1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.4 An Artful Carnivale
1.2.4.21 Crucibles of pain
They spent a while being introduced to each horse and shown where to stand and how to touch them. Kafana was allowed to rub one of the mares and was surprised by how good it was at making it clear that she should press harder. It must have shown on her face.
Yago: "Horses are much better at communication than most Covadan.”
Alderney: “I’ve been watching their ears and tails.”
Yago: “Watch their lips and nostrils too; how they are breathing and how they are standing, everything. But it is more than that. Look at how they interact. Which ones they nuzzle and which they keep an eye on; which ones demonstrate their dominance by moving into the other horse, and which demonstrate their submission by moving out of the way and displaying their vulnerability by lowering their head and making chewing motions as though they were eating. Humans get into unnecessary fights by not signalling their intent or by ignoring the signals of others; horses don’t do that.”
They carried on talking about horses for a while, regularly getting messages from System saying that their taming or riding or reputation had increased, as Yago shared his passion with them. Then the wrestlers trooped in, and Yago left to help out with another act, leaving Casimir with instructions to look after them.
Casimir: “If Yago says you can be trusted then you can. He’s not just the boss of the Carnivale and the best Horsemaster we’ve had in generations. He’s a Pathfinder and Lietaster too. I think sometimes he may be our legendary first ancestor reborn.”
Tomsk: “That happens?”
Casimir: “Oh yes. But generally only just before great peril comes, so on the whole I hope he isn’t. Still, best to be prepared. We keep our ears to the ground and our eyes on the exits.”
Alderney: “You’re not the only gang in the Arsenal who does that. But I was surprised that the other residents got their cant from you. How long have the people been settled here in Torello?”
In the background they could hear The Brute and The Kraken giving the Farmboy serious grief about something he’d done in the ring. They wandered over, still chatting with Casimir who introduced them to people as they passed.
Casimir: “The people have been trading horses at the Old Stables since the days they were the main stables for the city, and the Old Tiltyard was where they held regular jousts. This was the Herald’s Quad, where knights mounted and were announced. The building to our north, next to The Haywain inn, was run by the College of Arms back in the Age of Kings, when they didn’t acknowledge guilds. The king-of-arms, judges and other notables who maintained the lists had rooms there for conducting business like investigations and trials. It even has a dungeon.”
Kafana: “From what Yago was saying, I got the impression that the people preferred to stay on the move?“
Casimir: “We do. This camp may date back to the Age of Priests, but none of us stay here more than two years at a time, and most stay eight months or fewer. I’ll be moving on myself at Mabon sabbat. My face is becoming too familiar, despite the masks.” then he added, with a shy grin “and I’d like a wife.”
Tomsk: “None of the women in Torello take your fancy?”
Casimir sounded dismissive: “¡Non-Lovari¡ can be nice to look at, but I wouldn’t want to sleep with them. Leave a child behind in a ¡town¡ with a woman who won’t go on the road? Too many Lovarii in the past dropped from the way because of that. We’ve learned better. I won’t leave my kin grieving me.”
Kafana could hear the heavy freight hidden behind some of the terms he used, and itched to ask System to expand upon them. She muttered under her breath “Zer owes me big for this”, and resisted the temptation.
The Brute was lecturing The Farmboy in a calm voice now, about the importance of listening to cues and not kicking out of his opponent’s finisher. The Kraken, meanwhile, had the Farmboy beneath him in a painful looking hold and was bending him backwards a bit more, each time The Brute finished a sentence.
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Casimir: “Stretching the greenie. Farmboy there is new to our ways, and still deciding whether to travel the roads with us or go back to being a thug for hire. He’s ambitious, and doesn’t like losing.”
Alderney: “Is that cause to torture him?”
Casimir: “If he doesn’t respect us enough to learn Lovariszo, so he can understand the cues we speak in front of audiences, then he’s a danger to himself and to others. Better he get a broken arm now, and have a few months to think it over, than he end up sending someone to the sanctum and losing them half their skill levels.”
