Fulcrum

[El Nuevo Diestro]

"Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world." -Archimedes

Prelude
First Vision
Blindsight

Beginning
Aura discusses marriage vision with Mercy
Diego discusses marriage Vision with the Diestros
Aura seeks help from Kristen
Diego seeks clarification from Vesper

Interlude I
Ominous tidings

Conflict
Conflict erupts
Conflict's aftermath
Conflict's contemplation
Conflict's resolution

[Mercy Strike]

The grass is dangerously cool under her knees, the individual blades pricking at her skin. The comforting bulk of stone and mortar, glass and brick surrounds her, the walls of the school curving like wings around the place where she crouches.

She turns over another card but it's still blank. They're all blank, every one of them in a drift of white around her. She flips another and then another but there are no answers, only frantic questions. She bites her lip, rocking back on her heels.

Something is coming. She can feel it pressing against the stone circle, searching for a way in. She has to find it before it finds her, finds them, before it discovers the terrible weakness at the heart of everything. She's near crying with terrified frustration. Why can't she See it? She needs to know. She has save him. She fumbles for another card.

"No!"

A slim hand tears the deck out of her fingers, scattering the cards to the verdant ground. She jerks her head up with shock.

Her mother glares down, angry as she never is, her cat eyes fierce with rage and disappointment. "No, Aura!"

"I have to! I promised!"

A gust of sudden wind sets the dark hair under the kerchief to dancing and the tiny silver bells tied to the ends chime with confusion. Her mother's dark eyes, so different from her own, are nearly as black as the stormclouds. "Aura, don't Look!"

Stormclouds? She looks up and the sky is racing with darkness, the scudding pressure converging on where she is. Much, much too high for any wall to block out. Scared, she turns back but her mother is gone, a single point of accusing flame in the distance. The bells sound a wild carillon.

Her breath catches in her throat as she realises the cards have arranged themselves in a perfect circle around her like teeth. The ice cold wind whips her hair against her mouth.

She can feel it moving then beneath her legs, spreading through the ground like a stain. It couldn't get through the walls so it's gone underneath and even as she crouches with fear, darkness starts to bubble up, eclipsing the white, staring faces.

She scrambles to her feet and runs for the rock, the one with the sleeping dragon, the one that should never be woken. It's a boulder, then a hill, a mountain but it doesn't matter, it's sanctuary and she sobs as she climbs, digging her fingers into the crumbling dirt. She looks over her shoulder. There's nothing else now, only the mountain, the storm and the black, unnamed hunger. No wings, no walls. She can feel the hesitation but then the darkness undulates like a snake and starts to flow upwards. Chasing.

Panting at the top, she looks up in desperation. A single star shines down from the high darkness, a pinpoint of cold awareness like an eye. She frames the wish like she's six and wishes still matter. Starlight, starbright.

She screams as the darkness kisses her fingertips.

-----------------------

She's upright in bed, clutching the bedcovers. She's still asleep but doesn't know it, her body strung tight enough to break into pieces. Gradually her eyes flutter open and she stares in confusion at the patchwork wall.

...aura?

She hiccups then, and rubs an eye.

"Yes?" she whispers. It's too late to talk out loud.

There's no answer. She watches the moonlight pattern itself through the room for a minute but nothing happens. Eventually she shivers and burrows back down under the bedcovers. It's really much too cold to be anywhere that isn't warm. Whatever Mercy wanted, it can wait til morning.

In three minutes, she's asleep again.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

"So I take it we are once again split? Will we never again present the boy a united front with which to advise him?" The tone was milder than the words, but even that had a fair amount of frustration evident.

"Oh, come now. Not as bad as all that. We have issues with the current mess he's managed to entangle himself in, but then, I'd call that rather inevitable. We will have to discuss that issue in more depth. For now, let us focus on that which is central." This voice, too, exhibited a certain level of annoyance.

"That would be the best course. We are, perhaps, become used to seeking our disagreements rather than the common ground." Cold and clinical, this one.

"Alright. We agree that the boy has done the right thing in forming a tie to the girl."

"Yes."

"Indeed."

"We agree that she is, nonetheless, wholly untested. We also agree that this cannot remain the case."

"Most definitely."

"I would quibble that she is not wholly untested, since the Reading that brought her to our attention in the first place was sound."

A grunt of exasperation. "Do you agree that further determination of her efficacy is neccesary?"

"Mmm. Alright, yes."

"Then that is enough. We agree that, if she is to be tied to the boy, then we must determine her fortitude, her character."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"We agree her....suitability as a partner is in doubt. She must be evaluated on those terms as well."

"Agreed."

"I will agree there are those who are in doubt, yes."

"Fine then. And we are all agreed that there is much too large an aspect of mystery surrounding this...'sister' of hers, this being residing within her."

"Heartily."

"Quite. Yes."

"Then, in light of this common ground, are we in consensus that it is time to take a direct hand in this matter?"

"I believe so."

"We are."

"Excellent! This was, indeed, the tack to take. I thank you for the suggestion, Augusto."

"Yes, well, we all want to move forward more smoothly than we had been, eh, Sol?"

"Without doubt. When next we commune with the boy, we will inform him. Your faction shall, of course, be the actual voice, Colibrí." A nod answered. "Good. It is time for us to converse with this Seer of his..."

[Mercy Strike]

It started off with a spider.

It wasn't even a big spider, like one twelve feet tall with laser refraction weaponry and cutting edge alloys at the joints. The kind of spider that would have tested his skills to the utmost, would have given the ever-watchful Diestros a chance to dissect his continued refinement of both technique and form. It wasn't even a six foot tall man in a spider uniform which, if less awe-inspiring, would still have given rise to its own set of challenges.

No, this spider was about a quarter inch high, intent on its own spider business and utterly unaware of the snowball effect it would have on his life.

It had seemed a simple thing. The spider had menaced three of the junior girls from the safety of a second floor windowsill during what was their biology class, a fact which only occurred to him as funny in retrospect. He'd walked in for his chemistry lab which was after theirs and Aura had all but dragged him across the room, her blue eyes pleading. The spider was in imminent danger of a squashing since somebody, he never caught who, was apparently deathly afraid of spiders and was coming back to Fix The Problem with a can of hairspray.

What was he supposed to do? It wasn't a dragon but those were few and far between these days.

So he'd carefully held the spider inside cupped hands as he'd crossed the crowded hallway, down the flight of stairs and out the side door with Aura hovering anxiously at his shoulder. She'd needed to pick the appropriately green leaf with which to set the arachnid free so he'd waited patiently with the tickle trying to escape. By the time he'd gotten back upstairs to the lab he'd been late, earning a demerit, but it had seemed a fair trade. She'd smiled with gratitude; he'd pinned it to his memory along with the others.

But it didn't stop with the spider.

The first time the hinge on her locker had stuck, he'd thought nothing of it. He was taller; it was a matter of moments to unjam it and he'd been rewarded again with one of those paralysingly bright smiles. By the third time in a week however, he'd been somewhat more suspicious about how often things seemed to stop functioning in Aura's presence. Then it rained one day and froze that night so the next morning the sidewalks had been slippery as Catholic sin, even with the sprinkled salt. A frantic message had him at the main door to the girls' dorms in fifteen minutes and he'd tried hard not to look at anybody as he shepherded her across to the main wing, her light weight clinging to his arm.

Then she'd forgotten a book in the library, could he go get it? Her bed in the quad had a wobbly leg, could he come hold it up while she tried to figure out what the problem was? That had been interesting, with only her legs sticking out from underneath as she'd squirmed along the floor. He'd done his best not to drop the heavy frame on her head but his shoulders had cried out with the awkward position by the time she'd triumphantly re-emerged. Then she'd lost her favorite hairband somewhere between second and third period, could he come help her search the hallways?

He'd done his best to ignore the not-quite-out-of-earshot comments as what had became obvious to him became obvious to everyone else. He didn't deign to take notice because once he'd figured out what was going on, it didn't really matter what the others assumed. Hadn't he said he was at her service? He'd told himself to be patient. There was only so much she could ask him to do, right? And he didn't really mind having a little white-haired shadow appear out of nowhere a couple of times a week, wanting something that usually turned out only to be his attention. It was even sort of comforting.

Or at least that's what he told himself, down on one knee and doing his best not to sneeze as he tried to fish out a necklace which had magically gotten jammed behind a radiator.

Finally there was a space of two whole days where she hadn't bothered him at all. He'd breathed a sigh of relief, the muscles of his arms pleased with the respite. The way things had been going, he'd started to wonder if the next thing would require him to learn how to balance on stilts. But then two stretched into three and then into four and he'd started to worry. He caught sight of her a few times in the hallways and she seemed much as always. Still, how did one ask? He didn't know how to approach it. Had she decided that she'd tested him and his resolve enough, had he finally answered the unspoken question beneath each small action he'd performed? Had she then accepted his service as something that was her due?

Or had she just forgotten? He wouldn't put it past her.

So when four days became a week, concern had hardened and he'd determined to find out. His service was tied to her aid and it went in both directions.

Still, he hadn't meant to frighten her by appearing at the quad without notice in the afternoon. But the door had been open and his knock apparently unheard as he'd tentatively entered. The entire dorm room had been turned topsy turvy it seemed, spring cleaning gone wildly awry. Her hair had been tied up on top of her head, wound over and through with a strip of cloth and it also had stuck out in every direction. She'd looked like a tiny white Christmas tree from the back, albeit a dusty one. He'd truly been about to clear his throat to get her attention but she'd turned without warning and vaunted reflexes or not, nothing could have prevented the nose to chest collision.

He'd spent what felt like forever being lectured. It didn't matter that he'd been raised to greet both archbishops and dukes with the proper forms of address and inflection, knew to a nuance how much to bow or when to kneel to the Pope. Apparently he'd been raised by wolves, there was no question. And at the end of it he'd walked away with a bell knotted to the back of his hair with a fragment of purple string, not even quite sure how it had happened.

A luck charm from a Seer was too great a boon to disregard, no matter the manner with which it had been bestowed or at what volume. Still, how was he expected to be able to fight with this? He'd spent countless hours learning silence. Now every motion chimed in his ear.

He was halfway across the main quad, altering his stride by turns, trying to figure out how he could walk and not jingle like a warhorse, wondering if muffling the little clapper was allowed, wondering if that would somehow interfere with the hex and earn him another lecture, wondering just how likely it was that the tiny noise would betray him at the worst possible time, wondering if it looked as silly as it felt - before he remembered he'd never had his question answered.

He'd hesitated but then had kept walking. Going back didn't really seem to be his best option.

He told himself he'd try again later.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

He had gone back...and the Diestros had taken matters into their own hands. The results had been less than pleasant for all involved.

"An infestation? She called us an infestation. What kind of Seer is so ignorant she refers to us as such?"

"She was...she didn't know what to say. We shouldn't have just gone over there, Diestros." Diego knew there were Diestros just seeking a reason to disaprove, to lay down greater restrictions and unfair demands. Damage control would be the order of the day.

"And blatant rudeness? From a rootless commoner with no fa-"

"She is American. They're all commoners, Diestros." Diego winced internally; it wasn't his best interjection ever, but it was still much better than letting him finish that sentence. "She agreed to place wards, like you asked. And, she did gift me a luck charm."

"She agreed to certain wards, within limits. Possibly due to the limits of her own abilities, which doesn't bode well. And she never directly answered whether her Sight was inherited; you know as well as we how vital a point that could be."

Diego fought to keep his composure. He hoped the Diestro wouldn't feel the need to elaborate just why her Sight being inherited mattered so much at this particular moment in time. "Ah, yes, I know Diestro. But its impossible to know any limits yet, isn't it? Eh..."

"And Seers are always insufferably mysterious and unforthcoming, even after being bound. You must watch her and yourself, young knight. She could enmire and ensnare you in inescapable webs otherwise."

"Enmire? Aura?" The thought of Aura weaving secret webs behind the scenes was so utterly incongruent that Diego was left incapable of further comment.

"Never underestimate their faculties for subterfuge. Always expect incoming threats is forever our mantra, or are you forgetting this already?"

"Of course not, Diestro. I just...I will...I will have caution." Best agree and let him move on.

"Good. And be sure to inquire oft as to the delivery of the wards. Do not let her spin an unending series of delays. You have been providing service as you pledged; she pledged service in return, and she will provide."

"Yes Diestro."

"Do not let yourself fall into traps from lack of focus. It is a tendency you display almost as disturbing as your tendency to overextend yourself in general combat. And frankly, we should discuss your recent desires to shirk training as well."

"At your leisure, Diestros. I attempt to serve as best I can. There are other things that have merit in different areas....."

"Excuses are never tolerated. But it is a matter for another time, I think. Right now, we should best get to the bottom of a more directly related topic. What exactly are your end intentions with your Seer, and how might they relate to the time you've been spending with that slattern or your dawdlings with that odd little mouse?"

Diego felt his stomach sink at that direct question. It was something he knew he had no real answer for, because it was something he had tried not to think about too deeply himself. An area of feelings he didn't trust himself to explore. He knew his discomfiture had to be written all over him, so he sought to reacquire his calm as best he could before answering.

[Mercy Strike]

...related post
----------------------

From the door, it was chaos.

Like always.

