At that, everybody dissolved into laughter, and the strangeness was gone, vanished like smoke on the breeze.

“Well, it was a remarkable performance by all parts of the dragon,” Gwen told her. “Though you excelled.”

“I knew she would inspire you,” Isobelle replied, and Gwen shot her a quelling look, which was, in fairness, well earned.

“It made me wish I could dance like that,” Gwen agreed. “Truly, to move that way, each of you different but all in unison—you must practice from sunup to sundown.”

“Tak, yes, we rehearse until our bodies know their purpose,” Astreta agreed, resuming her undressing until she was down to the sleek black suit she wore beneath her armor, and fanning herself. “Until the steps are a part of the body, one must practice. One cannot be thinking of the steps—put my foot here, twist like so—and also of the emotion required.”

Gwen wasn’t bothering to hide that she was listening far more intently than the average noblewoman might. “And I imagine you can’t put your foot just so, or twist like so, if your emotions are caught up where they shouldn’t be, either.”

“The mind must be one with the dance,” Astreta agreed, delighted to have found a willing audience. “There are so many of us, and moving so quickly. We cannot simply learn the steps and then produce them like windup toys. We must become this great creature together.”

“And how do you do that?” Gwen leaned forward. “How do you clear your mind? I find mine spins on and on—as if I’m on a badly trained horse, and the harder I try to control it, the more it rebels.”

Astreta’s smile changed to one of understanding. “Ah, I do not clear my mind,” she replied. “I am part of a dance company, my friend. I am full of fire. There is always drama here—always someone coming, someone going, someone falling in love, someone crying out in grief. I cannot stop all the horses that wish to gallop through my mind. I simply guide them. I create a valley, with steep walls on each side, and tell them ‘You may run as fast as you wish, but run this way!’ Then I take all the power of their galloping, and I make it my performance.”

Gwen’s lips parted a little, as though she’d seen something she wanted but couldn’t have. Isobelle nibbled her lip, watching her. Had Gwen been worrying about her jousts, about knighting without panicking? She’d always seemed so calm, so determined. So natural at it, as Madame Dupont had told her.

“I wish I knew how to do as you do,” Gwen said simply.

“I am not sure how to teach it to someone,” Astreta replied thoughtfully. “But I will say this. The horses listen better if you are not afraid of them.”