1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.2 An Awakening Epiphany
1.2.2.40 Gorana
She took her diadem off, blinking her eyes to get rid of the after image, and saw Bulgaria now before her on one knee, looking up at her. She took a deep breath, and considered her next words carefully.
Kafana: “Thank you Bulgaria. That wasn’t easy for you, but I don’t regret getting to know you better, and I really value the honesty. You have my trust. Whether you have more than that, I’m not sure yet. I’m not comfortable with the word ‘hero’. I don’t know if I can be one, or want to be. What I can say now is that I’ll think about it, that I’ll give you my answer soon, and that if I say ‘yes’, I may want to do it my way and I won’t guarantee success, but I won’t just play at it - I will really try to take on the responsibility for leading this motley crew in achieving as much as we can.”
She leaned over and gently kissed him on the forehead, then used both hands to raise him to his feet. He felt wobbly, like he’d taken a beating or been shoved through a mangle.
Kafana: “You need to head back. You have an auction to prepare for. I’m going to write a long love letter to my Self then flip out. I’ll be safe here; I’m next to water, and if anybody comes I can just dive in and sit at the bottom of the lake. Will you be ok?”
Bulgaria: “I never did show you the details of the mask I picked from the loot, did I?”
System displayed a document her sent her:
Huli Jing Mask of Generic Disguise (ARTIFACT)
Temporarily change your displayed visual appearance to that of another non-specific person of your race
Temporarily change your displayed name to one that is not in use.
Temporarily change your displayed title to a professional one of equal or lower rank to your own
This mask was crafted by Hu Mei’er to make it easier for her lover to visit her
Cost of initiating a change : 1000 mana
Cost of maintaining a change : 10 mana per minute
He switched clothing, donned the fox-shaped mask, and tugged his forelock like a peasant, indistinguishable from the folk of the Aia, an apprentice farmer named Lazenby.
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He strolled off with an easy rolling gait, before turning back and calling out: “You take your time writing that there love poetry, Miss, and look after that waistcoat. Beautiful it is, everybody deserves to have a coat like that.”
Did he just call her a rat? She smiled to herself, and sketched a little happy rat on the edge of the paper of the letter, before carrying on describing her day for Vessel-Kafana.
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*flip*
Nadine entered the Kafana’s kitchen to find Bahrudin’s granddaughter, Gorana, merrily chatting away with Nadine’s new sous-chef Ketah, who was projected on a new screen, installed by Heather above the beloved professional catering-quality range cooker that stretched along one wall. When she’d last seen her, Gorana had been fifteen years old, an obedient and modestly dressed girl being taken by her parents to live in a larger town where there were more opportunities. Now she was twenty and wearing a tight sparkly pink western T-Shirt with the English words “Smash the Patriarchy” emblazoned across the chest.
Kafana expressed her delight: “Gorana!”
Gorana spun around, with a dancer’s grace: “Miss Sabanagic. Thank you so much for the opportunity. This will be my first paid job, but I’m going to work really hard, I promise you. I learned all my mother’s recipes, and Ketah has told me where everything is and exactly what the customers are expecting for this evening’s menu.”
Kafana walked over and lifted one of the pot lids. The smell was enticing. She nodded in approval. Gorana’s appearance might give her regulars a heart attack, but her cooking was as traditional as any of them could ask for. She decided, there and then, that she wouldn’t ask Gorana to tone down her clothing at all. The patriarchy needed a bit of smashing, and it wouldn’t be the hardest change in the days to come. Maybe getting the two generations to really see and communicate with each other was a challenge that could be used to explore Bulgaria’s theories about the potential of tiara technology?
Kafana: “Keep the customers happy, but don’t let them bully you - we have a tradition in this village of the women being the strong ones.”
She gave a crooked grin: “Of course, we don’t always let them know that.”
Gorana laughed gleefully with her whole body, fisted hands clasped together, rising up onto her toes, taut muscles playing visibly under her skin.
They chatted for a while. As Kafana suspected, Gorana had kept up with her dance training. She related how she’d joined a group that put on voluntary performances for a charity supporting the children produced by the use of rape as a tool of war, and talked enthusiastically about a virtual performance they put on jointly with collectives from other war-torn areas of the world, each group contributing just 2 or 3 dancers, with dancers from other regions being projected onto the stage for those watching with augmented sight. She asked Ketah to display the dance between Columbina and Harlequin, then went out to do her evening’s singing.
Part way through the evening, after her first set when she was circulating around the room, Heather came in, beaming. She handed a display case of signet rings to Bahrudin with a flourish, and the others crowded around to admire them. Bahrudin hrumphed, and declared that he’d be awarding them only to those who completed training to his satisfaction, then proceeded with the agreed cover story that the neighbouring village was boasting about the skills of its drone tag team and while Ms MacQuarrie had kindly offered to provide their village with drones so they could have a team of their own, he, Bahrudin, wasn’t going to countenance drones being crashed by incompetent pilots. They would have a better team than the other village, or they wouldn’t have one at all!
Nadine suppressed all hints of a smile on her face, impressed at the sincerity with which Harun declared his intention to join the village’s Drone Driving Fraternity and earn the honour of wearing a DDF member’s ring.