coyness, concealing the species of the lovers, and therefore hinting at an improper conjunction of species. In Hanijan, it has no such connotations; the ‘pe’ pronouns for primes are simply more commonly used.
3. Our books and poems are generally translated by graduate students, who are not proficient in Hanijan. This introduces certain inaccuracies. We showed our sources to native speakers. A poet describes his lover as “shingzung”, which we translate as “hooklike” and find quite enigmatic. In fact, “shingzung” means “mint-scented”, quite reasonable as she is garlanded with herbs. “Shing-zung” means “hooklike”.
4. We have many primary sources from the Hanijan region. Some significant number of these are from countries which are opposed to Hanija, or by people who are personal enemies of that city-state. Some of the most definitive information about the prevelence of transaffection in Hanija comes from polemicists who are trying to make Hanija appear as wicked and disgusting as possible. This cannot make the basis of good statistics.

5. Poetry does not provide a good statistical sample of a civilization. In our corpus of 618 poems, 38 are from a single collection, “Love Song Ding Dong”, by a single poet, written over the course of some three months, to the same tofyof. They are regarded in Hanija as exceptional poetry — but they put an unduly heavy statistical weight on one Rassimel-Orren pairing. Another 202 poems are from a compendium of love poetry to tofyofs (produced as a possible gift from a keeper’s spouse to the keeper on the occasion of getting a tofyof), which severely distorted our conclusions about romantic devotion.

   We did not realize this at first. When we analyze the poems, they are written (in translation) on large cards, and shuffled and put into piles. Several of us never even saw the original books.

6. The translation process introduces other flaws. Three poems in our corpus are, in fact, the same poem, from three different collections, translated in substantially different ways; we did not realize this until quite recently. Seven other poems were duplicated.

After a mere weeks in Hanija, we understand that remote studies are all but useless. We propose a new discipline, socio-vacationing, in which researchers visit remote sites, accumulate data there, and perform statistical analyses to understand and interpret their information. It will incorporate the methods of socio-prosody, but with greater accuracy, as the poetry will be collected with important, crucial contextual information. We expect this new discipline to give the perfect understanding of distant places that socio-prosody was thought to do.

Extra post, and extra-long post, in thanks for extra donations!

I acquired invitations for certain students to visit with some actual Hanijans who had some actual tofyofs. The students:

1. Vind: a graduate student, out to prove that, under certain social pressures (such as those present in Hanija), transaffection can be induced in most primes.
2. Alzagonde: another graduate student, on the prowl for means to prevent transaffection.
3. Invincible Fire Demon: a junior student out for adventure.
4. Prince Rastomil: a prince, a student, a doom magnet.
5. Jyondre: not technically a student, but interested. Yerenthax begged off for some reason.

The natives:

1. Heni: A Rassimel woman, the eldest daughter of the head of the local Healer’s Guild chapter (which is how I caused this encounter to encount)
2. Zu-Sum: Heni’s wife.
3. Atuta: Heni’s tofyof.
4. Jong: Zu-Sum’s tofyof.

I first tried to have Heni’s family visit Strayway, but they would not hear of it. Heni is newly pregnant, and does not want to come into the presence of nendrai, Locador demons, foreign wizards, imposing Tempador spells, three-headed antelopes made of green glass and green copper and green emerald, or whatever else.

I tried as second to have Heni’s family meet the natives in their home. This was quietly but politely refused. A quiet chat with Zu-Sum revealed that the home was quite small — Hanijan homes often are — and quite crowded with bassinets, comforters, baskets full of diapers, soft blankets, stuffed guntries (the cloth kind), giant turnips, jugs of babywine, and all the assorted paraphernalia of impending parentry. Besides, inviting someone to one’s home is quite offensive; proper entertaining is done in an entertainment-hall. (I apologized for my initial invitation to Strayway; the apology was graciously accepted.)

So: Khi-Dini Entertainment Hall. An old and tall building, grown over with ivy and flowering myrtle. The central courtyard is a lovingly-groomed garden, centered on a pair of fountains in a precisely-irregular pond stocked with glowing golden eels. Aromatic pines and kethlef trees bent their heads over the pool, shadowing it so that the light of the eels was all the more visible. Planters around the walls poured forth still showers of winter-blooming flowers. The room that Heni had chosen had a large but screened window to the courtyard: easy to see out of, hard to see in. I presume that all the other rooms of Khi-Dini were similarly equipped.

