Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Willing Slave ❯ Chapter 8

Part 8

Heero stepped inside the library and found Relena already seated, perusing an open book in her lap. She looked and smiled politely, without any hint of any emotion, and closed the book. His eyes flickered to the cover briefly and read the title. The Art of War.

"Queen Relena," he greeted her with a slight bow, and Trowa mimicked his motions.

She lay the book beside her on a small table and rose, returning his bow with a curtsy that did not force her to take her eyes off of them. "Prince Heero. King Trowa." If the assassination attempt had rattled her, she did not show it.

Heero nodded at the book. "Strange reading for a pacifist."

"I'm a pacifist, but not unlearned," she answered. "Its theories seem applicable to diplomacy as well. I'm surprised you have a copy here. It took years for ours to come from China and be translated."

"Not so hard for us," Heero said, moving to the desk. "It was a gift from my brother."

Trowa leaned against a bookshelf, crossing his arms. "I thought you could use it."

Heero let the veiled taunt slide and kept his focus on Relena. "Again, my apologies about tonight's disturbance. Our assassins are normally not so bold."

Relena waved his apology away. "Not to worry. It's not the first time I've been targeted. Actually, I wished to speak with you about that. Have you given any thought to my proposal?"

"I have. The answer is still no."

She gave a sharp sigh of irritation. "The alliance of marriage would benefit both of our countries. Why would you refuse?"

"Wouldn't a treaty suffice?" Trowa said.

Relena folded her gloved arms. "I'm afraid not. I've had several treaties broken recently, and only my foster's influence has managed to keep Romefeller from openly attacking."

Heero and Trowa snapped to attention. "Romefeller?"

Surprised by their sudden stares, she stepped back. "Yes...there've been two attempts on my life now. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. You were probably attacked simply because I was there as well."

Heero shook his head. "No, that was the second attempt on my life as well. Trowa and I have reason to believe the Romefellers are in collusion with the Bartons."

"For what purpose?" she asked, sitting down again.

Heero took up his usual unprincely seat on top of the desk. "Probably to take our kingdoms for their own."

"In addition to Corazon?" she wondered. "But that's far too much land for any one monarch to rule, and they don't seem to favor republics very much."

"True enough," Heero nodded. "But I doubt they're concerned with that. We don't know if they only want power or if there's something else."

"They don't have Corazon," Trowa added. "I have it."

"But you're part of their family," she insisted.

Trowa shrugged. "No, I am the ruler and protector of thousands of people. I consider Heero and Shaay to be my only family." I still can't believe Quatre likes that name...

A touch of sincerity touched her smile. "Your slave must love you very much."

"With all his heart," Trowa answered. "And the Bartons do not have hearts."

"All the more reason to join forces," Relena insisted. "We would stand a better chance together than alone."

"I will not make our kingdoms so large that everyone wants to attack us," Heero said in a firm tone. "There is nothing a marriage would serve that an alliance would not. An alliance would be the best route."

She lowered her eyes. "But how do I know I can trust you?"

Heero and Trowa exchanged a glance. "We wondered the same about you," Heero said. "The first assassin told me that he'd been sent from the Sank kingdom by your foster."

"Impossible! Dorothy would never do anything like that."

"She's a known killer," Trowa said.

"Exactly. She would never hire anyone, she would do the job herself. And despite my little influence on her actions, she would not have attacked anyone I told her not to." She looked straight into Heero's eyes. "We had reason to suspect your kingdom in the first attempt on my life. The assassin said he'd been hired by the newest slave in the Lagrange palace."

"Duo?" Heero asked.

She nodded.

"Now that is impossible. He's only a thief. He's never had the kind of money to hire a professional assassin."

"No slave would," she agreed. "But whoever has hired these killers wants us not to trust each other."

"We'll find out tonight if it's the Romefellers," Heero said. "At the masquerade."

"Going to push your slave's skills to the limit?" Trowa asked.

"I've selected his costume so he can hide things inside. I'll simply dance him around the floor and let him take what he can."

"Do you mind if I allow Dorothy to do the same?" Relena asked.

"You have just as much at stake," Heero said. "Just keep her away from Duo, so they won't get in each other's way."

"We can pool the takings in here," Trowa offered. "I'll bring in a few Maganacs to guard the room until then."

"Perfect." Heero glanced up at Relena. "Shall we draw up an alliance then?"

"You will not consider marriage?"

"No."

"Then a treaty it must be."

*

Duo woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door, and he jumped to unbolt the inner lock. He nearly broke his nose running into the door, however, and he bounced back onto the bed, rubbing the sore spot while Wufei sat up.

"Ran into the door?" he smirked.

"Ow," was the only reply.

The door opened and swung out, revealing both Heero and Treize. Wufei looked over his lover to make sure he was all right, but he frowned when he didn't see his dragon. "Where's Nataku?"