She bounced on her toes but it didn't help any. She was still short and it was almost impossible to see anything but a wall of backs and shoulders from her position at the end of the line. According to the chalkboard outside the double doors, Madam Lasinfore was serving pumpkin goulash today and it felt like the entire school had turned up, probably out of morbid curiosity, to see what that actually was.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. What with him dating Joni, sort of, and apparently hanging out with Bethany when he wasn't with Joni, kind of, she'd had to give up on trying to find him after school and had decided to just tackle him during lunch. Everybody had to have lunch, right? Only she hadn't counted on it being so busy and not being able to see anything. Maybe next year those hormones that got talked about during sex ed class would finally kick in and she'd sprout up to a stately and graceful height and she could be an elf queen. Not that that was going to help her now.

She shifted, trying to spot a certain color of bronze somewhere ahead of her. The little bag tucked under the waistband of her skirt chose that moment to dig into her hip with a vengeance. She wiggled, trying to resettle it. She probably looked like she had to go to the washroom but there was no helping it. She certainly didn't dare leave them laying around just anywhere but they were uncomfortable as anything, both physically and psychically.

She'd tried hanging the insulating silk on a string around her neck, but the wards were so bulky it'd looked like she'd grown a third breast. Even in this school, that was worth commenting on and after spending most of a morning in a permanent state of blush, she'd found a better place for them. So what if she was bruising like that story about the princess and the pea?

How come she could never find the one thing she needed when she really needed it? Not socks, not her favorite scarf, and apparently not certain boys who should know better than to go missing without warning her first.

Aura narrowed her eyes and considered her options. If he wasn't in the cafeteria, she'd try the library. And then his dorm again. And then she'd try the office one more time and see if Gemini would please and thank you let her know his next class, even if that wasn't really allowed. This time she'd be convincing as anything. Maybe she could fake a heart attack? That might buy her a few minutes when they went to call a doctor.

Aura told her karma it was for a good cause and pushed her way through into the room, squirming through the gaps in the line.

There. Murphy was obviously taking a short break because she spotted him almost immediately. The precise set of shoulders under the black school blazer and the tilt of his head was unmistakable. She grabbed a tray from the stack and a moment later she was at Diego's elbow. She smiled as he looked down in surprise.

"Hi! Hello! Can I cut into line with you? I'm starving."

"Eh? Ah, certainly, Reina." Obligingly Diego shifted and she slipped in front.

"Hey! No buttinskis!"

Aura ignored the protest from somewhere further down the line, clattering her tray on the rail. She wasn't butting in. She really needed to talk to Diego so it was perfectly all right. She reached across and grabbed a mandarin orange from the nearest basket.

"You're so impossible. I've been looking for you everywhere, you know," she started.

"Ah... sí?"

She thought about it and decided that crackers probably went with goulash just fine so she added four packets of them. Oh, and chocolate milk.

"Gosh, yes. I even got desperate and went to your dorm a couple times but Brandon said you were out and I didn't want to just hang around in case somebody thought I was waiting for you. Diego, can you get me the chocolate milk, please?" She pointed.

"You no want anyone.... when was this, Reina?" He reached past her and she had a great view of black sleeve for a minute as he grabbed the small carton, depositing it on her tray. "I no remember seeing you."

"A few days ago, I don't know. It doesn't matter, I've just been looking for you and you've been very and utterly nowhere. It's been like trying to get the west wind to stay still! Don't you ever just stop somewhere and just breathe for awhile? Where I can find you?" She waffled but then ordered a big bowl of the goulash, sniffing appreciatively as it was handed across the counter. Wow. Who knew pumpkin could smell like that? And it wasn't even orange. This was a case of false advertising.

Diego was smiling down at her with that bemused expression. "I esstop en many place and I always breathe, señorita. Es I want to know why you es look for me?" He ordered his own bowl, his tray already consisting of things she'd never eat in a million years.

Aura rubbernecked, trying to look over both shoulders at once. Diego checked his too before turning back quizzically. She went up on tiptoe and he obligingly leaned down. She cupped her hand over his ear.

"Orfay hetay ordsway," she said softly. Too softly, as Diego jerked up and she saw goosebumps crawl up his neck from the breath in his ear. She watched the shiver, fascinated. Who knew?

"En verdad?" His gaze sharpened. She nodded happily.

There was a loud coughing behind them. She stared around Diego's arm and gulped, then skipped along hastily. Wow, holding up the line was grounds for major problems later in the hallway. Diego made some sort of murmured apology for both of them though, so maybe it'd be okay. He herded her easily onto the main floor but it was still a sea of shoulders and collarbones. Impulsively she turned and thrust her tray out.

"Diego, could you carry my tray, please?" she demanded. He blinked but his hand reached out automatically and took the weight. She watched make sure he wasn't going to spill anything and turned around to survey the room again. That table was half empty but it was cold by the window and that one over there had splinters in the bench and there was just no way she was ever going to sit anywhere near that guy again but that one over there would do just fine. She set her sights and set out at a brisk pace before somebody else got it.

She wiggled through by the virtue of simply being short. How Diego managed at six foot one with a tray in each hand she never knew. Maybe he gave everyone the evil Spanish eye. Maybe he'd been a five-star waiter in a past life. Either way, he stayed right behind her as if on a chain, striding along obediently while she maneuvered like a demented butterfly towards their final destination. She stopped triumphantly at the chosen spot, patting the seat.

"Right here, Diego!" she warbled. She beamed impartially at the other people sitting near them at the trestle.

He put the trays down and started to slide into the indicated seat. When he realised she wasn't sitting though, he started to stand again but she pushed on his shoulders.

"No. Down. Sit."

It seemed to work. His expression was sort of comical though. Hadn't she seen that look on a cartoon character once? Anyways. She fumbled at her waist.

"I told you I'd get this done," she whispered. "You and your dumb ghosts." He stiffened at that but she didn't notice. "You have really got to learn patience. This kind of stuff doesn't grow on trees and then I had to carry them around for days and I'm going to have a huge bruise now. Hold this." She slid the scrap of lumpy fabric into one of his hands, trying to use the table as cover. He down looked at it and then at her.

"Do you feel anything?" she asked hopefully.

"Ah... no? Es I supposed to feel something?" Diego looked worried. Aura sighed and shook her head.

"No, but I was kind of hoping. Still, they are muffled so I wouldn't worry about it. You'd have to be me to be sensitive to them through that many layers and if you were me, you wouldn't need them."

With that cryptic statement, Aura stepped behind him and pushed on the back of his head. He didn't seem to get it for a second but then submitted meekly, looking down. She leaned against his back and ran her hands through his hair, searching for the bell. Her fingers found it quickly enough, knotted behind his ear. She tugged but it was really in there. She sighed and concentrated on picking the knots apart.

"Reina, what es you doing?" he said quietly, obviously trying not to be overheard.

"I'm taking the bell out of your hair."

He shifted without warning, half turning and a hand rose to entrap her wrist. "No," he said. "Es was....you es gift."

She stared at him, almost eye to eye. It was a funny feeling with the difference in their heights negated. "Gosh. Don't be dumb. I'm going to give it right back." She tugged her hand free and again pushed on the back of his head. "I'm going to thread this properly, with the wards. Trust me, okay?"

"I es always trust you, Reina. But I no like lose such gift." Still, he turned and bent his head again. She went back to picking at the thread. She really must have been mad considering how many knots she'd used. Eventually though it came free along with a few strands of bronze. She shook the chime and smiled at the tiny, sweet sound. For a second, Aura was overwhelmed by the presence of her mother who was always surrounded by the sound of bells.

Her mother who might not approve of this. Aura shook her head and leaned over Diego's shoulder, taking the wards back. Just a few more minutes and the horrible itching awareness that she'd been carrying around would be over.

"Okay. This won't take a second.Try not to think of anything for a minute."

"No think of....eh?"

"Shhh. Don't talk either."

"How es I not to...."

"Heyla, what's going on?" The tall blonde paused near their table with her own tray, pale brows furrowed together with surprise. "What are you doing to Zorro, Firefly?"

Aura shrank back, her fingers tightening in his hair out of reflex.

"Hola, Tasi!" She could tell he was smiling just by the sound of his voice. "I es getting tangle en hair, no have get hair cut recent. Es look like pirate hair, sí?" He said it a bit too loudly, pitching his voice to carry a little across the table. He shifted and Aura found herself half shielded by his body, cutting her perception in half with his interposed bulk. How did he know? She didn't care, she just used the cover to think very small. "Aura es help with groom."

Stasis just continue to stare, her eyebrows crawling up incrementally. "Right. Because pirates have never heard of combs." Stasis suddenly grinned. "I have got to learn to stop asking questions around here. Well, let me know if you need grog to go with your pirate hair, alright? We'll go see if the Rikti are hiding any." She waved and moved away, already concentrating on something else. Aura slumped, breathing a sigh of silent relief.

"Wow. That was really good lying," she whispered. Diego shrugged beneath her hands.

"Es something I learn to do when I have to. I go to Confession later. Tasi... no always so observant either, which help. Es better, Aura?" She nodded, guiltily unwinding her fingers from their death grip at the back of his neck. She opened her mouth to apologise. "Now, I am no to think?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Try not to think of anything at all. And don't talk either. I have to set these fast and I can't do that if you're distracting me." She blew out three fast breaths, trying to blow away the prickly feeling. She peered at his hair again, measuring where she wanted to start.

She unfolded the silk behind his back, unwrapping the many careful layers. She glanced around but nobody seemed to pay them any particular attention. Maybe Diego had hair trouble all the time? Maybe Stasis was right about the asking of questions.

She'd pre-strung the stones on black waxed cord, holding everything together with a single knot. She undid the longer end and deftly slipped the bell onto the string, knotting it once to hold it snug. The noise maker already had Diego's field sunk into metal, if lightly, which was a good sign.

She worked the cord back through the stones so that a double strand kept them secure, triple knotting it back at the top. Then with the tip of her tongue touching the corner of her mouth, Aura sunk her fingers back into Diego's hair and started to weave the black cord back behind his ear.

"Don't move," she admonished once. "This isn't easy, you know." Still, her fingers flashed back and forth, an intricate and old pattern forming tight against his skull. At the very end, she poked the cord through the weave a few times before knotting it again three times. She tugged on it gently and then harder. It didn't budge but it did pull Diego's head back. She stared at his upside down eyes and smiled.

"There! All done. And I bet it didn't hurt at all."

His hand moved to the back of his head to feel the string of stones now half buried under his hair. Aura plopped herself down in the seat and started to peel her orange, trying to get it all off in one piece. It was lucky if you could.

"Eh, es that all?" He seemed to struggle with words for a moment. "Should there no be some... ah, words, ritual..." His voice trailed off as she wrinkled her nose at him. Sitting down, she was back to looking at his shoulder which seemed somewhat unfair. Still, she couldn't eat standing up.

"Gosh, what were you expecting? Dead chickens at midnight? Black candles? Oh, a floating chair!" She giggled at the idea. "It's a ward, Diego, not a spell. Don't they teach you anything in ghost school?"

He frowned at her at that and she wondered if maybe she'd gone overboard. Still, he didn't get mad at her. "Esstill.... "

"It will bind over time, don't worry. And I knotted it with triples everywhere so it's not going to come loose for anything. Well, if your head comes off, it will too, so try not to do that, okay?" Aura made a sound of disappointment as the orange peel tore. She sighed and stripped the rest, popping a section of juicy sweetness in her mouth.

"Bind? Over time? Reina, what es.....what have you do?"

A hand came down over her wrist again, this time less gently.

[Mercy Strike]

She sat bolt upright in bed, breath like a hammer in her throat.

...what?

She blinked a few times. The shadows on the wall crawled forward to see what was going on but then retreated, uninterested.

.... what is it?

"I don't.. I don't know." She tried to catch the end of the dream but it was gone. A mirror? Something white. A phrase of music. Whatever it was, it crawled across her shoulders and hunched her spine. She stared at the top of the bedspread, licking her teeth to try and get rid of the taste. This was just getting too weird. Why couldn't she remember? She never had problems remembering her dreams.

I don't know either, Mercy said finally. It's gone again. Do you think you can get back to sleep?

Aura grabbed her ankles, rocking a little. Fear coated her skin, she could feel her heart racing a mile a minute against her ribcage. Maybe she'd been running in her mind. A glance at the clock said it was way late or maybe just way early which she already knew just by the quality of darkness through the windows. Why couldn't she have this dream just before her alarm went off in the morning? At least that would be helpful.

Aura shook her head. "Something's wrong. Something just keeps getting more wrong, and I have no idea what it is." The whisper was quiet in the dark room. She glanced guiltily around but nobody appeared ready to start yelling at her for waking them up. The bulky corner of Joni's toaster caught her eye though and she scowled at it. If Joni had a nightmare and sat up, would she knock herself out against the lid and have a really big bruise in the morning? The idea was guiltily compelling.

The sour taste of unfocused anger mingled with the wooden toothpick feeling from the dream. It really wasn't a pleasant combination.

Okay, if we're not going to go back to sleep, can we at least get a glass of water?

"I'm not thirsty."

No, I guess not. Aura felt Mercy stretching through her awareness, a sensation she'd gotten used to on some level in the last year. Did Mercy sleep too? Or did she go somewhere else? She realised she'd never actually asked. Aura pushed the hair away from her face, suddenly needing to move more than anything else.

"If we're quiet, we can sit downstairs and watch television?"

