Winter 2007 8

Helmine had begun rummaging through her many pockets after giving Nico and her question a long, long look and a smirk. Eventually she found a molten metal bar and nudged Nico with it. Nothing, predictably, happened, and the half-elf remained quiet and still. She watched and listened.

The metal bar, on the other hand, was reddish, but irreversibly... kaboomed.

Nico had just been looking over her shoulder at the pair of dark-haired beanstalks, but the nudge did get her attention.

After a look at the interesting molten and ripped shape, she asked, "Is it supposed to look like that?"

"Once some poor idiot tries to use it and blows himself up by chance, yes," Helmine said in a slightly ironic tone.

"If that is able to blow up again, please don't show it to Ice," Weft said, eyeing both the molten thing and Helmine with increased wariness.

And yes, he said "ice" in Wessian instead of "Suitov".

Looking outside at the snow, and some short icicles growing on the edge of the roof in the shadow, where melting water dripped and froze again, Nico commented, "Yes, would be a shame to melt all that."

Daaren considered what Suitov had said, and came to no conclusion. "How?"

"If you are with someone who complains all the time," Suitov said, "you may enjoy yourself less. Or the other way around. If your companion is enthusiastic it may infect you."

Weft blinked, derailed.

"Yes it would. I am sure there are ethics prohibiting that manner of thing," Helmine said deadpan to Nico.

It puzzled her for a moment. Then, "Well, sudden snowmelts cause floodings, though I don't know where water'd go from here, exactly."

She did not notice the long look Daaren pointed at her, having her back turned to him. With a shorter look at Suitov he said, "She hasn't complained about complaining yet." Applying both sides of what Suitov had said to himself and Nico respectively rather amused him, even if it would have been an overstatement.

"Right. And I can't stand all that slushy stuff." Weft blinked once or twice more. This time out of mirth, having worked out the joke. (For once he wasn't the last to get it. Would wonders never, etc etc.)

"I'm frequently complained at for enthusiasm," Suitov admitted dryly.

Daaren shrugged. There were worse things.


"Yah, snow's only nice when, er, nice."

"That reminds me," Suitov said, "that I was going to tell Weft something. 'Twineball?'"

"This particular snow's definitely not so pure," Weft told Nico in deadpan Wessian. "What?" he said in Suitov's general direction.

"If you think our friend would be interested, would you extend my offer to teach her some military terms? Whenever convenient, of course. Unsurprisingly, that is where the language is changing and growing most quickly, and it may help her in seeking employment."

"Uh, right." Weft glanced at Helmine, looking sly, or possibly embarrassed, and running a hand through his hair. "Iceheart says if you want sometime he'll teach you some soldier jargon, because the idiots in charge keep making up new words."

"Yeah, we do," Helmine said without missing a beat, looking at Weft blankly. She looked at Suitov. "Thank you. That would be very useful."

"If I advise you to tell him to stick his army if he tries recruiting you, you'll do the opposite, right?" Weft said.

Suitov guessed at Helmine's meaning. He had to, because the monk hadn't bothered, or perhaps hadn't thought, to translate back. Out of irritation the mage tried reading Weft's thoughts, meeting nothing but the usual failure and acute discomfort.

"No. You see, I have yet to hear any proper reasons from you," Helmine said, as if talking to a child. "Once you provide some that make sense and are logical, we can say that I will consider your advice."

"I work closely with him," Weft said hopefully.

"Oh, so it is because you do not like me then?" Helmine said in a bored tone. She just felt like toying with Weft to be honest.

"No! I mean, it's just... logic's not really my strong point. Ice is a bit ruthless, he's got all these stupid principles and he works with some really distasteful types."

Helmine crossed her arms. Something inside her coat made a sound like chink. "Yes? Keep on talking."

"Oh yes. He's always talking with all these -- well, chest-beating savages, honestly. They probably eat babies for all I know. And on top of that he's always 'don't torch this', 'don't kill unarmed thats'..." Weft rolled his eyes. "Pathetic really. See, he really thinks he can be a good guy, and all the time he's a treacherous lobster by nature, just like most of that Shaded lot. If you'll pardon my opinion, he can't possibly keep it up. Something's going to give."

"Wait, what? You think he's bad because he isn't as bad as you think he should be?" Trying to follow that logic obviously gave Nico headaches.