Her response would be sent on to linguists to torture however they wished. Experts in other fields or none at all concentrated on the remaining verses, which included a curious claim about verangs. “What was meant by 'inhuman status impossible to read,' if I recall the line correctly?” an audience member asked after the finale.
“Yes, and did I not notice the same thing? All status is legible.”
“Have you not read the articles on fairies and their status?”
“It reads 'Fairy' and nothing else, but nevertheless it reads.”
Confronted by a puzzling circumstance which contradicted the universal understanding, some questioned the understanding while others dismissed the circumstance. Perhaps poetic exaggerations, distortions, and outright falsehoods were also not a recent invention. One wag proposed the true test. “Why, it is possible even to read the status of a Jingen, and not a single person alive comprehends Jingenna!”
Of course it was the presence of Shtaugirs which suggested the idea, but none pressed the joke so far as to request he display his status as proof of the point. He did not wait for anyone to do so. “Yeah? You are right, no one fully grasps Jingenna. It is so full of fine expression. I wonder even if you fully will get what my status is telling you.”
Unlikely to Be a Warm Body
xxxxxxxx
LV 27 or so, and let us say 500/1000
HP 500 approximately
Muscle - Lifting samplers is no hard task
Coordination - Enough for a business owner
Verve - To judge from his phlegmatic temperament, not high
Sticktoitiveness - He has assuredly kept at his craft
Discernment - Certainly his taste is admired
Gumption - Enough to form his own business
Tit-for-Tat - His customers have not complained of a deficiency
Receptivity - There is no telling
Panache - None in evidence
Class Abilities
Unquestionably there are some
General Abilities
Confection Creation (Advanced)
Sampler Creation (Advanced)
Mercantile Fundamentals
Mercantile Sophistication
Doubtless something of the sort was what the typical partygoer read since no one yelped, recoiled, or stood transfixed, no longer aware of anything beyond the letters suspended in the air next to the unprepossessing confectionery salesman and unable to persuade his eyes to blink, his throat to swallow, or his lungs to breathe because he felt swaddled so tightly in the wrappings of terror that any effort to prolong life appeared risible in its futility. That was the guess of Dirant Rikelta who, because he possessed the general ability Class Perception (Divine), saw a slightly different version of Shtaugirs's status.
Omega Despoiler
RK: Exemplar
HP: 34,700
Body Power: H=
Guts Power: I'k
Brain Power: E+u
Mind Power: C!u+x
Willpower: C+u
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“For reasons of safety if there are no, and there are, others, I, an authority in this and everything else compared to you, every human, every fairy, and every last verang, recommend, a term friendlier than many I am entitled to use, that you look away.”
In response to that enigmatic and tangled utterance, Dirant said nothing. He could not. With all his (Receptivity-replaced) Gumption and Verve he roused himself just enough to think, “I desire intensely to do exactly that but discover myself to be incapable of it.” Evidently his unspoken plea fulfilled the requirements of prayer, for straightaway two hands reached out and jerked Dirant's head to face the side, whereupon he regained all his faculties including the one which ran his insides through a printing press to declare a god was among them.
“To you, ceaselessly subtle Holzd, is owed every consideration,” Dirant began a more formal if still silent prayer, but another consideration interrupted despite his recent claim. Then again, much that is owed is not paid.
“Ressi, are you feeling all right?” If any occasion allowed emotional displays to pass without comment, it was a party thrown to celebrate the ascension of a single uncontested fairy queen after a fierce though undignified war in which most present participated, and yet inordinately eccentric behavior might nevertheless cause worry.
Dirant was relieved to find himself able to allay Takki's concerns both honestly and vocally, the latter a condition he had been unable to fulfill only a few seconds earlier. “Ah, these revelations startle me increasingly the more I contemplate them, and I cannot remain impassive.”
“I couldn't agree with you more. It's exciting, isn't it? I know this won't work, but I'll try convincing Wiuyo to sing about Wiuyo.” Takki navigated around the Shtaugirs cluster toward the table where Wiuyo was restringing her guitar (whether out of need or showmanship was unclear), leaving Dirant with fellow guest Holzd the god of complexity to whom Ritualists prayed when they performed their rituals, most of them unknowingly.
The god was dressed for the occasion in that he had passed a purple feather through a buttonhole in his vest. The vest persisted in its outrageous behavior of changing color in the manner of streams running from dye cauldrons in use by overly enthusiastic Colorists, but it was a party after all. Holzd's eyes, like revolving coins yet to be stamped with the likeness of So-and-so XVIII, glinted more metallically than usual, and the gap which stood in for a mouth formed a smile-like arrangement appropriate for a jovial occasion. Dirant wondered if there was a relationship between that mouth and the underside of the guest world, but not enough to ask.