Sure. Bring the blanket though. They've probably turned the heat down.

No sooner said than done. Aura squirmed out of bed and snagged the quilt to tiptoe out. The door snicked closed awfully loud behind her but there wasn't any sleepy protest. She slipped quietly down the stairs, holding her breath past the RA's dorm. She curled up happily on one of the old, battered couches in the common room. A second later she was up again, searching for the remote. Finally snuggled back into the blanket, she turned the old screen on, mashing the mute button so sound wouldn't betray them. It wasn't so bad; a moment later she had it down to a setting which shouldn't get them in trouble and she started randomly scanning up and down looking for something to watch.

That's really catchy, Mercy remarked finally. What is it?

Aura realised that she'd been humming. "Oh? Oh. It's something Spyros sang to me while we danced. It was Latin I think, I don't remember the name." She hummed a little more, trying to catch the melody. "I really liked it."

He kissed your socks off afterwards. You'd probably like it even if it was a jingle from a commercial.

"Probably!" Aura agreed. "That was just so romantic though, wow. I've never had anybody sing to me just so we'd have something to dance to." Her voice lifted for a few bars then faltered. "It's stuck in my head now though and won't come out."

That happens. She felt Mercy rummaging, a mental sensation that felt something like picking things up and putting them back down. It's not Joni's fault, you know.

The visual of Joni with a goose egg on her forehead flashed in front of her eyes and Aura flinched. "I don't... "

Yes, you do. I have no idea why you're not blaming Diego, though. You were all over that train a couple of weeks ago.

Aura shifted under the blanket. "Joni's the one who's making big googly eyes at him. Gosh, does she think I don't notice? And every time I want to... "

...get his attention, she's right there? They're dating, Aura. You can't have failed to miss that little fact, being that he picked her up two days ago to go out somewhere. You might have had your nose buried in a book at the time, but since I know exactly how much you were paying attention to everything they said at the door, that one doesn't fly without wings. Besides, weren't you the one that pretty much shoved her in his direction? You can't blame her for following through. You've made it clear you'd rather spend your time liplocked to pretty much anybody else.

"The card was Strength. What was I supposed to do?" Aura clamped her teeth on the unfairness. "Ignore it? Tell her something that wasn't true?"

You gave her the interpretation you wanted her to hear. The mind voice was relentless. Why didn't you tell her the other one? And now you're upset because Diego's hanging on her every word instead of paying attention to you anymore.

"He's still mad at me about the ward and that's not fair! Those stupid old ghosts and their stupid old ideas." Aura struggled with the words, clasping her hands around her knees. Forgotten, the immaculately coiffed blonde woman on the screen continued to talk about crafting supplies. "He's supposed to protect me! He said so, he said he'd be.. be my knight. Just like in the stories. What I want to know is how he's supposed to protect me when he's busy being somebody else's boyfriend. He's not even calling me Reina anymore," she finished miserably.

And that's Joni's fault.

"Yes." Of that she was utterly and completely certain. Everything had been just fine until Joni had stuck her big fat ears into it.

So you spend your time hoping Spyros backs you into another corner and... lectures... you some more, while Malcolm is probably wondering what game you're playing with treating him like something to bounce off of when the snake's not around and during all this you're mad at your roommate for dating the guy you're not interested in, who, by the way, you're going to marry and have some future nobles of Spain with.

"I am not going to marry Diego!" That was a little loud. Aura lowered her voice then before hissing, "Ever. And I am certainly not going to have any noble anything with him either!"

She felt Mercy reach for something and the recoil was as vicious as it was unexpected. The rebound shocked through both of them and Aura gagged.

Then cold, prickling fury washed over her mind.

Why are you locking me out?

"S...sorry?"

You have black holes in your memory. Kaleidoscope images flashed behind her eyes, stopping on the feel of an elevator under her feet, the indistinct blur that was her reflection in the dull steel walls. We walked into the Club the other night... but there's nothing there until after we were outside again. You were mad, something to do with Diego and... Bethany. I wasn't paying attention because you were being boring... She could feel Mercy trying to punch through, pull the rest out, and it hurt. She sucked in her breath at the spiking pain in her temples. What have you done, Aura?

Okay, she wasn't ready for this conversation. In some small corner she knew she'd kind of been hoping to never have it, either.

"I promised," she whimpered, her hands trying to hold her brains in. "Diego doesn't want you listening in."

He doesn't what?!

It was the first time she'd ever heard Mercy as anything other than self-possessed. Of all the ungrateful, human... drop it. Drop the wall right now. Another spike of pain rammed through her head.

"No! I promised and I am not letting you in. Stop it... stop it, you're hurting me." Aura knew she was crying. It was like the worst migraine ever. "You're not the boss of me either, you know!"

Somebody needs to be. The mind voice was grim. How did you do it?

"You showed me," she whispered, eyes squeezed closed. "You left me alone." The memory rose unbidden and they shared it together, the cold wind that day, the sway of the building underneath her crossed legs, the feeling of abandonment thirty floors into the sky with no way down until Mercy came back. "I just... you went away. Really far away and I couldn't reach you. So I just... learned to go away too. And build a wall behind me. You never even noticed," she finished smugly, if unwisely.

A word she never, ever said ripped under the surface of thought like lightning. That's dangerous, Aura. You can't do that.

"You did."

That's different.

"No, it's not," she insisted. "It's not different at all. Diego trusts me and he doesn't trust you and you can't listen in. I promised and I keep my promises." She cautiously opened one eye, then the other. Double vision she could handle.

Mercy was slow in replying. Too angry? Probably. As long as it didn't feel like half her brain was melting she was okay with the rest of it. 'Going away' like that is dangerous. It's really, really dangerous... for both of us. More than you know.

"But you can do it and I can't? I don't believe you, Mercy." Aura dug her toes into the rough space between the couch cushions. "You just don't like that I figured out how to do it. You always have to know everything just so you can tell me I'm doing it wrong when you don't even care what I do."

That's not true.

"It is so true."

Diego's not paying any attention to you, Mercy said abruptly, changing tacks. He's broken his promise to you already, and with Joni of all people. Your roommate, so you can't possibly ignore what he's doing. He wants you to know, that's the only reason. Those Diestros made you expend personal energy making those wards, didn't they? And for what? So you could watch out for him. So you could be tied to them. So they could use you. She heard Mercy's voice, felt the otherness inside her crawling like worms under her skin, digging for the soft spots. Diego doesn't like you, he doesn't have to. He says things so you'll feel sorry for him, that's all.

Aura shook her head. That wasn't true. Was it?

Mercy crept forward, that was the only description. Filled her somehow until Aura quivered on the brink of unknowing change, her hands clutching the forgotten blanket. You don't have to keep your promise, not to him. He's not worth it. Drop the walls, Aura. Soft, so softly. Let me all the way in again, let me see what you're hiding, and I swear I'll help you get back at Joni.

Aura licked her lips.

I won't say a single nasty thing about the snake either, Mercy cajoled. I'll even help you get him, if you want. You like it when he sings to you, don't you?

Whatever her reply would have been was lost as the overhead lights snapped on. She looked up into the sleepy, unhappy, green face of the girls' dorm RA.

"Oops. Hi, Barrier. Hello?"

"Five demerits." The gravelly voice wasn't impressed with chirpy friendliness. "Ten if you don't set a speed record back to your room."

She did her best to comply, scrambling up and out.

Back in bed, Aura pulled the pillow tight over her head. And with more than a touch of defiance, threw up a wall in her mind. Whatever answers she was going to think about, she was going to think them by herself, just see if she wasn't.

So when the nightmare cycle started again, she was alone.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

Girls in masks. I dodge the flying metal rings which they throw at me the second the group in motley sees me. It only takes a quick hop to get into proper distance to the first one, as dictated by the length of my rapier and the tenets of the True Art and Skill: La Verdadera Destreza.

But it was the last thing I was thinking about. Do what you feel like, they had told me. Feel free to indulge the near-term, they said. What kind of advice was that? I did not know what to think; the Diestros had never said anything like that to me before. Worse, it didn’t make things any more clear for my…ah…present situation than their past evaluations of the girls I had been with. If they had to always bring that up, as if I didn’t know why it was important, couldn’t they actually try and help?

I easily intercept the pretty mediocre attempts of the Jugglers who try to attack me. The familiar clang of metal on metal, the bounce and recoil of the contact is familiar and almost comforting. The hum of their electrified rings is slightly annoying, but it’s a passing concern. My blades soundly defeat them in what feels like heartbeats, sparks and crackles scattering as their weapons ricochet off my own and onto the ground. I try to keep from smirking as I step over them. I approach the next gauntlet the Carnival of Shadow has sent against me: Fencers. Were they kidding? They draw blades, their masked faces giving nothing about intent or emotion.

Still, I have my own mask. Not to mention my own blades. I use my link with the Diestros, and my senses and awareness flow outward. I, or maybe we, start doing calculations. The Carnies’ stances and lines of sight are noted. Their positions relative to me measured. Next we judge comparative range, for me and the oddly dressed opponents both, and these ranges are as circles, mentally imposed. I don’t know if it is me keeping track of this all, or the Diestros, or some combination of both. It is impossible to tell, and ‘me’ is kind of a blurry thing as I give myself over to the bond.

Inevitably during moments like these I get asked ‘what are you doing, Diego?’ on the comm. And I say ‘geometry’ or ‘practicing trigonometry’. They respond ‘ok’, or ‘yuck’, unknowing. The circles representing ranges begin to intersect, forming arcs, tangents, sections. Lines of sight and attack are then added, bisecting, quadrisecting, shapes and whorls of potential threat and violence form. There is never a path without danger. There are only dangers that can be handled if you are aware of them.

But even as part of me floats inside myself with the Diestros, dancing the circle, still I can’t stop thinking about my confusions. A little voice, at least, I think it’s a little voice and not a Voice, tells me to stop being a stupid teenager and focus. It doesn’t work. What do I want? What do I feel? Why do they have to smile? What am I supposed to do when they smile?

Joni’s smile is so cute, ears perking up through snow-white locks. I feel like I’ve won everything just having her turn one of those smiles on me. A ray of sunlight, peeking through clouds of her doubt, clouds of her fear. I look, and behind it is hope, and fear of hope, all mixed together. What is behind all that fear? What can I find if I swim in the dark pools of Joni’s eyes? “I’ve always liked to swim”. That’s what I told her, right before I actually kissed her the very first time…

I hadn’t known what that would be like. I had immediately wanted more. I can be the invincible knight, fierce as a lion, to rescue the maiden with the alabaster skin. All that, all inside me when she gives me her shy smile, her kiss, from behind her mask of fear.

The Fencers threw knives; so predictable. I was moving out of their way before the deadly intent had even fully formed the motion. The thin carpet under my magic boots whispers as I shift. They’d fallen into patterns, and patterns are the key to everything. I distantly note the whoosh as the thrown knives flash by. Then I’m spinning forward, the rough twist of fabric on my left-hand hilt tightening in my fist with anticipation. As I get closer in, the first Carnie Fencer is easily deflected by my parrying dagger. The second…well, ok, there’s a cut to my side, but it mostly hit the padded armor I wear on my torso. Then it was my turn, my time to show them how to fight with rapier. To teach them all a lesson, to show what happens when you dare to put on masks and call yourselves Fencers in the presence of a Diestro.

But then there’s Bethany’s smile. Every one is the picture of self-assurance, every one is a challenge. “Try and keep me caged,” that smile says. “I will be me. Try and stop me.” In the face of her altering metabolism, her own body changing to be what her parents and grandparents are, want they want her to be, she fights and rages to be Bethany. This, despite everyone else shaking head and pointing finger. What is it like to fight that fight? I can understand, the same way she can understand the place I’m in, duty-bound. Can anyone else understand? I ached seeing the disappointment in her eyes. But she needs friendship more than another boy to look at her with want on his face. And she doesn’t want a knight; she wants to break away. She should be free to be what’s behind her mask of bravado.

The last Fencer dropped and zig-zapped, I went deeper into the occupied office building. As soon as I saw the next group I started speeding up, finally reaching a sprint as I got to an entry into a bigger space. There was a Seneschal; it was best to close the distance and take their launched flame attacks entirely out of the equation. A way allowing the least number of hits by the Seneschal’s minions to be struck was charted by us, compass turns and sine waves, and I launched at the torch-wielding woman.

Joni and Bethany. Shy ice and flirtatious fire. A mask of fear and a mask of bravado. What I wanted and more. So very different, and I have no idea how I found both. But more importantly, would these be doomed by my own pattern so far? I had yet to receive blessing without a blow of pain to accompany it. It seemed some sort of harsh fate…

Suddenly, a third smile is in my head, beaming from pinned moments in my memory, incandescent, unrestrained. Glowing, sometimes literally, making the entire world brighter. It’s a beacon, a light even those eyes which were blind can sense. Aura? I stutter-step, a microsecond pause at most. But my thoughts are going a mile a minute, and seemed completely out of my conscious control. Why would I think of her just then? Is she my real fate? Is that why everything else failed?

But just as important…more important…did her smile feel like the others felt? Sometimes it seems there are two Auras, not even counting Mercy. The girl desperate to have me save a spider, find her hair-band, help her across slippery ice. And the girl who Sees, who wields Tarot with mongoose deftness and thunder impact. Was one of those a mask? I always felt her smile.....why had she had to talk about how she liked to kiss…

But before I can finish the thoughts, a Strongman’s mallet connects with the side of my head. The crack is more than I can take, but I take it anyway. They say your head rings with that kind of hit, but I was feeling more like haze, a rushing in my ears like a constant sound of surf, or non-stop static on the TV.

