"My creation is more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. But if only she could be transformed from metal to flesh and bone." He paused, his eyes lingering on the props of magic books stacked to one side of the stage. "I wonder..."

He circled the automaton. Her head moved jerkily, following him. Again, I fought down a shudder. This automaton was nothing but metal and cogs and oil. The clockwork woman at the Mechanical Museum had been terrible to behold, like a live woman trapped in a crystal cage, but the blank, dead face of the automaton unnerved me more.

I tried to focus on the illusion, which would be perfect for the audience, for they would love the fusion of science, magic, and story.

Drystan arranged more props around the stage a beakers and a magic wand. He shrugged out of his lab coat and into a magician's tails, waving the wand. The beakers of liquid bubbled, sending swathes of purple and blue fog onto the stage. The automaton raised her hands above her head to cover her face, but midway through we heard a screech and she stopped. Her head slumped forward.

Drystan paused in his motions, mystified. Cyan, who was beneath the stage, waiting to go through the star trap once the automaton dropped through, looked at me and Oli anxiously.

I closed the peephole and opened the trap door to clamber onto the stage and held my arm down to help Cyan up.

Maske fiddled with the gears on the automaton's back.

"I don't understand..." he muttered. "She still has full power. She worked this morning."

Maske could not even unbend the automaton's arms. We all stood on stage frozen as if in a tableau vivant. Then Maske lowered his head, resting it on the shoulder of his creation. And he sobbed.

It was disconcerting to see him cry so brokenly. But I understood. The duel was the day after tomorrow. If his final act was broken, then our chances of winning were infinitesimal. This finale could be incredible. But only if the automaton worked.

Cyan moved toward Maske to comfort him, but he turned away from her. Gently, he gathered his stiff automaton in his hands and carried her away to his workshop.

The rest of us stood in silence. Lily rustled her skirts, rising and clearing her throat self-consciously.

"Oh my, will he be alright?" she asked. "Maybe I should go speak to him. Oh, and it was so wonderful as well before it went wrong. Poor Jasper..." She trailed off.

"You're probably the only one who could comfort him," Drystan said. Lily lifted her skirts and bustled away. Oli came over and wrapped an arm around Cyan. She leaned her head against him. I wanted to do the same with Drystan, but I did not know how Oli would react, and so my arms stayed heavy at my sides.

I could only hope that Maske was alright, and that the finale could be saved.

I heard low, regretful laughter in my head. I frowned at Cyan. Her wide eyes met mine and she shook her head minutely. It wasn't her.

It was Anisa.

"Excuse me, I don't feel so well," I muttered, leaving the room. I could feel their stares on my back. I took the stairs two or three at a time, trotting across the loft and grabbing the Aleph, as Anisa had called it. I pressed the button and waited for her to appear.

"What?" I asked, too impatient and annoyed to be polite.

She only stared at me, with her infuriating, mysterious smile.

"Why were you laughing? Were you laughing at Maske?"

"More at his crude contraption. Maske doesn't know all he created, and so he does not know how to repair it."

I slumped on the bed. "I hope he has another illusion."

"None will be as good. That illusion is the one he needs to win."

"Why do you care about our little duel?"

Her smile widened, as if she found me amusing. "You know how precious I find you and the one who was Matla. And I find Maske intriguing. He is a man who has lived many lives in such a short amount of time. He pursued a life of magic and it consumed him until he was nothing but a shriveled husk. He then used his magic to steal money rather than entertain. Your lover found him and they brought each other back to life. Your Drystan continued to flourish, but Maske stagnated. It is only now, when Drystan returned, with you and then the one who was Matla, that he grows again."

I sunk my head into my hands. "He wants this more than anything, Anisa. And now it might all slip away from him. Again."

"Not necessarily."

I looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Maske did something very unusual when he invented his mechanical woman. He used several of the small Vestige automata a ones that did not work properly anymore or were not whole. He broke them open, learned more or less how they worked, and used some of the parts to power his invention. Little bits of Vestige are scattered within her, and no mechanic will know how to fix it. What Maske did was ingenious. Not many humans could have done what he did. But even for all his cleverness, he hasn't quite managed it."