Inside the room itself: eight huge embroidered cushions, big enough for a Rassimel to sprawl full-length if desired. Scrolls on the walls showing elegant roundletter calligraphy. (If anyone could read it, they must be quite educated, or perhaps the schools in Hanija teach it; that is the first sub-alphabet invented on the World Tree. I don’t know it myself.) A table against the wall, with a meal pre-arranged so that the entertainment could proceed uninterrupted. It was centered on a samovar of a thin aromatic broth. One could fill a bowl with fur-thin shrimp noodles, slivered herbs, slivered carrots, slivered frozen beef, slivered garlic, slivered anythings at all, and then pour boiling broth over it. And then — if one were feeling ovivorous — one could crack an egg into it, thereby cooling the broth and cooking the egg. (If one were feeling small and heat-resistant, one could skip this step.). Also, there were small spicy pancakes, and sweet dumplings, and tiny but very boring cookies, and sparkling wine, and bitter tea.

And, of course, social disasters.

Heni and her entourage were waiting in the room at noon when the students got there. This might have been politeness, or practicality, or because the students got a bit lost in the unfamiliar streets of Hanija. The Hanijans curtsied to the students, and offered them mango-berries and wine in greeting.

Prince Rastomil, highest-ranking of the Strayway contingent, performed the introductions on their side. He offered gifts of paper and perfume, as books of Hanijan etiquette suggested, and was in all ways polite and genteel, as if he had been trained in it from birth, which he had. Jyondre did not in the slightest discredit us, and Alzagonde and Invincible Fire Demon did their best to be charming and socially appropriate.

Vind all but burst into tears at the sight of Atuta. “You … you are Heni’s tofyof?”

Atuta smiled quite gently. “I do have that honor, respected foreign gentleman!”

Vind wailed, “But you — you are Rassimel!”

Atuta smiled quite gently. “I have that honor as well, respected foreign gentleman. As do you, if these unworthy eyes are correct.”

Vind moaned, “But … if you are someone’s tofyof, may you be the same species as the someone?”

Atuta nodded, “That is our custom, respected foreign gentleman. Is it different in the honored cities from which you come?”

Vind threw himself to the floor and wailed, “My thesis! My impressive, branch-shaking thesis!”

Invincible Fire Demon took Vind to the side, and administered sparkling wine and soft words until he was calmer. Jyondre attempted diplomacy, saying, “We were under the impression that a tofyof was a different-species lover, such as, if I am not mistaken, Jong is.”

Heni said, “No, no, I’m sure there’s nothing about species in the tofyof laws. Certainly they can be any species! Atuta is a proper and completely legal tofyof. So is Jong! We have been careful — we do everything nicely with the laws and the customs of Hanija. There is nothing wrong!”

Prince Rastomil curled his tail. “Oh, don’t give it a second thought! Of course there is nothing wrong — we are hardly trying to find a wrong thing here! We are students taking courses in the study of transaffection, of the love between different species. We had simply understood that that is what the word “tofyof” meant. Poor Vind had done a great deal of research based on the meaning we had, evidently, gotten quite wrong.”

Jong curtsied to Zu-Sum. “May I explain to the noble foreign prince?” Zu-Sum gave her assent with a quick smile. Jong said, “It is an honor and a privelege to be a tofyof to a good woman such as Zu-Sum or Heni. But not all tofyof-keepers are as kind and good as they are, and in more barbaric ages, they sometimes were not. So there are many laws about what can be done or cannot be done to a tofyof. I can be beaten for infidelity, but not for disobedience — I am tofyof, not a servant! I must be given gifts and monies on a specified rate for my future, and they must be placed in accounts which Zu-Sum has no commanding over. I can be divorced without my consent, as Heni cannot be, but if I am divorced I must be given certain payments as compensation. At the end of seven years I may divorce Zu-Sum if I wish…”

Zu-Sum petted Jong’s head fondly. “Actually, the divorce is automatic unless you choose to renew your tofitude. This is her second year with me, so it is too soon to think about that.”

Jong wagged her tail. “And that is what it means to be a tofyof in Hanija.”

Invincible Fire Demon curtsied. “Just to check that I understand: being a tofyof is somewhat like being a spouse? It is a relationship of love — spiritual and physical?”