I roll back up fast as I can go, but then Seneschal’s torch and Strongman’s mallet are working together. I reverse-compass, parrying, barely bothering to riposte even when the openings are blatant. I half-turn, but now Attendants’ rings are added; had they been there the whole time? I spin, my hair whipping around, my arms ramrod straight, hoping to catch as many as I can with sharp points and edges. Then a Llamada, a desperate hope to create enough opening to launch into offense again is next. I see it, I take it, but fencer’s blades intercept. Fencers? And I realize much too late I had focused too much on the Seneschal. Was thinking too much about other stuff. I had overextended myself again.

The blows kept coming. I moved, flipped. Still, scalding heat impacted as the Seneschal managed an unexpected thrust. A leap to try and make a break, but my legs can’t take me all the way even with the magical aid of my Mercurial Boots. I am just awake enough to notice my med-badge start to register my state. I know the Duelists will give me a long lecture for this one. But my last actual thought is: Why do they all have to smile at me like that?

The doctor told me when I came to that the first thing I’d mumbled was “girls in masks.” She believed me when I told her I was talking about the Carnies.

[Mercy Strike]

.... with apologies for the length. but you weren't really doing anything important with your next ten minutes, were you?

----------------------------------------

Why are you doing this? You should have just told him and his ghosts to take a flying leap out the...

"Mercy, just stop. We said we'd help and we are."

No, you said you'd help. Since I wasn't exactly consulted, I've got nothing to do with it.

"Okay, fine, whatever. I'm helping, then." Aura shoved her hand down the side of the bed frame, wiggling on her stomach. It had to be here somewhere. "It's not like you could do anything, anyways."

The answering silence was as heavy as a thundercloud. Aura told herself to ignore it. They hadn't really talked in days and Aura had been scrupulously avoiding Joni's toaster just in case the temptation to mess with something proved too much. But when she'd started to dig out the wards around her bed, Mercy had wanted to know why. So far the conversation wasn't going well. In fact, it had started going not well right after she'd mentioned the ghosts and their next set of dumb demands.

Aura found herself guiltily wishing she could just lock Mercy out until she got over being mad. It was like living under siege. A siege with occasional airstrikes, that is.

Her fingers finally closed around the cool stone and with a sigh of relief, she pulled it up. She blew on it to get rid of the lint. That was the last of them and she squirmed around to sit cross legged on the bed, putting it with the others. Aura frowned at the colors, nibbling on the corner of her thumb.

The citrine would work, and the tiger's eye. The lapis might be a... problem. The blue quartz was definitely out. Maybe. Though if she broke them apart, that might be worse than just leaving them in this configuration? She passed a hand over them a few times, trying to decide.

I thought you didn't believe in this stuff.

'I don't."

Mercy brushed up against the inside of her mind like a cat, all sheathed claws and dark fur. If Mercy had fur, that was. If you don't believe in your mom's mumbo jumbo, why didn't you just tell them no habla espanol? They're just going to keep asking you for things until you end up tied to Diego like you're on a leash. Excuse me, except for when he's on a date. Mercy let that sink in for a moment. Why are you even bothering?

"Just because I don't believe in it, doesn't mean it doesn't work." Aura seemed unaware of the contradiction, hunching her shoulders. The date comment had struck a little close to home. "Look, if you're not going to help, would you please be quiet? I'm not sure if I should break this ward."

Why, is there something wrong with it? There was reluctant curiosity in the voice.

In answer, Aura passed her left hand again over the tumble of stones on her bedspread. "They're tight. But they're mine and they're... open. I know Diego's about as self aware as a fencepost but with the things I built into the wards in his hair, he might react badly to having this set too." She closed her eyes and spread her fingers. "Can you feel it?"

It wasn't like opening another set of eyes or anything. It was more like standing still and being aware of the pressure of sunlight. Or maybe more like listening to the low level buzz on a radio between stations, with the almost-but-not-quite words in the static. Aura tilted her head, eyes still closed as a frown formed between her eyebrows. She'd had these wards set for awhile; they really were pretty solid.

Okay. So what?

Aura sighed and opened her eyes to scowl at the mute stones. "I made these wards to make it easier for me to meditate. Diego doesn't need that. His dumb ghosts just want me to set up some sort of early warning system, in case of invasion."

Invasion? Tell them to dig a moat in the hallway.

She giggled. "Mercy, wow. That's not very helpful. And besides, Scruffy wouldn't let them." Still, she spent a profitable few seconds imagining it. "And besides, that's not the kind of thing they're worried about."

They're not worried at all and I know it and you should know it. They're just making you jump through hoops to make sure you will. Mercy leaned against the wall that encapsulated the memory of Diego's face, the sound of his voice as he'd asked so quietly. He had to have known how she'd feel about it. Why else had he spent time to make sure she was smiling first?

Aura curled around the tight little knot of betrayal and strengthened the barricade against the subtle pressure. She felt satisfaction radiating from Mercy though, so something must have leaked through. How about the next time they ask you to do something, you let me handle it?

Aura shook her head, reinforcing the mental negation with a physical one. "Not a chance." She shoved down the thought that it would serve the ghosts right. "They're so full of themselves they're like to choke and you'd just make it worse. And I would kind of like Diego to keep talking to me." That came out a little more wistfully than she meant it so she hurried on. "Anyways, the last time you decided to set somebody straight, you nearly made Caitlin cry." She glanced guiltily at her roommate's empty bed.

Didn't. And besides, I was only telling the truth. You can't blame me for telling things straight up.

"You were just mean. You didn't have to say any of that stuff about David," she replied. "It's really none of your business, you know."

Lots of stuff isn't my business. Doesn't mean I don't hear about it.

"Well, that's why you are never going to talk to the gh... Diestros if I have anything to say about it. They're old and grumpy. You're just plain grumpy." Aura nibbled her lip, then decisively picked up the wards in one hand. Substitutions would be a bad idea. It would take them too long to re-sync. "I'd end up apologizing to Diego for the rest of my life."

Why do I get the feeling you like that idea?

Perhaps thankfully, Joni chose that moment to walk in the door so Aura was spared from having to answer. She did however have the bad grace to look happy, a fact which Aura confirmed in the two seconds she looked at her roommate before busying herself stuffing the stones into the black velvet pouch, pulling the drawstrings tight with a yank.

"Hi, Joni!" she caroled, hopping off the bed. "Bye, Joni!"

"Um, bye? Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Joni was actually smiling, fingers playing with a teardrop necklace Aura hadn't seen before. The other girl took a bit of a breath. "I didn't see you at Mass this morning."

"Just out?" Aura told herself that she didn't really have to be extra specially honest in this case. Joni was probably just being polite and didn't really care. "And I'm sorry, but wow, Mass is boring. Capital B, bland. And it's so not required."

Joni paused, a look on her face that was something between uncomfortably stern and apologetic. "Well, that's true. But... you should still go, you know." Her pale fingers fell away from her throat, the little blue stone a wink of perfect color in the hollow. "Just... every now and again?"

"No, thank you!" Aura said fervently. Joni shot her a hesitant smile even as she turned towards her corner of the room, sliding her bookbag away from her thin shoulder. Aura took the opportunity to edge out the door behind her. Mass. Gosh. Not in a million years, not if she could help it. She'd grow old waiting for Father Montoya to finish reading all that Latin mojo.

Mercy waited until they were bouncing down the stairs to the main floor. You know, we could just.....

"No," Aura hissed. "Don't even go there."

Why not? It's her fault, remember.

Aura paused, looking down. "I don't need to," she said, her voice remote and suddenly dreamlike. "Everyone... is going to get exactly what they want."

She hopped the last couple of steps then, her sneakers squeaking on the wax as the storm dark of her eyes shrank to sunlight blue. "I am not going to talk about it, Mercy," she muttered under her breath. "I am going to do what's right because I keep my promises, even to the grumpily departed. Diego's my friend; he can date the whole silly school if he wants. It doesn't make a lick of difference to me."

Mercy didn't let up all the way across the quad though, giving her sly ideas for how to deal with the problem of her interfering roommate. The idea with the toothpaste was inspired, even Aura had to admit. Still, it was with a feeling of guilty relief that she ran up the stairs to the boys' dorm, moving inside out of the damp weather. She firmly closed the door in her mind at the same time she closed the one behind her. She probably should have waited until the absolute last moment but if she had to listen to any more, she was going to scream. She smiled brightly at the boy in the little office.

"Is Diego home?" she quipped.

Maybe a little too brightly; the guy looked a little stunned. Aura surreptitiously checked her hands. No, not glowing this time. "Ah, sure thing. Want me to buzz him?"

"No, that's okay. He's expecting me," she replied. At least, she was pretty sure he was expecting her. She'd said she'd do this by the weekend and it was Sunday and being that it was after Mass, he ought to be available. Maybe that was why Joni had looked so happy. Maybe they'd been holding hands during the service. Maybe... she shouldn't think about that any more. "I'll just ... I'll just go poke my nose in. I won't be long, honest."

She wrinkled her nose as she padded her way down the hallway, counting doors, her sneakers not making any sound for once. The difference between the girls and boys dorms never failed to amaze her. Maybe next time the Rikti came back, they should paint a target on this place so the boys could get a new building too. She stopped and knocked softly on the slightly open door to Quad Eight.

"I told you I'd pay you later, Tony!" came the indeterminate yell. "Give me a break already!"

Aura pushed the door open, advancing into the room. "Hi, Brandon!" she said.

The blonde boy rolled over on the bed before flashing that smile at her. The one that said he'd noticed that she was a girl but the rest of it hadn't sunk in yet. She watched him work through it for a few seconds before her name came up in the slot window. "Well hey, Miss Aura. What are you up to today?"

She giggled and held her hand up to her forehead. "Oh, about this high," she replied. Brandon chuckled as if he'd never heard it before. On the other side of the room, Diego made a suspicious sound, clearing his throat.

"Hola, Reina! Ah... you es here for... ?"

She looked. He was standing with one hand on the back of his neck, looking like she'd just interrupted him searching for something. He didn't have the mask on and his hair looked like he'd been running his hands through it recently. The school tie had gone missing somewhere and the collar was undone around his throat. He looked just like Diego, only a little messier. Behind him a couple of flags were pinned to the wall; one white with a blue diagonal stripe and one with red and gold bars. There was a picture of somebody kicking a soccer ball on a poster.

She smiled, couldn't have stopped herself if she'd tried. She wanted to ask what he'd been looking for; her fingers itched to fix his hair, touch the plaited beads she knew were there but couldn't actually see, maybe even ask him what he'd done this morning. It was possible some of that was on her face; his gaze riveted on her mouth as she continued to smile, a flicker of a question passing through his eyes.

She faltered, turning in confusion to Brandon, who just smiled back. She fastened on the safe face, babbling to it instead.

"I sure am! I told you I'd stop by. Is... is now a good time? I can come back if you want?" She shot a look out of the corner of her eye.

"No no, now is fine...ah, if Brandon no mind?" Diego quirked his own mouth then, his eyes moving towards the other boy.

Brandon shrugged easily enough. "I got nothing to mind, since it's Sunday and all. Also, if I leave the dorm right now, Tony might be waiting for me with a board in his hand, being that I was supposed to pay him back Friday." The football player shifted on the bed, sitting up all the way. She noticed that the corners of his bed were pulled as tight as a drum. "Now, just what is now a good time for exactly, Miss Aura?"

Aura blinked. Had he said that with just a little too much emphasis? She wasn't certain but he was still smiling in that open, friendly way so she decided she'd just misheard it.

"Well, I'm going to ward the room from evil zombie influence," she pronounced grandly. She stared at Brandon unblinking for a few seconds but then couldn't resist; she cut a look to Diego just to see the expression. It was everything she could have hoped for and more. She swallowed a giggle. "Okay, gosh! Maybe not zombies, exactly. Besides, it's not like they can really help being what they are; it's awful bad mojo but it's not their fault. I'm just going to .. um, make it so that bad thoughts will have a hard time... growing here?"

She'd never tried to describe this before and she just barely managed to keep from flapping her hands. Wow, that sounded pretty stupid. True; but stupid.

Brandon was still grinning at her though so it couldn't have come out that badly. "That's handy. Do you think you could stop bad smells growing while you're at it?" He made a few eye motions toward Diego.

Diego growled but there was humor in it. "I keep say, is not me. I shower every morning after training, without fail." The brown haired boy advanced forward a few steps and Aura had to look up or risk looking rude. Or nervous. She opted to stand her ground and tried to plaster something brightly confident on her face. "Ess you need anything, Reina? What should we do?" This close, she could see the flecks of darker color in his eyes.

Aura nibbled her lip. She hadn't exactly meant to just walk in here and start, well, immediately but maybe it was a good idea not to think about it too much and just get it over with. Some small part of her wondered what she had been intending to do if not start right away but she squashed that pretty firmly. For one thing, she hadn't realized Brandon would be here which kind of put a crimp in things. The little voice immediately tried to pipe up to ask another question but she hastily cut it off.