Treize extended his hand and helped Wufei out of the small room. "She's busy. Don't worry, she'll be back soon. You and I need to go to the dungeons now." He led him down the hall, leaving Heero and Duo to themselves.

"Did you get the assassins?" Duo asked, standing.

Heero nodded curtly. "Yes, but Treize and Wufei will deal with them. You must get ready for the ball."

"Huh?"

"The masquerade."

"Oh, that's right," Duo smiled. "Quatre said we'd get to watch."

Heero almost smiled. "No. You will dance with me."

Duo froze, and his hands started to shake in anticipation. "But...I can't dance! I mean, I've never done it before!"

"Don't worry, you'll be stealing while you're at it."

Thinking that part was too good to be true, Duo tilted his head. "Really?"

"As much as you can, without getting caught."

Duo couldn't help his cocky grin. "Just tell me what you want from who. Um..." his grin started to fade, "...if you help me dance..."

Heero grabbed Duo's braid, twisting the end of it around his hand, and took him out of the room. "It's not so difficult, you'll see. At least now I'll have a chance to watch you work."

Duo leaned against Heero's body, putting his own arms around the flat waist. "If I do a good job, then you won't see me work at all."

Heero abruptly stopped and looked around the hall, making sure they were alone. He then gently pushed his slave against the wall and held him in place with one hand on the slim chest. "Duo...you must be careful. Don't make eye contact with anyone, especially while we're dancing. Lately you've been allowed to relax around me and Trowa, but while we are in court you must be silent." He couldn't see Duo's facial expression, but the purple eyes fluttered and started to turn too bright.

"I...I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" he whispered. "I mean...I didn't look at anyone...I tried to be good..."

"No, you did fine. You...saved my life again." Heero put his fingers up to Duo's eyes, wiping the excess moisture away. Why is he getting so emotional over nothing? He pulled the veil aside, revealing Duo's entire face, and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring kiss. To his relief, Duo embraced him again and the quick tears dried away. "But Duo, the warning still stands. I don't have time to explain fully, but someone is trying to use you against me."

Duo's eyes opened wide and he shook his head in shock. "No, I would never...I couldn't..."

Heero leaned closer until their lips were only inches apart. "I know, and I trust you. I meant it when I said you are entirely trustworthy. But you must be careful."

Duo nodded and accepted another kiss before Heero replaced the veil. "I promise."

"Good." Heero lay his arm around Duo's shoulders and held him close as they walked back to their room. "We have to get dressed now, or else we might be late."

"How long will the party last?"

Heero heaved a sigh, betraying his real feelings for a moment. "Hopefully not long. Maybe we'll have another assassination attempt and it'll cut the dancing short."

Duo smothered his laugh and snuggled a little closer while they walked.

*

Colors. Reds, blacks, violets, watery hues straight out of twilight and dawn mingled together and swirled into rainbows both ugly and beautiful, like paint dripped into clear water. Intricate lace lay like spun crystal on royal blue silk and gold jewelry graced every wrist, every neck, every ear. Gloves adorned with precious rings covered every hand, while everyone concealed their face behind plumed and gaudy masks and obscured their intents behind pretty words.

Duo couldn't help his gasp, and now Heero thanked Midii's fashion sense that she had made Duo's mask cover his mouth. His facial expressions might have gotten him in trouble otherwise. "Hush."

"Like birds..." Duo gave Heero a sheepish look. "Sorry, I'll be quiet now."

Heero nodded and led him down the steps into the masquerade, slipping by the footman so their names wouldn't be proclaimed. Anonymity would be best for the night's work, and having all eyes on the prince and his nameless escort might panic the already nervous Duo.

Duo kept a tight grip on Heero's hand as they moved. From the top of the ivory stairs the dancers had looked like a swirling rainbow of colors and motion, but from inside the throng it was a glittering model of masked subtlety and sidestepping. Duo had a moment to wonder how they all avoided running into each other, but then Heero spun him into his arms and began the dance.

For a little while Duo didn't think about the impending thievery or the assassins or the political intrigues or anything other than the boy before him. He lay one hand on Heero's shoulder, careful not to jostle the feathery wings on his back. His black gloved hand stood out on the white angel's outfit. Heero's white mask covered three fourths of his face, leaving only a bit of his cheek and mouth showing, while more feathers drooped off the mask and swayed in the air.

Heero's opposite, Duo had been dressed in a black outfit with leather wings, cut small so that they wouldn't interfere with other dancers or draw attention to himself. His own mask draped like another veil across his nose, covering from his cheeks to his jaw. On his head was a jet headdress that included a long trail of dark cloth between his wings, obscuring his braid. Without any other ornamentation, they disappeared in the crowd of peacocks and shiny jewels.

"When will you start?" Heero asked in a small voice.

