1??????????Soul Bound


    1.2????????Taking Control


    1.2.3??????An Enchanting Original


    1.2.3.14???...then make a lasting impression


    Signora was standing over by the walking illusion, using the control wand to enter their measurements.   When they gathered around she showed how a variety of designs would hang on their actual body shapes during sitting, standing or walking, and various ways the look could be modified by using lighter or darker shades of colour in different locations.


    Wellington: “Once we settle on designs, how long does it take to produce the clothing?”


    Bartola: “Normally Signora Moda is very quick, just a month or two once you are on the waiting list.   The designs will be sent to one of our three patterners who’ll translate Signora’s designs into actual templates from which the cloth is cut, and make the final decisions on the details of the materials, sourcing them from the suppliers to be hand-woven to order or even hiring a researcher to create something with just the right properties.   Once everything is ready and Signora gives her approval, it goes to the team who’ll improve the ingredients, sew it together, arrange your first and second fittings, and add any runic magic specified.    Self-cleaning and self-repairing are popular, as are basic defensive enchantments.   The final fitting, where you get to see the full effect with added jewellery and other accessories is quite an occasion; Signora is present, and most of our clients go out of their way to get their hair and everything looking its best beforehand.   A dress from Signora Moda is a treasure most will only be able to purchase once in their lifetime.”


    Bulgaria raised an eyebrow: “Normally?”


    Signora: “I can make exceptions for exceptional people.   If I have cause.   A reason so exceptional that it justified risking our reputation for reliability by bumping those already in the queue.   Nothing so gauche as money.   Something that money can’t easily buy.”


    Kafana: “Talking of exceptional, have you seen Alderney’s sketches?   Do tell me what you think of them.”


    Alderney passed the sheets over, and Signora started talking while leafing through them slowly.


    Signora: “Fair drawing; yes, the Mezelay-style I recognise it; yes, the collar has been getting higher for years now; what’s this one now?   The neckline, it is off, the Burgundish have a reputation, but it is not that low; I had a letter from Madame de Pizan off the latest galleon, so my news is scarcely two weeks old.   And this hat you have imagined, it is pretty but why did you include it?”


    Alderney: “What if I told you that, not two hours ago I saw that hat on the head of a court noble standing in the Palace of the Princess with my own eyes?   Would you be interested?”


    Signora looked stunned.


    Kafana: “Look at the rest of them.”


    Signora looked at the third page, containing three or more smaller sketches.


    Signora: “Where are these from?   I don’t recognise them at all.   Oh, parts of them, yes, but the overall look?”


    Alderney: “Think of them as glimpses of possible futures.   Directions in which fashion might be steered in the next 10-20 years.   Knowing what to look for might help you sort the trends you see each month into those with potential for long term impact and those which are just random variations that will end up going nowhere.”


    Alderney produced a parti-coloured neoprene sports bra from her stash and handed it over.


    Alderney: “That’s not all.   There’s a new genius mage in town, producing materials you’ve never heard of.”


    Signora examined the bra, thoughtfully.


    Bungo: “I work with him.   If you agree to a contract drawn up by Wellington, you might even end up the exclusive distributor for fashion purposes.”


    Bungo: {Make her pay through the nose for it.   She’s got money, and Flavio needs some if he’s going to have a chance to support Isabella.}


    Wellington: {That I can do.   I’ve already looked into the mage tower policies on the commercialisation of research spin-offs.   I’ll have Emmanuelle write it up, though.}


    Signora was breathing heavily, like she might explode, and Bartola was worriedly waving a fan at her.


    Signora said something in a low venomous tone which Kafana thought might be “Baiser ma tante dans le cul avec un sabot.”, but the game didn’t translate it.   The game’s user interface tried to hide issues caused by players coming from different countries as much as possible, so she didn’t know quite how it worked.   Did each NPC region actually speak a different language?


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    Signora: “Do you have any idea how impossible that is?   Mages have not been able to walk between capital cities since the Alpinus incursion and seers never get images that precise over such a range.   If the fastest carrack ever built tried sailing here directly from Mezelay without even laying over at Savada, it still couldn’t do it in much less than 6 days.   A cartel of traders once tried having a visiting sailor memorise the commodity prices in Kalzburg then kill himself, so he could resurrect back at Torello’s sanctum.   The Sanctum guardian received a revelation directly from the deities, and every last member of the cartel was stripped of their pendant and then exiled.   Even just the news that this is possible will send the markets into chaos.”


    Bulgaria intervened smoothly: “Then we are obviously in need of a wise friend, one with a stake in Torello’s financial stability, whose warnings might guide our footsteps.”


    Signora gave him a wry look.   “I seem to have miscalculated.   I feel like a girl who has been told not to pet the cat, ignores the advice, and finds her hand inside the mouth of a lion.   Columbina warned me, but I thought her words an exaggeration.”