"Well, if you could maybe sit down? Just because I don't want to bump into you or anything." She smiled. After a moment she realised that Diego was again staring at her mouth with that quizzical look. She reached out without thinking to push him on the chest to get him moving in the right direction.

The palms of her hands didn't even get close. Her skin prickled as soon as she impacted the field; the strengthened, warded field flaring out in clear warning around his body. It felt like sunshine and sparked like cinnamon. She snatched her fingers back but he didn't appear to notice anything unusual. He stepped away to fold himself down neatly on the bed. "Ah," he said. "Like this?"

She scowled. She couldn't tell if she relieved or annoyed that he really did appear to be about as aware as a fence post. He should have felt something. Only, of course, he hadn't. Which was why she was doing this in the first place. Why did the stupid ghosts have to be right?

She swiveled to look at Brandon, who flopped back on his own bed with a grunt. "Safe as bugs in rugs, Miss Aura!"

She looked back and forth between them. Gosh, who knew they took direction so easily? She was suddenly tempted to ask them to do something really dumb, like stand on their heads just to see if they would. She hastily swallowed the idea. Really, not a good start to be messing with the serious vibes like that. But still, she wondered if they would? To keep herself from asking out of nervousness she fumbled with the wards tied onto her belt.

"You remember what I said about lines?" she asked shyly.

"Sí, Reina," Diego replied in earnest. "Of course. I would no forget something like that."

"Well, the first thing to do is trace them." Aura peered around, the lumpy stones digging into her fingers. She frowned. This quad was not really like hers, the weird smell aside. "Actually... can you please move the furniture away from the walls? I could walk over stuff but then I might trip and break something important and besides, it's wet outside and I'd probably get mud on things."

The two boys looked around and then at each other. It was Brandon who smiled first though as he stood, sweeping her an exaggerated bow. "Miss Aura, I'm pleased to assist. Now, just how far away from the walls would you like?"

Aura was dumbfounded. It almost sounded like he was willing to pile everything in the center of the room! Maybe she really should have asked them to stand on their heads. She cleared her throat, nonplussed. "Just... just enough that I can squeeze by, that's all. Is that okay?"

"For you, anything. Come on, D. You heard the lady."

Diego stood then too, settling his shoulders. He began by moving the large black trunk away from the foot of his bed and farther into the common area before picking up the end of the frame. Brandon was obviously not to be outdone and scraped his along the floor with a big show of flexing his biceps and making an inordinate amount of noise. In contrast, Diego moved economically, wasting no energy. If the black locker or bedframe were heavy, she couldn't tell by looking at his face.

"What do we do with Tony's stuff, D?"

"Burn it?" came the soft reply. Brandon chuckled. With a shrug they threw the black and red shoes in the middle of the rumpled pile of bedclothes, tossing a few duffel bags on top and a pair of banged up skates. Diego held those by the laces as far away as possible. Aura guessed they were probably not too good to get close to. Brandon looked at the dresser drawer near one of the windows. With a shrug, he used one arm to scoop-push a bunch of trophies and photographs onto the bed as well, before shoving the shelving unit out of the way.

Aura edged closer casually. Sure enough, there was a picture of Tony and Sam with goofy grins and autumn leaves in their hair. They looked happy. She looked away, feeling unaccountably sad for a moment which made no sense. Sam was her friend; of course she should be happy in pictures. Sam should be happy all the time.

The fourth corner was dealt with just as easily and in short order the two boys had made a small space around the outside rectangle, certainly enough for a slim girl to slip through. Aura picked her way back to the door and took a deep breath. She pointed her finger at one, then the other. Diego was the one to grin and sit again on his relocated bed. Brandon followed a heartbeat later. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought he was annoyed at not being the first.

"Lines," she said in explanation, spilling the quiet wards into her left hand, "are the basis of all the things people make. I read that in a book once, but I think it's true." She turned to the right and started to walk heel to toe, her right hand brushing the wall to better focus on the connection she was drawing. "It feels true to me. Things that are built draw lines on the earth, sinking into the bones of things below. If you trace a line, it gets stronger. Any line. It remembers itself better, knows what it's supposed to do." Aura turned at the corner and continued. "Four lines drawn together enclose things. In order to close it tighter, we trace the line."

"Huh. What about, I don't know, a circle? No, a spiral. What about a spiral? That's not a line." Brandon sounded a little far away.

"Spirals are still lines," she replied softly. "But the ends don't connect. Spirals are for hiding things, confusing things. Mazes are often made of spirals, did you know that?" She wiggled past a bedpost and managed to get to the next corner without having to do more than shuffle her feet. "That why some old nursery rhymes have you turn widdershins three times when you sing them."

"Ah... widdershins?" asked Diego. At least she assumed it was Diego. It really was getting harder to hear things for the buzzing in her ears. The static was building awful fast.

"Yes. Walking around something the wrong way, to... un-do it. Sort of like walking backwards, to show what was supposed to be hiding, or open what was supposed to be closed. Walking widdershins around a church is awful bad mojo, for example. I think you got boils or came down with a case of the frogs if you did it." She took a breath, suppressing the urge to sneeze as she kicked up a dustbunny. "Nursery rhymes usually are about hiding things. Going the wrong way around can sometimes could help you find the truth." Her voice sounded far away to herself.

Brandon said something then, but she wasn't exactly sure what. She got to the third corner, ducking her head to avoid banging into the weird looking masks nailed up. The ringing in her ears felt like they did after dancing in the club for hours, where her hearing just gave up and cowered in her head. It was getting harder to put each foot down too. Wow, she thought. This room really doesn't like this. She gripped the warding stones tighter and made the last turn.

The last piece of wall back to the door was the worst. It felt like she was struggling against an invisible headwind. Down, go down, she thought fiercely. Walls guard. Stone shields. Only good things here. She visualised it flowing out of her right hand like she was drawing the hex directly onto the wall, because that might help. Her mom had always said that picturing the energies moving could make them manifest more strongly. She imagined it crawling through and over, like fast growing thorns in the fairytale of the castle. Down. Go all the way down.

For a minute she didn't think she was going to make it. The last few steps, heel to toe in the cramped walk were the worst. But as she reached the door, the pressure just vanished like it hadn't existed and she nearly fell headfirst forward out of surprise. She might even squeaked.

"Aura? Ess you okay?" Diego was leaning towards her, half looking like he was going to stand up in a second. She shook her head, then nodded her head and then just smiled for lack of anything better to do. The concern on his face actually felt kind of nice. He was worried, even though he didn't have to be. She told herself she wasn't smug about it.

"Gosh, yes. Wow. That was sort of freaky. This wasn't like an ancient Indian burial ground, was it?"

"Ah..." The European boy looked at the American one, who shook his head.

"No, Miss Aura, nobody buried around here until you count that cheese toast that Diode wasn't sharing the other day."

"D... Diode?"

"Sorry, Miss Aura. Io. The guy with the crazy mask collection. He used the hot plate without asking... I mean, the hotplate that he wouldn't be allowed to use if we actually had one... the other day and then wouldn't even hand out a wedge to his starving roommate. I don't mind telling you, that just wasn't right."

Aura giggled and skipped across the doorway. She felt the first line close behind her with a snap she could almost feel. Whatever had been resisting had either given up or been pulled into the walls.

"Okay. No dissenting dead people. I wonder what it was? Don't worry though, it'll go better now now I've closed myself." With that cryptic remark, she started the second line, moving briskly.

And it was true; there was no sensation of resistance this time, the line pulling her along almost. Her fingers skipped and bumped over the irregularities in the wall and she thought fiercely of everything being tied together, of safe havens and protective gardens. She had the thorn image already so she just built on it, imagining little flowers opening in the tangle, maybe some little birds. She wiggled around the obstacles and then skipped over the door again to make the third and final pass. This time she just closed her eyes; it was easier without having her vision messed up with trying to figure out both things at once - the things she was seeing instead of the things she was feeling. It almost felt like she wasn't even walking at all.

When she reached the door for the last time, she paused, checking the reinforced lines through her fingers on the paint. Well, it wasn't the worst one she'd ever seen. It wasn't as strong as she'd like but then again, the first line had barely gotten drawn at all. With a sigh of satisfaction, she stepped across the door and closed it. Not bad. She turned unerring to Diego and opened her eyes, smiling with satisfaction.

He looked a little strange, like somebody had spattered chalk on his face. She frowned and the chalk moved into a different configuration of splotches. She blinked and then blinked again.

"Reina? Ess perhaps you could tone it down a little? It ess a little early in the morning for getting a tan."

His hand raised to shield his eyes. For a merciful moment she had no idea what he was talking about.

Then she blushed furiously and tried to stop the shifting light streaming from her skin.

Fifteen minutes and a babbled apology later, she watched with her arms crossed over her chest as Brandon shoved the last of the beds back into place, righting a little piece of needlepoint in a frame that had fallen over on his study desk. Diego shoved the black chest back into position, straightening. Both of them ignored the mess on Tony's bed.

"Okay, gosh. Almost done," she said. She told herself to just stare about chest high and it would be fine. She glowed when she did a lot of things, it wasn't anything to be embarrassed about. Diego'd certainly gotten a face full before. Still, looking up into his eyes was probably off the list of possible actions until she was at least seventeen. "Now, no answering, Boy Scout Brandon!" She marched forward into Diego's side of the quad and stared determinedly at his shoulder. "Which way is north?"

To her lasting disappointment, he pointed immediately in the right direction. "That way ess north. Why you want to know?"

"Well, I just wanted to know if you knew," she grumped. Trying not to think too much, advice which she really should have kept in mind more firmly from the start, she put her knee on the bed and knelt on it to reach across. She shoved the blue stone in her hand down between the frame and the mattress, wedging it as best she could. In quick succession she placed the yellow and the gold, squirming around to each cardinal point, her fingers moving sure.

Finally she took a deep breath and held it before facing the last direction; she leaned across the pillows and shoved her hand down to put the last ward. As soon as it was set, she wiggled off the bed like it was on fire and dusted her hands. She took a grateful breath because no matter what, breathing was pretty essential as a hobby.

"Okay! All done," she warbled. She spun on a heel and started towards the door.

"What? Ess that all?" It was the hint of suspicion in his voice that drew her up. No, really, it was. He really should know better than to doubt her; why, she knew exactly what she was doing! She turned around and shook a finger under his astonished nose.

"Gosh, would you stop that? Not everything is big explosions and flying chairs and I don't know, blaring trumpets at dawn. You guys are ... are snug as bugs in rugs. Snugger," she said, shooting a look at Brandon. The blonde just held up his hands. "No bad feelings here anymore, or at least, not truly horrible ones. Especially while you sleep."

"May I ask then, Adivina, how will we know if there ess something wrong?" Diego glanced around the room significantly. "All is much as before."

"You'll know," she said blithely. His eyes turned back to hers and narrowed. She relented. "Well, gosh. Fine, be that way. Mostly... well, you might find it hard to get mad in here now. Or stay mad. In fact, if you want to be mad you really will probably have to take it outside." She tried to think of anything else wooden posts might notice. "You might find you sing in here more. Or maybe even just sing, if you didn't before." Brandon's expression was disbelieving, then sudden thoughtful. "You might have.. sort of odd dreams," she reluctantly admitted after a moment. "Nice ones! Nice... odd dreams." She really hoped they wouldn't make her explain further.

Diego however was looking at her as if somewhere, some secretary behind his eyes was taking neat, handwritten notes. "And we ... I ess notice something wrong... if suddenly I was to stop singing? Or if one of my roommmates was to... ah, be mad?"

She nodded, pleased he'd figured out her dumb explanation. "Gosh, yes! Exactly. Something is wrong if you don't feel good or feel safe here." She nibbled her lip and then impulsively took a step forward, lowering her voice. She firmly told herself to ignore the sunshine-and-cinnamon and told it to ignore her too. "If you feel really weird, you need to tell me. If any of your dumb gh... I mean, if any of the Diestros notice that something... isn't right.. I mean, if you feel really strange, maybe like you're thinking like two people.... oh wow, okay, maybe you won't be able to tell if that happens at all." Aura bounced with frustration. "I mean, if you suddenly start thinking stuff you hadn't ever before... or you get a tummy ache, or your teeth hurt...."

She couldn't tell if the expression on his face was alarm or just confusion. She gave up and reached out to tug on the half-hidden cord dangling behind his ear. "This is a ward," she hissed under her breath. "I've just set another ward. Its kind of like.. having two television sets on at the same time. Maybe you can watch both. Or maybe you just get a monster headache from trying."

"Ah!" he said. "Adivina, should I worry?" His head bent over hers as they spoke quietly.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "But if you do get a monster headache, you have to tell me, alright?"

He nodded, his expression serious. "Sí, Reina. I will come to you right away, I promise."

"Good."

She stood there for another moment, staring up. The darker flecks in his eyes; she couldn't tell if they were black or just really dark brown. Maybe an awfully dark green? She'd probably have to be outside to tell for sure.

Brandon coughed. Aura yelped and with undisguised haste untangled her fingers, absolutely sure her face was the color of sunrise.

"Gosh, look at the time! I need to get back; I promised Brianna we'd go... out. Shopping. For clothes. It was awful nice to see you again, Brandon!"

"Nice to see you too, Miss Aura. Thanks for the happy thoughts."

She babbled something and made her escape. And then got mad at herself for it. Why did she always seem to end up trying not to run after talking to Diego? It really didn't look good, no matter what interpretation he put on it. Maybe he would just think she was always in a hurry? That wouldn't be so bad. Very important Aura, always with things to do. No time to stop and play in the thorns.

