by Lady Bast
Noise. Noise shattered his mind as his eyelids flickered and closed, flickered and closed, then, with a great deal of effort, were wrenched firmly open to reveal a pattern of lapis blue. Above him, the voices of Heero and Duo were arguing, protesting the sharp commands of the Prince of Nekheb. Face down on the floor, Trowa groaned and tried to push himself up.
"You see?" Duo's voice carried a hint of irritation. "He is well. I have done no more and no less than my Prince has asked of me."
Heero's voice was preceded by a growl. "If you have harmed my charge, I will have you reported directly to Pharaoh for treason! I will not have important political figures mishandled by an unkempt charlatan!"
"My braid is more than sanitary." The reply was cold. "And far more becoming than that stiff leather skull cap you wear."
"It's barbaric..."
"All the more reason to wear it..."
"ENOUGH!"
Trowa winced as the voice of prince Katrah-en rang throughout the assembly chamber. "Duo, pick up the prince and assess his condition. Lord Heero, you will stand down in this matter."
Arms with more strength than he would have credited them slipped around him and helped him to climb dizzily to his feet. Although he had a vague notion of what he would have done to Duo as soon as the opportunity arose, he was, at the moment, more than happy to accept the priest's help. Trowa's vision cleared enough for him to see the stoney set of Heero's jaw, his fury plain in the depths of his stormy eyes, but his head did not clear enough to protect itself against the cutting edge of the soldier's voice.
"Forgive me, prince, but I am the Pharaoh's man and will take orders from none other than my immediate commander or the Golden Horus himself. My duty is to protect this man!"
The eyes of the prince of Nekheb blazed. "And my duty is to protect my nome!" he shouted in return, his voice becoming shrill with the strain of keeping his baser instincts in check. "Your duty ends there! You will stand down and you will allow your charge to be examined and you will not have a thing to say about it until the final assessment is made or you will be faced with the palace guard. Rashid!" he cried before Heero could protest. "Rashid, bring your charges forward! Prepare to subdue this man!"
Trowa looked up in time to see a giant of a man step forward and motion for four smaller men to surround the angered soldier. Heero looked momentarily alarmed, but his features settled almost immediately into those of a man ready for battle though behind his eyes was the look of confusion that mirrored Trowa's own thoughts. After all, it was quite odd to find any Egyptian noble with a foreigner in a position of servitude as high as Wufei's. To find so many of them - Saracens all - as members of something as personal as a palace guard was unnatural.
Duo sword softly near Trowa's ear and quickly waved a bottle beneath his nose. The acrid smell quickly brought the prince to full awareness, causing him to gag and cough as he snapped his head away from the terrible odor. He hissed as the pain behind his eyes flared momentarily, but managed to regain his feet. "There, my Prince, you see?" The priest spoke quickly and loudly to draw the assembly's attention away from the potential brawl. "Your guest is as well as ever although I daresay he will require some special care...er...so as to prevent the demons from reclaiming him. We are protected, of course, but in his weakened state he is no doubt a more tempting destination than the nothingness from which they came."
Prince Katrah-en's eyes brightened with cold light and he turned away from his soldiers fix Duo with their icy stare. "He is well, then?"
"Aye," replied the priest quickly, stepping away from Trowa to prove that he could stand on his own. "He is as well as one can be after being relieved of demons. Even so, he will need a good cleaning because though he is better kept than many travellers, the dangers of uncleanliness are well known. Also, he will need to be anointed with special oils, fed a good meal of bread and fruits - no meat, it will be too heavy in his stomach - and given a cup or two of brown beer to balance the humours of his body. There may also be other energies that need balancing," Duo grinned lewdly and Trowa felt the flat of the priest's hand administer a sharp slap to his buttock.
The prince of Teresh knew the blood was draining from his face even as he worked to keep a neutral expression. Gods...he knows, he thought in a panic. But Duo seemed to be paying him little mind, drawing Katrah-en's attention from the rest of the room with the use of expressive gestures.
"I also recommend that a spirited and trustworthy body servant be assigned to him to guard his spirits and teach him the ways of our city so that nothing of this nature can occur again," the priest was saying. "I would go so far as to nominate Tetiun. He is an excellent servant, my Prince. Please do not blame him for the faults of his master. Give him this chance to prove his skill."
