CHALLENGE for the week of 06-24-01

TRIO CHALLENGE: cameo brooch, weight scales, a lantern
QUOTE 1: "A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies. " - Oscar Wilde
QUOTE 2: "Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it." - Confucius
"potatory" (POH-tuh-tor-ee) adjective - Pertaining to or given to drinking. [From Latin potatorius, from Latin potatus, past participle of potare, to drink.]
"dotty" (DOT-ee) adjective
1. Mentally unbalanced; crazy. Amusingly eccentric or unconventional. Ridiculous or absurd.
2. Having a feeble or unsteady gait; shaky.
3. Obsessively infatuated or enamored.
[Probably alteration of Scots dottle, silly, from Middle English doten, to dote.]
"epuration" (ep-yuh-RAY-shun) noun Purification, especially removal of officials or politicians believed to be disloyal; purge. [From French epuration, epurer, to purify + ation.]

AUTHORS: Greg, Jo, Julie, Lisa, Maril, Neil, Rodlox

By Greg

TRIO CHALLENGE: cameo brooch, weight scales, a lantern + epuration
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Please
NOTE: For those of you who were looking for a continuation of my last challenge, sorry, The Inquisitor went underground, at Eliza urging, to the Virtual Season of Q of S. However, this challenge response continues from my first response where a wedding was announced.

~~~~~

"Marta, don't leave me like this." The protest fell on deaf ears as Marta was already heading toward the front door to see what the messenger, she had seen through Tessa's window, wanted.

I hope I don't have to talk to Marta. Her kind gives me the creeps. The messenger dismounted his horse and approached the front door of Alvarado hacienda. As soon as he knocked, Marta answered the door. "I have a message for Senorita Alvarado from Colonel Montoya."

"What is it? The Senorita is occupied. I will deliver the message to her."

"The Colonel requests the presents of Senorita Alvarado and her fiancee at a celebration this evening. He requested that I stay until I receive an answer."

"Very well. Wait here while I get your answer," Marta replied closing the door on the messenger.

"What did he want, Marta?" Tessa asked as Marta enter her dressing room. Marta looked at her charge, and had to suppress a laugh. Tessa looked like a red pin cushion as Marta had been working on her wedding dress.

"The colonel has requested your presence at a celebration tonight. The messenger is waiting for your reply."

"Do I have to go? The Colonel's parties are so boring. I have to sit around listening to all the Donas vacant drivel, while the Dons are discussing the important information in another room."

"Tessa, you don't have to go if you don't want to, but this is the first formal event since your engagement to Dr. Helm. It would only be proper for the two of you to put in an appearance."

"Of course, Marta, you are right. Tell the messenger we will be there, ask him to inform Dr. Helm, and then come back and help me decide what to wear tonight."

~~~~~~

Tessa had been in a tizzy since the messenger left. Every dress she owned was spread out on her bed. "Marta, can you make me a new dress by tonight, something that will highlights mama's cameo brooch?"

Marta just rolled her eyes. "Wear this one," Marta stated asked as she picked up a blue satin dress fringed with black lace, "and use the brooch to hold the black velvet shawl."

"Do you think Robert will like it?"

"If you don't start getting ready, we will never know."

~~~~~~

Dr. Helm had been in the middle of seeing a patient when the messenger had arrived informing him of his evening engagement.

Damn that woman, she always is speaking for me without asking me first. Now, as evening was approach, he was looking through his wardrobe to select a suitable suit for tonight's party. He had no doubt that Tessa would be her normal radiant self. He just had to do his best to keep up with her. After looking over his wardrobe twice, he finely selected a blueish grey suit. I had better get ready. Taking his wash basin from the night stand and filling it with clean water, he stepped outside his quarters into the golden light of late afternoon as the cooling ocean breezes began slicing through the oppressive heat and the doctor's hair. Setting down the basin, he looked into the mirror attached to the side of his quarters. Robbie, try not to cut yourself too badly. With that thought fresh in his mind, he rolled up his sleeves and began to shave.

~~~~~~

As Tessa drove the buggy toward the pueblo, she realized that her stomach was churring and she felt warmth on her cheeks even though the breezes had taken the edge off the heat. Why am I nervous? I have been to events with Robert before, but I have never been to a party as his fiancee. As that idea blossomed in her mind, a smile spread across her face, and the remaining trip to meet Dr. Helm seemed to fly by. Stepping out of the buggy in front of Dr. Helm's quarters, Tessa felt the happiness in her heart spreading throughout her body.

Knocking on the doctor's door, Tessa was rewarded with a clipped, "Enter," from within. Opening the door and enter the building, Tessa stopped in her tracks as her eyes settled approving on Robert Helm. Madre Dios. He is even more handsome tonight than normal.

My God, she is positively glowing tonight. "Senorita, you knocked? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes Robert, I am fine. You have finally trained me to knock. Are you ready for our public debut?"

"Not really, I would rather be one of Grisham's punching bags, than listening to the Dons boost about their latest achievements."

"Would you rather listen to Donas talk about nothing?"

"Heavens no."

"Shall we go?"

~~~~~~

The lanterns in Colonel Montoya's courtyard seemed to dim as the most talked about couple in Santa Helena entered and the attention shifted to them. "You are just in time for the unveiling," Colonel Montoya purred.

"Unveiling?"

"Yes, Senorita Alvarado, the statue will stand in front of the administrative building in the pueblo." With a snap of the colonel's fingers two soldiers pulled off the cloth to reveal a statue of justice blindfolded holding a weight scale.

"He must be joking if he actually thinks people believe justice is blind in Santa Helena. It is always twisted to the Colonel's needs," Dr. Helm whispered to Tessa.

"Maybe Lady Justice will provide Santa Helena with the epuration it needs," Tessa stated.

With a knowing twinkle in his green eyes, Dr. Helm asked, "Isn't that the Queen's job?"

TBC

By Jo
[email protected]

CHALLENGE 23
QUOTE 1: A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies. - Oscar Wilde
QUOTE 2: Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. - Confucius
WORDS: potatory, dotty, epuration

~~~~~

As Montoya sat at his dining table--which had a lovely, lone rose in the crystal vase in the center--he realized that he was famished. Lying a crisp, white linen napkin upon his lap, he could smell the smoked bacon and the freshly brewed coffee wafting in from the kitchen. He took a sip of the orange juice just as his butler set a plate in front of him. Montoya looked down at the crisp bacon cooked to perfection and the lightly toasted bread and noted the jar of apple jam on the table, but crinkled his eyebrows when he saw the mess that was in the middle of the plate. He slammed the glass down and tossed the napkin on the plate. "Cook!"

