Bayan kept reliving that moment of eye contact over and over.

He had opened the curtain and looked into the face of the most beautiful Au Ra girl he'd ever seen. He'd spoken to Raen girls, of course, but this girl was different. The swirl of scales on her cheeks were white as snowflakes, graceful and perfect. Her eyes, brown with gold glowing rings, had gazed into his. By the gods! He'd heard that you always knew your soul mate when you found her, but he hadn't expected it to feel like that.

As soon as their eyes met, energy flashed between them, powerful and invisible. He felt it coil around his heart, and at the same time, it wrapped around hers. Both their hearts beat in time. With each pulse, their souls knit in some mysterious way. In her eyes he saw fear, and wonder, and the same loneliness he had carried for so long. He felt her emotions as if they were his own, tender and delicate, fragile as spun glass. This was the woman the gods had prepared for him, his moon, his Nhaama.

She'll beat me if she finds out.

Those words had been seared into his brain as if with a branding iron. His delicate, vulnerable Nhaama was daily exploited and beaten. He wanted to return to that house and tear it apart, stone by stone. He would make that girl his if it cost him his life.

But what was he thinking? He didn't even know her name. He had barely spoken to her. Had she felt the connection, too? What would happen if she had not? Would he be left trying to explain that she was fated for him, while she laughed in his face?

He paced around his inn room, fretfully polished his armor, paced some more, then sharpened his sword. Tololi was supposed to return that evening to give him the details of this mission with the mine. Tomorrow he'd be off to the desert to slay beastmen, and perhaps die to an arrow.

He had to see the girl again. Tonight. Somehow. He sat and gripped his horns in both hands. He could not go into battle without at least knowing her name. He had to know what she had seen in his eyes, if she accepted or spurned him. If she spurned him, then he would take the assassin's arrow to the heart instead of the back. His quest, either way, was at its end.

But he would not know if a new quest was beginning until he'd found a way to speak to the girl.

Koharu saw him coming.

From the time she looked into his eyes in the reading room, she knew her dark warrior was coming back, and she knew when.

Lilira had been unhappy. "You know I dislike doing readings for Au Ra men, Koharu. They might give you ideas. I keep thinking that your dark warrior is going to come to our door."

Koharu nodded. What would Lilira say if she knew that the dark warrior's gil rattled in her coinpurse right now? Of course, he hadn't looked like a dark warrior. Only an Au Ra man in a baggy peasant's outfit, dripping sweat and half-sick from the heat. She had pitied him as he looked after his Hyur friend.

Then she looked into his eyes and by Azim and Nhaama. Magic struck her like a whirlwind, knitting her essence to his. She met those blue eyes, darker in the middle, lighter at the edges, and saw his entire life story in a blink. A child in the Azim Steppes, shunned and ignored. A young man, hollow with loneliness, setting out on a long journey to find his love. Taking up the greatsword and the abyss. Fighting monsters for a living. Struggling to find healers. Meeting the Hyur and becoming friends. Taking a job and journeying to Ul'Dah.

And here he stood before her, and he loved her at first sight. He didn't care that she wore her oldest dress, or that she was participating in a con job. He saw something in her eyes that resonated with his soul, and he loved her completely.

How was it possible? She had seen Au Ra couples before, and they didn't seem more or less in love than anyone else. Was this soul bond unique to their race? Or unique to her and Bayan Avagnar?

She stayed up late in the front room, sewing herself a new dress out of the blue fabric she had bought in the marketplace. Lilira hung about for a bit, watching, then yawned and went to bed. Koharu had seen in a vision that Bayan intended to return late that night, so she resolved to stay up and meet him safely outside. If Lilira caught her, well, so be it.

Koharu sewed and watched the clock. At half past ten, she quietly packed her sewing away and went to the front door. She slipped outside, closing it on her fingertips to keep it from making a noise. Then she crossed the street to where Bayan stood in the shadows.

He still wore his peasant outfit, blending in like an Ul'Dah native. As she approached him, his glowing blue eyes brightened in surprise. "Is your timely appearance an accident, my lady?"

"Nay, I had a vision of your return," she replied. She offered him her hand. He took it. His grasp was firm and strong, his fingers calloused from gripping a sword. He drew her closer to him, one arm slipping around her shoulders. "What is your name?" he murmured, that huskiness returning to his voice that made her heart pound.

"Koharu," she said.

"Koharu," he said, and made it sound like music.

She gazed up into his eyes and saw the tenderness there. But he was nervous, too. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "Koharu, today in the fortune teller's room, I looked at you, and … something happened."

"Yes?" she said, sudden mischief rising in her. "What happened, beyond you ruining our charade?"

"I … looked into your eyes," Bayan said. "And there I saw my Nhaama, my moon."

"Fascinating," said Koharu.