Vind moaned, “Marriage is not about love in Hanija!”

Zu-Sum dipped her head. “I do not wish to disagree with the honored and learned foreign visitor, but marriage can be about love, even in Hanija. I love Hani, respectfully for any argument.”

“Do you at least love Jong too?” asked Vind in an ashen voice.

“Of course I do; she is quite a dear,” said Zu-Sum. (Back at home, these words were greatly debated. Does Zu-Sum love her tofyof the same way she loves her wife? Perhaps both are romantic love, but the different phrasing comes from the different status of the two women? Perhaps she loves her wife romantically, and her tofyof as a pleasing concubine? We are not sure, and we are not sure if we are even allowed to pose the question.)

“And, honored and learned foreign visitors, do not think that I love Atuta any less! My recent increase could hardly have been accomplished with simply my wife’s help alone — nor with the help of any Cani, no matter how beautiful and kind,” added Heni, patting her barely-swelling belly.

“Well, that sort of assistance is not unknown to us, though our customs of marriage and transaffection are rather different from yours, O honored and high-ranking Hanijans!” said Jyondre, and told about how Este has helped certain Rassimel women have children.

“But he was not their tofyof?” asked Heni. “In Hanija, only a husband or a male same-species tofyof should sire children upon one. Without that, they are adulterous and not legitimate.”

“Well, we don’t have all those options, since there’s nothing like a tofyof in central Ketheria. The children are not legitimate. We love them nonetheless!”

And the conversation moved to discuss the love, virtues, and care of (a) children, and (b) soup. The soup was quite good. The children most thoroughly in mind might be good too, but they have not been born yet, so it’s hard to tell.

Poor Vind tried his best to be good as well, but it is hard to be good when your grand thesis has just fallen to bits.

Bonus post, and many thanks to two people who made donations! Those donations, by the way, are going towards cover art and other production costs of The Wrath of Trees, coming soon to a website near you!

Beating up the Nendrai

And first of all, I got into a horrible fight with Vae. I simply said to all concerned that I was staying aboard with Vae for the first night, but they could go examine every fleshpot and/or tofyoferie — are there tofyoferies? We have never heard of them in our primary sources — and revel as much as they wanted.

And Vae rather snapped at me. “Sythyry! Not a bit of me is here for the purpose of keeping you from the bars and brothels of Hanija! The revelry and pleasures of the city are for you, they are for you now! The going-to-them you must make, and make quickly and instantly!”

“I’m not in that much of a hurry, Vae,” I said. “I’ll stay here with you.”

“Not that will you be doing! The terrible weapons will I unleash if you try! The bears made of ice from beyond space will I construct to give you your chasing to the gates of Hanija! The vast gap will I make where you fly, so that you shall fall towards that city! The roaring-out will I roar, so that there is neither rest nor peace for aboard Strayway, but only peace inside of city walls away from me!” proclaimed Vae, looking rather monsterous with her head all burning with putrid flames, and a hundred writhing quills on her back stabbing this way and that.

“Wait, what? You’re going to battle me out of my own skyboat, Vae?” I asked. She sounded serious.

“The battling-out will I make for you! The tomorrow will I let you back in, only, and for that at noontime unless there is a hangover upon you.”

I stared at her. “Vae? What is wrong? What do you need the skyboat for tonight?”

She stomped, scoring the floorboards deep with her foreclaws like scimitars. “The wrong it is that I entangle and encumber and interfere with your joys, simply because I am a monster and I am every sort of horrible. The wrong it is that, when we come to a new city, you must play nursemaid to a nendrai made of tears, and not see it and experience it. The wrong it is that I am a thick and sticky web entangling your wings in moping, you who should fly free and with delight!”

“Vae, you are my oldest friend. Taking care of you and giving you a bit of company is both my pleasure and my duty.” And on and on like that, and not entirely false though definitely not the emphasis I put on it in my secret thoughts. (And by “secret” I mean “I don’t talk about them”. I do write about them.)

Vae was having none of it. “And what sort of a friend am I, to keep you from every bit of fun this year, as I have this last century and more?”

“You’ve missed one or two bits here and there. Like, oh, Mynthë, and even Inconnu and Arfaen lately. And, well, quite a bit else. And you haven’t even been the most annoying person to me lately — Zascalle was that!” I said. And on and on like that.