Tomsk: {And if he can’t withstand that much, they think they’d be wasting their time teaching him. I remember my first sensei, Colonel Kozlov. He was this wizened bald guy with a white Cossack moustache who fought in Chechnya as part of Vympel. He’s the one who taught me knives, but he also introduced me to his own off-shoot of Systema. It’s when I really got into martial arts. Anyway. His dojo was known informally by the students as The Crucible of Pain, because Kozlov taught that anyone can win a fight if they start off on top. According to him, true skill is learned only by struggling to win after starting from a disadvantageous position.}
Bungo, who was now standing with them, replied in a worried voice: {Do you believe him?}
Tomsk: {I certainly learned a lot from him. But I preferred his partner Aminat. She was a Chechen who was forced to marry young and, when her husband died, they tried to get her to become a ‘Black Widow’ and blow herself up. She said “screw that”, became an atheist, and somehow managed to get asylum in Japan for fifteen years, where she got into playing ‘go’, then zen, then martial arts involving weird weapons like yoyos and sharpened frisbees. A strange hobby for a complete pacifist, but to her it was fun and beautiful - something she wanted to explore and share. To her, teaching was never a waste.}
Kafana: {How on earth did that pair get together?}
Tomsk: {Long story. If you ask me later when we’re not broadcasting, I’ll tell it all to you, Kafana.}
Oh, good point. She really ought to be finding out these people’s stories, learning stuff about the Arsenal to keep Alderney’s newcomer’s guide interesting. She turned to Casimir, as Bulgaria and Wellington also came over to join them.
Kafana: “You’ve been really helpful, but there’s something I just don’t get. May I ask you directly?”
Casimir spread his arm, to invite the question, and then found a comfortable crate in the shade to squat on, looking down at them from his perch.
Kafana: “Why steal? You’ve a close-knit group here, full of talented hard-working people, and the performances you put on in the Tiltyard are worth watching and seem to draw a respectable number of coins. Why do you choose to also make money with lies and deception, when you could make quite enough through trading horses and goods? What is the difference between that and the sort of greed that weighs people down with possessions?”
Casimir: “Some do it for the fun, because they are proud of their skills, because they want to show off their bravery in taking risks. But that’s not the real reason.”
Bulgaria: “What is the real reason?”
Casimir: “They’re not Lovari, nor allied with us. We owe them nothing. They take money from us by force, and give nothing of value to us in return. Why should we not do likewise? Failure to take them for all the money we can is the same as stealing from our own family.”
Tomsk: “What about protection from pirates or disease or the rule of law?”
Casimir: “We sail no ships. If pirates invade Torello, we will simply ride away. We keep our own camps free of rats and sewage; the tax-taking authorities do nothing that helps us against disease. And what have laws protected us from; have you seen Basso and the Arsenal? The rule of law, in its majestic equality, protects both rich and poor alike from having beggars inconvenience their carriages and from having debtors default upon loans to them.”
Bungo: “Isn’t it a bit of a waste, you stealing from them and them stealing from you, with both sides expending money and effort on defending against the other that could instead be spent on projects benefitting both sides, like hunting down monsters in the wild that threaten the roads?”
Casimir: “You have big dreams, Mare-Shivari. Let me know how they work out.”
They chatted for a while longer, until Bulgaria received the news he’d been waiting for and they made their farewells. It wasn’t until they were outside the gate that Bungo finally got around to asking System about the meaning of his handle and startled them with an aggrieved wail.
Bungo: {“Clowns-a-lot.”? Even Wellington gets a cool handle like “Danger Man” and I get “Sir Clowns-a-lot.”? This is unfair!}
Tomsk: {Truth in advertising, Bungo.}
Wellington said, quite matter of factly: {“Danger” is my middle name.}
And it was. She looked at the display over his head, which now showed in the name slot: Wellington “Danger” Fiducia
Kafana shrugged, and tried to sound sympathetic: {Sorry Bungo. You can’t win against the system. It labels things as it sees them.}