Look Beyond What You See
Target Practice

CRACK!

A trail of smoke rises slowly from the muzzle of the revolver in my hands. The bullet strikes its feed-sack target a little off-centre of the red circle painted on it.

“Я не знала, что сын Зинайде будет так красивый,” Yekaterina compliments Dmitri, her hand on his upper arm. I didn’t know Zinaida’s son would be so handsome. He gently removes her hand, but seems to be smiling to himself in response to the compliment. Zinaida is not present for breakfast this morning, and Wesley, being ignorant of Russian and half-asleep, seems not to see what is going on.

CRACK!

Another shot, this one dead centre into the target, where I’ve been picturing Yekaterina’s face. Giacomo seems a bit put off by my intensity as I fire a few more shots into the target.

“Good! Ah, good. It seems like you’ve mastered the revolver. Why don’t you try your hand with this rifle?” he suggests, handing me the weapon he’s mentioned. I take it without comment. I’m not in the mood to deal with him, or anyone. I turn my attention to a human-shaped dummy in another corner of the room as I load my weapon and start figuring out how everything works.

“Можно сказать по-английски?” Dmitri asks her with the slightest of smirks. Can you say it in English? She blushes and shakes her head.

“Ты научишь меня,” she replies coyly, batting her eyelashes like an addlepated cow. You teach me.

CRACK!

The rifle is harder to aim. My bullet only grazes the target’s head. I try again, this time managing to hit the target’s shoulder.

“Наверно, нет, но другие фразы в английском языке,” he tells her, still seeming rather amused by the situation. Probably not, but other phrases in English. I am far from amused, but no one would know by looking at me. No, I’m feigning the same amusement he exhibits, hoping that neither of them can see through me and that Yekaterina thinks I cannot understand them.

CRACK!

Finally, a solid hit in the target’s head.

CRACK!

The heart this time. I’m getting better.

CRACK!

The stomach, now. Let’s play Vital Organ Bingo.

“You seem rather peeved, Aerys. Might I ask what’s the matter?” Giacomo inquires solicitously. You were present this morning. You should know.

“Nothing that concerns you,” I answer airily, with perhaps a touch more snark than usual. Oops. Need to get better at concealing the vicious green monster.

“Perhaps you are correct in that.” He pauses, watching as I again fire the rifle at the dummy, which by now rather resembles a piece of human-shaped Swiss cheese. “That blonde Russian wench is rather irritating.”

“Now, Giacomo, that isn’t very nice,” I chide, but it comes out sarcastic and bitter. “The newest member of our household deserves every ounce of compassion. It must be so difficult for her to be so far from her home and family, and in a place where English, rather than Russian, is the primary spoken language.”

I take more shots as I speak, this time at a different target. Aiming accurately gets easier every time, but even hitting the center of a target doesn’t make me feel any better. I don’t mean a word of what I’ve said to my tutor about Yekaterina. She misses her home’s magnificence, and she wishes we all spoke Russian, but it’s impossible to pity her, between her haughtiness and her brazen flirtations with my fiancé.

“Maybe you have a point, but ’twould take a blind and deaf man to miss the way she spoke and acted towards Dmitri at breakfast this morning,” Giacomo persists. I fire my last rifle shot into the dummy and take the next firearm Giacomo offers me with a scowl.

“You understand the Russian?”

“Not entirely, but I can guess, from her mannerisms and tone, which I daresay bordered on sultry. She was quite coquettish, would you not agree?”

“Perhaps that is simply the Russian way of conducting oneself in family settings. She is fully aware that Dmitri is not free to have any more than a platonic relationship with her, and it would take someone of very meager intelligence indeed to engage in conduct that might make her unwelcome in a family which she has so recently joined.” I have no desire to talk to him about this. Giacomo ought to know better than to provoke me while I am handling a firearm, especially after all he’s seen thus far.

“Then perhaps Miss Yekaterina is of very meager intelligence indeed, for I would swear in a court of law that she was flirting with Dmitri at breakfast, and that furthermore he did not seem especially adverse to her attentions.”

I pull a knife from the belt I wear over my gown at training and fling it into one of the targets with all the strength I can muster in response to that remark, ignoring the sting of tears behind my eyes--tears of pain and frustration, because Giacomo’s remark rings true.

“I can only assume that he did not wish to be rude to her by rebuking her conduct at a family gathering,” I answer stonily as I resume my practice with firearms. “I have perfect confidence that Dmitri will explain to her, or has explained, or is currently explaining, that conduct such as hers was at breakfast is quite inappropriate and will not henceforward be tolerated in this house.”

“I am certain that, if he values you at all, it is as you say.” But his voice and his face betray his doubt of Dmitri’s valuing me at all. I wish I could make fire, to properly express the emotions I am currently feeling. As things are, I’ll have to content myself by shooting human-shaped dummies, statues, and other targets with various weapons. “If nothing else, your anger quite improves your aim.”

“Best for you not to exacerbate my anger, then.” Furious is probably a better word for my current emotional state. Wisely, Giacomo refrains from speaking further until I have exhausted all of the firearms in the training area of their ammunition.

“Well, then. You’ve done quite well with weapons. Better than I expected, if I may be honest with you,” he commends me as I lay the last gun down.

