THREE HEADS WERE pressed together in one corner of Dorm Wonder, one blonde and two dark. They were whispering animatedly and Pirouette Wrangely noticed them as she came in from breakfast. It was a weekend and that meant first years did not have to attend any kind of instruction for two whole days. Time was all their own.
Finding things to do was never a problem.
"What are you doing?" Pirouette asked suspiciously. To some this tone of voice was her normal way of speaking when she was not referring to herself or the land of her birth. The three heads turned quickly.
"Ah, Pirry, there you are," said Meresinth happily.
"Pirouette," Anthera nodded, her glasses flashing in the slanting sunlight at the gesture.
The third girl remained silent though there was a slight tinge of red upon her pale cheeks.
Pirouette looked at her.
"Vetta," she said seriously. "What are you doing?" The other two, standing either side of the Poldorama girl, looked meaningfully at her.
"We were," and Vetta fumbled a moment, "planning a morning's trip down to Cherryball Flats, to the shops," and she blushed a little more intensely.
Though highly untrusting of just about everyone else across the Face of the World, Pirouette Wrangely recognised there was a certain integrity that clung to the small blonde girl like a strange perfume. It was possibly because she came from a land that was so lacking in imagination that the idea of subterfuge had never entered it as far as she could tell.
"Shopping!" was her warm response. "Count me in. When do we start?" and she grabbed her hat as if answering her own query. She was not disappointed.
"Right away," Anthera said.
"All of us?" Pirouette asked, glancing at Dolly Bloomen's bed by the window which was currently occupied by a snoring figure.
"It would be a shame to wake her," Esper said from her corner of the room. "I'll keep her company just in case she revives and panics about where she is. Remember that nightmare she had about the Edge of the World and how it seemed to look like Nordeyer her homeland? No, I'm happy to read these notes from the last five lessons we had, just in case I missed something."
"Well, I missed everything," Meresinth joked, "so no amount of revision will save me. Come ladies, the glamour of shopping awaits."
With that she led the others out of the room at a quick march.
Esper watched after them in silence a moment.
"Oh dear," she said in that knowing way of hers.
***
"THIS TRAM DOES not seem to know where it is going," Pirouette said after a while of descending down a steep slope between thick bushes and scattered rubbish abandoned by residents of the area, piles of which had been burrowed into by several dogs with taletell yellow diamond tags that signified their district status or lack thereof.
"Perhaps the driver is unaware we have a Perfectine aboard and has taken a wrong turning," Meresinth suggested from the seat opposite.
"That's it exactly. Driver you must turn back. We are headed to Mapenza if I'm not mistaken," Pirouette sang out to the hunched figure at the front of the tram. Other passengers sniggered at this.
"Sorry to say ma'am, but you are mistaken, very mistaken," the driver responded without making any move to halt the vehicle, lift it off its tracks to turn it round so it could climb up to where a station linking to the more affluent shopping district of the Flats could be reached. "We's going down to Woebegone Platform next to Help Street like we always does on this line. Said so at the top there when you got on."
Pirouette looked suitably outraged and glared at Meresinth. She remembered the girl had stood very still in front of some signboard while they waited for a vehicle.
"Look upon it as an adventure," the Arbornica girl said casually.
"An education," Anthera added.
"A joy," Vetta mumbled but no one heard her above the clatter of the tram as it rolled over discarded detritus, scattering empty bottles with a special scoop attachment at the front.
Eventually they reached the chosen station platform and tumbled out in search of shops to pillage, except of course that was not the intention of three of the four girls.
Pirouette looked around her disdainfully at pie shops, ironmongeries and basket weaving establishments with rustling wares hanging beneath faded awnings.
"Ah," she said, trying to make something of her surroundings. "An education indeed. A chance to show how not to make a living." She stepped before the pie shop and sniffed. Her nose wrinkled. "Here," she said, gesturing stylishly, "is a food outlet that caters to those without taste or another of the six senses."
"Five," Anthera corrected her.
"Six. You are forgetting aesthetic appraisal. Perfectines are born with it, which is why the rest of the world is so very far behind."
"Talking of behind," Meresinth chuckled. "Look behind you."
Pirouette turned to see a rather large man with hairy arms, a dab of flour on his cheeks and a severely striped apron wrapped tightly around his ample stomach like an interference pattern gone rogue.
