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"What exactly d'you need me to say?" asks Finnah. (She starts arranging chunks of brittle on the sample plate and offers him one.)

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"'Siad' and 'siaddaki' and 'shren' and 'shrennaki', so I can see what Draconic really thinks of them," he says. "Ooh. Candy. Thank you."

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"Siad, siaddaki, shren, shrennaki. You're welcome."

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He goes from intrigued to mildly nervous to unhappy to downright alarmed over the course of those four words.

"That's terrible," he says. "That's completely—um. Here. I'll just." He does nothing obvious, but then he says: "'Shrennaki', try that," and it is definitely a word in definitely a language that bears a strong resemblance to Draconic but expresses no intrinsic opinions about shrens.
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Finnah beams. "What'd you do?"
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"I made a magical language with a lot of properties in common with Draconic, including its whole vocabulary to start with, excluding Draconic's terrible opinions, and made myself its first attached speaker, and 'shrennaki' just sort of happened automatically. If you would like to be attached to it too, you can do that, it is compatible with your magic."

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"I'll take it but Mial should see first -" And she makes for the door again.

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"You can pick it up whenever you like now that you know it exists."

Lazarus vanishes away.
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"Mial - shrennaki," says Finnah, "he just, he picked up Draconic and made a duplicate one that isn't such an asshole, you can just kind of - have it!"

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...Mial bursts into relieved tears.

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"Oh thank fuck," says Mark.

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Finnah goes and hugs Mial again.

Aurin is managing to be more relieved than disturbed.
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"The crisis is very thoroughly over," says Mark, in case anyone was still in doubt about that.

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"No kidding," Mial agrees, hugging Finnah hard. "Shrennaki. Damn that feels good."

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Finnah giggles. "And he said you can just have it attached to you now you know it exists, I did it, it's nicer."

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"No kidding. Wow." He wipes his face. On Mark's sleeve. "Um. Sorry for having a complete breakdown, everybody."

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Finnah pats him.

"Am I allowed to talk yet?" asks Ivan plaintively.

"Yes, fine, whatever," says Aurin.
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Mial sighs and hugs Finnah again, and then hugs Mark, and then hugs his mom.

"Well, that was exhausting."
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"It looked it. It's fixed to everyone's satisfaction?"

"Yep," says Finnah. "Back to work I go." She ruffles Mial's hair so some of it stands up and traipses out.
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Mark giggles.

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The collective mood of the Ivans is recovering! Yay.

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That is good.

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With Finnah and Mial's parents back in Elcenia yet again, the contents of the bar are now

Miles, Mial, Milo, and Stalas,

Ivan, Aurin, and Jann,

Mark,

and Linya -
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—and the approximately Miles-sized but not especially Miles-shaped girl who just walked in the door.

"...okay," she says, looking around warily. "I'm confused. Confused is what I am."
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"Bar?" asks Linya. "Who is this?"

This is an alt of Mark.

"An entire alt of Mark?"

Yes.

"Congratulations, Mark."
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