The butler jumped back, then bowed and said, "I will get her for you, Colonel," just before scurrying off in the direction of the kitchen.

By the time the gray-haired, diminutive woman graced him with her presence, Montoya was not only famished but raging mad. She wavered a bit as she stood, mostly at attention, as Montoya paced around her in a slow, predatory manner. "Was there something not to your liking?" she asked, and then as an afterthought added, "Sir?"

Montoya peered into the old woman's eyes who made the best bread and paella this side of Spain. She stared back, not in the least bit intimidated. He poked her with a firm finger, but had to grab her arm so she wouldn't topple over from the force of his nudge. As she got herself steady on her feet, Montoya looked at the guard in the room and abruptly waved for him to leave. It didn't please him to see the guard smile as he left them alone. He took a deep breath so as to collect his thoughts, then said, "Auntie..."

"Yes, Luis?" Beatriz asked, slurring the words.

"Beatriz," he started again.

"Yes, Bunky?"

From hearing the 'endearment' that he was called when he was a young lad, he both bristled and was heart-warmed by the woman who he had always had a bit of affection for. But sternly told her, "When I got word that that miserable man, who was my uncle, your husband, had happily passed on to the devil himself, I brought you here as a favor to my mother's memory."

"Was there something wrong with your breakfast, honey?"

"I asked for scrambled eggs."

"You got them."

"No." Montoya steered her back to the table to show her, holding her up in the process. "What I received," he said as he lifted the napkin, "was something resembling what comes out of Salan when he is ill."

"You have always been a demanding child." She tisked. "Those are scrambled eggs."

"You have always been a potatory, dotty, old bat. Those are garbage. I take it that one of the other members of the kitchen staff made the toast and the bacon."

"I made that bread yesterday."

"Before you visited the cantina for too long last night, I presume."

"I am a single senorita about town," she flamboyantly said, then added in an almost desperate tone, "I am lonely, Bunky."

"Do not call me that." He scoffed. "Senorita? You haven't been a senorita for the better part of four decades."

Beatriz smiled and said, "I met a senor last night. I might have gotten in a little late."

Montoya looked his aunt over, and grimaced. "Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it."

Beatriz, offended, said, "A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. Remember, I cook your food, Bunky."

"I could always send you back to Spain."

"I could always join up with the Dons for the epuration that they are planning. Or with the peasants who are planning a coup d'état."

Montoya stepped back. "They're planning what?"

"They are Dons and peasants, Luis. They are always planning something." She lightly tisked three times. "You really do have full days."

"You do not know the half of it."

"So, why are you making the one person in this world who unconditionally loves you angry? All you needed to nicely say was that you prefer your eggs to be cooked for a little less time than I did this morning--and not call them garbage--and I would bring the plate back into the kitchen and start over again. If you tossed in a 'please', I would even forget what you called me and warm up the bacon and toast."

Montoya stared at her as she stood with the same puritanical expression that made him crumble when he was a boy, but now filled him with familial love. He softly said, "Auntie. I would like my eggs to be scrambled to perfection this morning. Please."

"That's a good boy." Beatriz beamed to her nephew and squeezed his cheeks. "You are so handsome. My sister, God rest her soul, would be so proud of you. But you really should shave."

Beatriz picked up the plate and happily went back to the kitchen with it as Montoya rubbed his cheeks. He spotted a guard looking through the window, with a grin on his face. Montoya authoritatively pointed at him and said, "You did not see that."