Duo took a deep breath. He hadn't expected Heero to want him to begin so quickly. He looked around and felt his heart speed up while his breaths got shorter. There were so many people and such fancy clothing that finding hidden pockets would be next to impossible, and if any of them looked up...and apparently Heero wouldn't lead him to the proper targets...

How could he? Everyone's masked. Duo breathed again and shook his head. No, don't scare yourself. I can find them. It's just like the market on a crowded day...only I can't run if I get caught here...

While Heero tilted his head, wondering if Duo was all right, a gloved hand snaked out towards an old lady in a blue gown with silver embroidery and a cape over her shoulders. The intricate silver broke pattern in a certain place, and the glove slipped easily into the concealed pocket. So light that neither party felt much of anything, a small package wrapped in silk was withdrawn and hidden in a recess of folded clothing.

"Shini?" Heero raised his voice, careful to call Duo by his agreed court name.

"I said you wouldn't see it," Duo said smugly.

Heero's eyes widened and looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed except Duo's mood. "Already?"

Duo wished he could kiss him then and there. "Yup. Let's keep going."

*

Wufei sat up in the far corner of the dungeon, away from the heat of the iron bars and manacles. A few of the guards had been kind enough to throw a blanket over a large pile of hay for him before returning to their post at the door, and the blanket cut the chill in the room. Nataku lay beside him, spouting little bursts of fire as she slept, and impressing him with her ability to sleep through tortured screams.

He stared back down the stretch of the dungeon, trying to see around the metal bars of one of the cells. Zechs and Noin blocked his view, but he could partially see Treize's auburn hair at waist level and hear his lover saying something in a low voice. A moment later, blood splattered on the wall, followed by another scream.

Wufei winced and returned to his work, doing his best to ignore the shrieks coming from the cell. He sketched out the particular design he would need later and listed the charms needed to keep the energies flowing correctly. Once he added the characters that would make up the containment spell and had proofread every last mark, he gave Nataku a nudge, making her bite at his fingers.

"Irritable dragon," he snapped. "We have work to do."

While she blinked her bleary eyes and tried to wake up, he slid off his blanket and took out a handful of long white candles. He pointed one at Nataku, who lit the wick, then tilted the flame an inch from the stone floor. A dap of wax dripped down, and he moved the candle slightly. It dripped again, and he eased it forward, repeating the process over and over until the candle wore down to his fingertips. He blew it out and left it standing in the soft wax where he'd stopped, then picked up another candle. Wufei checked his work and sighed. Only a fraction of the circle was drawn, and he still had all those characters to draw...

"This is going to take awhile," he mumbled. "Nataku."

She blew a lick of fire at the candle and watched him kneel over the ground again. Another scream made Wufei drop the candle, but he snatched it back up and kept going, berating himself for his weakness.

*

"But what about you?" Quatre cried, trying to pull Wufei in with him. "I won't leave you behind!"

"I'll be fine, so don't argue and lock yourself in!" Wufei ordered him.

Not at all reassured by Wufei's nod, Quatre nevertheless closed the door and threw the heavy bolt, locking him in and Wufei out, trapped with the enemy. Numb, Quatre sat down at his small chair in the corner, put his hands over his face and wept. There was no way off this tower, both of them knew it. This was a hopeless battle now, but they were desperate and giving up would hurt more than fighting to the end.

"You're Quatre Raberba Winner?"

Quatre looked up and found a knife's tip resting on his throat. He followed the blade to the hilt, then moved up his attacker's arm until he found himself staring into brilliant green eyes. He'd be beautiful if he wasn't so deadly, he thought. "I am."

Trowa stared at him. "I expected someone taller, like your sisters were."

"You've killed Wahea?"

Trowa nodded. "Are the rumors true?"

"What rumors? I haven't left the palace in years."

The knife never moved. "That she kept you prisoner."

"She did."

"For how long?"

"Since my father died. Wufei says that was about five years ago. I've been hiding in a smaller tower for the last year, though." He looked across Trowa for one last glimpse of Corazon. "Are you going to kill me?"

"You're the last member of the royal family."

That means yes, then. "I doubt anyone remembers me."

"Oh, they do. Once Wahea's death was known, people began shouting for the 'forgotten prince' to return and save them."

Another tear coursed down Quatre's cheek, and he bit back a sob. All those people...all those people will suffer because I'm too weak..."But I can't save them," he whimpered. "They don't even know what I look like. They think I'm some kind of strong savior...and I'm just a little fortune-caster..."

"But they know you exist." The knife tip turned a little as Trowa prepared to slit his throat.

"Please say you won't kill Wufei," Quatre begged, looking up. "He's not really your enemy, he never liked Wahea. He's only hired on."

Trowa blinked. Odd...usually they beg for their own lives..."Do you think your lover can bring you back from death?"

