The rain was clearing up when Winsor and I stepped out of the cabaret. Either it naturally let up, or Osoro had his powers back and was desperately trying to restore the night to a clear festival friendly atmosphere. Tracks had already been driven deep into the mud and the crowd was spread out much less densely than before. Many people hid underneath long shawls suspended above their heads.

I had managed to wrangle a smile from Winsor's face through my continued antics. I was pretty good at flattery, after years of sales and soothing burnt customers. Winsor wasn't terribly hard to read, and I felt a little twinge of satisfaction when he raised his hands to his face and covered his mouth while laughing, which was good, because if he wandered off before I got this curse lifted....

"Winsor?" A woman's voice cut across our laughter. Winsor stumbled to a stop. He fixated on a young, shapely elven lady in a ruffled dark gown with a diamond brooch that pinned a cape around her neck. A parasol with ribbon rows sat lightly on her shoulder, the rain drops spinning out in a radial pattern as she gave the handle a small twist. Behind her was another woman, ornate and doll-like in her pale pink dress but without the precious gems. She was a plump girl and silent, her own umbrella still. A frown pursed on her painted lips.

"Azeria?" Winsor asked, staring at the woman who had spoken. And then he smiled, this time not the nervous, embarrassed smiles I was getting from him, or the quick and hardy bursts of laughter. Instead, it grew like a rising sun on his face, filling his entire body. "Azeria!" he repeated. He took a step toward her. She remained stationary, the ripples in the fabric of her gown only shuddering with the small breezes outside. She tilted her head and the curls about her face fell back. The expression on the pink-clad girl behind her deepened, disapproving lines springing up between her eyebrows as Winsor approached.

"The cabaret?" Azeria said, and her face drew tight. She shot a disgruntled look over her shoulder at the woman in the pink dress. "Perhaps you were right, Tyas."

The woman behind her, Tyas, forced her face to look placid while regarded by her master.

"My apologies, Enchanted One."

Azeria turned again and leveled her head again at Winsor. Winsor stopped stepping forward, frozen awkwardly midstep by her disapproval. He came to his senses and drew his other foot next to the one that had launched itself out eagerly toward her. He tugged at his bangs nervously.

"Uh...."

"I knew your brother used to be fond of the cabaret, but you'd always said you had no interest in that sort of thing."

"I don't!" he retorted.

Another patron stepped out of the door behind us with a gaggle of his friends, all laughing. One of them bowed to Winsor as they walked by.

"That was awesome, Enchanted One!" he shouted.

"Yeah!" Another chimed in. "Everyone's talking about how they can't wait 'til you visit again!" They all cheered Winsor as they continued to walk away. Winsor shrunk back, his eyes growing wide as his shoulders hunched up, as if he was trying to disappear into his own torso.

"Huh." Her voice was attempting indifference, but I sensed loss beneath the inflection. "That's that then. Good night Winsor. Come along, Tyas." She turned and walked away. Winsor bolted toward her.

"Oh, Azeria! Don't be cross! Please? It's been so long since you've been to Blythe, and you never let me visit..." Winsor chased after her as she swayed away.

"I thought maybe we'd have something to talk about," Azeria sniffed. "But I can see that you are occupied enough. I wonder if your taste for seeing women flounce about naked on stage is inherited or learned. With your brother, it may be either."

"I am different! This buffoon here dragged me there. I didn't go by choice!" Winsor jabbed a finger at me. "Azeria, you know you're the solitary lady in the entire Arcanacracy I have attraction toward!"

What a little liar. Just hours ago he was telling his father how he was infatuated with Mallow.

"Oh, I know you believe you needn't true affection to enjoy dancing girls and the like," Azeria said, her voice on the cusp of growling but her arcanacrastic manners keeping it in check. "Compassion, loyalty, dignity, respect... none of these are required for a good time at the cabaret." She rested a hand on her hip and laughed once, short and harsh. "Though that doesn't reflect poorly on the girls as much as it does their patrons. I suppose all the gold in the world can't make a human into an elf."

"What?" Winsor's pose was helpless anxiety. "Azeria, I don't even know what to say to that. I want to tell you that if I'd known you were in town..."

"It was a mistake, trust me—"

I cut in.

"Are you jealous?" I asked. Azeria twirled to me.

"Who... is that?"

"The buffoon," Winsor reiterated. "This is all his fault. See, he—"

"I'm his Assistant, but never mind that; why are you jealous?" I repeated.

"I'm not jealous." she said, ignoring Winsor.

"Then why are you mad at Winsor? He didn't do anything immoral. He didn't hurt anyone," I said. "Unless, of course, you feel betrayed by him admiring other girls, which would mean you were jealous, which would mean he hurt you," I said. "So why are you jealous?"

Winsor gaped at me, then Azeria, and then me again.

"I'm not... It's... He's supposed to be a sorcerer. Sorcerers are dignified," she said.