Eventually Phaniet hit me with a sofa cushion. “Sythyry, c’mon with us, already? Make sure you’re wearing scrying emblems so Vae can watch.”

“The acceptable proposal is this to me! Not so acceptable are any of the other alternatives!” proclaimed Vae.

Very well. I’ll take on a nendrai any day, but not if my assistant is allied with her.

Hanijan Fleshpots and Brothels

Inconnu: “Guth-ha, sweet Guth-ha our hired tour guide, Guth-ha who knows all things about Hanija — where are the fleshpots, where are the bordellos, where may an appealing foreign Orren enjoy the embraces of native Rassimel, Herethroy, and Cani?”

Guth-ha: “There’s no such place like that, Sir Foreign. Hanija is always a very well-behaved city, very proper is here, sure. I can take you art show, nudes in the picture. Drinking, sometimes a bad thing might happen, when everyone all drunk, that would be you and your friends being together.”

Inconnu: “I have already had every one of my friends, except the Orren of course.”

Guth-Ha: “That is not how it is talked in public, Sir Foreign. Any of that happens in Hanija Mene, never say so, it is a very bad behavion and should not be said out loud. Just the married and the tofyof, that is all that is inside of the law. Very well and strict, is Hanija.”

Inconnu bravely pouted for a third of an hour.

Architecture

It never rains in Hanija.

There is plenty of water. The wall is a tremendous bubble over the city, and there are a thousand canals that take the place of city streets. But it never rains.

This has done some very strange things to the city’s architecture. Houses are fairly small, even by city standards. I have not the slightest idea why they are, by preference, three stories hall and cylindrical, and barely big enough for one room on each floor (with external stairs), and topped by a tall mast.

I do know why each house consists of three, four, five, or six cylinders, spaced more or less evenly around an open courtyard of grass, flowers, vegetable gardens, boardwalks, fountains, ponds, and what have you. (In the poorer regions of the city, the courtyard is likely to be scruffy grass, with maybe a few cheap flower beds and vegetable gardens. In the richer — any sort of thing.) This is because the courtyard is the most important room in the house. It is parlor, dining hall, room of games, meeting-room — any thing which might need any but the smallest room is done outdoors. For privacy, they draw tapestried curtains from house-tower to house-tower, and only a flier could see in. (I didn’t peek.)

Such an eventless voyage! I am afraid I shall be quite spoiled by it. Perhaps flying to and for about the uppermost branches, entirely in areas that were conquered and colonized and civilized before my parents were born, is somehow safer than zooming up and down the Verticals of the main trunk, or blipping off to horrible heavens.

Still: Hanija Mene. One of the largest of city-states: a segment of branch that must measure well over a hundred miles from end to end. The city of Hanija proper is vast and mighty, no less so than my home of Vheshrame. As with Vheshrame at its peak, Hanija exerts a great influence for several cities around. If the Duke of Hanija waves his hand, a tide comes upon Lizu or Jojutang — and those are mighty city-states in their own right.

Hanija Mene probably has less land than Vheshrame. It has, I think, more surface area — but a great part of that is water. Where we have several rivers weaving and criss-crossing their way across our mene, Hanija has a string of big lakes. They actually have occasional trouble with water-monsters … and they have plenty of Orren.

We shall see what the combination of ‘plenty of Orren’ and ‘socially acceptable transaffection’ do together.

Oh, let’s see. The city walls of Hanija are of water: a vast bubble-shell over the city. It must be over a mile tall at the center, and at least four in diameter. It throws off rainbows when Flokin lights the sun, which is well worth seeing from above now and then. It also has some quite substantial spells upon it. If Vae were to try to come in, the wall would become a hoard of vicious fangy spiky ice-monsters and do its best to kill her. The wall-builders clearly preferred quantity over finesse, though; I must rank the Hanijan walls inferior to those of Vheshrame, or even of, oh, Barency. Far stronger than Eigrach’s or Dossimar’s. Not, I hope, that we ever need to worry about the details.

It also blocks off all rain coming to the city — most wall-builders prefer not to be quite so determined about blocking everything. So the city is between two lakes, and a thousand canals cut through it. I imagine they’ve got some sort of internal irrigation system; I can see plentiful trees and gardens through the water.