By Jo

TRIO 23 cameo, lantern, weight scales

Borrowing some original characters from brig and Julie, namely Lucy and Cleo.

~~~~

After instructing the kitchen staff during clean up, Beatriz had already had a full day. She plopped herself into a kitchen chair as one of the young, lithe cooks finishing wiping down the counter. Beatriz's knees were quite stiff making her know that Santa Helena would again receive a rare rain shower. Her white hand with prominent veins went to her forehead to wipe off the beads of sweat that had collected in the hot kitchen and wondered if it would be nicer outside than in the Montoya's house. She could catch a breeze, or the sight of that gentle señor who bought her drink after drink in the cantina last night. Jorge usually pulled his mule through the square around 10, so Beatriz thought she'd get herself ready and place herself in a prominent position in which to gaze upon him. From on high. She giggled, from a balcony, just like Romeo and Juliet. It helped to have a privileged nephew who had a balcony to further her romantic imagaination. Surely when the señor would see her, he would come to converse with her... bring her a rose... but he might try climbing up and his knees were probably as bad as hers. But it was a lovely image to have in mind anyway.

Beatriz stumbled through the house to the stairs as her knees were really giving her trouble and put a hand on the banister to see the many steps that she would have to climb. She gathered her strength and took the stairs much as one should take life, one step at a time, and serpentine while you're at it. After climbing the stairs, she was a little winded, but Bunky's bedroom was just at the end of the hall. She took out her fine linen, embroidered handkerchief that her mother had stitched for Beatriz's wedding and mopped off the sweat from her chest as she walked into her own bedroom to collect the cameo brooch and earrings that had been another wedding gift to her by her cherished aunt. Aunts were so important; Beatriz had a favorite and hoped to be such a lady for Luis.

When she got to her nephew's room, clamping the last earring on, she saw that the maids had already been in there, straightening up, making the bed. But, there was one thing out of place. That adorable cat that Luis had taken under his wing was comfortably sitting on Luis' pillow. When Beatriz had walked in, grabbing the doorknob for support, the cat had lifted her head to stare at her, but then laid it back down upon her paws.

"Well, Pussy," Beatriz said. "If Consuella catches you in here, you're in trouble." The cat didn't even seem to have heard her, if she had, she certainly didn't acknowledge it. "What was your name again?" Beatriz tried to think, knowing that Luis had told her, but she just couldn't remember. She knocked her fist against her head trying to remember, but the cat's name didn't come to her. There were so many things that didn't come to mind as quickly as they had when she was young. The words Bunky told her still hurt her, 'You have not been a señorita for the better part of four decades.' He always did know how to rub it in. But so did everyone else in the family.

Beatriz looked at the cat and could imagine how comfortable it was on the silk-cased pillow atop the feather bed. "Whatever your name is, you are so cute!" Beatriz sprawled face down on the bed, to rest her knees, and to pet the kitty, but it made the bed bounce. Just as Beatriz reached to pet the cat, the cat sprang off the bed. Beatriz rolled over and said, "Hey, where are you going?"

The door to the balcony was open! The cat was heading toward it. Not even when Beatriz was a spry señorita could she have made it to the door before that cat could, but she labored to get to her feet anyway, knowing that Bunky wouldn't be pleased if she lost his cat.

She made her way out to the balcony, hunched over, rubbing her fingers together, softly chanting, "Here, pussy, pussy." The cat had made herself comfortable on the rail, but whirled her head around sharply when Beatriz's head poked out from the bedroom. "Here, pussy, pussy," Beatriz still chanted. The cat pranced along the rail in front of her. "Ah, there you are. Come back inside." They stared at each other. "Come on, come back inside." She made grand gestures for the cat to walk into the bedroom, but no dice. The cat just stared at her, sitting on the rail, swinging her tail from side to side.

Just then Beatriz saw him. Like clockwork, Jorge was pulling his mule across the square. Why? Beatriz had no idea but she had watched him do it almost everyday since her arrival two months before. He was such a nice señor. She was about to call out and wave to him, but the grand sweep of her hand made the cat run across the rail and jump down onto the courtyard trellis ceiling. "Oh, pussy!" she exclaimed, so loudly, a couple of men turned up to look at her. But not the right one. Beatriz had a decision to make: call out to Jorge, or go after the cat. She wouldn't be able to withstand Luis' rage if she lost the cat, so she figured there'd be another day for Jorge.

She went to the balcony rail to see the cat prance out of the courtyard into the square. That woman was down there, easing Beatriz's mind. "Lucy!"

Lucy whirled around and held her hand above her eyebrows to see who called to her. Beatriz yelled, "Get that cat!" Lucy's gaze shifted to the cat making its way toward her, but when she stooped down to pick her up, the cat ran agilely right by her. Beatriz was disappointed, but it was a good try. That cat was a sneaky one, and was making its way around toward Dr. Helm's office.

"Oh Lord in heaven," Beatriz intoned. "Give me strength."

She made her way back down the steps and out the front doorway just as Lucy approached. "I'm sorry, Bea. I tried. But Cleo will come back."

Beatriz slapped her head. "That is her name! Cleo! How could I forget? Thank you, Lucy. What are you doing today?"

"I was just taking some medicine over to the Rodriguez's for Robbie."

"For who?"

"Dr. Helm."

"Oh, yes." Beatriz scrunched her lips into that puritanical look that she had perfected all those years ago, but actually didn't fit her. "Are you still living with the doctor?"

"I room with him. I'm not living with him," Lucy corrected her, then laughed. "We're not `shacking up' if that's what you mean."

Beatriz evenly said, "I do not know what you mean."

"I'm Robbie's assistant. And friend. Nothing more."

"So, you're still interested in Bu...," Beatriz caught herself. "My nephew?"

Lucy chuckled and bent her head, now really interested in the small rocks on the ground which she brushed with her shoe. And what an odd shoe. It was more like a boot, but a boot that Beatriz had never seen. It was thick, too big for her, with laces that didn't look like they were doing their job of holding everything together. Beatriz looked at Lucy's face again, her hairstyle. She was so different from all the other women in the pueblo, no wonder Luis was smitten. But she broke his heart. He would never tell Lucy that, but after he had offered his `arrangement' to her, Lucy had turned him down flat. Only after eating half of the leftover turkey right off the bone, barking at the household staff, putting new recruits through exhaustive training and taking a long moonlit ride on Salan did Luis' mind get back to where it should be. But Beatriz did like Lucy, she would be so good for her nephew. "Say, Lucy," Beatriz said, in a whispered tone, as if planning a bank robbery.

"What?"

"How about coming to dinner tonight? Just yourself, do not bring that friend of yours."

"Robbie?"

"Yes. Just you, Luis, some lit candles, my paella, I can arrange for a violin player."

Lucy laughed again. "Those people are so annoying. They come to your table and it's great, for about a minute and a half, then it's just embarrassing. Stereos are so much better. You don't have to look at the band, just enjoy them, as background music."

Beatriz's face again held a confused expression, but let it go. Lucy did have an imagination! Beatriz cleared her throat and ticked off on her fingers, "Luis, candles, paella. Are you in?"

"I'm sorry. I can't. I have plans tonight. I'm going out to the Alvarado hacienda for a pig roast."

"Oh?" Beatriz was again confused. A wealthy Dona was having a party and her Luis hadn't been invited? The nerve! He has had many, many parties at his place and only one couple had invited him to one of their soirees. "Well. Okay then," Beatriz shortly said.

"Bea. It's just that... for a dinner such as you're suggesting, shouldn't Luis be doing the asking, and not his aunt? I'm not showing up if he doesn't expect me."

"That is true." Beatriz had to admit, but her nephew could be so stubborn! Sometimes he needed a lantern to show him the way. Ways of the heart seemed so foreign to her attractive nephew and Beatriz just couldn't understand it. Maybe he should shave that beard off. Maybe it sent signals that the ladies didn't like. "Believe you me," she told Lucy. "I will be bending his ear tonight... seeing as he will not be at the pig roast. There are a lot of conditions to your love."

"Needing a man to be a gentleman and have him take my feelings into consideration before he makes grand plans is having conditions'? Well, I guess you're right. I have a brain, Bea, and to Luis' chagrin, I use it."

"You are not getting any younger. You should be married. To my Luis."

Suddenly, there were the sounds of a cat's screech, the crashing of glass and wood to the floor, English expletives and a woman's light laughter coming from Helm's office. Lucy ran inside and Beatriz could hear her laughter join the other woman's. Damn these knees! She couldn't move fast enough to Helm's door to see what had happened.

Beatriz walked into Helm's office to see Lucy and Maria Teresa Alvarado huddled together laughing. They saw her enter and moved aside for her to see. Helm was sitting in the corner with most of his instruments on his lap and around him on the floor. A book case had overturned. One weight from the scale rolled to the door. Beatriz raised her shoe to catch it. Cleo pranced by Lucy, then rubbed herself against Beatriz's leg. Helm sniffed back, sniffed back, then again, then let out a humongous sneeze that seemed to have come from his toes. "Bloody cats!"

Cleo hissed at him and ambled out the door. Beatriz was again torn... should she try and follow that wandering cat, or confront the señorita? "Señorita Alvarado," Beatriz said, instantly making her decision. "So nice to see you again. You are looking very pretty. I hear you are having a pig roast this evening. I guess my Luis' invitation got lost on it's way to his desk."

"It is just a small get together, Beatriz," Tessa said, her cheeks just a touch red, which made her even more beautiful. She reminded Beatriz of herself when she was her age, but of course, she had much better manners than the señorita. "Just a few friends, nothing official."

"You are roasting a whole pig for a few friends?"

"And my workers. We had a profitable year."

"Oh, I will make sure to tell Luis that."

"Please do," Tessa sharply said.

"Tell him what?" Beatriz pleasantly said. "That he can come to your pig roast or that you will be paying your taxes very soon since you have had a profitable year? Or both?"

Lucy said, "Bea? Don't you have a cat to find? Or you can pitch in and help clean up this mess."

"I am past my cleaning days, missy." Beatriz glared at Tessa as Helm got up from the floor. She said in a dignified tone, "Dr. Helm. Good day."

After leaving the office, Beatriz saw Cleo sitting on a crate that was stacked atop another, licking her paw, her tail swirling around behind her. Beatriz moved slowly toward her, and it wasn't just because her knees were still stiff and needed to get good footing before taking the next step. She didn't want to lose the cat again. She reached out her hand and Cleo leaned forward to rub her ear against it. "Good job, Cleo. How about a saucer of milk?" Beatriz gathered the cat into her arms and felt Cleo's purr as she walked back across the square to home.

Just as Beatriz walked by the fountain, she heard her name being called. She turned to see Jorge with his mule in tow. "Nice pussy," he said as he petted Cleo's head. Beatriz grinned... Hm... Cleo... you are quite the Señor Magnet...

END

By Julie
[email protected]

RATING: G
FEEDBACK/BETA: Yes, please
DISCLAIMER: The two-leggeds belong to Fireworks. Cleo belongs to no one but herself, but she deigns to live in my head.

