Chapter 1-22: The Human Tongue (1/2)
I remained in Meditation until Father Bower came out. Couldn’t hurt to foster tighter connections with the local manafield, after all.
I broke out before he could turn away and leave me alone, as disturbing someone in Meditation was a huge faux pas.
“Father,” I greeted him, my minor levitation trick fading away with the swirly lights of mana draw. “I am intending to go into town to acquire a workable staff. Did you want to arrange something with the Human tongue before then?”
He turned back quickly. “Good morning, Miss Traveler. Yes, I have already spoken to someone who would like to film your whole sequence of teaching the Human tongue. They are in the camp, and said they would have the room set up this morning.”
“I find myself with absolutely nothing else to do, so if you would like to send me over there, I will take care of that.”
“Of course!” he agreed with a wide white smile.
----
Letting his staff know where he would be, Father Bower escorted me through the camp, as obviously a civilian shouldn’t be wandering around without one.
“You seem quite eager to get this done, Father,” I noted with some amusement, glancing at his serious face.
“I have spoken to some senior members of the Church, and they have made very unambiguous statements that this project is something that should be done as soon as possible, and with as little interference as possible.”
I rolled an eye at him. “You are expecting some sort of divine countermove?” I inquired calmly, and he actually looked sharply at me.
“Yes, actually. This is something that could actually unite the entire world under one language, finally. There are powerful forces who do not want this to happen.”
“That is true. Languages have always been a great barrier to mutual understanding.” I flicked my clothes. “If they are filming this, I am afraid that I am not really dressed for the occasion.” A t-shirt and jeans, however, clean, weren’t exactly photogenic.
“They said they would find some suitable clothing for you.” He realized that might be a little forward, and blushed a bit. “Purely as a formality.”
“Oh, understood. A simple white throw-over would probably be enough.” This face was good-looking enough that even with my black eyes I could attract attention, at least judging by all the heads constantly turning my way...
Reminded me of Diana... who would no doubt be laughing her ass off at this situation, and wagging her finger knowingly. This was what I got for once being part of the most powerful Caster around underneath a Goddess of Magic...
---
The building was kind of pillboxy and unadorned, but that wasn’t unexpected. They weren’t going to invest in good looks just outside a wall containing a lot of undead.
I was shown into the back, a fairly spacious room that could hold a decently large meeting, all the chairs off to the sides, and the stage up there set with a black backdrop. A couple cameras were set up on rollers, lights shining, and the people around to start shooting.
The guy who came up to greet me was skinny and looked rather care-worn in his patterned dress shirt, loose tie, and needing a shave. He looked me over in open interest and curiosity before turning to Father Bower.
“<Father>,” he greeted the Cleric of Harse respectfully. “<Is this her?>”
Ah. I put my thumb up to my ear again. “Maybe I will learn Englits again some day, just so I can tell when people are being rude and not introducing themselves properly.”
He froze for a second at his gaffe. “<Sorry... Paul Harrison. Just trying to set up things properly, Miss... Traveler?>” he asked hesitantly.
“That is correct, Mr. Harrison.” I flicked an eye over his set-up, marveling inside. I hadn’t seen anything so technology-related in years. All that stuff had mostly melted down or rotted away. They were so lucky that magic and tech functioned side-by-side here. “You want me to change my attire?”
“<Yes, Shelly has some clothing that should look a bit better than, ah, Wall Mage attire.>” He indicated a plump black woman nearby, who smiled at me. I inclined my head and headed off to her, leaving the nervous director to the cleric.
---
Shelly looked me up and down with an experienced eye. “<They probably haven’t even noticed that those weren’t cut for a woman>,” she clucked. “<Did you change the fit with magic?>”
“That is correct. The state my original clothing was in rather necessitated usage of any clothing immediately available, and I haven’t been able to visit the local boutiques. This has been serviceable, and I’m attractive enough to make almost anything look good on me.”
She looked at me as if she wasn’t sure I’d just said all that, and I just looked back at her. “<Well, you’ve definitely got the confidence side of this down pat, and all you elf-bloods are so damn photogenic, this shouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t have your sizes, but I’m thinking that as long as it was a little big, this shouldn’t be an issue?>”
“Very true. I don’t want to be shot in a skirt, so a well-cut blouse should be sufficient. I can change the color of my pants to blend in, and I actually have a decent pair of shoes.” I lifted them out of my purse, where they’d been sitting for a few days.
She bent forward to inspect them despite herself, turned them over, and hissed. “<Hollenglocks! You’ve got expensive tastes, girl!>”
“And that surprises which of us?” I had to ask, and she laughed despite herself.
“<Well, I ain’t got nothing that expensive, but this blouse should set off that hair.>” She shook her head, staring at my hair enviously. “<You Casters, how do you get such awesome hair?>” she asked rhetorically, and I just smiled, shrugging off my scavenged leather jacket and tossing it on a table nearby.