Entry to Hanija

We had, of course, sent letters to the Ministry of Externalities in Hanija, warning them that we were coming, with our load of students, nendrai, perverts, demons, angels, and wizards. They seemed singularly undisturbed by the prospect. This is somewhat understandable, for, some fifteen years ago, they disposed of a prior great monster — a scyanturge — without great difficulty. Perhaps they do not know that Vae is a very recent sort of nendrai; perhaps they are simply confident.

Hanija is the home to two wizards. Wingsa is a Zi Ri, some fourteen hundred years old. Zie, like me, is descended from Glikkonen, and is third-or-fourth generation depending on which way ’round you go. We don’t have any other ancestors in common. Zie is a rather conventional sort of lizard, from all I hear; zie has scales (green with yellow highlights) but no feathers. Zie is a rather conventional sort of wizard as well, specializing in spellcasting, with a distinct expertise in Corpador and Herbador.

Yiseth-Epu is the unusual one. She’s a Herethroy, some three hundred years old. She is a water-wizard: the mistress of water in all its forms and variations. She made the current city walls, I presume, so she must do enchantments. She is known for spellwork — enough spellwork to conquer a scyanturge, which is no small feat. She has turned world-leaves into clouds with ritual spells, which is also no small feat, and I believe the one that got her the title of wizard (since she invented the ritual spell).

This could hardly be better, at least as far as avoiding the troubles I had in Eigrach goes. Two wizards already, both rather my elders, so the city won’t be sneakily trying to acquire me. Neither wizard is particularly a specialist in my specialties, though, so I won’t be particularly competing with them. And both of them are quite busy with their own projects, according to various mutual acquaintances — inventing spells, for Wingsa, and water-sculpting for Yiseth-Epu — so I will not be interfering.

Professor Mump did his part in the arrangements too. He wrote to his colleagues at the High Academy of Hanija, giving his students certain contacts and assistances that may prove helpful to them. Or may prove devastating, for all I know. I had rather hoped that there would be a Department of Applied Transaffection there — and one of Theoretical Transaffection, where I could harden up my still-squidgy mental concepts of the matter — but no, there is no such thing. They do not actually have academic departments. Instead they have eminent professors, who study and teach whatever they feel like. Some of them are studying and teaching about prime behavior at the moment. One of them was a mathematician last year. One must wonder how good an education the High Academy produces.

Anyhow! A dozen of my passengers and a dozen of my crew have already made their way into Hanija. So has hCevian, despite all our best advice. As often when we arrive at a city that we will stay at for some while, I am staying outside, with Vae. She is constructing a letter to Oixe and their unhatched child out of nut-shells, twine, and spacewarps. I spent a while on important local correspondence (trying to arrange some meetings from my students), and now I am writing my journal. This will suffice for the day. I can be patient for the sake of my friend.

There is a special look of panic that crosses a headwaiter’s face when he first sees that a Zi Ri is flying unannounced into his restaurant, intent on dining or other unimaginable acts of ancient, archaic wizardry. I haven’t inspired that panic all that often lately. In Eigrach, we mostly made reservations in advance. Barency is used to Zi Ri; several of us live there. The Chef of Great, regarded by one out of five tourbooks as the Best Up-and-Coming Restaurant in Torwosis, only opened two years ago, and there are no Zi Ri living in Torwosis, so I was probably their first Zi Ri customer ever.

This panic is thoroughly understandable. Everything about us is troublesome. We cannot sit in the chairs that the populous species use. Sometimes we can sit on the backs of chairs, or on the tops of couches — but that looks improvised and haphazard, which is not the atmosphere that a fine restaurant wishes to convey. Sometimes we must sit on the table, which is an extra trouble: not only does the restaurant look utterly unprepared, it takes up extra space on the table and imperils the meals of other diners. Or we can just levitate, which makes the restaurant look even worse (a diner who must expend zir own magic for zir comfort at table!) and emphasizes to everyone just what sort of person is being ill-served.

Dually, we do not eat very much, as we are small people. Generally I try to be polite and order a full-sized meal anyhow, thus paying as large a bill as anyone else. Still, one may understand that a typical waiter does not know this, and expects to undergo substantial trouble for a very small tab.

Anyhow, a considerably flustered waiter sat me on the corner of a table, with Arfaen on one side and Phaniet on the other.

I proclaimed, “Ah, Yistreia! How could one truly enjoy mice, if it were not for your adventures in cuisine! O waiter, do you have mice today?”

