The Heroes awoke after celebrating Henri's victory in the duel, some of them saying fond farewells to their companions of happenstance, and braced for the impending dance hosted by Doña Leandra. A breakfast at Jorge's was again attempted, and the wait was the more manageable now that the Heroes knew they would leave well satisfied. Henri excused himself, pleading a minor errand and promising to rendezvous with his friend at El Caballo d' Oro before setting out for the bullring.
Stopping at a flower stand, he purchased a great armful of the finest roses, and made his way to the Chapterhouse of the Rose and Cross. Upon entering, he sent the first fellow he saw to give his calling card, with the roses, to Señorita Consuelo Basquez, and to inquire whether she was at home to visitors. If she were not, he would understand, for the young lady must be quite busy indeed, and have many admirers.
"Uh, yeah... right... " The Tyro began to stammer.
Henri's eyes narrowed and began to take on a faint ruddy tinge.
"Make me doubt the sincerity of your words again, my good man, and you will regret it."
The Tyro retreated apologetically, and soon brought word that the lady and her father were still finishing their morning meal, and that he should join them at table. Small talk and greetings were exchanged, and Henri began to feel his way toward inviting Consuelo to attend the muleta that afternoon. Violent sport, however, had become distasteful to the young lady, and he beat a retreat from this ground. More gratifying was the news that father and daughter would attend Doña Leandra's dance, and so there would be an opportunity for further conversation that evening. Henri said his farewells, leaving his invitation open should the lady find herself idle or available for entertainment in the future. As he left, he did not see Quinn, who was posting correspondence to the Master Knight in San Cristobal. The Avalonder watched his associate scan the construction yard quickly, then depart in some haste. After a moment's consideration, he decided against accosting Henri.
The arena was once again filled with delighted spectators, enjoying the violence and spectacle of the muleta. The Heroes made their greetings to Don Octavio, to the alcalde Don Lucas, and to the lovely Doña Leandra. Henri purchased more flowers to throw in salute to Doña Alicia, and all awaited the final match. Before her entry, however, the matador who preceded her turned aside a moment too late to avoid his adversary. Gasps circled the ring as the bull gored his tormentor deeply, hooking him on one horn, and tossing him about. He fought to free himself from the impaling horn, and finally fell to the sand, to be further worried by the beast where he lay.
Henri got to his feet, and began to measure the distance from the box to the ring. He saw other matadors beginning to enter the arena and had the premonition that they would be too late. He drew back a pace as Quinn and Cecil shot from their seats. He thought to himself, I'm probably going to regret this, as he tumbled through the air, catching his foot on the inner wall of the arena, catching himself with his hands a second before the momentum would have sent him sprawling into the sand, then jogged toward the bull. As he felt the sweat begin to pour down his legs, he realized he had no idea how he was going to deal with the snorting devil. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quinn and Cecil run up alongside him and race past, hoping to pull the unfortunate victim from beneath the bull's hooves.
Doña Alicia had entered the ring, and was now calling for a sword. A half-dozen lesser picadors had joined her, beginning to circle the animal to drive it from the ring. Without a weapon, she loosed her cape, and snapped it at the bull's haunches. The bull whirled about, just as Quinn stamped his feet and waved his arms to draw its attention. With a bellow, the bull charged forward. Henri shut his eyes for a moment, with ice in his guts. He saw for an instant the bull drive toward Quinn, saw Cecil reach to pull his countryman out of the way, saw Quinn's sleeve tear out of Cecil's hand as the bull smashed into the Knight.
There was a roar of surprise from the crowd, then applause.
Henri opened his eyes to see the bull careening forward, and Quinn still standing. He tried for a moment to reconcile the two visions, then gave thanks he'd been mistaken. As his eyes followed the animal, he heard a picador shout a warning. Following the sound, he saw that Asgard had now joined the rest in the ring, and was watching the bull intently. The roar from the crowd was deafening, and the bull tossed its head about, unsure where to turn. As Henri began to edge toward Asgard, she drew in a deep breath and began to sing.
Henri looked toward the crowd, a gloved finger raised to his lips in mute appeal. The wall of sound began to crumble and slowly collapse. As the cheers, cries, and shouts grew quiet, a hauntingly beautiful melody began to fill the arena. Deep and peaceful, it filled those who heard it with a calm hope, and even the bull's ears were twitching toward the source of it. There was a last attempt at a charge, but the fury had left the beast. Henri gazed in surprise and delight at his friend, and whispered to her.
"You're doing beautifully... let's lead him out now."
The crowd watched as the singing woman slowly began to walk toward the gate the animals used, and her companion walked slowly between beauty and beast, his hand resting lightly on his sword. Slowly, then with a curious resignation, the bull followed the two through the gate, and left the arena. Asgard and Henri stepped back into the ring to make their way across and toward the matadors' exit. As they stepped onto the sand once again, the stadium exploded into applause. Henri bowed deeply to Asgard, kissed her hand lightly, and mouthed, Well done, my friend, well done! in the clamor. They took their seats and the final match began.
Meanwhile, Quinn and Cecil had taken the unfortunate fellow to his rooms for surgery, and returned to the alcalde's box to find their hosts astonished and delighted. The four of them were asked to bow to the crowd once more after Doña Alicia's match, and flowers rained on them as Henri cringed a bit. So much publicity couldn't be good, he thought. Then again, he reasoned, if he hadn't wanted notoriety, he'd certainly picked a damned silly way of avoiding it.
Finally, the crowds dispersed and all went to refresh themselves, dress, and reassemble at Doña Leandra's estate. It was a pleasant, delightful evening, and there were murmurs of surprise as Master Basquez and his daughter arrived. She was deliciously dressed in a flowing gown, with her hair styled still down over her left cheek, and a broad-brimmed hat rakishly turned down over the same. Henri gave his greetings, with appreciation of the lady's beautiful appearance. She returned thanks for his gifts, indicating with a wave of her hands the finery that adorned her. Henri smiled, bowed lightly, and observed that howsoever nice, the setting was nevertheless entirely unworthy of the gem it enfolded. With that, he withdrew to allow father and daughter to enjoy the dance.
At mid-evening, Don Octavio took the Heroes aside to inform them that their contact, the prospective replacement for the Alcalde of Barcino, was ready and would meet them in the town of Pasiega when they were able to reach it. Henri begged a week's delay, so that he could take delivery of a crate of books to distribute in the occupied port. As this suited the Don, all agreed on a departure in early September, and then returned to the festivities.
Toward the end of the evening, an unexpected blessing occurred. The Señorita Basquez had left a dance open, and Henri was able to enjoy the young lady's company for a single, scandalous close whirl about the floor. He took specific pains to hold her closely, to leave just the barest bit of weight on her feet, so that she appeared to float effortlessly in sweeping circles, buoyed by the music. All too soon, the two spun toward the lady's seat, where she was gently deposited, glowing and a little winded. Thanking her, he began to offer a drink, as she looked over his shoulder, and accepted punch from a well-formed fellow of about her own age. She looked at this young man warmly, and Henri mustered a look of slight disappointment, and infinitesimal defeat, leaving the pair to talk of such things as young people are wont to discuss.
A gentle coach ride home found the Heroes sinking back against the cushions, and grateful that they had managed to dodge the disasters of their previous excursion into society. Henri resolved to begin learning in earnest at the Swordsman's Guild in the morning-- but that was hours away. The morrow, he thought, could tend to itself.