She sighed though without realising it, her shoulders slumping. Well, that was it. Well and truly it. There was absolutely no reason under the sun that she would ever have to do anything ever again for Mr. Diego de le Compostelaro, not for any reason, no how.

So why didn't that make her feel happy? She remembered the leaves in Sam's hair in the picture then. Aura firmed her chin and her step.

And smiled brilliantly at the boy in the little office on her way outside.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

Through the paces I walk. Around the circle I dance. The Diestros, I am no sure which, put me through the drills. My sword flicks this way and that, cutting swirls and eddies in the wind around me. The ice cold breeze bites into the thin sheen of sweat that's formed on me by this point, but I have long learned to ignore minor distractions like that. There is even a slight temptation to revel in the slight chill, and the recent memories I could let it bring to me, but I resist it. Now is time for training.

The drill abrubtly comes to an end, and they have me float outside myself. The rest of me continues to move, exercise, simple motions. And then he starts what is easily my least favorite of the lessons they teach.

Always be prepared for the attack that isn't coming, that you have no reason to expect. The unexpected is deadlier by far than much else, barring maybe complacency.

"Friend can turn to enemy," I respond. I know the litany; this was a favorite of those the other Diestros call Blackshirts, though this was the first time the Duelists had used it. "Allies are shifting sand on the Sahara, sucking quicksand in the Phillipine jungle, deepest dark in heart of Amazon." I idly wondered if the Diestro who had crafted that phrase had actually visited all those points in the former Spanish Empire.

There is always an enemy present, unseen, waiting. Though one should never discount the aid proffered by being a member of a group, a lowered defense is an invitation. And an enemy of an enemy is an enemy's enemy, and nothing more.

"My blade is ever ready to turn to defend against those at my back, closest to my heart." I heard myself, still shifting and moving in light exercise, sigh in resignation at what was about to begin.

To start, the Gem in the Case. We question your prudence and would hear your preparation.

I harden myself. I think I do. I try. "First, beware soul tricks from her. That variable cannot be measured. Counter her blades with mine, rely on Destreza. Probe for softness in the mechanical anatomy. Find it. Impale it."

The Guttersnipe's preening Tatterdemalion.

They were baiting me, presenting a target a part of me might be tempted to indulge. I kept composed. "Massive damage, rapidly delivered. Unmerciful attack at vital organ and nothing less. Only that. Pull him to low ceiling if he falls back on flight; withdraw if that is untenable."

The Guttersnipe.

I should have seen that coming. I hadn't. But the Blackshirts had actually asked me that one before. Before. "Become untouchable, avoid her fists at all cost. Only death by a thousand cuts is possible; commit to that."

The Lost Flame who played at brujo.

That was a different kind of test. Yes, his dalliance with black arts was worrisome to them. But I had asked about something similar in the past. What do I do when the enemy itself is hazardous to the sword? I hadn't questioned the cryptic responce: The Church had provided, and the Soul of the Sword was strong. I couldn't question that responce now, could only rely on its truth. "Retreat behind the Mask. Give my soul to God, set my body to His work. Worry about healing scars later." I might have shuddered, but that might have just been a shiver at the cold. In my present state I can't tell. "Force close combat. Use the Mask to drive fear in his soul. Disrupt his form, his consciousness. Use terrain to affirm that my boots can cancel vertical tactics. Do it fast."

You seem more prepared that we might have thought. I don't know how to respond to the rare compliment. After a moment, the Diestro simply continued. The Wrong-souled one.

"Soul sight. See h-...them for who they are, and ignore the faulty senses of flesh. Strike truly through lies of the mind."

Your Mousy Maiden.

They are escalating. I can't help a slight hesitation. I know he notices. "Like fighting fire, in putting soul to the task and ignoring the body. Move to avoid entrapment. Force close combat. She...she relies on a belt of technology. It might be vulnerable. In either case she should succumb to strong attack."

The Seer.

My body stumbles. Unbidden to my mind comes her smile, lighting up, figuratively, literally. I have no words, and waves of disappointment from the Diestro wash over me. I was suddenly alone. Training was over. I had failed the test.

I return to myself and shuffle over to where I had set my weapon case down. "¿Que se supone que hago cuando sonrisa así?" I mutter to no one in particular.

[Mercy Strike]

This is your disclaimer.

This is PG13. There are no graphic depictions of sex, violence or nudity although there are a few instances of sexually connotative words. If this was a movie, it would play at 7:30 in the evening and nobody would blink an eye.

That being said, this is your warning. If you simply do not like mature content, this is not the post for you. It is not terribly kind to a few people in our community and that includes the person who went through this scene with me without once breaking a sweat or losing an eyelash.

Not everything in our universe is bubblegum.

--------------------------------------------------------

"You tell me, Aura... I no know. Maybe one of the Diestros marry adivina know more."

He shrugs, still looking off into the distance, his profile distracted with thought. A passing breeze ruffles the ends of his hair.

Screened by the shrubs planted by some long ago architect with more vision than sense, the noise and commotion of the city splits here like a river around a stone. The traffic sounds further away than it really is; Aura's tiny kingdom of stunted green hidden in perfectly plain sight. No one ever comes here so it's become hers by default. In fact, if not for the graffiti on the big rock and the glimpses of glass and steel between the struggling, scrawny trunks of the trees, they could be somewhere else entirely.

She's discovered she likes seeing him standing in it, filling the space with his quiet voice, the easy strides he takes as he paces. She read Bridge to Terabithia once and while she'd never tell him, she imagines she crosses that imaginary border each time she hops over the concrete railing. Today he's wearing jeans, a brown hoodie with a logo she can't read running down his arm, the blades he carries absent although never far. It is the accent alone that proclaims him an irrevocable stranger, meant for so much more than this, but often she can forget in the listening. She's forgotten now.

For a moment, she doesn't really register what he's said. Then she does and something in the middle of her chest turns cold.

"The D...Diestros have married adivinas b...before? Really?" Why does she have to stutter when she's nervous? She wants it to be smooth, casual; it isn't anything important, oh no, just a small, throw away question. Other adivinas. Other Visions? He's never mentioned this before.

Diego hesitates too, she can see it. Maybe he hadn't registered the words either until they were already out. Still, he glances at her and nods.

"When? How?" She clamps her jaw on the ever so more important why.

"Ah, bueno, is have be several time, like I say. First one I know is Sol de España and Alaluzca.... ah, I no is sure how many times, exactly." There is evasion of a kind there, the words are too slow. She can feel him measuring the weight of each with his eyes on the ground. "There is ah... some uncertainty. Is have be intentional sometimes though. Diestros take adivina for bride for use, no for real reason to get marry."

The sentence structure parses badly in english, chopped and inflexible. That suddenly scares her more than anything. It doesn't matter now that he's wearing American clothes, going to an American school, part of an American city. The cadence has taken on the rhythms of other centuries and other imperatives.

She hates that her voice is small, a mouse in woods. "Excuse me? Take? To use for what?"

"To use Sight for they advantage." His voice is as steady as if they're talking about homework. She can hear the of course that lingers in the air. He looks at her finally and the color of his face shifts. Embarrassment? Defiance? She can't tell. "Also...." He moves his mouth like he's going to say something but then the line of his lips compresses and he looks away. The jut of his cheekbone is as much a wall against further inquiry as the flushed color of his skin. Whatever it is, she doesn't want to know.

She has to know. Without thinking she crosses the grass to shake his arm and the shock of the wards races up to her shoulders. Stronger now and so much more resentful of intrusion.

"You have to tell me. Also, what?" She remembers out of nowhere that it was the Spanish that had the Inquisition. Is that it? Images of witches and stakes and bad things flash through her mind, impossible though it seems. Oh, no. She shakes him again harder to make him look at her, fingers digging in even as the muscles of his forearm tense. Oh, no. Please don't tell her the Diestros hunted those with Sight. Is that why he won't look at her? Were they used as examples? Tortured? "Diego! What did they do?"

"They use... for breed. Try put Sight in blood. That is what I mean when I... ah... say uncertainty before."

For a moment, she doesn't understand. Doesn't want to.

There's shame in his eyes though. "Inheritance was.... different in España than here. Esstrong blood was more important, and is possible child born out of marriage can inherit anyway, or for daughter to inherit, and pass on. And in those days, change record was no so hard. No for men of power. So..."

She drops his arm like it burns and steps back once, twice. Her arms cross over her slight chest, hugging herself. Three times.

"...there was things done was no right."

She's not twelve and she's not stupid. She knows then what he's saying. She is suddenly very aware of how tall he is with inches still to grow, the strength implicit in the arm she'd grabbed. She knows he trains every day without fail, no matter the season or weather. Has trained every day, will continue to train. She couldn't even outrun him now, not with Mercy locked away, certainly not with the side of her sneaker half melted from sitting too close to the fire.

She runs a dry tongue over her lower lip. Maybe... she heard it wrong? That's the only explanation. "You r...remember this? What they... did?" She can't say rape. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was slavery. Maybe neither, maybe both. From the shuttered look on his face, it wasn't pretty. The need to explain it away, to make excuses, dies.

"Ones who do it will not talk about it with me. Share it. Is just... things I is tell. And I is pretty sure I is only tell that much because I meet Seer." He swallows then and she watches his throat, fascinated with the motion. There's a mute kind of panic in his brown eyes. "They would probably no have tell me any of that otherwise."

She hadn't known the ghosts kept secrets but it makes a horrible kind of sense. There's a feeling of pressure around her windpipe, like fingers squeezing. The urge to run is overwhelming but her feet are rooted to the ground.

"Lo siento, Aura." The apology is quiet enough that she has to strain to hear it.

And suddenly she's furious.

"Is that w...what's going to happen to me?" She wants to fly at him, beat him with her fists, helpless and stupid as that is. How could he? It's mixed up in her head suddenly, him and them, always together so that the fathers' sins, in their hundreds, are held in this single son; the hands that did the deeds, the callous attitude towards those long ago women. "They tell you so you'll k...know what you're supposed to do? So that you'll know that you're supposed to t...take me and b...breed me and I will have sons for you not because you want to or I want to but b...because they're going to make sure?"

The jigsaw completes itself, sheeting her mind to hysterical white. Yes. Which came first; the chicken, the egg? Did she have the Vision because the ghosts saw her, wanted her gift for themselves, triggered it? Marriage then to Diego, children for Diego, continuation of the line with her blood to drive it. Or was it her Vision that started the cascade, made them see her, made them whisper into his ear what would be required if she failed to comply?

He doesn't move. So carefully and completely still that a part of her bubbles with laughter because she doesn't even know what she'd do if he did. If she ran, would he chase? If she attacked, would he defend? She can't breathe.

"I am no like that," he says quietly. A vicious whisper. It's still cold, like the blade of a sword held to her cheek. He hasn't denied it. "I will no do the things they did. I... I no have Sight, no see Vision. I is just kid is okay with sword. No esspecial like you."

She looks up and there's anguish there, uncertain fear of his own. How long has he known? Since the beginning? Has he stood here before, listening to her chatter like a firefly with this... thought in his mind?

She doesn't want to know he's sorry. She doesn't want to see him at all so she can keep hating him.

"I will no do thing like that to you, Aura." His voice cracks on the reassurance, pitching into a higher register. "Will no marry or breed like that." A giggle tries to rise to her lips, cold and scared because who talks like that? Breeding. That happens to animals. Not make love or have sex or even just fuck like everyone else says. "So if you see us marry, or see children... that is no what I did. It can't be." There's desperation there, denial, horror. It doesn't change anything.

Because she pulls it then from memory even as her hands clench at her sides. Light drips but she doesn't notice. Anger sustains even this. "But you said... you told me duty. Before everything else, before anything else. N...not to fail. Not to let them down. Not to die without the next Diestro to follow for your precious family." Helpless she remembers his voice on the bridge, the long fall to the water, the color of sunlight and bronze on his skin. The resonant sympathy for his pain. "You say you w..won't. But how do you know? I promised to help. You made me promise to help. What if that's what it takes not to f...fail?"

Will you hurt me? Will you make me? The question crawls on the ground, weeping fear. Her fear, his.

His eyes close, she doesn't know what he's trying not to see. "No! They can no force that, I will no do that! I will no... that is cheat. That is wrong. I have to succeed, but no do horrible thing to girl I..." He strangles on the words, she can see his lips moving.

Shouldn't she be frightened? She is, she knows she is. But precious fury overlays it like the finest lace. All this time, smiling at her antics, letting her be a fool, willing to help her with anything, from spiders to lost ribbons. Her roommate's boyfriend, so perfect and gallant. All this time.

"A girl. A boy, a boy, a girl," she recites, hoping it hurts. "Sometimes I See things and that makes me special to them." The acid of it all burns her tongue. "B...but not to you, not ever to you. Is that why they wanted to know about my mom? My grandmother? How far b...back it went? How far forward it will go?" She tries to get in enough air, gulping. "I only wanted to be your friend!"

Oh, so much more than that; her roommate's boyfriend, the roommate who came to her asking what to do and she'd been frightened then too, scared of what she'd Seen, not ready to be the thing it promised, wanting it anyways, throwing Joni at it like a sacrifice.

