1????????Soul Bound
1.3??????Making a Splash
1.3.2????An Allotropic Realignment
1.3.2.10?Planchet
Once past the industrial wasteland of the actual foundries, and the acrid piles of grey grit and ash surrounding it, they found themselves walking along a cobbled street surrounded by sharp roofed wooden chalets. The chalets were large, big enough to house not just three generations of a family, but also their cousins and second cousins. But from the way each one was freshly painted and decorated with individual carvings, and the absolute lack of litter inside the neat hedges separating the properties, Kafana deduced there was also no shortage of house-proud matriarchs to keep the youngsters in check.
Bungo: “Why do these all look Teutonic? You’d have thought a few hundred years living in Torello and waves of immigrants from Sassari, would have changed the style set by the original foundry workers?”
A teenager who’d been leaning against a hedge, idly picking his teeth with a splinter of wood, straightened himself up at their approach. He had a solid stocky build, ragged clothes that match his ragged ginger hair, and a long Burgundish nose that seemed familiar. However it was only when he casually started walking alongside Bulgaria that she recognised him as the boy she’d seen Bulgaria talking to at Antonio’s funeral - the second in command of the group of sharp eyed kids Nicolo had used in the search for his missing brother, and which Bulgaria had named the “Basso District Irregulars”. He claimed they provided him with useful information, but she suspected he acted more from a love of playing the role of a spy, and as an excuse to give them money.
Bulgaria: “Planchet, just the man I wanted. Anything of interest going on?”
Planchet: “Maybe. What type of things?”
Bulgaria: “Unusual people and unusual events; new rumours and old things that are not where or how you expect them; recurring signs and changing patterns. You know; interesting.”
He emphasised the last word, as if trying to convey a private meaning shared only between the two of them, and then sighed as Planchet’s face remained stolid. It was only when Bulgaria’s own white gloved hand casually brushed against the boy’s clothing and she glimpsed a flash of bronze, that a wide toothy grin appeared upon Planchet’s face and his half-lidded eyes took on a lively look.
Planchet: “There’s a new drawing been scratched on a wall near Lantric Bros.”
Bulgaria sounded unimpressed: “A raggedy one, I suppose?”
Planchet nodded: “Two of them, Sir. One stick figure with a wide hat like normal. But now there’s also a smaller one next to it, with something new on its head.”
Bungo: “Not a hat?”
Planchet: “No, Sir. Might be horns or might be ears. I copied it down as best I could, like you trained us, though paper is not cheap. Not cheap at all, Sir, but I said to myself that you’d want nothing but the best and as prompt as possible.”
The flash was silver this time, as a tightly folded wadge piece of paper disappeared into Bulgaria’s stash, and there was approval underlying Bulgaria’s casual voice.
Bulgaria: “We’ll be around and about for the rest of the day, if the irregulars stumble upon anything else that might catch the fancy of a humble playwright such as myself. Strife and discord, wicked people and angry soldiers, stirring words and surprising sights of unusual beauty - of such moments do thespians spin dreams truer than tangible life itself.”
Planchet: “Yes Sir, as you say Sir. Though if you want a sight of unusual beauty around here, you’re out of luck unless you’re young enough to join the Rascal Krewe.”
Kafana: “They’ve made a good float for Carnivale? What’s it look like?”Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Planchet: “Couldn’t say, Madame. You have to swear terrible oaths and undergo an initiation in order to join them. While blindfolded, standing on one leg and a noose tight around your neck. Me, I’m not the trusting sort and I like my neck in one piece. But I know some members, if you want me to lean on them a bit?”
Kafana shook her head, hastily: “No, no that’s fine. I wouldn’t want to ruin their surprise.”
Bulgaria sounded disapproving: “There’s enough violence in this world already, without our adding to it. What did I tell you about subtlety?”
Planchet: “Give them something to look at. If you know where they are looking, you also know where they are not looking.”
Bulgaria: “And?”
Planchet: “People believe what they expect. So if you want to be believed, show them what they expect.”
Bulgaria: “And?”
Planchet scrunched his face up, trying to dig out memories.
Planchet: “It is better to put people at ease and then listen to them, than to fight. Getting stabbed isn’t stylish - dagger holes in your tunic are not fashionable this year?”
Bulgaria: “Right. No ‘leaning’ on people, please. Not only do carefully chosen words and alcoholic drinks work better - it risks giving all our irregulars a bad reputation. You wouldn’t want to put their lives in danger, would you?”
Planchet looked relieved at finally getting the correct answer, and tugged his forelock before splitting away from them, promising to “sort the others out”. Bulgaria waited until he was well out of earshot before commenting.
Bulgaria: “I’m going to have to keep my eye on that one. He’s ambitious. But at least he’s smart enough to take a hint, and still flexible enough to be taught new ways.”
Bungo: “Is it difficult finding smart kids here?”
Bulgaria: “No, not at all. But there’s bad blood between them and the kids from the Libri District near the university and mage tower. The kids from the Basso District get called stupid because so many don’t read and write well, and a lot of them end up with a chip on their shoulder about being looked down upon by people trying to ‘act smart’. You saw the way Planchet tries to hide that he has a brain, and wants to be seen as tough and ready to fight? That attitude may be a survival skill in Basso, but it is also a habit that can change someone and prevent them reaching their potential.”
Kafana: “So you’re trying to teach them to value being smart?”
Bulgaria: “Better than growing up into adults who cram onto the Bridge of Fists each year, because risking death for a chance to punch their rivals is the only acceptable way they have left to vent their resentment, to drown out the nagging voice left over from childhood taunts, the voice that whispers: ‘what if they were right?’, ‘look at how miserable your life is, maybe you are stupid?’.”
Kafana: {You never give up on teaching, do you? How much time have you been spending in Basso, working at understanding them?}
Bulgaria: {Not as much as you might think. I may have become a lecturer, but I’ve heard nothing here that I didn’t also hear many times before growing up in Hackney.}
Alderney: {Enjoying Tickton?}
Tomsk: {We haven’t reached it yet. How’s learning from Mazoni going? Has she taught you enough to let you craft us armour from all those fancy magic metals you bought samples of?}
Alderney: {Terribly. She can tell me what she does, and her team are full of stories about the bad things that can happen if the temperature, pressure, timing, mixture, environment or even your mental state is wrong. But it is all knowledge developed through trial and error. They don’t have a model of why each metal reacts differently, and they don’t have a systematic approach to generating and testing hypotheses. They can’t help me understand, because they don’t understand either. I thought it would be similar to working with iron, but it isn’t like that at all. None of my previous experience is worth a thing.}
Kafana: {Does that leave you feeling stupid?}
Alderney: {Hell no. It might take longer than I expected, but this is awesome - a whole new thing to explore.}
Bungo: {Try passing your feed by the “Mendeleev''s Proof Distillery” expert system that came packaged with the specs of the modular biochemistry system I sent you for the Copia project. It’s pretty good at micro structure.}
Alderney: {Wilco. Muting chat, so ping me directly if you need my attention. Laters!}
Micro structures? No, not the time to ask. Less nerding and more touristing! They’d reached a wider street and, on the opposing side was a completely different architecture. Time for the parish of Tickton.