"He's not my lover," Quatre insisted. "He's...he's my only friend." He lowered his eyes past the knife. "But no, death...death is forever."

Trowa leaned back as he realized something. "You...you're not afraid."

Quatre shook his head. "I was dead for four years. Maybe this time I won't feel lonely."

"Quatre!"

They both looked up at the door when they heard Wufei's voice, but sounds of a scuffle followed after and they were alone again.

Never dropping the knife, Trowa raised one finger to Quatre's eyes and wiped the tears away, gently caressing the soft skin. "You're not afraid of me." He's beautiful...he's so strong. He's more frightened for his friend...I wish I had a friend like-- "Formally proclaim me to be the rightful ruler of this land, and I'll let you live."

Quatre's blue eyes widened in amazement. "But...but I thought...you're a killer. You're an invader."

"I've united the smaller kingdoms and brought peace to every one of them." Trowa stroked Quatre's cheek again, letting the knife drift away from the soft throat. "I'm not the evil monster your people believe. But someone has to tell them that."

"You'll let Wufei live?" Quatre murmured, wondering if it was too much to ask.

"If he's still alive," Trowa nodded, not mincing words. "I don't trust magick, but my brother could use a good sorcerer." He pushed the silky blonde hair back and ran his fingers through it, prompting a look of confusion on Quatre's face. "And I could use a tutor in the native language here. I could use an oracle."

"You wouldn't lock me away?" Quatre asked in a tiny voice.

"No, but I can't give you freedom either," Trowa admitted. "I couldn't risk you trying to take the throne. You would be a war slave."

Slowly, so Trowa wouldn't think he was trying anything, Quatre brought his hand to Trowa's, soaking up the warmth in the longer fingers. "I...I think you want...more...than that."

"Can you feel that?"

Quatre nodded.

"Then do you accept?"

The little blonde nodded again. "I do."

Trowa reached into a pocket, concealing the knife and bringing out the silken ribbon he kept around the knife's sheathe. "Cross your hands."

Quatre obeyed, holding his hands up with the wrists over each other. Trowa wrapped the ribbon around his hands, binding them together without pinching the skin, and stood up. He tied off the end of the leash to a loop in his pant's top hem, but he kept hold of it with one hand. When he looked over Quatre this time, the prince seemed so sweetly helpless and at his mercy that he couldn't help himself. He fingered his property, lightly touching his throat and thin shoulders, then leaned far enough to take a short kiss. It was awkward, neither of them knew what they were doing, but Trowa still enjoyed it.

Quatre gave him a small smile when he pulled back. "You don't have to take them," he whispered. "I'll give as much as you want."

Trowa stared. "I don't understand you at all." He tugged on the leash, bringing Quatre forward a step. "I will. Not today, though. There's more work to do."

Quatre watched him open the door, then followed him out.

"Quatre?"

"Quatre, wake up. It's time to get up."

He opened his eyes to find Trowa leaning over him, a smile on his normally stoic features. "'Morning, master," he breathed, reaching his arms up to guide Trowa into bed.

Instead, the young monarch took hold of Quatre's hands and pulled him into a sitting position. "Not morning, sleepy. It's still night."

"Still?" Quatre yawned and looked around. His guards were still there, but so was something else on his bed. He peered closer, and as his eyesight focused, he gasped in startled delight.

Before him lay a costume of light pink and dark crimson, complete with gold bracelets and a red sash. He picked it up and stroked the cloth lovingly, as if he couldn't believe it was there. The deciding factor was the headpiece and matching white cover for his face.

"Trowa?"

"Yes, love. Will you come to the masquerade?"

Taking his lover's stunned silence as a yes, Trowa began to remove Quatre's clothing, pulling his shirt off and helping him into the tank top. Nearly white but touched by a hint of pink, the cloth created the illusion of dressing the slave in a cloud. Trowa pushed a gold bracelet up to Quatre's bicep and added a thicker match to both his wrists. A red wrap went over his shoulders, hiding the top's straps and dipping over his chest.

Quatre shook off his disbelief and helped exchange his blue pants for the pinkish ones, adding the light leather boots at the end. Trowa brushed his hair out and lay the headpiece on, making sure the braided rope adequately secured the long trail behind and could keep the white veil in place. The cloth of the cover dangled long enough to be tucked into the red wrap. To finish the entire outfit, a red sash was added to cinch the waist in.

"You look like a real nomad now," Trowa teased.

Quatre laughed and pulled the mask down a few inches. "And what're you going to wear?"

Trowa raised an eyebrow, and Quatre noticed that Trowa had already dressed. His whole ensemble was black, from the dark leather boots and gloves to the cape flowing around his ankles. Hidden in the recesses was a black hilt and scabbard, but they blended so well that they were hardly noticeable.