That one word, assenting and yet distant as a star, dimmed his eyes with disappointment. His arm around her shoulders slowly slackened and fell to his side. "Did you not feel it, then?" he said.

"Feel what?" she said, tilting her head to one side.

"The … the connection." He swallowed hard. "Was I mistaken?"

Koharu looked up at her dark warrior, towering over her, and in that moment, she realized that she could break him in pieces with a word. She barely knew him, but suddenly she knew that much, with utter clarity.

"Bayan Avagnar," she said, reaching up to touch the scales on the side of his face. "When I looked into your eyes, I saw my Azim, my sun in the sky. That was why I was so frightened. I've had visions of you for months, and Lilira convinced me that you were coming to kill me."

Bayan swayed backward a step as if she'd struck him. Then he was back, and both his arms went around her. "Never," he whispered, pulling her into a hug. "Oh my Nhaama, my Koharu, I've searched for you for such a long time. I would never harm you. Not like that old woman. She beats you." A new tone entered his voice-a deadly warning note. There was the dark warrior, the one who would take up his sword and deal with anything that threatened her.

"She's my mother," Koharu said. "She adopted me, and she has that right."

"Nobody has the right to abuse another," Bayan said. "Oh, my Koharu." He held her close and bent his dark head over hers, pressing his lips to her hair. "I would beg you to come away with me, but I fear I may be dead by tomorrow."

"The man with the chest!" She drew away and gazed earnestly into his face. "Lilira could not describe him because the vision was not hers. He was Hyur and dressed in common clothes, but he wore a gold chain around his neck. A servant of one of the high houses, definitely of the Monitarist faction. The chest had a crescent moon scored with three lines. I'm not certain whose mark it is, but it's someone powerful. They are in conflict with Fyrgeiss over that mine."

"How do I avoid death?" he asked, listening intently.

She shook her head. "You must not enter battle. Instead, you must devote your time to rooting out the man paying off the beast tribe."

Bayan sighed, folded his arms, and gazed up and down the street. "Earlier this evening, I met with Fyrgeiss. He is eager to reclaim his mine, or so he says. But when I asked him to hire more fighters, he balked. I cannot tell if he is too stingy, or if he plans for me to die."

"I wish I could look at him," Koharu murmured. "My visions would show me what is in his mind."

"If only you could," he whispered.

Suddenly she realized that this strange dark warrior, this handsome Xaela, might be lost to her forever on the morrow. She flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt. "Oh Bayan, Bayan," she cried, "please come back to me. You must live!"

He held her close, stroking her hair, her horns, her face. "My beautiful Nhaama," he whispered. "I promise you that I shall return and take you as my own." His fingers slipped under her chin and raised her face to his. For a moment, she gazed at his lips, parted and hesitating. Then he bent his head and kissed her, awkward, but determined. Koharu closed her eyes and savored the touch, aware of his horns curling on either side of her face. She had worried about her first kiss and whether his breath would be foul. Bayan smelled agreeably musky, the way only Au Ra men did. She caressed his lips with her own, figuring out how they interlocked. As she did, that sense of their connection flared to life inside her, that string tightening. By Azim, she never wanted this to end. She dug her fingers into his coarse, thick hair, finding the smaller horns that grew from his scalp. She had heard that those smaller horns on an Au Ra man were a sign of good health and virility, and she fingered each one appreciatively.

"There," he murmured, drawing away. "Should things go wrong and I die tomorrow, I will go to my ancestors with the memory of your kiss on my lips."

"You must live," she whispered, gripping his arms fiercely. "You must."

He smiled, and she suddenly found that she would do anything to keep that smile on his face. "I will return," he said softly, "be it on foot or in a coffin. Have you no foresight for this?"

"The visions come only once," she whispered. "But they linger in my mind with utmost clarity. The image of an Elezen with a bow has not departed. You are fighting in a low place, perhaps a dry ravine. There is a ridge to your left and behind you. The archer awaits you on that ridge."

"Thank you," said Bayan. "This is good information. You may have just saved my life."

They lingered for a few more minutes, arms around each other. Then they parted, Bayan with a lingering touch on her arm. "Please, do not make your mother beat you. I cannot bear the thought."

"It's not that bad," said Koharu lightly. "She is a Lalafel and doesn't hit very hard."

Bayan's eyes blazed fiery blue, and his jaw clenched. "Still," he murmured. "Keep yourself safe and whole."

"I will," she promised.

Bayan walked off into the darkness. Once he was gone, Koharu slipped back indoors. Her mother's snores echoed through the house, so she had not been discovered … at least, not this time. She crept into bed with her heart singing in joy, and fell asleep thinking of the warmth of his arms around her.

The next morning, Bayan entered the Quicksand's common room to find Charles sitting at a table with Zana Elakha.