The waiter wagged her tail. “Indeed we do, O Zi Ri, for service to those who wish to eat the traditional food of our region. But we are a very cosmopolitan restaurant, a panoply of delicacies of many nations. Allow me to recommend the Aradrueian goulash, the honeyed beetles in the style of Daukrhame, the awe-inspiring blue curry in the manner of distant, ruined Dossimar!”

Phaniet laughed. “Well, we have recently been in Lenkasia on Aradrueia; we are from Vheshrame next to Daukrhame, and we are the ones who ruined Dossimar.” Somehow, this failed to unfluster the waiter in the slightest. Phaniet and I may have been working at cross-purposes on this point.

I noted, “Not that we tasted any of the cuisine of Dossimar when we were there!”

Arfaen giggled. “Ill-mannered pirates they were! What sort of a lout tries to rape a woman without offering her so much as a single taste of the local delicacies?”

It was at about this point that I realized how much of an adventurer Arfaen has become. I suppose it is inevitable, and perhaps not too terrible. The waiter, however, was even less put at ease by Arfaen’s jest.

After a certain amount of discussion, I ordered a Sequence of Seven Various Mice, with the proviso that Phaniet would eat half of each one. Arfaen ordered Something With Fish, and Phaniet ordered a Grand Cassoulet of Arhoolie and Peppers upon Spicy Sausage. The waiter all but bolted for the kitchen with our orders.

Mouse 1

The first mouse was butterflied, skewered, sprinkled with coarse salt, grilled, stuffed with spinach, and served on a sauce of a light yogurt cream, sprinkled with purple flowers. It was every bit as good as it sounds.

Phaniet said, “Very basic — one really could get something like that anywhere, I think.”

I disputed, “The yogurt in the cream sauce is particularly particular!”

Phaniet wagged her tail. “Perhaps only a quarter of anywhere. It is certainly finely grilled.”

Mouse 2

The second mouse was butterflied, skewered, sprinkled with mustard-dust, and served raw with a chiffonade of arhoolie leaves. “O honored guests,” said the waiter, “Please be careful and take lightly of the arhoolie leaves! They are potent and pungent and powerful! A single bite of them and it will feel as if the top of your head were being prised off by a nycathath, and your brain sprinkled generously with ground quachammog peppers! If this occurs, please do not destroy the restaurant!”

“I thank you considerably for the warning,” I said. I have been eating arhoolie leaves for well over a century. (Actually, they are every bit as bad as she says, and they do not get better with practice.)

Mouse 3

The third mouse was butterflied, skewered, sprinkled with green herbs, grilled over a camphor flame at the table, and doused with melted cheese. Further commentary is unavailable, as, due to the melted cheese, it has to be eaten very quickly. It certainly slid down quite fast.

Mouse 4

The fourth mouse was butterflied, skewered, marinated in sweet brandy, dipped in cumin salt, grilled over a source of radient heat, and wrapped in the leaves of bitter woodmock and hyssop.

Phaniet said, “Oh, that is delicious!”

“It is. Still, may I give either of you the forequarters of my mouse? I am getting rather full,” I said.

Arfaen eliminated the quarter-mouse with a simple yet elegant stab of the skewer.

Mouse 5

The fifth mouse was butterflied, marinated in pepper sauce, wrapped in arhoolie leaves, heavily buttered, dipped in a thick egg batter, and deep-fried, and served with a potent tamarind pepper sauce.

“Oh, dearie. Maybe I’ll have just the head, if that’s OK with you, Phaniet?”

Mouse 6

The sixth mouse was butterflied, marinated in vinegar, skewered on cinnamon sticks, and simmered for hours in a light mushroom broth.

“That’s pleasantly light after that egg-battered mouse!” I managed to engulf nearly a third of it. It was fortunate that I was not levitating or perched on the back of a chair, for I was nearly spherical with mouse by then.

Mouse 7

The seventh mouse was butterflied, skewered, battered, deep-fried, chopped into little bits, and served in a thick honey sauce.

I ate one little bit and fell into a stark coma, in which dreams of skewered mice tormented me with dramatic recitals of the menus of all the restaurants I had ever eaten at. (Or, at least, pushed the plate over to Phaniet and Arfaen, and acted generally drowsy and overfed for the rest of the meal.)