"Acting like this every day, throwing away the family fortune or indulging too much in idleness certainly would be bad, but it's his Age Day after all..." I said. "You never let loose once in a while?"

"That's not the same thing," Azeria said.

"Are you and Winsor engaged?"

"No."

"Are you and Winsor courting?"

"No..."

"Do you want Winsor to be courting you?"

"No!"

"Then, he can admire whoever he wants. If you're so upset by the idea of him being with other girls, you better let him know so he can focus his attention on you. Otherwise, what's he supposed to do, blind himself and wander alone forever?"

Winsor's dark hair fluttered around him as he frantically shook his head.

"You can't talk to Azeria like that!" he shouted, his usually meek voice almost breaking from the effort.

"Calm down Winsor," she said. She placed a hand over his mouth, and his body relaxed. Her soft rounded chin peaked more into the air. She was trying her hardest to belittle me despite the fact I was taller than her. She settled for scoffing.

She curled a hair around her finger. "On my wedding day, his brother Bernard ran off, like he always does, with some girl. He humiliated me in front of my family, in front of Bernard's family." Her voice grew wet. Winsor tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged away from it and shook her head. His hands fell helplessly by his sides. Apparently their physical intimacy went only one way, with Azeria allowed to touch Winsor's body to silence him but him unable to comfort her.

"My aunts said I must not have been beautiful enough, my uncles not clever..." She twitched the umbrella handle. "If some ungifted human town girl kept his attention better than I."

"I saw the girl he was with! She was nothing more than a rat-faced strumpet, an empty headed, and straw haired—" Winsor began, anger bubbling up in him.

"And yet, in that day, he preferred her," Azeria cut him off, her words harsh.

"He didn't prefer her! He never spoke to her again!" Winsor said.

"Is that supposed to comfort me? That he destroyed my future for some poor wretched girl who he immediately abandoned? It doesn't." She dropped her hands by her sides and glared at Winsor. "Because men are all like you and your friend. They want women, any woman, when they want them, irrational, short sighted cravings like as if for custard or cakes." She put her hands on her face, which was growing blotchy from emotion under her makeup. "I thought you were different Winsor. I was coming to see you..."

Wait, she was lying too. She had avoided him in the restaurant.

"...but when I saw, my disappointment..."

"Azeria," His voice was a whine. "Azeria that day I chased him down, I tried to force him to do the right thing. I used everything I had against him, to punish him for hurting you! And when he attacked back—" Winsor's face flinched, eyes going distant for a moment. "Azeria, I nearly died for you," He finished, shaking the painful memory from his thoughts.

"You wanted an excuse to attack him," she said. "If you did it because of love, you wouldn't be here."

"I didn't know you were in town!" Winsor bleated. "Last I heard your brother had died and you were getting ready to leave for Proving training!" Tears were welling in his eyes. "Everyone said you weren't coming!"

"How did you know about my brother's death?" she asked.

"One of the head butler's duties is to write to your family," Winsor said. "I knew two days after it happened. I sent you flowers for the funeral," He finished quietly.

"The diamond bud ones," Winsor's face flashed with tentative hope. She smirked a little. "You know, we have a real problem with people trying to steal them."

"I'm sorry," Winsor said. "I'd managed to get a few bulbs so I thought I'd experiment and when those came out..."

"They are beautiful," she said. "The sun catches in the gems, and it sprays light everywhere, dancing as the day wears on." She tilted her head, and her curls of hair shifted once again. They were heavy in the humid air of the rainy evening. "I never did thank you for those."

"You never answer my letters."

"I... I don't know. I'm still furious I found you here, but maybe the buffoon is right."

"You want me to court you?" Winsor asked, his voice hopeful. Azeria stepped back, physically repelled by the notion.

"No... it's... I couldn't spend my life married, hoping you don't leave me for some other girl, without a fortune of my own." She curled a lock of hair around her finger in thought. "... I should accept your lecherous nature as a sad fact of life, and not a personal attack."

"I'm not lecherous!" Winsor defended. Remembering how hard he had craned his neck when Mallow had been changing, I would have contended that fact but now I needed him in a good mood, so I kept silent.

"Hmm." She smiled. "I better be going. There's an ensemble of lute players on the other side of town, and I do so love a good song."

"I would happily go with you," Winsor volunteered.

"I'd... really prefer being alone, if it's all the same to you."

"You'll be in public. And with her." Winsor gestured at Tyas.

"You can be alone in a crowd," she said. "You should know about that."

She strolled away in a manner that ended the conversation. Her servant followed, a faint smirk on her lips. Winsor hesitated, flinching from her disapproval. He then shouted after her, desperately. He was unable to pursue, she had made that much clear. And yet, his words cut across the air, laden with the despair of having to part.

"Just promise you'll come to the party tomorrow."

"No, I can't." She slowed, still keeping her back to us. "You know the memories that hall brings to my mind. I don't need to be upset anymore before I leave for my Proving."