The Miqo'te had dressed for the occasion in a light blouse and skirt that fell to her knees, and sandals. Her black hair was neatly braided, and her gray cat ears each bore an earring. She and Charles were deep in conversation when Bayan arrived.

"Bayan, good morning!" Charles said, pushing out a chair with one foot. "Sit down! They'll be bringing us a breakfast platter in a few minutes. How did last night go?"

Bayan blushed and made heavy weather of positioning the chair just so, and of setting his sword on the floor. "What about last night?"

"You went to see the girl, right?" Charles said. "You're about as secretive as a pane of glass, my scaly friend. I knew you'd go see her. Is she the one?"

Bayan looked up to see Charles and Zana watching him breathlessly. "Yes," he said, and looked down again.

Zana squealed, and to Bayan's chagrin, Charles did, too.

"Details!" Zana exclaimed. "You made eye contact? Does she like you?"

Bayan told them of how she had visions that the fortune teller sold. Her visions had foreseen his arrival, as well as his probable death.

"And … I think she likes me," he added shyly. "She was … friendly. She begged me to live."

"I should say so," said Charles. "I'm not keen on you dying, myself. If you kick the bucket, I'm probably arrow number two, if you get my drift." He gestured to Zana. "I used the Aetheryte to pick up a little extra help this morning."

"I thought you couldn't leave the Twelveswood," Bayan said.

Zana shrugged. "I couldn't leave on a months-long journey through the wastes. I can make a short Aetheryte trip of a day or two."

"Well then, good," said Bayan. "Today we scope out this mine and the Amaljaa infesting it. The last time I fought Amaljaa, I did not enjoy the experience."

"I've read about them," Zana said. "Giant lizard men who worship Ifrit. Do you think they could be reasoned with?"

"Maybe," said Bayan. "However, if they're being paid to destroy anyone who comes near them, I doubt they'll be very talkative."

"I want to try," Zana said. "I'd rather not kill a rational people, simply because they're being used by greater forces. Have you found out who Fyrgeiss's enemies are?"

Charles and Bayan shook their heads. Charles pointed a thumb at Bayan. "We got distracted by hunting for his girl." He turned to Bayan. "What's her name, anyway?"

"Koharu," said Bayan with a wistful sigh.

Charles grinned and turned back to Zana. "He's got it bad. Anyway, what would you suggest?"

Zana leaned her elbows on the table and thought. She was still thinking when two servants arrived with a huge breakfast platter. It was mostly bowls of spiced hummus, three kinds of spiced flatbread, olives and olive oil, and a huge bowl of fruit. The three of them set to with gusto.

"How soon do we set out for this mine?" Zana asked a little later, once the platter had been picked clean.

"Soon," said Bayan, glancing at the inn's huge pendulum clock on the far wall. "We're supposed to meet with Fyrgeiss's escort at half past nine outside the Sultana's Gate."

"Not much time," Zana murmured. "Still." She rose to her feet and walked to the inn's front desk, where a servant was entering guest names into a ledger. She spoke to him for a moment, then disappeared through a door in the back.

"I wonder what she's up to," Charles muttered. "I feel better with her watching our backs, though."

"Me too," Bayan muttered. "How did you persuade her to help you?"

"I traveled back to Gridania with the Aetheryte early this morning," Charles replied. "The sun was already up out there, and she was in town, working with somebody's chocobo with her sisters. When I showed up, she dropped everything and came with me. I don't think her sisters were happy about it."

"I imagine not." Bayan glanced in the direction Zana had gone and recalled her words, "Don't let Charles marry anyone else." So far, she had been his faithful friend. Her willingness to travel all the way to Ul'Dah was further proof of her loyalty. He scrutinized Charles for signs of infatuation, but Charles was finishing off the olives and otherwise appeared normal.

The healer looked up and met his gaze. "I've been thinking," he said. "You know how you and I have that dratted magic sensitivity?"

"Yes?"

"I've only ever used conjury on you," Charles said. "You know, nature magic shaped into healing spells. I've never actually used white magic. I wonder how it would affect you?"

"What is white magic?" Bayan asked. "I thought it simply meant it was beneficial instead of harmful."

Charles shook his head. "Most magic is beneficial in small amounts. No, white magic draws straight from the crystal goddess herself, Hydaelyn. It's extremely powerful, and it's easy to lose control of it. It's why white magic was locked up after the mage wars a couple of eras ago. I was only allowed to learn it because I wheedled it out of a couple of padjals, and even then they dragged their feet for months."

Bayan grinned. "You made that much of a pest of yourself?"

"I did," Charles grinned back. "Anyway, would you like to try a sample? I may have to use it in the field today, and you might as well know what to expect."

"Here, in the inn?" Bayan said.