~~~~~

"Still got that cat hanging round, eh Colonel?"

Cleo narrowed her eyes and let a growl escape her throat. She didn't like this two-legged, couldn't understand why Grey Eyes let him on his territory. She debated a full assault on the man, but decided the time wasn't ripe, so she merely glared at him from her perch atop the bookcase.

"Cleo does an admirable job keeping my home free of vermin. Would that my Captain of the Guard could be half so effective."

The despised two-legged squirmed, and Cleo was pleased.

"Uh yes, Colonel. Was there anything else you needed?"

"Nothing that you can provide. Leave the reports, and I'll read them tonight. Dismissed."

When the man had gone, Grey Eyes sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples, obviously fatigued. Cleo jumped down to his desk and gave him an inquiring look.

"I know you don't like him, Cleo. Neither do I. But he is more useful as an ally than as an enemy. A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies."

That hadn't been her question, but she didn't pursue it. Even the best of the two-leggeds were maddeningly inept at communication. Instead, she purred softly as he scratched her ears. She was worried about this one. There was so little joy in his life, and she meant to correct that situation, just as soon as she had a well-deserved nap.

~~

Grey Eyes was standing at the window of the dining room, sipping wine before sitting down to his solitary meal. Cleo could smell a variety of foods, most of which did not interest her. Even the fish had been ruined by some herb-laden sauce. Good thing she'd snatched her portion before the cook had done her dirty work.

Cleo jumped to the sideboard to get a better view of the situation. She quickly spied the perfect prey in the center of the table. She crouched low and began moving slowly along the edge. She was the stalker, invisible, deadly, ready to--

"Cleo!"

So much for invisibility. Time for action. With a burst of power, she made the leap to the table, hitting her target square on. She skittered with it to the edge of the table, then to a chair and finally to the floor. Several pieces of silverware clattered to the floor with her, and something made a fearsome crash, but Cleo remained focused on her goal.

She gripped the loaf firmly between her two front paws and then rolled to her back. She brought her hind claws up and began shredding with all her might, creating a perfect spray of crumbs. She rolled to and fro, reveling in her symphony of destruction.

All her chaos had taken only seconds to achieve, and when she was done, she sat up and shook herself gracefully. She glanced at Grey Eyes and was pleased by the expressions rolling across his face. She rose to her feet and, with all the dignity of a supreme ruler, she strolled from the room.

A gaggle of servants had gathered at the door, and Cleo paused to watch their panic. One dared to poke her head in, but then scuttled back out, an expression of shock on her face.

"Madre de Dios!" Tell us what happened," the cook demanded. "And what is that noise?"

The girl took a deep breath and made the sign of the cross. "It's terrible, as though a demon passed through the room. And that sound, it's El Coronel. He's ... he's ... laughing!"

Cleo blinked in satisfaction and headed for Grey Eyes' bedroom. She had just enough time to warm his pillow with a nap before her evening hunt.

~~~~~~~

For Ah'Sheba, Empress of the Known Universe and Beloved Familiar.
1991-2001.

END

By Julie

Trio Challenge Week 23

I hope Jo doesn't mind, but I've kidnapped Bea for a little chat.

~~~

Another glass? Oh, all right, just one. But this has to be the last one. Bu--, er, I mean, Luis, he doesn't like me to stay out too late. He such a kind boy, to worry about me so.

He always was a kind-hearted boy. Mind you, that kind heart of his was always getting him into trouble. But he meant well. I'll never forget the time he took his mother's cameo brooch to give to his first love. Negrita. She was beautiful -- soulful eyes and silky, dark hair. He was so proud, and he handled her so well.