"Sorry," Quatre said. "But in my defense, you always wear black."

"True enough," Trowa chuckled. He picked up his mask, only a loose black cloth that draped over his face like a curtain held in place by a thick headband. His hair showed, but his demeanor altered so greatly that no one should know who the man behind the mask was.

Quatre set his fingertips on the cloth "You change when you wear that," he whispered sadly.

Green eyes blinked at him. "I would never hurt you."

Quatre raised Trowa's mask and kissed him. "I know. I only wish you didn't have to wear it, that's all. Has the dance started yet?"

Trowa helped Quatre to his feet and guided him out, motioning for the Maganac guards to remain. "Let's go find out."

*

In the cell, Treize hid his disgust under a veneer of polite detachment from his duty, giving no sign of the backflips his stomach performed each time he twisted the knife. The body in front of him writhed in its own blood, some of it drawn by slivers of glass and some of it drawn from Treize's steel. A moan broke the silence, and Treize gave himself a quick break and tipped his head at the second body.

A pity that one died before we could interrogate him. He might have been more vocal than this one. "You said you found nothing on him?"

Zechs nodded, looking up from the wall. "No insignia, no papers, no money...only his knife."

Noin kept her eyes closed and pretended that none of this bothered her. "I suppose he dropped his bow and arrows somewhere."

Treize cracked his knuckles and started again, cleanly cutting into the dying man.

"Who are you?"

"Who hired you?"

"What is Oz?"

And each time, the assassin only groaned in answer.

"If you don't talk now," Noin warned him, "you're going to die."

The assassin gave a humorless laugh and spit out another mouthful of blood. "Gonna...die...anyway."

Zechs nodded. "True. But if you don't give us answers, we'll have to pry them from your soul."

No reply.

Treize used the back of his sleeve to wipe the drops of blood from his forehead. "And after all the work we're doing, you can bet I'll let my sorcerer feed you to his dragon."

The assassin stared at them, looking through the blood in his eyes at their cold, emotionless faces, and decided they meant it. He glanced back at the ground, wheezing. "I can...tell you...one thing."

Treize knelt beside him, straining to hear the fading voice, and the two officers behind him leaned forward in anticipation. "Yes?"

"Go to hell!" The assassin spat and coughed again, more blood coming up.

Treize frowned. He reached over to the plain knife they had found on the man, grabbed the hilt, and brought the blade up in a swift slash that not only severed the trachea but nicked the spine as well. Even as the body flailed and the eyes continued to blink in mute agony, Treize rose and walked out of the cell, followed by Noin and Zechs. She had one hand on Zechs' shoulder, using him as a support to keep her legs from buckling under her weight.

From the opposite end of the dungeon, Wufei looked up from his nearly complete circle. He knew the emotions raging in his master's eyes but dared say nothing to comfort him, not in front of the others and certainly not while there was another job to do. There would be time to talk come morning. No sooner.

"Put the knife in the center," he said, not wanting to touch it. "I still have to write in the charms."

Treize complied and stood back, careful not to break the wax. "Do you need anything else?"

"The other one's knife, steeped in his own blood," Wufei nodded while he continued to drip wax. Treize turned on his heel and headed for the body. Zechs, deciding that they would probably be needed to witness the actual summoning, sat down on a wooden bench not far away and allowed Noin to lean against him.

On the floor, Wufei finished the circle, leaving the candle stump at the juncture, and took up a black lump of charcoal. Ignoring how sooty his clothes would get, he painstakingly traced out each symbol around the circle. Nataku examined his handiwork, searching for errors and finding none. Treize returned with the other knife, setting it beside the other, and joined his officers on the bench.

"Nataku," Wufei whispered. "Light the candles now."

*

Music filled the air as a soft background noise that kept everyone from talking loudly. Better not to say anything than actually be heard over the notes. Masks of half moons and full suns and five pointed stars dipped in and out of sight, followed by birds' masks, complete with long beaks and feathers along the head. Fake cats prowled paw in hand with elegant courtiers, all of them doing their best to identify the dancers by their eyes, movements, and words.

And behind his own mask, Duo grinned.

"You enjoy dancing?" Heero asked.

Duo nodded once. "I'd like it more if we were alone, though."

"I know."

"How can you tell?"

"You're smiling."

Duo gave him a confused look even as he lifted a green pouch from someone whose face he could barely see. "You can see that?"

Heero gingerly touched the soft cheek above the veil and caressed his half-shut eyelids. "Yes...not your mouth, but the way your skin moves, the way your eyes sparkle. Your joy is...more than obvious."

Duo grinned and kissed his fingers through the veil. "I like being in your hands...but the other work is fun, too."

"How do you do it so no one notices?"

Heero's eyes lit up with more curiosity than Duo had ever seen, and the effect was humanizing. The scowl vanished, replaced by a childish intelligence that made the prince seem like a real teenager instead of the emotionless doll he tried to imitate.