I deflated. "So all hope is lost."

"I can fix it."

My breath caught in my throat. I gazed at her, this strange incorporeal echo from a time long gone, haunted by her past and the possibilities of the future. "Will you?" I asked carefully.

"That depends," she responded. "On you."

I tried to read her expression, but in the dim light of the loft she was more transparent than she was by moonlight.

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing at the moment. But at some point in the future, I will need to use you for something that you would never otherwise agree to. But because of this, you will." She blinked once, owlishly serene.

Everything within me screamed that this was a terrible idea. But over the months I had grown to care for Maske, and I knew he needed this. And I wanted this too. If Maske won, he could perform again. Drystan, Cyan, and I could stay in the haven of the Kymri Theatre. A place where I could dress as a girl or a boy and nobody cared. A home. I'd lost my home with my family. I'd lost the circus. I didn't want to lose this place, too.

Though Anisa frightened me half to death and her ways were strange to me, I never felt actual malice from her. She played her hand close to her chest, but was that evil? She cared for Chimaera, and evidently she thought I was one even if I wasn't sure what to believe, so our goals should align.

In theory.

And with so many people after me, as a fugitive there was always the chance I would be in prison by the time she needed to collect on her favor, whatever it may be.

I closed my eyes. "Alright. I'll do it."

"I thought you would, little Kedi," she said. I opened my eyes. She held her hands out, beckoning me, and I stepped into her embrace. Her image flickered and settled along my skin before disappearing. My body reached down and picked up the Aleph from the floor, sliding it into my pocket.

But I did not do it.

I was a passenger, as I had been with Anisa's visions, as though I was cordoned off in a corner of my own mind.

The part of me that was still me fought a rising tide of panic. What if this were a trick and she had stolen my body for good?

I've no wish for your body, never fear, little Kedi. I am only borrowing it for a time.

I could only hope this was true. She walked my body down the stairs toward Maske's workshop. She trailed my fingertips along the walls.

We turned a corner, and Drystan walked toward us. He stopped short when he saw me. "Maske is really broken up," he said, pitching his voice low. "Lily's finally convinced him to lie down and get some rest, try to fix his illusion in the morning. She's even making him tea and soup. Mothering him, but that's what he needs."

My mouth said nothing.

He peered at me. "Are you alright, Micah?"

My lips curled into a smile. "I'm fine, Drystan. Better than ever." And my body reached for Drystan and drew him into a kiss.

I could feel everything. His lips. The stubble of his chin. His arms around my neck. He responded enthusiastically. I railed in my mind, trying to regain control of my body. Drystan pulled away, a small line between his eyes. Had he sensed this kiss was different?

What the Styx are you doing? I screamed in my mind.

I could almost feel it, was all she said in response, sadly.

If you ever do anything like this again, the deal is off and I will never, ever help you with anything. I'll throw your Aleph into the ocean and good riddance!

She did not respond to my empty threat. She told Drystan that she was fine and carried on down the corridor. My body turned back. Drystan looked at me, confused. With Anisa wearing my body, my posture was different, the cadence of my voice altered with the remnants of an accent from long ago. I made a fervent promise to myself that if a when a I had my body back, I would tell him everything so that if he saw this again, he would know. I hoped I somehow kept that thought from Anisa.

She turned away and made her way to the workshop. She opened the door and the mirror maze met us. Anisa walked through it, unerringly following the path through the mirrors. In the reflections, my face was serene and empty.

My body pushed open a mirror and entered the workshop proper. I smelled grease, sawdust, and the acrid tang of metal. The scents almost reminded me of the circus.

The automaton rested in the middle of the room on the slab of table. The large dress for the illusion hung nearby on a wooden mannequin, an even cruder echo of a real person.

Anisa moved my body to the automaton. The panel over her abdomen had been removed. Inside was a mass of cogs and wires. Anisa leaned forward. Interspersed between the brass and nickel of her interior were flexible strings of Vestige metal dotted with small, blue-tinged crystals, like faceted Penglass.

What are these?

"The hearts of mini automata. The spark that animates them. Gives them life."

Life? An odd choice of word.