Of course, my sister was not pleased to find her jewelry adorning a bridle. I fear the scales of justice did not tilt in his favor that day.

Another glass? Well, maybe just a half. But that must be the last. Bun--, er, I mean Luis, he doesn't like my potatory habits.

He did love that pony. Almost burned down the barn on account of that pony. She took ill once, and Luis didn't want to leave her. He snuck back into the barn after he was supposed to be in bed. It would have come out all right, except he fell asleep and must have kicked the lantern over in the night.

Negrita got him out though. She saved his hide, and then his father tanned it. Poor Bunk-- er, Luis. His father was awfully hard on him, but then his father was always worried and took his frustrations out on his son. Epurations at court always had repercussions for the family. My brother-in-law's positions could never be truly secure. Luis understood that. Learned that lesson well.

One more glass? Yes, yes, I think I will have another. I do so enjoy having a little chat over some wine. Let's not worry about the time. Bunky will just have to realize that I am in independent woman, not some dotty old fool. Besides, that nice Senor over there is smiling at me. Perhaps we could invite him to join us?

END

By Lisa
[email protected]

Eliza started the whole croquet thing. Then Julie did her part. So how could I resist? The Doctor got his mallet back, but the Colonel was still out one orange.

Oh, and this little offering does contain the Wilde quote (like I could resist the Divine Oscar either, especially this soon after the big San Francisco Gay Pride festival) and the word "dotty."

Rating? No more than G, despite a little teasing.

~~~~~

Luis Montoya sipped his sherry. Another fine end to another productive day in Santa Helena. His soldiers had even managed to collect taxes without any interference from a certain masked lady. He was a happy man. The sun had slipped below the height of the thick adobe walls, and his courtyard was a haven of peace, quiet and solitude. He sighed, settled back in his chair and picked up his beloved Shakespeare. Ah, yes, a perfect moment.

Well, perhaps not perfect: one stray doubt nagged at him.

It had been three days. Three days. And he was beginning to worry.

"Let me know whenever you're ready to play," he had said, and reveled in his victory, in calling Doctor Helm's bluff. Had the man really thought that so clumsy a provocation would not have its consequences? Helm had upped the stakes in their sly little game, and he, in turn, had seen the bet and raised it again. He had shown him that Luis Montoya could tease with the best of them.

Only afterwards had it occurred to him that his words might have been interpreted as a challenge.

But for three days there had been sign of a counterattack. No visitations from annoying children. No projectiles through his windows. No confrontations at all. Even Grisham had commented on the physician's uncommonly placid demeanor.

Oh, yes. Helm was up to something. He had to be. The English were so serious about their games.

A deeper shadow fell across the pages of his book and Montoya lifted his eyes. Speak of the Devil...

"Colonel." He looked harmless, but with both hands hidden behind his back he could be holding almost anything.

"Doctor." Montoya acknowledged him with an inclination of his head. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"

"I realized that I owed you something."

"Oh, I should think you owe me a great deal," Monyoya replied, sitting up and laying his book on the table. The best defence was a good offence. "Gratitude for inviting you to 'this other Eden, demi-paradise' of ours, for a start. The loyalty any public servant owes his commander. Not to mention two reales for repairs to the plaster on my wall. But do not worry: I will deduct that from your salary."

"Fruit."

Montoya frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"An orange, to be more exact. It was an orange you traded for my croquet mallet, wasn't it? Then you returned the mallet to me, so..." Helm drew his hands from behind his back and presented the fruit with a polite bow.

Montoya narrowed his eyes and considered the thing. It looked like an ordinary orange. Fairy tales told of poisoned apples, though, and Helm was a Doctor, after all. Who knew what he could have done to it? A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies, Montoya reminded himself, nor too cautious in accepting their gifts.

"And an apology," Helm went on. "I'm sorry about the whole croquet thing. It was a rather dotty thing to do. Impulsively juvenile of me." He sounded sincere. He looked sincere. A faint blush dusted his cheekbones, just below where shamed, downcast eyes were veiled by eyelashes Montoya had never noticed were quite so long and lush. "Can you forgive me?" He glanced across the space between them and the proffered orange, and his eyes glistened a deep, mossy green.

Montoya felt himself enthralled in their spell. And resisted. Really, the performance was somewhat over the top. Now he knew there was something wrong with the orange. He sat up straighter in his chair. "Of course." He smiled, and gestured his guest to sit. "Perhaps we might even share it?"

The Doctor showed no sign of dismay as he relaxed into a chair."Would you like to peel it, or shall I?"

"Oh, you, I think." Better safe than sorry. Alert for the slightest warning of danger, Montoya gave the operation all the attention he would give the defusing of a bomb. He watched every movement, every nuance. He watched long fingers stroke the dimpled surface of the fruit before piercing it and ripping off the peel with both force and precision. He watched Helm divide it exactly and hold out both halves. Montoya could see no difference between them, no indication that he was meant to choose one and not the other. So he chose, but delayed separating, let alone eating, any of the segments.

Helm seemed oblivious to both observation and hesitation. He ate the first part of his half with his eyes closed. "Mmmmmmm. I love oranges." He opened his eyes again and smiled. "When I was a boy, you see, we used to have them at Christmas time." He raised the next piece to his mouth, chewed it slowly and deliberately, evidently savoring every moment. "It's an English tradition: Seville oranges, a special treat, something bright and exotic in the depths of winter." He ate the next piece. And the next. "They've never lost that decadent glamor." And then, when he was finished with the last succulent slice, he carefully, painstakingly licked each finger, drawing each in turn between his lips, and his cheeks hollowed as he drank in each and every drop of juice.

Montoya watched, his half of the orange forgotten as suspicion transmuted into fascination. The sweet, sharp scent of the fruit embraced him. He licked his own lips. His breath caught. Then the wanton moment ended. Tearing his gaze away, he met Helm's eyes; they were golden and mischievous.

Helm stood and approached him, then leaned over him until Montoya could feel the soft warmth of his breath against his cheek.

"Something else we have in England, Colonel," he whispered, "is a warning about thinking you can teach your granny to suck eggs. Or oranges."

END?

By Maril
[email protected]

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks Productions owns them but has abandoned ship, the crew has taken over
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Yes, please and beta

TRIO: cameo brooch, weight scales, a lantern

~~~~~

In the flickering lantern light, the doctor rummaged through an old trunk. It had just arrived on a ship from England and contained items that he had sent home for. He grinned widely as he reached for an oil-cloth wrapped object. Pulling it out, he quickly unwrapped it to reveal a weigh scale and a set of brass weights. 'Finally,' he sighed to himself. 'I can make up medicines more accurately using my own familiar system of British weights and measures.' Almost reverently, he set the scale and weights on his work table and returned to the trunk. It held many more treasures yet, he hoped.