"I guess you've never been to the market," Duo said. "It's kind of like working the crowds there, except I usually only hit vendors and the occasional high ranking guard."

"What's the market like?"

Duo lifted a white satin coin purse, followed quickly by a small wood container. "It's...not like this place. There are a bunch of merchants on the street lined up against the buildings and they sell jewelry and food and pots and knives and things...and it's dirty. There's sand everywhere."

While Heero put his imagination to work, Duo scanned the immediate area for his next victim and promptly spotted Relena and Dorothy, the foster leading their dance while the Queen followed. He could only tell it was Dorothy because of the long hair trailing from behind her lion's mask, complete with a mane. Her paw, however, was in another dancer's black pants. Like any professional, he watched her technique and nodded approvingly when her hand came back with a wallet. When she caught his look, she gave him a smirk and a little bow, and persuaded Relena to head in a different direction.

"Funny," he whispered. "I heard that only male lions have manes."

Heero followed his look. "They do."

"Then how come Dorothy's got a male set?"

"Because...Relena prefers it that way."

"I don't understand."

Heero frowned, wondering how to put it. "They're like Sally and Une."

Duo just gave him another confused puppy look.

He doesn't know about them, Heero realized. "They...are like us," he said, pleased with his analogy. "In that way."

"You mean...oh...Sally and Une?!"

Duo didn't have time to think about his new information, however, as he snuck into a new pocket, pulling out a black pouch from a dancer dressed entirely in black. He sighed in relief that the man wasn't facing him, he positively reeked of danger.

"Have you fleeced everyone in here yet?" Heero asked.

Duo gave a sad little moan. "I think so. In any case, I don't think I can hold onto more without dropping something."

"Then let's go to the library. You can unload everything there, and then we might come back for another round."

"Do we have to?" Duo asked, slipping a teasing finger under Heero's shirt. "There's other things we could do in there..."

"With two guards watching?"

Duo blinked. "Oh yeah, I forgot...darn."

Heero took his hand and led him back up the steps, putting one hand around his waist to hold him close. "We can take care of that later." Once they were safely out of sight, Heero removed Duo's veil and took off his own mask. Nuzzling his cheek for a second, he pushed him to the wall and stole a batch of kisses.

"Mm...promise to...hold me after?"

"And never let go."

*

Wufei leaned over his circle, careful not to set his hands down on the surface encircled by the white wax, and held one hand over the bloody daggers. Sitting on the bench across the dungeon, Noin and Zechs both gasped as flames poured from the sorcerer's fingers, igniting the blood on the blades. While the messy things melted into hideous red and gray lumps of ash, Wufei sat back again and raised his hands up as if he was trying to warm himself. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Only after a few minutes did Noin realize Wufei wasn't silent. "What's he saying?" she whispered. "I can't hear him."

Treize leaned over towards her. "He's reciting the spell, but he does it in Chinese. Says the flow of our language is all wrong for it."

"Or he hasn't translated it yet?" Zechs smiled.

Treize sighed. "Exactly, but don't tell him that."

"I still think you coddle him."

"And you wouldn't coddle someone who could turn you into duck dinner?"

"Gua feng," the chanting voice caught their attention again. The air in the dungeon began to circulate in wild circles, throwing Zechs' hair up into his face and over his mask. Noin giggled, and even polite Treize snickered.

"He did that on purpose," Zechs grumbled.

All around them, invisible little dust devils caught strands of hay and twirled them up while the manacles clanged softly against the stone walls. It rustled the clothing of the dead, breathing false motion into them before leaving and whistling through the bars instead.

Without warning, the candles in the circle flared up into bright columns of blue and purple flames without consuming the miniscule wicks. The torches on the wall burst just as bright, creating a contrasting glow of orange and hellish red. For all the light, or perhaps because of it, the far corners and even the nearby crevices and cells lay covered in shadows too deep to see into.

Noin glanced at her commanding officer. "Treize..."

"It...it's all right," he whispered back, but he didn't sound sure.

And as quickly as the lights went up...they fizzled, guttered and died.

Half a minute later, their eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and they noticed a tiny glittering not too far away. White light, very faint, sparkled from the charcoal writing around the circle. It reflected off of Wufei's eyes, and his pupils had vanished, leaving his eyes pure white with no veins. Half awake and half dreaming, he lowered his hands and stared straight into the fire that had turned black. The only evidence of it in the darkness were the waves of heat rising up and rippling the light from the other side.

"Come," he said without inflection, using his adopted language again. "Across the desert...through gates of horn...from the sunless lands..."

Noin practically jumped into Zechs' lap as two plumes of mist rose up out of the daggers, waving in the heat. Wisps of their incorporeal forms rose and vanished like steam, but the smoke revealed vague features of the bodies on the floor.

