Inn forty-five

Helmine smiled genuinely for the first time when she heard dry amusement, no matter if she didn't understand the words. "I see. My thanks, but what about payment?" she asked, looking at Suitov analytically. A part of her decided that, had she more time, she might have even been interested in him.

"Whatever would be appropriate where you live. If funds are a problem we can probably open a tab, and I hope the manager I've hired will arrive shortly--"

There was a tirade of hooting exclamations from outside, incomprehensible to both humanoids.

"That isn't her," Suitov added. "Excuse me. Or, by the sound of things, perhaps you'll want to see this." He rose and looked out of the door, leaving space for Helmine if she chose to exercise her curiosity. Basaltine stuck his head and forefeet out of an open window.

There was a short, somewhat round gentleman marching along the planked road outside, hitting at anyone who came near (including a confused dragon, which was just leaving) with a very shiny walking stick. The figure wore a monocle, a top hat and what resembled an academic robe, coloured bright yellow and green. He had a keratinous beak and was using it to shout a lot.

"Hmmm," Suitov vocalised. The sentiment required no translation. He was amused.

She did, indeed, follow, and froze almost immediately when looking outside. A dragon. She had only heard of those things before. They were... supposed to be myth. Riiight? Then... then the... shouting man-thing.

"Hrm," replied Helmine. She was confused.

Basaltine spoke on his own. "The dude's saying: I will not stand for this. Won't stand it, do you hear me? Get lost, you poxy lizard. Don't you people realise who you're dealing with here? I'm the Minister for Staples and Medium-Term Filing and I demand an explanation for this irregularity."

The little man in the street was glaring about him and not calming down.

The dragon made a sound like a distressed baby unicorn down a mineshaft and left faster, ears tightly folded back and tail curled round to one side.

Helmine snorted. What a typical petty bureaucrat. But then again, Wies had about a thousand different ministries -- just like any sane self-absorbed nation would. "I am most interested in seeing how you deal with bureaucrats, Sweetov."

"Ah, really? If you insist. You may have the next one," Suitov said. Basaltine's paws clattered off the windowsill as the dog withdrew his head.

The berobed figure was hitting at some nasturtiums with his metallic cane.

Basaltine's nose, now at knee height, added "'Scuse me for a minute, got to go be his voice. A dog's work is never done..." The hellhound squirmed past Helmine and took position at Suitov's side with the precision of an obedience school alumnus.

They took a few steps nearer the roadside, then owner and dog barked simultaneously: "Those are audited, you know."

In response, Staples and Medium-Term Filing turned away from the flowers and squared up. At last, somebody in charge. Someone accountable! He approached, gabbling more.

"Oh, you demand, do you? I see." Suitov's entire figure projected a brook-no-nonsense attitude. If he had had a notebook handy, you could imagine him holding it perfectly still. And open.

The civil servant seemed a little confused, probably wondering why the dog kept barking at the same time as the man was speaking. He shouted some more.

By contrast, Suitov had not raised his voice above a sharp speaking tone. Generally when he wanted to arrest attention, he lowered it -- as now. He said, "I can see that that would be a highly intimidating argument inside your jurisdiction. Minister. Why don't you stop trying to wave it around here." The undertones on minister were complex.

The beaked man, verging on oblivious, repeated his question in the manner of one who would keep asking until satisfied.

Iceheart, lacking any especial inspiration, said "Come now, it isn't that hard. You tell me who is behind this irregularity."

Puzzlement. Indignation! Righteous fury! Staples quacked a phrase.

"Oh, think bigger, would you? Where does Sealants and Rubber Bands report?" Suitov was managing to conceal his amusement at the ridiculous situation -- at least from Staples.

The minister took off his hat and threw it to the ground. He'd known it! He'd known it all along! Treachery! Corruption and perfidy! He looked around for lurking clerks, hefting his walking stick.

Helmine grinned at the promise of getting to take care of the next one and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She had to conclude that Suitov's methods of dealing with bureaucrats indeed just backed up the notion that she was in a weird, weird place.

Honestly, she would have possibly done something irreversible.

"--shouldn't take it if I were you. Go and tell the Undersecretary what you think of his methods. Especially the giant lizards. You shouldn't leave those out."

Staples and Medium-Term Filing quacked something that was probably "Indeed I won't!". He began to move off, then returned for his hat. The minister's gait as he set back off along the duckboard was partway between trot and waddle. (Suitov mentally dubbed it a twaddle.)

The mage approached Helmine again. He looked a touch sheepish. "He didn't seem amenable to reason. Such a loss," Suitov said with unconvincing chagrin, and Basaltine relayed.

"They rarely do," Helmine said without a smile, watching after the minister. She was a little confused and more than a bit amused even so. "I am not so sure about the loss. The less bureaucrats in the world..."

"They seem happier among their own kind, yes," Suitov remarked. "That sort of encounter is why many of us don't bother with titles and things while we're here."

"I see. It's just as well that I have none, then," Helmine said and looked from translator to owner, then back and away. "Is there a place where I can warm water for a bath?"

Except for those we earn ourselves, and I have an inkling you will, he didn't add.

"Yes, there is. I'll show you."

"Thank you. You are very hospitable."

If he was honest, Suitov was only playing the host with this much enthusiasm because his current ladyfriend was elsewhere on expeditions perilous. But he certainly wasn't inclined to that degree of frankness.

He responded with a self-effacing civility or two, then made sure Helmine was settled in before giving her some privacy.

Helmine took her time. It had been quite a while since her last hot bath, and it helped her forget how often she had come so close to death during the past two months. It was crazy, but she was still here, washing off dirt and grime. All of her wounds had healed properly or were healing properly with no sign of infection.

It certainly wasn't like the prior campaigns, she thought as she pulled on a cleaner (not clean set of clothes) and elected to leave the breastplate. She then took the liberty to take her things to the room Suitov had told her of and returned back downstairs with the rifle. She just couldn't afford leaving it behind.

In the meantime - in fact, in time to get a short impression of the angry, beaked person, Sylvie returned, carrying a heavily pruned and uprooted shrub. She put it in a hole at the edge of the garden she'd prepared earlier, and after filling the rest loosely with earth again decided that the fine work could wait until later. Dusting off her hands (including wiping some of the more clingy stuff on her trousers) she went to find Suitov.

"Say, what was that angry person about?"

She might have missed spotting Weft altogether, because he was on the roof meditating quietly.

Suitov, when she found him, was reading a children's textbook in Offwhite City's written language, with occasional reference to a dictionary.

"He'd arrived here by accident and was very confused. All in all, I thought it kindest to turn him round and send him homewards." It was certainly a version of the truth.

"Ah. He somehow seemed to have a 'damn children and their damn practical jokes' air about him, which made me curious. I'll get back to work."

Helmine whistled a marching tune that had insisted it was stuck in her head when she spotted both Suitov and this other person. Ah, more... humans? She raised both of her eyebrows as she examined Sylvie. That was certainly exotic, not that Suitov hadn't been, already. "Ahai," he said to them as she approached.

Sylvie stared back. Either her memory was playing tricks on her, or that was a remarkable resemblance. She missed a beat after the presumed greeting before realising she was being rude, at which point she answered, "Hello," and looked at Suitov for an instant, before turning to Helmine again.