"Please Azeria," he cried. "You're the only person I want to see there."

"Oh... all right..." She glanced over her shoulder, and shook her head in pity. "But Winsor, understand, that this doesn't change anything about our future. I will never be a friend of your family again, much less..."

Winsor's face flushed with color and heat.

"I will still go. I will see you then." She strode away with a distinct sense of finality. Winsor watched the woman disappear. He then breathed in heavily. His robes swirled as he spun to face me.

"Man who lured me into embarrassment with his goad, turn quickly and silently into a speechless toad!" He whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear it. I twisted my body to run, but my legs melted beneath me. I felt his robe wrap around me. He hugged me, blocking me from view. I shrank, Winsor growing larger and larger around me. First his arm was laced under my armpit, but he readjusted as I shrank, trying to prevent me from splatting on the floor.

When I was slightly larger than a loaf of bread, a green, slimy, disoriented mess, it felt like he began walking with me in his arms, the long black sleeve being used as a blanket to conceal me. My eyes stopped working beneath the black veil, and when it was pulled back, the entire world smelled different. It felt like my skin was fresh out of the bath, and every piece of lint and dust mote on the air clung to me.

My eyes were all wrong, working oddly. My fat mouth moved clumsily and my lips refused to cooperate.

I croaked loudly in distress as I felt myself bounce along with Winsor's hurried steps.

"Though your question with Azeria pacified her temper, I think I shall keep you as a toad for a while to punish you for the earlier insolence in that den of debauchery," Winsor said, examining me. "At least until I can drop you off safely at your temporary dwellings."

His voice was terse as we walked past the rows of buildings leading up to the cabaret back toward the inn and restaurant section of Blythe.

"Considering your luck, if I let you go back by yourself you'd probably be swooped up by an owl." I squirmed around in his palm and stared up at his face. My own eyelids felt weird and foreign. I blinked a set of eyelids that were gauzy and semi-translucent. The sensation stunned me so much I attempted to run away from my own face. Winsor slapped his hand gently down around me, forming a cage with his fingers and chuckling under his breath to himself.

Eventually I calmed down, and settled my moist toad butt down on his hand.

He raised his hand and inspected me.

"Good. If you went hopping off, a stray shadow slink may devour you."

We walked on, until he stopped in front of the towering inn, which I'm sure would have been larger than before even if I had not been a toad.

"Is this your housing for the duration of your stay?" Winsor asked me. With some difficulty I got my large, triangular head to bob. We made our way up to my room, Winsor using magic to hover up the steps. However, once we got to the door, I realized that the key had been in my pocket, which hopefully was still on my clothes that had gone wherever stuff goes when magic transforms something.

He asked me about it, but my lips didn't work for words. He paced around irritated outside of the door while I croaked at him. After that, he tried to summon the key, but having no idea what it was supposed to be structured like and having no beginning material, quickly forfeited the effort.

"Fine," he said bitterly. "Creepy crawly little thing that brings me shame and vexation, revert to your usual abhorrent form prior to this mutation." My entire body tingled. He set me down on the floor in time for me to half fall onto my butt. It stung, but I stood up and stretched, immediately glad to not be swampy and damp anymore.

"Did you have to be so rude?" I asked. Winsor's youthful face stammered in objection.

"I'm the rude one? Who completely humiliated me in front of an entire crowd of people?" Winsor's high pitched voice cracked with the accusation. I bowed my head.

"I am sorry, Enchanted One. I had not realized how it would be perceived. My own unrefined manner did not make me aware that it would be absolutely mortifying for one as Enchanted as yourself."

"This is why they warn us not to mix with ungifted company," Winsor said. He stewed in silence, before he spun in his sea of dark robes to walk away. "I better be off."

"Wait," I said.

Winsor's soft footsteps halted. His round, dark eyes regarded me.

"So you didn't like the cabaret..." I said. "What would you like to do?"

"It doesn't matter."

"No, tell me," I said. "What is your idea of a good time?"

"There are these old ruins..." Winsor said. "I used to visit them all the time... they belonged to our ancestors... I have wanted to..."

My mind flashed to a tower I remembered seeing on the outskirts of the town, visible from the gates of town, but still far off.

"And?" I asked.

"I'd like to go visit again, though not by myself."

That sounded absolutely boring.

"Because..." Winsor continued. "Rumors have been spreading that it's haunted, and I want to see if they're true, or if someone's just disturbing my ancestor's tower. Either way, it sounds like something I should take care of. Also, I could harvest some spectral dust if there actually are other beings."

Did I think boring? Actually boring was good. This new idea sounded dangerous. Yet profitable. I wondered how much spectral dust sold for?

"Let's go!" I said. This would buy me more time to figure out how to get the secret of Mallow's location from this guy. Once I did that, then I could drop the entire wanting to please him act and he could do all the boring and dangerous things on his own.

(( Winsor is both fun and very stressful to hang out. All those mood swings! ))