"Name yourselves," Wufei ordered.

"Alex," one replied.

"Mueller."

Their voices weren't so much voices as they were brushes on the skin and made known by sheer will. Zechs slipped his mask off and lay it on the ground, then lay his head on Noin's, eager to get closer to her reassuring touch.

"What is Oz?"

"The organization of our master."

"What does it do?"

"What the master wishes."

"What are its purposes?"

"Those of our master's."

"What are the purposes of your master?"

Treize groaned inwardly. It's like pulling teeth...

"To take this kingdom, and another, and another. And to take the Chinese sorcerer."

Treize sat up. So the first attack was a challenge after all...

"How?"

"Through Oz."

"How will Oz fulfill the master's goals and purposes?"

"Through deceit and secrecy and blatant violence. False guards will strike as the meteor falls and return the unclean protection to the dying dragons."

"What?" Treize wondered.

"Riddles," Zechs said. "They're talking in riddles."

"But how do we figure out what they mean?" Noin asked.

"What meteor will fall?" Wufei asked, not hearing them.

"A bloody hammer of light."

"Who will drop the hammer?"

"The family of hearts."

Even in his dream state, Wufei growled in frustration. "Who is your master?"

"The tiger."

"His name?"

"O."

"O?" Zechs repeated.

The ghost named Alex shrieked at the top of its effervescent voice and shattered everything iron, manacles and bars alike, while the second one cried "O!" Out of the flames of the inner circle came an orange loop that spread into an irregular shape within the first wax circle and settled around the daggers. The ghosts seemed sucked down into the burning blood and vanished.

Wufei's head snapped back as if he'd been struck, and he fell backwards onto his hay cushion, unconscious. Nataku gave a little cry and stumbled, missing the brunt of the attack but stunned nonetheless. The circle's light fluctuated as if it struggled to stay lit by itself while the shape inside tried to expand and force its way through. From the other side of the dungeon came two weak and inhuman groans.

"Draw your swords," Treize commanded. "I have a bad feeling about this." While he ran to Wufei's side, Zechs and Noin drew and stood in front of them, not daring to advance until they saw their enemy.

"There's no room to fight in here," Zechs complained.

Treize nodded. "I know." He's still breathing...and the magick's still running... He looked up at the little mirror that was supposed to hang at all times on the wall, but to his dismay he saw it had cracked, likely in the ghost's shriek. "Dammit, Heero, I hope you try to look in on us soon." Making a decision, he moved to the door. He glanced back at Zechs and Noin, and, when he saw their firm nods, locked the door.

*

Duo smiled proudly at his handiwork. The entire table lay covered in silk packages, wallets, tiny purses, velvet pouches and small hard cases. "This is definitely my best haul ever! I can't believe I pulled this off!"

Heero stared in wide-eyed wonder at the pile. "Neither can I. Where did you put it all?"

Duo smirked and leaned against his shoulder, ignoring the awed looks from the two Maganac guards. "Oh, Midii gave me a bunch of pockets..."

"Even so..." Heero put his hands on Duo's shoulders and physically turned him around, searching for hidden recesses. "I know you can hide things in there, but the clothing isn't that loose."

"Look," Duo laughed, lifting the shirt a few inches. "I've got wire hems, see? The same around the legs, just above the knee. I just had to drop stuff in and it'd be caught."

"But when you were on the street you didn't have these kinds of clothing," Heero insisted. "How did you manage then?"

Curious little thing, ain't he? Duo thought to himself. "Lots of rags, Heero. If I couldn't carry 'em, I'd just hide a bag on me and use that. Unless I'd forget to bring it with me, then I'd have to carry it all...only did that once, though."

As his slave's voice drifted and his gaze slipped to the floor, Heero put one hand under his chin and tilted his face back up. "Duo...I know it hurts you. But you have to tell me who they were. I want to find them and have them executed."

Duo took a step closer but shook his head. "I can't. I...never saw their faces. I heard them...I'd know their voices again, I'm sure of it...I just know they were guards that weren't guards."

"Oz," Heero nodded. "Once we've rounded up the lot of them, we'll find those two, I promise."

"But...you don't even know who they are."

"If we're lucky, we'll find out tonight, through the things you and Dorothy have taken."

Duo frowned when he heard her name, but he didn't say anything. He only put his arms around Heero and held him close. Heero, not understanding, awkwardly returned the embrace. "Duo?"

"So," Duo said, trying to keep his voice steady, "when's the wedding?"

Heero frowned. "Wedding?"

"Between you and Relena."

"Where did you hear--?"

"I heard some of the dancers talking," Duo sniffled. "It's okay, I mean, I'm just a slave anyway, and you've gotta have someone after you...to be prince, I mean...and...and..."