"What is life?" she countered. "Am I alive, even though the various husks that housed my mind have long since vanished to dust?"

I had no answer for her. I saw my hands reach into the depths of the automaton, moving, detaching, and reattaching. I felt her hold the tip of my tongue between my teeth. After a few minutes, she took my hands away. I had no idea what she did, but the interior of the automaton looked... tidier. Complete. She fitted the plate back on the abdomen, and screwed it back into place.

The door of the workshop opened. Maske stood, blinking, with Drystan and Cyan behind him. Lily and Oli must have left for home.

"Micah?" Drystan asked, tentative. "What are you doing?"

My face folded into a smile. "I fixed your trinket for you, Jasper Maske."

Cyan blanched at my tone. "That's not Micah."

Drystan opened his mouth in confusion, which deepened when I showed no reaction to Cyan's words.

Before Drystan could say anything, Maske drifted closer to the automaton.

"Turn it on, magician," my mouth said.

He reached shaking hands to place the automaton into a standing position. He pressed a button in her back.

The automaton "awoke". Swinging her head back and forth, she continued to lift her arm into position, her crude fingers making the motion that would fasten the sleeves of the dress together, had she been wearing it. Her movements were smoother than before. She drew her arms down to her sides and froze. At this point of the illusion, she would have been lowered through the star trap.

Maske pressed the button again, and she went through all the movements of the illusion a twisting her head to follow where Drystan would circle her, raising her arms, and lowering them again.

Maske's face twitched, as if he had so many emotions swirling through him that his face could not decide which to register.

"I don't understand. The Vestige didn't work."

"You used Vestige?" Drystan asked. He looked to me again, but Anisa did not deign to meet his gaze.

"Not particularly well," my voice said with a small smile. I felt my hand reach into my pocket and draw out the Aleph.

Cyan stepped forward. "Get out," she said, glaring at me. "You've overstayed your welcome, damselfly."

"Cyan!" Maske said. "What are you going on about? He saved my illusion."

"I'm not speaking to Micah." She crossed her arms over her chest.

A low laugh escaped my throat. Deep, sultry, and completely unlike my own. Drystan flinched.

Anisa set the Aleph on the floor and pressed the button. My arms were held out in front of me. Swirls of blue light danced over my skin and then Anisa's projection emerged from my body until we stood side by side. I felt a sickening lurch within my mind and then I fell to the floor, a marionette with strings cut.

Drystan recognized her a how could he not, after all those nights in the circus pantomime? To Maske, she must have looked especially strange, with the tattoos that snaked along her hairline and down her neck and the large dragonfly wings. And the fact she had just stepped from my body and was completely transparent. The magician was slack jawed as a child.

"All my life, I've wanted to see true magic," he whispered. "And here it is under my roof."

"Magic." Anisa laughed the same laugh she had made with my throat. I put my hand to my neck, so grateful that my body and my mind were my own again.

Drystan took a step backward. "Micah? What is going on?"

I realized: Maske and Drystan could hear her. Why could they hear her, when no one but Cyan and I could before?

"Her name is Anisa," I managed to say. "She first spoke to me in the Pavilion of Phantoms, and I took her with me the night we left the circus. I didn't know why at the time. At the seance the first night we came here, she spoke to me again, and she's responsible for the visions Cyan and I have." My mouth was dry.

Drystan narrowed his eyes. "And you never told me about her?"

I shrugged a shoulder, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

"It is my fault, White Clown. I stressed the importance of discretion," Anisa said. "They are helping me. They are important to me. And you have many secrets you have not shared with anyone, Drystan Hornbeam."

Cyan's mouth made a little "o" as she recognized the surname.

"Can you see the future, damselfly?" Maske asked.

"Sometimes. What do you wish to ask of me, magician?"

"Will... Will we be victorious in our duel?"

A soft smile played about her lips. She walked over to Maske, a trail of light leading from the hem of her dress and back to the Aleph. She rested a phantom hand against the older man's face. Tears shone in his eyes.

"Won't it be sweeter to find out on your own, dear magician? I will say this, though." She gave Cyan a look over her shoulder, who stood as stiffly as if she expected a blow. "You have gained more family than you know."