1??????????????Soul Bound
1.2????????????Taking Control
1.2.1??????????An Icy Welcome
1.2.1.21???????The wet stocks
Bulgaria’s voice boomed out announcing the victory of Team Mercato over Team FraGamal and that the grand final would be starting in just a few minutes.
Mary-Lynn: “Listen, cooking’s been fun but I really ought to go cover the final. Will you be ok by yourself? I’ll send Tomsk and Bungo your way once they’re changed.”
Kafana didn’t feel fine, but she’d promised earlier that she’d manage and you had to keep your promises on Covob or Mor got angry at you. “Go.”
There, at least she had avoided promising she’d be fine. Mary-Lynn ran off towards the amphitheatre, talking aloud to her audience as she went.
Kafana kept watching Mary-Lynn until the sight was completely blocked by the moving crowd and then ambled to a stop, reflexively tilting her head until her neck cricked before letting her shoulders slump in the exact habitual sequence that she followed after performing a demanding role on stage. A sequence visually triggered when the stage curtain dropped closed for the final time, shielding her from the gaze of anyone expecting her to behave like some imagined warrior, queen or maiden pure. No streamers were watching her! No agenda items or media duties left to do! Just a ring of monks in silent meditation who, like broom-wielding stagehands, placed no demands upon her.
She was free to do what whatever she wanted? That was great, wasn''t it? Kafana, expectations set unconsciously from memories of times long past, mentally braced herself to experience the rush of positive feelings such news ought to deserve. And waited. And then felt let down, annoyed, guilty, puzzled, and finally annoyed at herself.
This wouldn''t do. She was not going to behave like some clockwork toy going in circles when abandoned. She raised her head to take in the stalls on the other side of the parade, and found her attention drawn past dozens of others, to a small stall that had been painted entirely in pink and then covered in glitter. What could he be selling? Curious, she wandered towards it. A finely dressed local was talking a mile a minute to a long queue of noble customers as he sold them carved wooden hearts painted pink.
Lugo: “Step right up, don’t be shy. Magic wards against disease, straight from Basso. Guaranteed to cure all your ills. Normally these beauties cost two zecchi each, but for the next hour they’re going for the unbelievable bargain price of just twenty florins because High Lady Kafana herself donated them. All proceeds will go to cute little orphans (minus administration costs).”
As he spoke, Kafana grew more and more furious. She didn’t have an appropriate song, but so what? She was going to shrivel this worm through sheer will power. She visualised him grovelling on the ground, blurting the truth to his customers and turning himself into the watch. She took her pendant out and sketched her custom amplifier in runes of fire, pouring her fury into it. She was Cov’s tool in this. She might not be able to blast Stejnegeri, but Lugo was a nice clear cut decision.
<blockquote>
Stop right there
</blockquote>
*Guitar and drum beats, loud and firm*
Lugo froze like a statue, as she continued the lyrics of from the third section of Meat Loaf''s Paradise by the Dashboard Light.
She felt her mana feeding the spell and focused harder, until the whole stall was vibrating.
More! She shoved so much power into her voice that, when she delivered the final two lines, they might as well have been lashes from a whip.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The stall shattered, exploding away from her and reducing Lugo’s hit points by more than half.
[Skill “Sonic Shock” has reached level 2.]
[Skill “Infatuation debuff” acquired.]
[Skill “Sonic Magic” has reached level 3.]
He was still babbling a long list of misdeeds, going back to swindling sweets from his baby sister, when three men from the Watch arrived. She recognised Odo and Ugo, and gave them stern looks. They snapped to attention. Their leader stepped forwards.
“Fandorin Babchenko, Tenente to Captain Lelio at your service, Madame Kafana. How may I assist you?” he introduced himself.
Kafana tightly controlled her fury and the words she let past her teeth felt like they were edged in steel. “I want this man arrested. You may listen to him explain his many crimes, but at minimum the money he defrauded from these good people standing here with false promises should be returned to them.”
Ugo and Odo dragged the still bleeding Lugo to his feet and half dragged him over, holding his arms tightly.
Fandorin: “Master Ponzi, as I live and breathe. Out of the stocks three days and already in trouble, I see. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Lugo: “I am a miserable wretch, a sinner. I am unworthy of her love.” He howled this last line as though in torment. “I admit it all, please punish me, help me reform.”
Fandorin turned to look at Kafana: “Charmed?”
She nodded her head.
Fandorin: “Alas, the judge won’t accept any testimony given under the influence of magic. We’ll have to let him cool off before we take a statement from him. Have you anything solid?”
She walked over to one of the customers who’d already purchased a heart, who she recognised from earlier at the gelato stall, and pointed at his purchase “You could verify that this does not do what Lugo claimed it would. Here, compare it to the real thing.”
She produced her own Zer’s Heart of Light, whose pink sapphire facets gleamed with pure rays of sunlight. Fandorin looked at both items carefully. “That will do nicely. Lugo, you are under arrest and, unless I miss my guess, it will be the wet stocks for you.”
He sent Ugo off to convey Lugo to the Watch Tower, and put Odo in charge of collecting the money and returning it in exchange for wooden hearts. Ugo seemed to be mocking Lugo, shaking his head in sorrow.
Lugo: “Wait for me, Kafana. I’ll serve my time, and when I return I’ll be a new man, worthy of you.” as he disappeared into the distance she could still hear him yelling “Good bye!”
Kafana: “Thank you Tenente Fandorin. I keep hearing people mentioning wet stocks. Does being damp really make them that much worse?”
He coughed. “Ah, yes, well you see the reason why these particular stocks are wet is because they’re situated at the bottom of a deep pit beneath the Cattle Market. All the bits the slaughterhouse can’t use, and all the results of the cows being nervous rains down into it, before flowing into the sewers.”
She wrinkled her nose.
He bravely continued: “And, cows able to smell the death in the air, well they do get very nervous indeed. Let fly with both barrels, frequently and copiously, if you know what I mean.”
What if she’d killed him? What if the infatuation turned out to be permanent? She muttered to herself: “I so didn’t need this today.”
{Melchior, if I seem about to do something unjustified and extreme, please remind me “Consequences!”.}
[Yes, Kafana. Would you like me to do some thinking for you about Stejnegeri’s offer, and come up with some options for you to consider when you feel up to it?]
{Yes please, Melchior.}