One by one, he lifted out the clothing, books and medical instruments. As he handled each item, he imagined his mother, painstakingly packing everything, her loving touch on each carefully selected article in the trunk. The thought affected him so strongly, he felt the prick of tears behind his eyes. It had been years since he had seen her.

Near the bottom was a small velvet box. Helm lifted it out and opened it, bemused. Inside he found a note wrapped around something. As he began to open the paper, a cameo brooch fell into his hand. The sight of that brooch, which his mother had always worn pinned to her gown, brought a rush of emotion he could hardly contain. He clenched it in his hand, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He opened the note and began to read. It was in his mother's hand.

Dear Son,
This family heirloom has been given by the Helm men to their betrothed for generations. I send it to you now in the fervent hope that you will find the right woman to whom to give your troth. ..."

The rest of the words swam before his eyes. He was so moved by her generous gift, he just sat back on his heels, and studied the ebony oval with its ivory image for a long time.

His reverie was broken by a draft of wind through his office, then a swish of silk. He grinned and stood up, a little stiffly from being in a cramped position for so long. A warm voice behind him brought on a new flood of emotions and he turned to face the black-masked beauty of the Queen of Swords.

"Are you packing to leave us?" she asked with an alarmed expression, gesturing at the trunk.

"No," he said hastily. "This came today on the boat. It's some of my things that I sent home for." He paused, and looked down at his hand enclosing the brooch. "And a few things I didn't expect." He gazed into those warm brown eyes, regarding him so seriously. He stepped toward her and took her gloved hand. Turning it over, he placed the cameo brooch into her palm.

Her expression was surprised, confused. Then she smiled uncertainly. "What is this?"

"Someday, when I'm walking through the plaza, I'll meet a beautiful señorita wearing this brooch. She'll give me a smile, just like yours, and I'll tip my hat and go on. But I'll know." He paused and watched her eyes, saw the longing there that must be reflected in his own. "Someday?" he asked, closing her hand over the brooch.

"Someday," she said softly. "I promise."

END

By Maril

DISCLAIMERS: Fireworks doesn't own any of these characters, not even Chico, but other authors do. I've borrowed Cleo because she's such a lovely cat.
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: yes please

Since reading all these animal stories, I had to trot out a little 'fic for Chico. I also promised him he wouldn't have to eat any of Tessa's oatmeal. <G> I fudged the quote a bit, but cats can't be expected to know everything, even if they seem to.

QUOTE 23: "A man can't be too careful in the choice of his enemies. " - Oscar Wilde

~~~~~

Chico pricked up his ears as he heard something skulking along the ground nearby. It was dark, but he could see a pair of eyes glowing greenly from a short distance away. The horse snorted and stamped to warn the creature off. But it slunk nearer, finally leaping with a fluid bound onto a low wall next where the horse was tied.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Cleo purred as she settled onto the wall. "I saw you arrive with a two-legged wearing a mask. You carried her on your back. Doesn't that hurt?"

The horse shook his heavy head, and blew a gust of breath at the cat, ruffling its fur. "I love to carry the Masked One on my back. She and I are the best of friends."

Cleo lifted her paw and began to smooth down her ruffled fur with smooth strokes and licks with her raspy tongue. Eventually, the cat said, "Some friend. She leaves you tied up outside while she goes inside. My Grey Eyes would never do that to me. He treats me like a queen."

"You're a friend of Grey Eyes?" The horse shivered then suddenly snapped at the cat. She jumped agilely out of the way. "The Masked One and your owner are enemies. So that makes us enemies too." Chico moved to the end of his tether trying to get another shot at the cat who had settled just out of his reach.

Cleo's tail swished indignantly. "A cat can't be too careful in the choice of enemies," she said with a wide grin that showed her sharp teeth. "The Masked One makes Grey Eyes loose sleep, and makes him shout at everyone. Everyone but me." The cat suddenly bristled as a dog, prowling the street seemed to catch their scent. An old hound, it shambled across the street and sniffed around the horse. Cleo's back arched and she spread her claws, ready for an attack.

A swipe of Chico's tail made the dog move off out of range. He sat down, looking at the horse with his mournful eyes. His leg thumped the ground as he scratched absently at an itch. "Why'd you do that? I got no beef with you, long legs," the dog said. "Which reminds me. My master, Big Nose, usually feeds me about this time, but he hasn't left my dish out yet. Have you seen him?"

The cat rolled over with its paws in the air, and made a coughing sound while she grinned. She righted herself and sniffed importantly. "I saw the Masked One sneak into Big Nose's building over there," Cleo said, pointing with her paw. "And she left her poor long legs tied up here."

The dog stood up and shook himself. With an indignant look, he said, "I call her Brown Eyes. She is very nice. Sometimes she comes to see Big Nose wearing a mask. Other times she doesn't wear a mask. And lots of times, she brings me a big juicy bone to chew on." The dog licked its lips and lolled its tongue happily.

Cleo perked up her ears and switched her tail. "You mean Brown Eyes and the Masked One are the same two-legged?" The cat's golden eyes gleamed.

"Of course," said the dog. "I may be old, but there's nothing wrong with this," he added, lifting his nose and sniffing loudly.

Chico stamped and reared, startling both the cat and the dog. "That's supposed to be a secret. Now, you both better get out of here, and don't tell anyone what you know."

With an offended glance over its shoulder, the dog loped off in the direction of Big Nose's building. 'I've already tried to tell him that she's the same two-legged. I lick her hand, and brush around her legs, practically turn myself inside out to show him I know her. But he doesn't seem to get it.' The dog stood by the doctor's office door and barked a few times. The door opened and the dog wagged its tail as a hand dropped a bowl onto the ground beside him, then disappeared back inside.

Cleo snorted at the pathetic creature. 'If my Grey Eyes treated me like that, I would leave,' she thought haughtily. 'And look at that long legs, tied up and waiting for Brown Eyes to come back. Disgraceful.' The cat began to purr as she thought of the saucer of cream that would be waiting for her and the satin coverlet she would curl up on when she got home. 'And,' she grinned to herself as she nimbly leapt to the nearest roof and pattered across, 'I have something that Grey Eyes would like to know. All I have to do is figure out how to communicate it to him. Two-leggeds, even the best of them, are rather dumb.'

END

by Neil Burns
[email protected]

DISCLAIMERS- we know the drill
SUMMARY- The Queen and Cleo have an unexpected meeting
COMMENTS- a sort of continuation/sequel to MBF