"And if he should fail I have not wasted the services of a good body servant on a foreign prisoner, is that it?" the prince asked his priest with a wry smile.
"I did not say so, my Prince," replied Duo demurely.
Katrah-en paused a moment, deep in thought, and Trowa felt the reality of what was occurring catch up with him. Duo was proposing to have Tetiun, that lithe and beautiful boy who seemed so near his own age, assigned to him as a personal servant. Gods, no. Anything but that, he prayed silently. An older servant he could manage, but not someone so young and pretty. It had been difficult enough to hide what he was back home where the fate of his tribe might depend on his heirs, but here, in a foreign court, where he had little more to do than find ways to keep himself amused...
"Very well. Tetiun...attend." The prince of Nekheb gestured toward the assembly as the young man stepped forward and bowed deeply before him. "From now on you will be the body servant of prince Trowa. You will tend to his every need and obey his commands as though they were my own. Only those commands delivered from my mouth, or from the mouths of Wufei and Inuiu in my stead, will take precedence over your loyalty to the prince of Teresh. Is this understood?"
"My Prince, I am yours to command."
"Wufei, show the prince to his apartments and see to it that Tetiun's pallet and trinkets are moved there. I suppose that our Lord Heero will want to know the location of his charge?"
"Indeed, prince," replied Heero with veiled emotion. "I insist on placing guards outside his door."
"You will place one guard outside his door, Lord Heero," corrected the prince. "The other will be mine. As to other surveillance matters, I will meet with you later to discuss them."
After an obvious struggle with his better judgment, Heero nodded. "Very well, prince. Further arrangements can wait a while."
"Indeed." Katrah-en's nose wrinkled slightly. Evidently he found the thought of the meeting distasteful. "Wufei, Lord Heero will escort you with a guard of his choice. When all the arrangements have been made, show him to his own apartments where his family waits for him. Rashid, assign one of your men to the guard the prince's door until a proper schedule can be arranged. Duo, accompany the prince, assess his health, and give your list of prescriptions to Wufei. Do not attempt to assign duties to Tetiun yourself or I will have your guts read for my pleasure and left for carrion. I will be expecting you in my private chambers after you have carried out my orders." The prince pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes as though warding off a headache. "After today, I feel the need to speak to my father." There were murmurs of assent and cautious bows. "I have had enough of this. You are all dismissed."
The prince of Nekheb sat in silence until his steward led away the troublesome newcomers and then sat in silence some more. Of all the assembly, only the herald Inuiu and the scribe Anpu-nakht were close enough to see the boy's feature's soften, his lip trembling, but they were far to wise to speak a word. With a quiet breath to fill his lungs and slow his beating heart, the prince pressed his lips together in determination.
"Seb, come forward. Take Duo's things to my chamber and be sure that nothing is broken. Selket-em-paf, read to me the most important of today's petitions. The rest can wait until tomorrow when we have sorted out today's nest of snakes..."
"Is the Prince's father ill that he requires a physician to speak with him? Is that why he is on the throne at such a young age?"
It was an insolent question, perhaps, but Trowa felt that if he were to suffer a monstrous headache for the boy-prince's amusement, the least he was owed was an explanation. But not even insolence could account for the strained lack of reaction from the servants around him. Wufei's face remained a mask, his jaw set, and Rashid's assigned guard - a man by the name of Hakim - stiffened in his march. Even Tetiun managed to look embarrassed and focused on a point at the end of the hall. Heero and Pen-ab, trailing behind, seemed confused by the reactions of those around them, but said nothing. Only Duo seemed inclined to respond...but then Trowa had the distinct feeling that Duo would be inclined to respond to anything.
"A physician you say? You flatter me, prince." He smiled and averted his eyes with false modesty, bringing a hand to his chest as though touched by the compliment. "I am a priest of Set [10], not Sekhmet [11], and the prince requires my services because his father - may his name live forever - is dead." He laughed at Trowa's shocked expression and continued. "It has been so for over a year, prince Trowa. There is no shame in stating the facts plainly. If it's my dealings with the dead that disturb you, I advise you not to worry. It is one of the things we are trained to do and no harm will come to you or your kin through it."
"Unless the prince's 'father' advises him to begin a war with my people," replied Trowa drily.