“I would prefer your honesty in any event,” I reply coolly. The shooting has only slightly mollified my temper. I need to destroy something.

“Do you want to call it quits for today? Or perhaps you’d like to learn some new tricks with water?”

I consider the question carefully. I’ve had more than enough of Giacomo for one day, but I have not yet unleashed enough emotion to guarantee that I will be sufficiently kind to Yekaterina this afternoon, particularly if luncheon is an encore of breakfast in regards to Yekaterina’s conduct. I certainly won’t have the patience for any sort of lady lessons unless I train some more.

“Regardless of what skill you see fit to teach, I should like to continue training for the time being,” I decide finally.

“Well, then, train with water we shall. Have you ever considered manipulating the water in someone’s body?”

“I did not know that such a thing was possible. It seems dangerous, easily fatal.”

“It is. We will not actually practice it at present, given your state of mind, but can you imagine the possibilities?”

I’m glad he’s smart enough to recognize that, at least. Perhaps he’s not a complete idiot.

“I suppose we could draw water from every orifice, forcibly dehydrating and killing a person.”

“Indeed, that is one way to go about it. What else?”

“Could we, perhaps, force water into the joints or extremities from elsewhere in the body? I doubt it would be fatal, but it would be extremely painful, I reckon.”

“Spot on! You are rather more clever than women I’ve taught before.” I’m glad you think so highly of my sex.

“Who else have you taught?” In spite of his rudeness, he has piqued my curiosity.

“Just sisters, cousins, other relatives. Mostly when they were young and just learning of their skills and how to use them. I’ve certainly never worked with a magic-endowed human before. Indeed, I had no idea that magic-endowed humans could achieve near-elemental feats with their gifts, except in rare cases of old, well-practised sorceresses, such as your grandmother.”

A fresh plume of rage boils up in me at the mention of Grandmother and I unleash it as a geyser in a corner of the room.

“Please, let’s not mention her. There are enough irritants to my temper in this mansion without her,” I request primly, even as the geyser continues to rage. Giacomo eyes it suspiciously, as though calculating its meaning regarding my state of mind and determining whether or not it is worthwhile to act contrary to my wishes.

“Of course,” he agrees after only a moment’s contemplation. Good choice. “I do wonder, though, at your talent, and at the improvement you exhibit at each training session we have.”

“My talent I cannot speak for, but surely you are aware that I practice on my own.”

“It would require many hours a day to achieve the improvement you show. How do you manage it?”

“I do not sleep much. And it takes only a few extra hours a day. I spend most of it on non-elemental skills, actually, or blending those skill sets.”

“I see. Have you ever made a water shield?”

“I have not.”

“Let’s practice that, then.”

“How do you go about making one?”

“Well, it’s like this, see....” He moves his hands as a mime would, showing an invisible wall, except the wall forms beneath his hands as a thin sheet of swirling water. “Try it. Work with me on this one.” I attempt hesitantly. He makes it look so easy. The water falls from my hands as if from a faucet. I try again, concentrating on control, but to no avail. The water simply will not stay in a shield. My energy at the moment is not meant for defensive endeavors. Giacomo shakes his head.

“Try again,” he urges. I step away from him. There has to be another way to do this. An idea bubbles up in my brain. Worth a try. I create a single water droplet on my finger and then focus my energy inside it, pushing out with a very controlled, slowly strengthening force. The energy forms a core within the water as the water expands outward, growing itself from a hidden source within my fingertip. When the drop is the size of my head, I bring it to my lips and breathe into it, causing it to expand more and engulf my head in a sort of watery helmet. I bring my hands into the helmet and push outwards, expanding the bubble until I am completely inside it. Success. Giacomo seems to be staring at me, but it’s hard to tell through the swirling surface of the water bubble around me. I should be able to make it clearer. The water adjusts its movement as I tighten my focus, and soon I can see through it as one sees through a clear stream to the stream-bed. The adjustment also makes it possible for me to hear Giacomo’s very rude exclamations of surprise and disbelief on the other side of the shield. In spite of my previous mood, these exclamations do not bother me. I am far too proud of myself to bother being angry with anyone just now.

“Let’s see how much force it will withstand,” Giacomo grumbles, having finished his obscene tirade. He releases a high pressure blast of water at my bubble from his hands. I brace my feet on the ground and my hands against the part of my bubble directly in front of me, which I strengthen with a new, thicker plate of water (which forms just fine, now that it has a surface on which to form). The blast of water bounces off my shield and drenches Giacomo instead. He shakes his head, ropy locks of hair sprinkling water everywhere, and stares in disbelief again.

“Impressive. I have no idea how you made a shield like that. It shouldn’t be possible, for an elemental, anyway. You’ve injected some other magical element into it, I guess.” I draw the water of my shield back into myself, thus dissolving the shield without drenching myself.

“It does not matter how I did it, as long as it works,” I reply smoothly.

“It does if I want to learn how to do it.”

“Expand a drop of water.”

“Easier said than done.”

“It was not that difficult.”

“I’ll have to try it on my own later. In the meantime, you should rest. You may not feel it now, but you’ve used an insane amount of energy this morning, and if you do not take a nap, I fear that no one in the mansion will survive the rest of the day with you.”

“As you wish. Thank you for your help today.”

“My pleasure, Aerys.”

***~O~***

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