~~~~~

Cleo sat on the bed purring contentedly as she watched her Grey Eyes prepare for his nocturnal rest. He picked her up and rubbed his cheek against hers, stroking her head.

"Buenos noches," he smiled. "Keep an eye on the hacienda."

He put her down and got into the bed, lowering himself for a peaceful sleep. Purring contentedly, Cleo jaunted out of her Grey Eyes' bedchamber to patrol the hacienda. She sniffed contemptuously at the soldiers on duty. These idiots could not protect anything if their lives depended on it. The cat entered the study where she saw a figure near the bookcase. Offended at the intrusion, she jumped onto the desk and arched her back, hissing vehemently. The figure turned her head. It was The Masked One! Her brown eyes glowed as the smiling vigilantress removed a glove and held her hand in front of the cat's nose. That scent was familiar. Brown Eyes! So that idiot dog was right.

"Buenos tardes, gatina," Masked One/Brown Eyes smiled as she picked Cleo up, cuddling the animal. "So the Colonel has you watching the hacienda, does he?"

Cleo meowed in reply.

"You're more efficient than these poor men. I must say, I never took Montoya as an animal lover."

The next meow was more of a growl.

"Ah. Nobody insults your master." The Masked One/Brown Eyes chuckled kissing Cleo's head. "Forgive me, little one, but I need to borrow some gold so the farmers can pay their weekly takes. In fact--"

Cleo's eyes widened when she saw Brown Eyes open her Grey Eyes' bookcase and enter his hidden vault. She was jiggling the lock with her dagger.

"You can help me." Brown Eyes smiled. "I am certain the farmers will be grateful that their Colonel's pet also believes in justice."

Angered at this effrontery, Cleo scratched Brown Eyes' cheek and clamped her teeth onto the woman' mask, yanking it off. It was Brown Eyes! Grey Eyes would be pleased.

"You little devil!" Brown Eyes exclaimed as the cat leaped from her arms and bolted from the vault.

She ran out and started to head for the door when she heard the cat yowling and Grey Eyes rustling impatiently.

"Cleo! Be quiet!"

"DAMN!" Brown Eyes cursed as she ran out of the vault and was able to escape out the window before Grey Eyes entered carrying Cleo in his arms.

The next morning Cleo and her Grey Eyes were enjoying breakfast when Brown Eyes entered with her Evil Eye (Marta). Grey Eyes stood and greeted Brown Eyes and planted a kiss on her hand. Cleo felt jealousy shoot up her spine.

"My dear Maria Teresa," Grey Eyes purred. "What happened to your face?"

"I saw a stray cat yesterday," Brown Eyes lied, "and tried to make friends with it, but it scratched me."

"Most unfortunate. Cleo, what is this you have in your mouth?"

Grey Eyes and Brown Eyes saw a piece of lace in the cat's mouth. It was the Brown Eyes' mask! Cleo sauntered over and placed it in front of her purring triumphantly. A smile creased the serpentine visage of Grey Eyes.

"You are trying to tell me something, yes?" Yes, Grey Eyes! Grey Eyes lifted the cat up as held her close. "I already know," he whispered. "Thank you anyway."

Grey Eyes knew Brown Eyes was the Masked One?! She saw him sigh as one of those idiot soldiers entered. Excusing himself, he got up to deal with the halfwit trying to stay calm as the soldier explained his latest incompetency. She felt herself lifted and pressed against Brown Eyes' chest, her fur lovingly stroked.

"Why did you scratch me?" Brown Eyes held her close to her face. "I have no quarrel with you."

Cleo meowed defiantly. Brown Eyes held her tighter chuckling wickedly.

"I will have to steal you away from Montoya. A lovely creature like you should not live in a viper pit."

"Then I will have to arrest you for theft," Grey Eyes smiled overhearing the tet-e-tet.

"Colonel," Brown Eyes cooed. "I am jealous. My uncle used to have a cat when I was younger, but not like this beauty."

Brown Eyes gently placed Cleo into her Grey Eyes' arms and gave her a final stroke, kissing her lovingly on her forehead. Curtseying gracefully, Brown Eyes left with Evil Eye as Grey Eyes stroked Cleo's neck chuckling to himself.

"Yes, my little Queen," he purred. "I know Senorita Alvarado is the Queen of Swords. In fact, I have known for quite a while. This is sort of a, well, 'a cat and mouse game'. I am the cat and our little senorita/Queen of Swords is the mouse."

Cleo purred in approval. Thank goodness her Grey Eyes had intelligence after all. She did not have to exert herself trying to tell her beloved master.

"Do not worry, my dear Cleo. Soon I wil have the Queen in my trap and this charming little hamlet will be a paradise once more."