"You is esspecial and I do want to be your friend." This time he does take a step towards her, closing the distance and her hands rise. She blinks at the flare because the light is solid enough to have weight, squeezing between her fingers like pulp. He stops and one of his raises in answer, the sword calluses highlighted on his palm. "They is... they can't have everything! You is my friend. That is mine. I made it mine. You are no they Seer." But the desperation hasn't changed. She doesn't know who he's trying to convince.

"But I am theirs, aren't I?" Her voice is small but it carries. "They asked me to set wards, didn't they? On you. Then around you. And soon enough they'll ask for something else, you know they will. Then something else again. And then again. Do you know what it takes to set a w...ward like I've done? B...binding me closer because they have to be strong to keep you safe? To keep me c...close for you." For all her efforts she's near crying. "And you don't ask me for anything at all."

"Aura, Aura, is no true. I asked for... to walk with me. Remember, Reina?" She can hear the rough cajoling in his voice, the entreaty in his eyes. "Just you and me. No mask, no them. Just like now. Aura." He takes the second step and she watches his hand tremble as it reaches out to touch her hair.

"If I didn't have Sight, would you even be here? Or would you j...just be screwing Bethany instead?"

"Que?" The blank astonishment at the accusation is in the flare of his nostrils, in his head that jerks back. The hand he's stretched out tightens.

She wants to wipe away the look of surprise. Does he really think she's stupid and can't understand what's said in the changerooms? The gossip that flies over her head every day? Does he have any idea how often his name comes up? She enunciates carefully.

"You know, Bethany?"

The look is everything she could have hoped for and she tries to be satisfied with it. Because the answer is just that little bit too fast, his eyes just that little bit too wide. Stunned. Then finally angry back for the first time, temper flashing out of nowhere to answer hers.

"Carajo, Aura. I am no esscrew anyone!"

"That's not the way I heard it." She bares her teeth, daring him keep lying.

"Que?! What is you hear?!"

"I hear she likes playing mermaid with you! Was it f...fun? Filling time until you g...get bored of Joni and get tired of being nice to me? Because Bethany puts out without needing a wedding ring?"

"That is lie." The color in his face is high enough that it does look like she's slapped him. "That is no true!"

He might be Joni's knight but he's Bethany's toy, everybody knows it. She tells herself the tightness around his eyes gives away that they did something, they had to have. "She says you did." Karmic retribution can come later, she can lie just as well as the next person. "Let me ask you something. Just this... little something." The nails are digging into her palms. If she gets mad enough, maybe she can run. "Am I supposed to wear white? Is that going to be r...required?"

"W-wear... wear white?"

"Wear white. Be a virgin. Grooms get to wear black to cover their sins."

She's never heard him swear like he does now, vicious and incomprehensible. "Wear what you want, as long as is in Church!" The fury on his face is frightening in its intensity. "And Diestros no wear black, they wear red! Even La Hermana had red sash on her gown."

"Red? Wow, that's a lot of screwing around."

He gapes at her. Has he never looked at her before this? Pretty Aura, tiny Aura. Doll-faced Aura.

His stance has widened into something she almost recognises, the start of a pattern. "Bueno, considering how many have be wounded on wedding day in defense of right, red is mucho more practical! We would probably be bury in red, too, but is generally close casket. Even in case where there is body left to bury, is no always nice sight." He's glaring down from his vantage of height and she admires the straightness of his nose, the tight draw of skin as thin as parchment over the bones of his face. The white light in his eyes is hers though, an unwanted gift of lucency. "But I sure you is happy to know we die young, so if you Vision is right, you will no be torture very long. You will no see me be grandfather; Diestros no see they grandchildren. Many no see they children."

A birthright not her own drips from her hands, a charred circle around her heart, melting into the grass at her feet. Incoherent light.

Aura snaps her head up and her eyes are black as coals, dark as stormlight.

"Grandfather."

"No. Now you is lying too." He's incandescent with it as well, with 800 years of aristocracy, never thwarted.

"Son of the the daughter. You'll live that long." And she laughs because in this instant of prophecy, she knows in the heartbeat before she'll forget. "You'll have me."

[Mercy Strike]

The dark grass is cold, sucking heat from her skin as she kneels.

She's in the clearing with the stones and the small fairy lights highlight the greenery that tries so hard to curve over her head. She's alone and that's desperately, terribly wrong. The wind that stirs the trees whispers that time is running out.

She turns over another card, then another, blank and white and helpless. There are no answers still and she can't even remember what question she asked. How can she have forgotten? She turns yet another, her teeth chattering.

"Dreams count," he says.

She looks up and Brandon leans against a trunk, his arms folded. The side of his face is covered in blood.

"No, they can't."

"But they do." He's cradling a dagger and it's red, red to the hilt. A string of stones winds between his fingers, tying his hand to the pommel. "You'd better hurry up and look, Aura."

So she does. The card in her hand shows a single image; a man, the throne, the eagle. She looks up and his hair has turned brown, the ragged line of it brushing his jaw. Both eyes and face have narrowed.

"I gave you what you wanted," says not-Brandon. One of the stones fall, silver-black to the ground. Pyrite for protection. "Just no how you wanted it."

She's on her feet, and the look on his face is forbidding, frozen. No mercy, no patience. She's out of time to find the answer. She runs because of the pain and the anger, darkness made real and it's inside her. The branches lash at her face, hands before she breaks sobbing into the stormlit sanctuary. She races for the looming rock and the graffiti flashes under her hands as she climbs. No protection, no safety. Her hands are bleeding.

At the top, she crouches like a broken angel, guttering light against all the dark she's carrying. She looks up in hopeless desperation.

The single star begins to fall. She watches it arc down even as her lips move with the wish. Starlight. Please, starbright.

She screams just before it touches her.

-----------------------

She wakes with her teeth locked hard against the sound. The wall shifts in a sickeningly rush until she realises she's watching the shadows of the trees outside, nothing more sinister than that. She rubs her face with one hand and looks around. A faint sound which is probably Sam but could be Caitlin. The hum that's Joni's toaster. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's okay. She's fine. She's okay. It's just another stupid nightmare.

Aura sighs finally and snuggles back down, determinedly pulling the covers over her head. She yawns and one hand creeps under her pillow.

On the edge of the fall, she catches the edge of something... a throne. The eagle.

She sighs and is asleep.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

“So,” began Sol de España, gazing at the various groups from the myriad of factions, “we have gathered to hear the various opinions. We will delineate the likely among them to the boy. We may no longer seem capable of consensus, but we may yet provide coherent guidance.”

“Well said, well said.” She never could keep a slight tone of patronization out of her voice even when sincere. “And having been said, I will reiterate my own view.”

“Alright then, Hermana. Speak.”

“I believe it is a bad idea for the boy to tie himself to one dalliance. He should in fact be more free with his time.”

“Perhaps it appears that way, but seems rather against his natural inclinations. For the most part. I say the Mouse shows some potential; maybe we should battle-test her, at least see what comes of it.”

“Alright, well enough. Who else?”

“We are wasting opportunity for fortuitous alliance. You may consider her slattern, but an emerging legacy and Catholic no less, proven to pass on characteristics across generations is too good to merely pass by. He could apply all the estates’ resources, mount a rescue….”

“Foolishness. Trust that one and he’ll end up with a whelp spewing lightning instead of fire. And not only would he be stuck with the cuckoo’s chick, he’d deserve it for naiveté.”

A voice so nondescript it could only belong to a Spy called out. “I say we take Hermana’s logical view farther. The line has been thinned to the utmost. Why should we want to maintain that state any more than we have to? There is little sense in that.”

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“He has options in front of him. He refrains. We must advise him this is unwise. Undesirable. He should, in fact, partake of all there is to offer. He can’t be immune to the idea.”

Another voice, also nondescript, spoke up. “Think of the possibilities. He could choose whichever he wished, of course, in the end…but by partaking in the meantime…think of the cadet branches of the line he could found! This one fire-forged, that one cold steel, the next bred to perfection and oh-so soul-strong. And there is of course the traditional goal of union with a Seer. The bloodline could come to full fruition again in greater power than ever.”

“Are you that enamored of might? Or of fornication?”

“Oh, give over, Monk, Confession is always there to wipe the slate clean.”

“The Seer is lost at any rate. The boy was convinced. She seeks to nullify her own Vision and follow a different path through the threads of fate.”

“So what do we do to that?”

“Nothing. What can we do? What would you have the boy do after that last talk?” Stony silence greeted that inquiry.

“So then, it is what it is. She is still present. Available, if need be.”

“Mark my words, not heeding what she originally Spoke can bring naught but ill.” There was a pause then through those assembled. Who had voiced the thought was unknown but collective memory ran through them like a tide. To gainsay a true Seeing? A risk of unknown quantity and consequence.

Then a jaunty voice from the back rung out, a mile-a-minute and bearing sincere good humor. “Bah. A pox on that! The Seer he should have and the Seer he should win! She is but a girl. He is diestro, a son of Spain, with our wisdom and knowledge to back it. The girl he can’t win through wit, charm, grace, and hot-blooded Spanish style has yet to spring from descendants of Father Adam and Mother Eve. Let him hit her full force with that, and off her feet she shall be swept. He is too demure by half anyway. You’d think it was the Monks in charge of him…no offense…and it is shameful indeed. Let us point him in the right direction, and let Cupid's archery be loosed!”

Laughs and hoots greeted the oratory, the mood swinging wildly towards a good-will which had been lacking. La Hermana rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth quirked upwards despite herself. Even answering jeers and jibes from those opposed to that course were lighter than previous criticisms, and Sol took the opportunity to end the conference on a high note. That sort of thing had been all too rare of late. More than one, however, had thoughtful eyes to go with their light-hearted smile as they left.

[Mercy Strike]

Life is a machine.

All of the pieces within it have purpose, have function, designed as they are for continued motion of the whole. The systems that drive it forward contain redundancies saturated at every layer, but all strive for the completion just as they are programmed to do. Infinite complexity towards a goal that none know, save perhaps the One that built it in all its parts.

Life is; for no other reason than it knows it must.

She sits on her bed braiding wildflowers into a wreath. The blooms have wilted in the intervening hours but she doesn't mind, pressing the petals open with careful, pale fingers. Hair as fine as moonlight shades her face, casting both shadow and light in equal measure. Fingernails stained with the blood of the stems scores yet another line as she threads one into the next, heedless of the fact that the flowers are dead, that she is mutilating corpses.

Because funerary scent still clings to them and she breathes it in for the memory. Crosslegged she sits and weaves secrets into the circle she builds in her lap. She pricks her thumb and has to suck the pain away.

Yet when she places the crown on her head, it is with defiant joy. Across the room, another smiles.

"That looks beautiful, Aura."

Goddess of Spring, he told her and for that one moment, against everything else she knows, she believed. Still, the flowers are covered in death, coated in it, bowing their heads in service to the thing that she is. Just one tiny piece of the machine, that's all, moving at once towards and against a purpose she Saw once and not again.

Because the light in her answering smile highlights the bruises under her eyes. Faint darkness that speaks silently of a system fragmenting under strain.

The machine cares nothing for the individual gears that drive it, which is as it should be. The redundancies exist in their hundreds; in their thousands, millions for a reason. Sidereal potential forever poised to become actuality at any failure of relentless motion. Life will continue.

As it must.

[Mercy Strike]

There is something about doing what you're not supposed to that makes it just impossible to resist.

Not that she would ever do anything amazingly bad, oh no. For one thing, it would take forever to clear off the karmic debt and she just doesn't feel like being that good this week. Extra chores to make up for her shortcomings are never high on the list, no matter how necessary they sometimes become.

But still, climbing up to the flat top of one of the university roofs is not this majorly bad thing. They're not supposed to be there, true, but it's not like anything is going to go nova or collapse into a black hole just because they did. Besides, it's fun. She figures her karma can absorb at least that much badness without cracking in half.

She hops along the edge, liking the little thrill of the nearby fall. She puts heel to toe in a mincing walk, her arms outstretched for balance and for imagination. She pretends she's walking a tightrope in a circus but at the end she changes her mind and pirouettes like a ballerina. She keeps her eyes down because while she likes the delicious feeling of risk, she doesn't really want to go over the edge.

Leaning against a nearby vent, he smiles behind the argent mask.

The negotiation of this friendship-not-friendship is perhaps the hardest thing she's ever done. There is no manual for something that hasn't happened yet; no list of instructions for how things are supposed to slot together to yield the final form. She is not even sure if she'd understand the language it would be written in, if it were given to her.

So today they have been careful in their translations. They've lost sun-soaked hours already to the long afternoon; to the small explorations and tiny revelations, the inconsequential rule breaking they've indulged in. The scent of warm tar paper and asphalt surrounds them.

They have scrupulously not touched and she is not sure if that is her rule today, or his, or maybe even theirs.

Because his covered face is as clear a warning as the step into space that she skirts. She should know better than to forget but she habitually does, just as she has forgotten now. She walks the ridge like a drunken child, chattering as if storm clouds have no place in her world.

The truth is the fear cannot outweigh the fascination she has for him. And bird-bright, she moves under the masked eyes of the snake.

"Wow. Don't they teach you anything in gh... Diestro school?" She stumbles over the word ghost both because it's rude and because it's not precisely true, even if it is the way she thinks about them.