"Problem with our pies miss?" he growled, having overheard the girl's speech of moments ago.
Unperturbed, though her hand was slowly reaching into her shoulder bag for a spray, Pirouette glanced up, for the man was taller than her by quite a bit.
"Well," she began, but was grabbed by Anthera and the girls raced along the terrace towards a narrow street opening which led up a shadowed dusty way between stepped buildings.
They paused by a bollard and laughed, all except Vetta, who looked up at the sign on the nearest building.
"Help Street," she said and smiled. "We have arrived."
"The meanings of words appears to trouble you," the increasingly reluctant member of the group pointed out as she squinted menacingly at the same street sign. There were dents in it and a piece appeared to have been chewed off by some feral creature even though it was over six feet above the walkway. "One cannot arrive at nowhere."
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"This is definitely the place, isn't it Vetta?" Anthera said, scanning the narrow lane right to where it appeared to end at a brick wall, also with dents in it though no teethmarks. Some barbed wire and a drowsy dog sat upon the top of the brickwork.
Vetta nodded but glanced a little apprehensively at Pirouette. The Perfectine's back was to the street for her gaze roamed wistfully out into the sunshine, past some terraces with greenery upon them and beyond to the realms of imagination where gold glittered, glass glinted and glamour reigned supreme. Namely the Mapenza High Step Circle.
"Lots of shops here," Meresinth broke into the girl's reverie. It contained the magic word and Pirouette whipped round, a look in her eye that suggested purchasing power, and then she remembered. Help Street.
"Help," she whimpered.
This activated Vetta's good nature and she stepped forth a changed being.
"Please," she said. "This way for a rewarding experience. It is such a lovely idea. Buying becomes giving and giving brings help."
With that she wandered off in search of a particular sign about half way towards the drowsy dog upon the jagged wire. When she found it she paused, looked back and gestured with a smile.
Before Pirouette could object, the other two girls grabbed an arm and dragged her along the street to where Vetta stood.
"Where are you taking me?" she gasped, struggling feebly, for truth be told she was still under the spell of a new and anticipated potential shopping experience.
Vetta pointed up at a faded wooden sign with dents in it and for some reason a fork embedded in the first letter of the shop's name.
"Welcome to Bonsie's Giving For Good," she said.
Pirouette suddenly felt very faint and all resistence ended.
"A charity shop?" she gasped faintly.
"It is good to give," Vetta said. "Generosity is one of the five wellsprings of joy."
***
THERE WAS A surprisingly brisk trade going on inside the narrow shop. There was not much floor area as the building was squeezed between a glass recycling warehouse and a secondhand parts outlet that took in anything used once, even food.
Added to the crowdedness of the place was an impressive display of donated items and a wide variety of individuals in search of bargains, rareties given away by well-meaning rich people and stuff that might merely sell elsewhere at a slight profit. It was an opportunist's paradise.
The man behind the counter had a small bristly moustache beneath a round nose. There was in fact a general roundness about him and when his round eyes caught sight of the uniforms of the four newcomers as they wandered slowly among the displays he recognised they were elite customers.
"Ladies! Welcome to my establishment," Bonsie said in a voice that carried across the bustling shop floor. Everyone stopped and looked at the youngsters.
"We're not here to buy," Pirouette said combatively, "merely to laugh."
Anthera meanwhile was examining some jewellery items closely. She picked up a necklace from among a box of sparkling things and brought them to the counter.
"Ah," Bonsie said. "I see we have a connoisseur."
"This item is being offered for three coins," she said.
"Well," the man replied, "it is rather fine."
"Fine! It is genuine and without flaw. Who donated this?"
"We don't usually give out the name of donors miss," Bonsie said, taking up the necklace and peering more closely at it. The girl with the spectacles could clearly see more than him for it looked very much like all the others in the box.
"In Shard and Razor you could retail this at four hundred coins after sales tax, sumptuary tax and the presidential upkeep contributions have been taken from it."
"Sounds profitable," the man said quietly and gulped. The usual noisy buzz in the shop had quietened down to an interested murmur. People were looking at the box from where the necklace had been taken and some began sidling towards it carefully.
"The owner must have known its worth," Anthera pursued.
Vetta pushed forward then, eyes bright with interest.
"What a generous person," she squeaked with delight, "to give away such a valuable item to help the needy. It would be amazing to meet them and express gratitude for their kindness."
