A slender tendril of sunlight tickled at Diego's closed eyelids, warming his face with its glow, and sighing contentedly, he shifted tighter into the bedclothes.
The coarse textures and the scent, now familiar and sweet to his nostrils, roused his mind slowly from a dreamless slumber and with a supple stretching of his limbs, he began to waken.
Somewhere, in the far distance, there were the subtle sounds of voices and hoofbeats and nearer, a soft, lyrical timbre, like the actions and movement of waters. In his growing awareness, Diego's senses broadened, his nostrils gathering the scent of dampness entwined with the stronger perfumes of things both natural and artificial. Nearer still, and all about him, the subtle fragrance of his host and his cologne, now indelible to Diego from the passing of the night in his room and bed.
As his eyes opened, he knew now the grey shadows and long, angles of light which spoke of a lateness of day, and knew also that in the passing hours, Ramone had returned to the room as Diego had slept. The long coat and cravat he had worn the previous night hung on the corner of the large, heavy bureau and other, small disturbances about him suggested that the man had groomed himself as well. Now, as his gaze deepened, Diego became aware of a selection of items, displayed clearly in front of a basin and vase, and a light blue suit laid out over his own clothes in the elegant, carved wooden chair.
Nearer, at the base of Ramone's bed, a handwritten sheet, which upon gathering in his hand, Diego discovered was a note. The hand and writing were almost archaic in appearance, but the page still bore the trace scent of fresh ink, and more of his host's fragrance, and the words, like all around him, warmed at Diego's cheeks and brought a smile to his lips.
Again, in reading, he felt the pleasure and warmth of welcome and it seemed that, in this strange yet somehow familiar place, he had found something long lost and longed for. With joy singing in his spirit, his heart lifted, Diego found himself eager to begin his day.
Rising, he first paused to glance out the small window. In the fading, afternoon light, Diego was surprised to find the same empty street which had welcomed him in the moonlight, now bustling with activity. There were wagons, animals and dozens of people, all dressed in the same period as Luis and Jamie and even on the closest inspection, Diego could spot nothing that even suggested the modern world. If not for the presence of his own clothes, the illusion would have been utterly perfect. Now, gazing down at the edge of leathers, almost concealed by the new suit above, he felt a powerful impulse to discard the anachronism and merge himself entirely into this new world.
Standing at the mirror, he lifted and raised the suit, and discovered, just as Luis had written, that it appeared a perfect fit. The short jacket and flared trousers reminded him of the costumes worn by the Caballeros, and on discovering the sash, Diego realised that it was, in fact the real article.
Gazing now at own image, he seemed to reimagine himself, and so easily did the new image form that it was if Diego had already known the man the clothes would make of him. Now, turning from the mirror, he gathered his old clothing, his old life and with a swift motion, tossed them aside and into the shadows beneath the chair.
In the mirror before him, the new man, happy and confident in his new world, smiled to share his approval and with a polite nod, Diego turned from him and walked to the door and his new life beyond.