“Oh, Holzd the Much-Meandering, do you accept my gratitude, or if you do not, accept rather my veneration, or if you do not, permit my offer of it to be remembered.” Unwilling to disturb the other guests in their revels, Dirant did not say any of that aloud. Such reticence may have been judged an impiety by a disinterested theologian, but he had gotten away with it so far.
Holzd did speak, though accounting for his divine power which allowed his utterances to be heard by none but those he wished to hear, he was just as halfhearted in the matter. “I do, and therefore, anticipating your reaction, for effects must wait upon their causes while I am not so constrained, I acted in expectation of your plea to prevent what you yourself wished to avoid, for all that the consequences are unlikely, in the counterfactual case they ensue, to be serious. You may now behold without ill effect barring envy he who is Shtaugirs insofar as changes of names can be, as they typically are in the customs of the Adabans, permissible, and insofar as they are not, Zatdil Akavinnux=Scaurrdex Ikakach.”
As prepared as Dirant had been to hear that after viewing Shtaugirs's inhuman status impossible to read, details of the name shocked him. What did “=” signify in a name, and how did Holzd pronounce it so that he understood it to be such? The knack certainly eluded the fairy Zatdil.
“It is an element of verang speech and consequently purposeless for you to learn,” Holzd reassured his priest without waiting for a formal question. Simultaneously he addressed Dirant's other worry, that of appearing insane, by poking his finger in a direction they might withdraw for privacy amid the hubbub. “'Worthless for you to learn' is a fair summary for everything I am about to tell you, but hearing it will shift your attention, properly, away from matters which, while related, cannot to the dissolution of the tangle into which you have pleasingly tripped contribute. Zatdil is not a threat, and it is volition behind that, the absence of it, because if he took offense at a Ritualist's impudent stare he could kill, not a god, but everyone else inside this fay construction. To greater society he is regardless of his intentions more of an irritation if noticed, for after slaying ten thousand modern warriors, the ten-thousand-first would kill him.”
“Holy Holzd, your priest must not dispute with you.”
“I bid you do so.”
Dirant peeked at Shtaugirs before he asked, “Is he aware of the futility of aggression? Was he not foolish enough to be captured?”
“He was desperate enough. Deprived of an Omega Master, how do you propose he should have acquired the Alpha Energy, without which he was helpless against the high levels of the era? He required a degree of physical understanding unknown today to be deceived by the Foundation Energy drawn forth from its storage by the Miraculous Pillar after we the gods stowed it, the prototype of this planet completed, in a remote place. The device's name is insignificant, for the Ertithans, based on theological conclusions, regarded correctly all magic as miraculous. Zatdil understands, though not how it was made, that he fell into a trap to which, this next is from your perspective, it is too late to return him were it possible. The better course is to submit to his present plan of being ignored, and of long standing as well, while he perfects his craft, innocent if we disregard the tragedies suffered by those who fail to achieve a place on the list and humorous if we act to the contrary. That should allay your, wanting zealousness as it is, anxiety at the potential of being issued a command to deal with him.”
Dirant struggled to think of a response which would communicate pious sentiments without further implying a desire to assume supererogatory responsibilities such as that just mentioned. He hoped rephrasing a question in as convoluted a fashion as he could manage without a week to prepare would work. “As for the trap, accepting that he is for some reason released is simple enough, but there is an implication, or else a misapprehension on my part, in the phrasing of its resumption as 'too late' rather than 'impossible' or 'unnecessary,' is there not?”
“Your god rejoices that you dedicated your ears so assiduously to his words.” Holzd said that, clapped once, and vanished. Then he reappeared. “My absence, to my Ritualists tolerable because brief, I effected in order to express, tacitly, my permission to shift your attention from me before it is demanded. Use that short interval respectably.”
Accepting that as a dismissal, Dirant checked if anyone was looking at him, swallowed his disappointment to find in the negative, bowed, and returned to the more active portions of the Palace in time for a brief speech from Mr. Atkosol in which he thanked everyone who came for coming and praised those who did not for demonstrating commendable dedication to their various occupations and hobbies. He joined the crowd in its impatience regarding the excavation delays but promised the pace would accelerate with the effort no longer hampered by the entertaining impediments of late.
“What excavation?” someone asked after the speech finished, and in complete sincerity.