"Well, miss," and Bonsie gestured at some shelves upon which splendid-looking vases and dishes were ranged in a colourful display of ceramic glazes, "she often brings a few bits and pieces to the shop when in one of her generous moods."
Meresinth went over to the vases and her hand hovered near each of them until the Meditia girl nodded. She picked up one with a red and blue geometrical design and checked the underside. Anthera stood beside her and glanced at the symbols on the bottom before the other replaced it on the shelf.
"Octoran Precision Phase Ware," Anthera said quietly and smirked. "A hundred and fifty years old and without a chip or crack anywhere."
When Meresinth had turned the vase upside down a small slip of paper had fallen out and without anyone noticing, Anthera picked it up, read it and pocketed it before turning to her colleagues.
"Well, I think that's been highly educational," she said casually. "Time to get back."
"Are we not going to buy anything?" Vetta said, disappointed.
"Don't you want to pay a visit to the mystery donor?" Anthera whispered. The Poldorama girl nodded. "Then follow me."
Three girls left and blinked in the sunshine which had reached the narrow Help Street by this time.
"Where's Pirry?" Meresinth said.
"Still inside."
The Arbornica girl went in to fetch her.
"I'll give you ten coins for that necklace," she heard the Perfectine say to the spluttering Bonsie who confused by what the other girl had said put up little resistance to someone born to make aggressive purchases. She pinged some credit to his till, snatched the sparkly thing before any doubts might creep in and marched out of the shop just as a crowd of customers ransacked the jewellery box to make their own possibly life-changing purchases, or so they hoped.
Pirouette joined the others on the walkway.
"Well," she said, admiring the sparkly effects of sunlight on the necklace as she held it up. The glinting effect woke up the drowsy dog on the wall and it growled. Pirouette ignored it. "I begin to see the attraction of charity shops," she said happily. "Anthera, we must make a survey of all such similar outlets. You could be my personal shopper for the weekends in the more unsavoury areas of this unsavoury town."
"That will be a no," Anthera replied casually.
"Hmn," and Pirouette huffed, pocketed her prize and marched off along Help Street a short distance. Then she paused and looked around. "Which direction is civilisation?" she said uncertainly.
No one took any notice. Anthera leaned closer to Vetta confidingly.
"Besides, I was kidding about the value. Noticed lots of people were looking but not buying, so engineered a little sales strategy to help matters along. That till's fairly pinging every second as we stand here discussing the relative values of wealth, charity and generosity."
"Generosity is of the greatest value," Vetta pitched in, amazed at Anthera's cleverness, "because..."
"Are we going to stand here in darkness for the rest of the weekend?" Pirouette called out from where she stood bathed in bright sunshine. "Trams to opulence do not stop here."
Vetta sighed and the others laughed charitably.
***
AFTER THE TRAM ride brought the girls back to more comfortable surroundings and Vetta indulged in a little gravel crunching outside the main hall she paused to think.
"Anthera?" she said in slightly mournful tones, stopping the Meditia girl as she went to climb the steps of the main entrance to Miss Plazenby's. The other two had already raced ahead while exchanging jibes at each other's expense.
"Yes Vetta?"
"Were you also, um, kidding about knowing who the donor was?"
"No. That Octoran vase was worth more than what I said of the necklace. There were several pieces there of first rate quality on that shelf. The lady who gave them away must have an incredible sense of generosity to simply discard such collectible items to help others."
"Oh yes! She sounds amazing. And you found out who she is?" Vetta looked hopeful.
For answer Anthera produced the card. It had been left in the vase for some reason when it had been given to Bonsie's shop and upon it was written the lady's name and where she resided.
"Widow Mint, in the Twilit Estate," Vetta read. "She's a widow. She's lost a loved one. Perhaps kindness wells up in her through the sadness, inspiring her to give to the needy."
"Sounds as likely as musical fungus, but who can say?" and Anthera shrugged. "Come on. We must contribute to the needy too, I mean mistresses in need of pupils to teach. Back to lessons."
With that she departed up the stairs to make ready for more schooling.
"But it is the weekend," Vetta reminded no one in particular, and then she brightened. Another whole day tomorrow to explore the strange land of Frangea, perhaps converse with the blue-haired girl, and, most importantly, to find out about Widow Mint and her amazing generosity. First though, she decided she would like to crunch on the gravel some more.