    Bulgaria showed warm interest and sympathy in his expression, keeping her attention on him: “The little dove, she likes drama does she not?   Who could possibly blame you?    So what did you plan, with Bartola’s carefully rehearsed speech?”


    Bartola blushed, confirming Bulgaria’s guess.


    Signora leaned in, as though confiding a particularly juicy piece of gossip to him: “To get money, of course.   You must speculate to accumulate.   You can increase your reputation by allying yourself with those whose reputation rises, but you gain more if you are seen as being responsible for that rise.   You have come into a great deal of money, thanks to that incorruptible idiot Tartaglia, and where coins lead, Torello will follow.   Your status will rise to match your power.   Eventually.   Or sooner, if you have allies.   I wanted to snag an exclusive agreement with you before that happened, to wear only my clothing, to attend the events I chose for you and snub the ones I deemed beneath your new status, and thereby gain advantage over my rivals.”


    She grinned, unrepentantly.    “Oh, don’t look so shocked Bungo, that’s nobility for you.    That’s how we all play the game.   Torello is the board, and each piece on it is a tool, a threat, or an ally of convenience.”


    Wellington looked fascinated.    “And now you have decided we are not the unwitting tools you hoped, you are offering an alliance of convenience?   You feel no shame at trying to take advantage?”


    Signora: “Of course.   Never feel shame at charging all the market will bear.   It''s the only way to find out what your time is really worth.   And if you turn out to be wrong, well, what''s the point of being a cynic, if you forgive anything except yourself?"


    Tomsk couldn’t quite mask the revulsion he felt.   “Wasn’t Bulgaria’s introduction a clue as to what you were dealing with?”


    Signora: “Everybody lies about something, if only to herself.   Our lies define our aspirations, construct a new identity for us as we strive to make the lie a truth.   My life story, for example, is a work of art.   When I die, I fully expect Rac to pay me a 10% fee for including it in his book.   So, what was I to think?  ‘Devilsbane’?   ‘Queen of Song’?   It seemed perfectly harmless exaggeration on your part to create an image.   It didn’t offend me, but I discounted half of it.”


    Tomsk looked baffled.   “Don’t you have an internal sense of when someone has a title?   Kafana quite literally slew thousands of devils, and was acknowledged as the Queen of Song by the devil’s own Princess Salma, after Kafana single-handedly defeated her with song and magery.   What about your own eyes?   You can see for yourself the glowing light from the blessing placed upon Kafana by the deities.”


    Signora: “I’m not a mage, but I can afford items that protect against a customer who wants free clothing using magic to affect my mind.   To me it just looked like the sort of pretty light that can be produced by a cosmetics illusion.   I don’t think you understand nobles.   If Reality were a guest at a party, he would either be a wallflower the entire time or unexpectedly storm out part way through, smashing things as he left.   Reality is someone polite society tries to ignore and work around.   He''s a bore.”


    Tomsk looked ready to continue the debate, but Kafana held up a halting palm and spoke in a sharp tone of voice.


    Kafana: “Enough!”


    Kafana: “Signora, you are going to owe Columbina a favour, because she has vouched for you and said that your deeds can be trusted.   So here is what we are going to do.   Make us some clothes for the upcoming Masked Ball.   I am their equal, and the message the clothes must send is revealing what I am, revealing it so convincingly that nobody there mistakes it for being mere bombast.   This is the first impression that House Sincero will make, and I entrust it to you and your skill.   Do this well, and I shall sing your praises fulsomely enough to shrivel your rivals like uprooted weeds.


    Signora: “Do it well?   I shall do it superbly!”


    Kafana: {Bungo, when I raise my arm, I want you to take hold of me and jump down to the pool.   The pair of us are going to make a grand exit.}


    Kafana: “Good.   Then I shall leave matters sartorial to Alderney and the details of any other arrangements to Wellington.   Bungo, we’re leaving.”


    She reclined backwards, as though Bungo were a couch, one arm upwards and still making eye contact with Signora.   She felt the leap from Bungo, slipped on her water-shaping ring and started to sing “Lighter than air”.


    The acoustics in the center of the atrium were amazing, but she almost halted singing when she felt an ancient presence through her ring; something in the water from ages past, before even they built a temple over a spring of healing water.   Was that surprise she felt from it?    Joy?   The waters rose up to meet them in a halo and a voice added an impossible descant to her song, nearly beyond hearing range, so you questioned if it were really there.   Light from above split in the mist of droplets, wreathing her in rainbows until she landed softly on the lower walkway.


    [Quest completed “Assignation with Signora”]


    [Quest gained: “Rising Star” - found House Sincero.  Difficulty rank C]


    *ding* [Your party’s reputation with Signora has increased by 200.]


    *ding* [Your reputation with Signora has increased by an additional 800.]


    She walked out as she’d walked in, her arm linked with Bungo’s.