He felt Heero's shoulder jerk beneath him, and he backed up in confusion that turned to astonishment as he realized Heero was laughing. "Heero?"

Heero's laughter was an unnerving sight, but accompanied by the soft brush of his fingertips on Duo's cheek, it left Duo with a warm sensation over his entire body and made his mind dizzy. "No, Duo. There won't be any marriage. We have only formed an alliance."

"Oh...but they said..."

"They were wrong." Heero kissed him and took his braid into his hand, stroking it. "Duo, do you think I'm J's son?"

"You aren't?"

"I don't know who my parents were, but it wasn't J. Trowa is only my adoptive brother, but no one else knows it but us, and now you. When I need to choose an heir, I will select one that Quatre or Wufei predicts as having luck and skill as birthrights. Choosing by heredity is too reckless."

Duo tried to hide his sigh of relief, but it came through anyway. Waves of exhilaration coursed through him like little cold streams in his veins and he grinned, almost giving in to his urge to dance in happy circles. Several things fell from the table and Duo jumped, startled even though he was a few feet away.

"Whoops, sorry about that," he smiled sheepishly. He bent and scooped them up, dumping them back on the table. "Well, let's start opening them!"

Heero put his hand on Duo's, preventing him from picking one up. "No, we need Wufei first. He has to make sure these aren't spelled against thieves."

Duo cocked his head to one side. "Huh?"

"Only the wealthy have them, so I doubt you've ever run into a ward like that," Heero explained. "Let me see if they're done downstairs." He went to his round mirror and stared into it. "Dungeon," he said.

His reflection wavered, as if in intense heat, and went all black before showing him the library again. He blinked. "That's never...Dungeon." This time it showed a glittery kaleidoscope of his own reflection before solidifying again. "Something's wrong." He turned, about to leave Duo there, but decided against it. "Duo, come with me." He looked up at the two guards. "Can you signal your comrades outside?"

One of the Maganacs nodded and took a step forward. "Yes, your highness."

"Tell them to stand on alert. It may be nothing, but I won't take chances."

The second one took a candle from the three on the table beside him and held it up in the dark window. From below came a call in Arabic, and then the scraping of metal as thirty six swords were pulled from their scabbards.

"Do you require our assistance?" the first guard asked.

Heero considered. "No, stay here and protect these. Dorothy may come in here later with more items, let her know to stay on her guard. We're going to the dungeon." He took Duo's hand and pulled him after, leaving the Maganacs to shut and lock the door.

"Don't I get a knife or something?" Duo asked, struggling to keep up with Heero's rapid sprint. Slave shoes weren't built for that kind of speed.

"No," Heero answered. They ran down the halls past other guests who didn't see their faces long enough to identify them. "I don't have a knife and there's no time to stop at the armory."

They breezed by another couple, one in black and one in pink. The taller one turned and followed after, bringing his companion with him.

After only a minute Heero came to the long hall that led to the dungeon. He turned to Duo to tell him something but spotted the pair behind them. Drawing his sword, he dropped into a fighting stance. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Trowa whipped off his mask, tucking it in a pocket. "Just me and Quatre. What's wrong?"

"I can't see into the dungeon," Heero answered. "The mirror's broken. Are you armed?"

"Of course."

Heero nodded and turned to his slave. "You stay here. Don't leave the hall, but don't come any closer, either. If you hear anything...run."

"I--yes, Heero." Duo bit his lower lip, his heart beginning to race out of more than physical exertion.

"Quatre, stay here with Duo," Trowa said, removing his cape and putting it around his lover's shoulders. "I'll be back soon."

Quatre nodded, lowering his mask for a quick kiss. He watched the two brothers dash down the dark hall, stirring up dust as they went, and with a sigh he settled down on the floor. Duo tried to watch them, but he noticed that the floor somehow warped downward, blocking them from sight even though they didn't go far. He sat silently next to Quatre, trembling until he felt a relatively light arm drape over his shoulders. He allowed the blonde to pull him close, but his shaking didn't lessen.

"It's all right," Quatre tried to reassure him. "They'll be back. They can stop anything."

Duo didn't look up. "You really think so?"

Quatre smiled. "Of course."

Duo glanced back down the hall. With a sinking feeling he realized that if they didn't, there was no place to run and hide.

*

TBC...

1. Gua feng means "wind blow," or so I got from an English/Chinese dictionary.

2. Mi lu means "to become lost"

3. Jing Zi means "mirror"

4. Wo bu zhi dao, although I'm sure I've broken the words up incorrectly, means "I don't know."

5. Hm, the Lord's Prayer seems a bit anachronistic for this...let's just say in this alternate universe, Christianity picked up a bit earlier.

6. The guards' names, Troibeque and Freirs? Chalk it up to bad puns. Alex and Meuller, Alex Trebek of Jeopard and Ferris Buller's Day Off.