Cleo purred as she and her Grey Eyes resumed their breakfast in the courtyard. It was going to be another beautiful day

END

By Rodlox
[email protected]

NOTE: Brig, before you shoot me, bear in mind this was all Job's doing!

~~~

"You're a very dotty walker, doc," Grisham said with a straight face.

"You know," Helm replied, raising an eyebrow slightly, "if I didn't already know what that meant, I'd hit you."

"You've been potatory, haven't you?"

~~meanwhile...

Colonel Luis Montoya was going over his finances and the finances of the pueblo.

All of the dons had puffed up when they'd heard that, each one taking credit for Montoya's hard work.

There were times when the Colonel began to wonder if he should simply stop making the donations, or just taking credit for them. No to the second one - who would believe him? As for the first...he was beginning to regret learning that recommendation to give anonamously.

"Is that another bout of fisicuffs that I hear?" Montoya asked himself, walking towards the balcony. How predictable - or repeditive? - the Captain and Doctor were fighting again. Montoya decended the stairs to the ground, taking his time, letting them use up much of their energy against one another.

When he was close enough, he drew out his pistol, aimed...

And fired it into the air.

The loud retort from it's muzzle was enough to make the combatants give pause, looking at Montoya while they each caught their breath.

"What am I to do with you?" Montoya asked, speaking to both as one. "Should I construct a ring and charge admission?" Actually, that was not a bad idea...

~~meanwhile....

Little Maria Rosa Gonyale' walked from her front door to five feet in front of it before sucumbing to a raucous cough. The nun who tended to her and the other girls hurried to where the sound was coming from.

"Rosa," Sister Maria said patiently, "why don't we go inside now, okay? I think it's almost time for crafts," knowing how much the little girl loved to work with her hands.

Rosa nodded. "Okay," she said with a hoarse voice, a voice that tore one's soul to hear a child in so much pain.

~~meanwhile.....

Maria Theresa Alvarado was sitting in front of her mirror, waiting for Marta to finish doing her hair.

"So, Marta, who do you think is behind these gifts to the orphanage this week?" Her hair-brusher shrugged, having no guesses. "I bet it's Don Gaspar. It would be just like him to do something like that!"

The donations, oft in the form of cash and gold, had been arriving at the Church for more than a few months now....more than could be accounted for by the Queen's `donations.'

~~meanwhile.....

As he walked back to his office, "A man cannot be too careful in the choosing of his enemies," Montoya commented. "However, you seem to be enjoying your selection."

Grisham nodded dutifully. "My mom always told me, if I'm going to do something, don't do it half-assed." Wait, wasn't that dad?

Montoya wisely didn't say anything.

~~later....

Driving the horses on her way to town, Tessa stopped in time to keep the equines from running over somebody lying in the middle of the road. Tessa got out to render aid...and saw who it was. He was dusty and dirty, but recognizably....

"Job, what are you doing here?" Tessa asked. "I mean, not that's it's not good to see you, because it is, and -"

"Epicuration," was Job's one-word answer.

~~after arriving at the pueblo....

"I don't like this," Tessa remarked. "It's too quiet."

Job laughed at that, a barking sound. Laughter had long been denied him. "Everything, even silence - as you call it - has beauty...but not everyone sees it."

Finally, there was somebody in the pueblo: a woman and a child, the former walking towards the later...

Then, before their very eyes, the woman reached out and touched the little girl square in the chest...a pause of a few seconds, and the girl fell to the ground. The woman walked away.

Instinctively, Tessa jumped out of the carriage, running for the girl. When she got there, joined by a nun from the orphanage the child'd come from, the girl was dead. Sister Maria crossed herself and thanked Tessa for trying to help.

"'Bring little children as well as adults,'" Job quoted. Tessa hadn't heard him walk up.

"Who the - what the - Who is she?"

Job blinked. "Like my own, her name is unpronouncable." Tessa growled. Job decided he could be a little helpful... "You know, like Diogenese and his lantern, searching for - well, you know."

"No," Tessa replied, shaking her head. "I don't."

"Not you, so don't worry."

"Then what is she after??"

Job smiled as best he could, which wasn't much. "Why not simply ask your priest? He is quite knowledged about this sort of thing."

~~later, in Church....

"Father?" Tessa called out, part of her wincing at how she was yelling in the House of God. Then again, the other part rationalized, I've also fought with swords among these pews. "Father?"

"There is no need to raise your voice, child," Father Jacob O'Neil told her. "I hear you." As did half the pueblo, I suspect.

"Father, can we talk in your office?" she asked. "It has to do with a killer angel."

The priest's eyes widened, and he ushered her into the Church's bookroom. Tessa was good enough with Latin to recognize a copy of this past Sunday's sermon on the table. And by the door, hanging on a hook -

"What is this?" Tessa asked, pointing to a pin on a plaid - what were those things called? Taurahs?

"The cloth is called a tartan." Then, seeing where she was pointing, "This?" the Father asked. "This is only a painting of her Portugese Majesty. I commissioned it shortly after I had the honor of a short meeting with her."

"A cameo brooch," Tessa said. "Lovely."

He smiled. "I thank you. Of course, all that was before I recieved my call from God." He paused. "Now tell me, senorita, what was the real reason you wanted to see me?"

"I was telling you the truth, Father. There is an angel in the pueblo, and she is killing everyone she touches!"

One eyebrow went up. "How is she killing?" Tessa described exactly what she'd seen. The Father made a few "hrrmm"ing sounds, and finally pulled out a thick tome from the central bookshelf.

Leafing through the pages, Father O'Neil arrived at a pair of pages in a language Tessa did not recognize. "What does it say, Father?"

"'The weigher of souls,'" he answered. "In Egypt, they called her Ma'at, and thought her a goddess. But also in Egypt, she took the life of all the firstborns...all but the Hebrews."

"Does it say how to stop her?"

"Apart from warding her off with the blood of a lamb, nothing short of God Himself can stop her."

~~a few minutes later....

Respiracion touched Luis Montoya square in the chest, the same as with everyone else, and placed his soul on her scales....the scales of justice, that were only visible to those about to die. The scales tottered and fell in a way that was of little surprise to either of them.

"Even if there were a Hell," Respiracin told him, "you would not be heading there. It is Heaven for you."

When she let go of his chest, Montoya collapsed to the ground.

"Colonel!" Tessa cried out, starting to run for him. Respiracion held out her hand, one finger pointing, and Tessa stopped before she was too close. "Why??" Tessa demanded.

Respiracion tilted her head, and looked from Tessa to Job, who was still at a not-so-close distance.

Tessa turned to look at Job, keeping one eye on the angel of death. "Why?" she asked him.

"He who was unappreciated shall be appreciated, and he whom do my work shall join me," Job answered. Then, "Where did you think the Church was getting the money to finance it's works?"

"From the Colonel?" Tessa asked. Both angel and ex?-angel nodded. "And now what?"

"Now, her job is done here," Job said. Respiracin nodded, and left in a way that only an angel can.

END