"They teach mucho. I have so much to learn - I is get so late esstart. I is play catch-up too." His grin is wry and she blushes, crossing her arms over her chest. She really does need to learn to stop saying things the second they occur to her. Sure, she's stunted all over but did she have to admit it? Out loud? To him? She assays a few more tiny steps just to have something to do.

"I bet they're really proud of you." The funny thing is, she is as well. For all the things she can't even name or maybe just for somehow managing to be himself in the face of everything else. She has no idea how to express it though. How do you tell somebody something like that without it sounding stupid? In answer though, he just shrugs.

"They make me knight - that is esstart. I have no do enough to really make proud, though."

"You survived," she shoots back without thinking about it. She really has to do something about that.

"Esstep one," he replies back just as coolly. "That is no get very far." His voice chides and she makes a face.

"Well, it's really difficult to do anything else if you can't manage at least that much," she says with exasperation. "At least, I think it would be an awfully serious disadvantage."

She can hear the grin in his voice even as she goes up on the ball of one foot in preparation for another fast turn. "No... is pretty esstrong disadvantage. I no say was no important esstep, I just say is no get very far with just that. I have many more esstep to make."

She whips around, liking the feel of her hair lifting in a fan. She spits out a few strands that make their way into her mouth. "What is the last one?" she asks impulsively. He makes a noise of inquiry, so she reiterates. "What's the last step?"

It's true that she always reads the last page of the book just to make sure nothing terrible happens at the end. She doesn't like to cheer for the hero only to find out too late that something tragic spoils everything. The question is therefore important to her.

His answer is unexpected though. "Is depend what you mean by last."

"There's more than one last?" She looks up then, fingers still outstretched like wings.

"There is last esstep in series. And final esstep ever make."

That gives her pause for a second. She's not sure but that seems against the unsaid rules of the afternoon. She dares to scowl at his chest. "I said last, not final." It's a very nice chest under the armor for all that she's never actually seen it. If she watches long enough, will he shrug again? She tries to stare covertly.

The pause is longer than it needs to be and she wonders what is going on behind the mask. Perhaps he is consulting? Or simply choosing words to convey something she might not otherwise understand. "Last esstep is triumph, then. Glory for cause."

That is unexpected too but in a different direction and she smiles. "So you start at just surviving and you end up ... in glory? Wow! That sounds an awful lot like my plan, you know." They've already talked of this; her not-so-secret dream to be famous, loved and adored by millions, queen of as much of the world as she can manage. She's grateful he's never dismissed it, amused as he must be by the grandiose scheme of it all.

"Ah...si­, now you mention, is something of the same." She raises her eyes to watch his lips twitch. "Details is probably no very alike, though." So very bland, that understatement.

"Well no, but we are very different people." The words are primmer than she means, pursed as a lemon. She sounds like a librarian.

And he laughs, startlingly warm, filling the roof with the golden glow of it. "Ah, si. Verdad."

She smiles in return, hesitant but gaining radiance. "Vraiment," she chirps back. "For one thing, I don't think you have to worry about the getting rich part of my plan. But still, if you skip all the steps in the middle? We both want to end up in the same place." She likes that they have finally discovered at least this one thing in common, among the so many other things that they don't.

"I think end in same place as you is good goal, Aura."

The warmth doesn't change, still gold, and she shies at it like a horse confronted by a fence. "Um. Yes? Most definitely. That's a very worthy... goal." Something stirs and tries to paint a picture in her mind, the lines that will be on his face from age, the laugh that won't change for all the years ahead. "We should probably keep that in mind. Trade email notes and stay on t..track." She hates the stutter, oh, with a passion.

Because she can't help this either; she shoves everything into future and later and maybe even never because to make it now is too frightening a thought. It's easier to pretend that she will be on tour, busy with the famous, the great plan, with the Vision delayed unto infinity.

"Is be easier for me. I is just keep track of world famous singer, after all."

"Well, I'm not going to be world famous right away, you know. It'll take at least a little time." She looks away from the indulgent smile quirking under the mask, not sure that she likes the butterflies they give her. "I'll give you my cel phone number so you can find me, if the email doesn't work. I'll have one of those by then." She thinks of something then and smiles herself. "And a secret password!"

"Secret password?"

She starts thinking of words that would suit. Probably besame. "That's right. So that I'll know it's you and not some crazy fan who got my phone number."

"Ah, si­, claro. I is perfectly sane fan, no crazy fan." Is he teasing her? She looks back with suspicion. Silver metal, golden humor.

"You can't be my fan, Diego. A fan is somebody who doesn't know anything about you but thinks you're great anyways, for the one thing they do know."

"Oh, no?" He shrugs finally and she watches the fascinating motion translate through his shoulders. It really is a very distracting sight. "Is already too late for that now then, anyway. I think I know more than that about you already, si­?"

What can she say? She nods with a mouth suddenly a little dry. "S..si." She whets her lips then remembers what Brandon said about signals. She hurries on. "So I'm sorry. You'll just have to be something else instead."

"Is ok. I try do my best be brave in face of heartbreak of no be able to be you fan." His voice turns mournful, as if she has dealt him some sort of blow.

"Well, gosh. Don't pretend it's the end of the world. You'll just... have to find something else to do in your spare time." She stops moving out of astonishment at the words, unaware that she has done so. She stands silhouetted white and unsure at the edge of the roof, more sylph than girl.

"Is going be hard, I think." He nods and looks down, crossing his ankles after a moment. "I was very look forward be your fan."

"Oh, you were so not. You're just making that up."

"Why is I do that? Now you is hurt my feelings again, call me liar. Ay, you is harsh mistress, Reina." The wounded tone matches the little that she can see of his face. His posture shifts again, changes subtly and she can't place the difference. She only knows it's there as he shakes his head in disappointment.

"I wasn't... I didn't! I just... Diego! I didn't say you were lying. I just said that you couldn't be my fan." She wants to be honest, wondering in confusion if maybe she did say something not quite right. "For reasons that maybe might have sounded like I was sort of saying you were telling an untruth? It's not the same and you know it. You're just trying to make me feel guilty. Which I am not."

"Si­, claro, Reina is never guilty. Only us poor little people wishing bask in your glory for moment."

"Wh..what? Bask in my ... get your own glory!" She opens her mouth like a fish, and closes it again.

"Like I say, so very harsh. Banish poor humble knight to shadows away from you great radiance... que dolor dulce me das!" She can only blink at the impassioned outcry but laughter is already pulling his mouth away from straightness. She narrows her eyes. He's definitely teasing her, she knows he is. But why?

"I will great radiance you into a spot on the wall, wow! I might be able to do that, you know." He tilts his head just like a quizzical dog which is somewhat infuriating, even as she tries to pull together the rest of her objection. What, does he think she can't? She does practice. Sometimes. "And I am not in the least harsh. Not even one little, itsy bitsy bit."

"Is say love is pain, senorita. You deny me and deny, ay, but I am draw to you anyway."

For a second, the butterflies fragment into hot flowers. She has the incredibly stupid feeling that if she was close enough, she would see his eyes gone as gold as his voice. She shakes her head although she's not really sure what she's negating.

"Gosh, now you are a moth? Moths end up with no wings most of the time. You might want to reconsider your urgent need to flutter at lights." She winds that up with a triumphant flourish, flushed and proud at herself for thinking it up, just like that. That was a great simile! It's kind of too bad this isn't an English quiz because that might have earned her points.

He doesn't even hesitate for a second. "More, for you are no little flame, but light of moon, great in the sky." His face moves into profile, one hand gesturing upwards. She watches it helplessly. "No burning, but high and aloof instead. So distant - but you humble knight have hope one day earn essmall token and be draw out of dark." His hand returns to his chest, closing as if on something precious. He smiles at her across the space that separates them.

"...Wow. I am not high, or... or aloof and you are really not very humble at all. I'll give you a small token. I'll drop an asteroid on your head, you just see if I don't." She stamps her foot then, half laughing.

"Ah, see? Harsh. And argumentative."

"I am not argumentative! Or harsh! I have been nothing but polite for whole minutes."

"Then why is you just argue back?" As if she's going to get caught with that old thing.

"I wasn't arguing. I was correcting."

He nods. "Harsh," he repeats and his voice chides again, fondly.

"Well, if you're going to call me a moon, you are obviously not feeling well." Maybe that's what's going on. He has a brain fever brought on by the heat. It's the only explanation.

"You are right." For a moment - a brief, shining moment - she thinks she might have won. What, she doesn't know because she's not exactly sure when this turned into a contest except that somewhere along the way it did. The expression of his mouth gives nothing away however. "Moon is little thing in compare to you light, which though fickle, is rival only by glorious sunrise."

'What's fickle?" she asks cautiously. His head tilts to consider the question.

"Now you is give, now you is take. Change mood in beat of heart..."

She nibbles on her lower lip, thinking about that. She realises he's staring at her mouth so she stops. "Is that a bad thing? Because I'm not sure if I should be mad at you for calling me fickle or if I should like being called a sunrise."

He smiles at that. "I could consider great honor you take my compliment to heart for that is where in me it come from, so you is know depth I feel when you is turn you eyes of sapphire on me."

"Wow." There doesn't seem to be a lot else she can say to that. She struggles to frame something. "Okay, now you are really just teasing me. I think you lifted that from your last English essay."

The answering sigh is dramatic and the hand he's outstretched retracts to touch his heart. "Once again, my harsh mistress deny my attempt of express to her. Ay, dolor que se hace familiar!"

"I am not .. gosh, would just you stop that?" She stomps her foot again as if that will help. "Saying things I don't understand. I am not denying you anything!"

Oh, but the answering grin is small but victorious. "I is remember you say that, mi Reina." The gloating is as smooth as silk, as unruffled as velvet. "Oh, si."

"Diego! You can't possibly take it like ... well, however you're taking it. You said I was denying you and I wasn't. Or being argumentative. Exactly." When did she lose control? She feels like she's taken one spin too many, with the blood in her head and the moment of not being sure if the vertigo will prove too much.

"Mmm, take back what you say so soon? Ay, I tilt at windmill, over and over..."

"You are not the guy on the burro! Stop pretending you are. Delusions of... of grandeur is not the way to glory."

"Rocinante was nag, no burro. Esstill, I must armor myself from harsh rebuke of mistress who say even hopeless Don Quixote is more glory than me." The sigh is heartfelt enough to move mountains.

"I am not harshly.. and I am not your mistress!" That also did not come out right but she is past caring. She's giggling with both frustration and roused spirit.

"...Is must be soft of pale esskin and shine of brilliant crown of hair which keep me esstrong en this great pain. Ay, I essteal look upon you, even though you is deny ties to you humble knight." His grin is as broad as a river even as he straightens to bow, long fingers splayed across his chest.

She shakes a finger at him. "You are about as h..humble as ... as a fox. You're trying to trick me somehow."

"Mm, insult answer compliment, now you is call me trickster, like I is artist of con trying cheat you out of money. How enchant I must be by you features of no compare that esstill I endure!"

"Would you please stop?" She's not sure that she wants him to though, not really; the fascinating, mercurial change of him. "I am not a moon, or a sunrise, or some incomparable thing! I'm just Aura."

"That is obvious untrue, because I gladly take mistreat in you hands for merely chance esstay and keep look at you."

She probably looks as bewildered as she feels. "Well, you can look at me all you like? I've been right in front of you for hours! And I am not mistreating you. Or your burro."

"I know. I have look. I will look." Still gold, the warmth in his voice but now it slides like fur across her skin. "I like look. So deny my pain of you harsh, for is your just due. Reina." The caress is as real to her as the touch of his hand on her hair and she shivers. That also seems against the rules but somewhere along the way maybe it changed. Maybe she failed to realise it with watching the honey laughter in his eyes.

"My just... due?" Her voice is smaller than she would like but there doesn't seem to be much she can do about it.

He nods as if there is no other way to answer. He stands easily, utterly poised and unshiftable. "Claro, Aura."

That word at least she knows. "No, it's really not very clear at all. Not by an awful big amount." She's as heartfelt about that as any other thing in her whole life.

He sighs then, not giving even an inch. "Again, I stand without approval of my lady. My best effort is come to nothing. Mas y mas dolor!"

She grasps after the only thing that seems sure. "But I do approve of you! Very much!"

"Ah, en fin!" His smile is as indulgent as a favorite uncle, as if she has finally spoken the magic words to earn herself a candy. "I am feel like strength of ten men with you accept, mi Reina." Again his hand moves to his heart and he gives her another sweeping bow but if there is mockery, she can't detect it.

"Wow. That's great, you have no idea." She dares to slump then with confused relief. "But really, I think the strength of just you is plenty." She means that too, as much as she has ever meant anything.

He chuckles as if he can tell. "I no know, is take almost more than I have to win over my sol y estrellas, mi cielo."

"What was that part?" That's it. He's been saying all these things that she hasn't understood and this time she's determined not to let him get away with it. "Sol y estraposa..."

"Sol y estrellas? My sun and esstars." His lips quirk then. "If you is also wish to know, I is also say... my darling."

She stares at him.

It's Diego's voice and his armor, the unruly line of his hair, the smudge on one shoulder from the climb. Yet she can all but see the plume in his hat, the ink stains on the hand that can wield both quill and sword with equal skill. Unknowingly her skin has turned to answering diamond, glittering in the sunshine - an air spirit, lured to ground by human sweetness and her own mortal curiosity.

She looks - and it's the silver mask that looks back.