1????????Soul Bound
1.3??????Making a Splash
1.3.2????An Allotropic Realignment
1.3.2.28 You can afford to be fragile only if your house is not
Damn it. And he was only eight years old. What was she, a piece of glass? She should ask Bulgaria if any skills existed that provided a poker face.
Kafana: “Dottore was attacked by an enemy. I don’t know who they are, but the attack resulted in Flavio being stuck under a cruel curse. I know the details and I’m working on reversing it but, if others learned those details, it would likely cause Flavio more harm. It might even result in him dying or having to flee Torello before I get a chance to free him. I have an artifact that protects my mental privacy but, If I teach you songs mind to mind at the moment, there’s a danger you’ll learn the details and any passing mind mage could read them there and then sell the information to anyone interested in blackmailing Flavio. He’s just starting a profitable business, so I’m sure there’s no shortage of people out there who’d take advantage.”
Nicolo: “So no teaching me songs directly until you find a mind mage to train you how not to share stuff you don’t intend to share? You should ask Dimitri.”
Kafana: “Who’s that?”
Nicolo: “You remember the Captain you introduced me to, who blasted apart a table at the Speckled Dove? Well, Vittoria let him take me to the Mage Tower for testing, and when I lit up the Purple and Gold orbs, he dragged me over Dimitri, this tall guy with a Slavic accent, and started talking about air and mind magics.”
She’d known Nicolo had sufficient elemental attunement to cast the reinforcement magic she’d taught him, and that he was probably smarter than she was. But he had a strong enough LUN and COV attunement that Captain Nafaro had brought him to the attention of Grand Master Air himself, Dimitri Yusupov? What were the chances of that? This smell of plot in the air was so strong, she nearly twitched her nose. She knew a little about how he’d become an orphan, with some noble slaughtering his parents moments after he’d set foot beyond the building where they’d been hiding him and his brother, but maybe now she was level forty she’d be eligible for a quest the mystery could trigger? Time to probe.
Kafana: “Yes, no teaching songs until then. Or until I free Flavio from the curse. I’m slowly improving my skill at dealing with them. Did you know they’re actually part of the same magic technique as permanent blessings? Progress is slow because both types are pretty rare. Though, as it happens, Olga noticed that you have a blessing protecting you - were you aware of that?”
She watched his face carefully, as he worked through the implications of her words.
Nicolo: “No, I wasn’t aware. You want to study it. So you can improve your skill and chances of helping Flavio. The same Flavio it seems I owe a favour to, for giving you the ring you used when healing me.”
He didn’t phrase his conclusions as questions, and there was a certain patient amusement in his tone. Oh yeah, that was right; apparently her every motive was as clear as glass to him. He was going to make one hell of a mind mage, if this was what he was like already.
Kafana: “Yes, but only if you agree to let me. Will you?”
Nicolo braced himself, gathering all his will and determination. And he had a lot, she realised. It wasn’t by chance he’d taken control of Antonio’s acquaintances after his brother disappeared, despite most of them being older and stronger.
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Nicolo: “I will … but I want something in return.”
Kafana: “Name it.”
She suspected it wouldn’t be anything as easy to provide as money, and she was right.
Nicolo: “I need to know the truth about my brother.”
He didn’t need to specify which truth he was referring to. They both knew. It hung between them, with the pending weight of an elephant occupying most of the space inside a small living room - one balanced on a wooden table designed only for supporting the weight of tea cups.
Kafana: “Are you sure you’re ready? You were crying just a minute ago.”
It broke the unwritten rule she’d learned, that any mention of a man in tears was likely to be seen as an attack upon their manhood. But she really really didn’t want to do this. And Nicolo was a kid, right?
Wrong. She could hear the scorn and heat of anger in his voice as he replied.
Nicolo: “You think I’m a pansy? Look at those players out there, getting the shit kicked out of them by Juvenile players a head taller than them. Don’t you get it? Don’t you know me well enough to look past my face and voice? Orphans are tough, and I’m one of them. I’m still grieving my brother and I’m not afraid to show it, not around you. But I know myself and I’m telling you I’m ready. It’s not a brick. Words I can handle, no matter how hard they are.”
He was young and small. He did have the face and voice of an angel. He looked so delicate that wanting to wrap him in protective layers like a blown glass figurine was a natural reaction.
And a reaction that was unfair to him. His body might be delicate but, despite withstanding repeated wounds, his heart was not. Not since she’d healed his mind. She’d done a good job but it had taken trust and effort on his part too. To override his judgement now would be the same as telling him she thought he was still crippled. It would rob him of the pride he earned, and that wasn’t something she could do.
Kafana: “Then I will tell you. You are amazing, Nicolo. Surely tragedy, or just walking through the door of your particular orphanage, doesn’t by itself guarantee that level of toughness?”
Nicolo: “All kids who survive a period without adults looking out for them end up tougher than they started. I don’t think it’s magic, not from Suor Vittoria or even from Cov. But yeah, perhaps our orphanage is a little special. It’s fragile, so we can’t be. There’s never been enough money or staff to do what needs doing. We know the orphanage will only survive if we orphans work together to make up the difference, because jerkwad priests like Dragone would sooner let us starve than increase the budget. You learn it in your first week there, when you’re woken by a leaking roof and someone explains to you that Melafon hasn’t enough nails to patch the hole and why it won’t get fixed until you or your friends find the nails or silver to buy them.”
Kafana: “Working together makes you tougher?”
Nicolo: “When you’re an orphan, you have no father telling you which lord or deity you should be loyal to, you’ve no friends or family worth a damn, no historic debts or loyalties with a claim upon you. You have nothing, but you owe nothing. Your future is a blank slate and the first thing impressed on it at an orphanage is loyalty. You know how much you need the others kids to accept you, and you see what happens to anyone stupid enough to get caught screwing over their mates. Everyone, no matter how hurting or traumatised, knows betrayal won’t be excused. And that means you keep going when you know the others are relying upon you, no matter the pain, because you can’t risk letting them down, risk failing them. Pain and damage aren’t excused because we’re all pissing damaged; why else would we be treated the way a posh shop treats a delivery too damaged to sell? Why else would we be thrown away?”
She didn’t have an answer for him. Certainly not a comforting one.
Nicolo: “Enough of an answer huh. Your turn, then. Will you answer mine about Antonio? Right here and now, with no more dodging?”
She gave a small nod.