"Sure," said Charles. "I have an idea that I can ward you, and it ought to stop stray arrows."

"All right, then," said Bayan, and braced himself.

Charles fetched his rod out from under the table and waved it at Bayan. A trickle of light flowed over Bayan's armor from head to foot, gleaming like the rainbows on a soap bubble. It felt cool and refreshing, different from healing magic, but no less welcome.

Then Charles picked up a spoon and threw it at him.

Bayan turned his head to deflect the spoon with a horn. But the spoon collided with the warding an inch from his horn and clattered to the tabletop.

"Looks like it's working," Charles said, retrieving the spoon as casually as if throwing silverware at people was a normal part of breakfast.

Bayan laughed, a tense place in his heart easing. "How long does this ward last?"

"Until it's broken," said Charles. "Imagine it as a glass shield. It'll take a beating for a while, then it'll break. It ought to turn an arrow, though. Or two. How does it feel?"

"Pleasant," said Bayan, holding up a hand and watching the magic ripple over it. "I suppose because it comes from you."

"I hoped it would," said Charles in relief. "It's nine o'clock so I need to get ready. You're set, right?" He eyed Bayan's armor.

"I'm ready, yes," said Bayan.

"Right, be back in a minute," said Charles, and headed up to his room to change into his caster robes.

Bayan sat at the table by himself and watched the protective white magic dance along his gauntlets. His thoughts turned to Koharu at once, and he drifted along on thoughts of her for a few minutes.

Charles returned, buttoning on a white vest with red embroidery. He had opted for light trousers instead of heavy mage robes, owing to the temperatures they would be facing. In the white vest, with his dark hair and cheerful face, he looked more like a student conjurer than a fully-trained White Mage. All he needed was a pair of glasses and a book under one arm.

"Zana's not back, yet?" he said, scanning the chairs. "What's she doing back there?"

Bayan tilted his head from side to side, picking up sounds with the hollows in his horns. "Talking, sounds like."

Charles frowned. "How do you know?"

"I can hear her," Bayan said. "I think she's talking to the innkeeper."

Charles stared from the distant door behind the counter to Bayan. "Your hearing is that good?"

Bayan tapped a horn. "These amplify sound."

"So when you do that thing with your head, you're listening?" Charles said. "I thought that was some kind of Au Ra gesture that you were thinking." He imitated Bayan's head tilting.

"That's all it is," said Bayan. "Our ears are inside our horns, so we hear things differently than Hyur do."

"I've always wondered about that," Charles said, studying Bayan's horns. "What happens if you break a horn? Does it grow back?"

Bayan winced at the thought. "Yes, but it will no longer be symmetrical. And it's painful. Incapacitatingly so."

Charles seemed ready to ask more questions, but Zana returned, looking like a cat that had caught a hummingbird. "Well, that was educational," she said, swirling her tail to one side and sitting down. "Fyrgeiss is having trouble with his investors, and this mine is probably connected."

"Do tell!" said Bayan with sharp interest.

"It's almost time to go, so you get the abridged version," said Zana, looking at the clock. "We'll talk on the way."

The story she told was this: Fyrgeiss had a sizable number of investors in his mining ventures. These investors were always interested in expanding to new areas and in new mineral finds. Fyrgeiss was as eager to expand as they were, and for a time, all had been well. But one investor began buying up the shares from the others, trying to gain a majority share. This was Lord Stephennot Asturmaux. An Elezen recently moved from Limsa Lominsa, he had made his fortune in shipping and now looked to dabble in mining. Asturmaux, with typical pirate ruthlessness, had been said to cut the throats of business rivals he couldn't eliminate any other way. This was only speculation, of course, but he had been mixed up in an unpleasant incident in Limsa, and was only released because of a lack of evidence.

Asturmaux had been pressuring Fyrgeiss to sell some of his mines, particularly the disputed crystal mine. The Amaljaa had conveniently taken it over just as Fyrgeiss refused. And everyone Fyrgeiss sent to recover the mine conveniently failed. Fyrgeiss was desperate, but hesitant to send a large force. His idea was that a single warrior could slip in and find out what was happening.

All this the three of them talked over as they made their way to the Sultana's Gate. The last bit, about a small force, was conjecture supplied by Zana. "But from what you tell me, I think I'm close to the mark," she said. "Which naturally worries me. There's far more than Amaljaa guarding that mine."

"You know what beast tribes do with crystals, right?" Bayan said. "They summon their gods with them. We cannot afford to leave this mine in their hands. The more crystals they have for a summoning, the stronger the god that appears, and the Amaljaa worship Ifrit."

"I thought you helped the Warrior of Light kill Ifrit?" Charles asked.

"Titan," said Bayan. "From what he told me of Ifrit, I pray none of us ever lay eyes on that demon."