"I doubt any instruction that clear would come as a result of the prince's conversations," replied the priest with a grin. "Far be it for me to discuss my prince's private moments, but I can assure you that the dead are not very talkative. Any conversation on their part is usually of an oracular nature."
"You mean they're as false as your search for demons."
"I did not say that."
"It seems you do not say a lot of things," replied Trowa, not bothering to hide his irritation.
"As you wish." Duo dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "Believe what you like...there are demons and I have delivered you from them. Some of them. Isn't that right, Wufei?"
"I'm afraid I have no comment for the prince."
Duo sighed and shrugged. "He rarely has a comment. His is a dangerous position for comments. But for that he is trustworthy...remember it, prince Trowa."
"Remember, too, that I must report truthfully to my Prince about that which I am asked," added Wufei grimly. "But I will not see your every move as an attack against our land."
"And that is what I meant," grinned the priest, lunging forward to knock the steward's heavy black wig askance.
"Duo! Enough!" snapped Wufei, replacing the hairpiece, but his features quickly softened as he righted the wig and walked on in silence.
"Do you really see enemies behind every stone?" Trowa could not help but voice his disbelief. "As a guest here, will I have no freedoms at all lest they be interpreted as enemy action?"
Wufei paused before a door and looked back at him with pain-filled eyes. "That will not be discussed in the hallways. I will speak with you in the privacy of your chambers. Here," he said, unlatching the door and letting it swing open. "Come and see your apartment. Hakim, please watch this door until you are relieved. Heero, I must speak with the prince about our city and Pharaoh has entrusted him to your care. Feel free to join us if you wish, but please leave your guard at his post."
"I do so wish." Heero's voice was brusque, but held none of its earlier hostility. "Pen-ab, you will guard this door until I have conferred with Prince Quatre. Obey the rules of the palace guard as demonstrated by Hakim, but put your service to me above all other command." Pen-ab nodded his understanding and the party moved into the chamber.
"You will note, prince Trowa, that this door may not be barred," said Wufei as he closed it behind them. "You are truly not a prisoner here, nor may you shut yourself away from us. However, rest assured that your privacy will be respected as long as you are involved in no threat to the city or to its nome."
"And what guarantee do I have that I will not be involved?" Trowa was feeling quarrelsome, and why not? Was his head not reeling from just such a false accusation?
"None," replied Wufei frankly. "Know this now. Our Prince is very suspicious and superstitious...as you've no doubt realized. But he is also true to Ma'at - the balance of things. He may not like the idea of hosting an outsider prince, but he will try not to anger Pharaoh in this matter. Peace from the tribes scattered about the Great Green could make a difference in the current campaigns against the Asiatics. I must report accurately to any questions asked by my Prince - the loyalty of one's steward should be without question - but as I have said, I will not view your every move as an attack against our land. You do not know us and mistakes can be made. I will do my best to help correct them. After all," he said, his voice tinged with sadness, "I was a stranger once too."
"Where might the prince go if he wishes to leave the room?" said Heero after a moment of silence. "And where might his guards follow?"
"Prince Quatre will discuss the guard duties with you, Lord Heero," replied Wufei, recovering his courtesy. "But in the meantime, use your judgment. If you have any questions, confer with Rashid...he is a good man. The only area in the palace under the Prince's strictest ruling is the guest garden where guards may patrol the perimetre, but not enter unless an emergency is suspected. It is meant to be a place of shelter and there is no other way out so it is considered best to allow our guests some privacy."
"Mainly because there are many fine pools for swimming and trysting or both at once," grinned Duo.
"Indeed," said Wufei with a wry smile before turning back to Trowa. "You will be expected to join the Prince for the evening meal although the rest of the day is yours. With regards to communication, you may have use of Anpu-nakht when he is not busy with the Prince's dictations or one of the house scribes when he is. Since the Prince commits much to written document, the latter is probably most likely. I recommend Meribast whose hand is quick and neat. Heralds can be hired for urgent messages, but Inuiu makes regular journies to the capital and back, delivering missives. Admittedly he is not likely to be the one to return your letters as your tribesmen will not receive them until he has already made his way back to Nekheb. Know too that all of your outgoing messages will be read and restamped with the prince's own seal."
Trowa frown. This he did not like. It was not that he had any plans to overthrow the city, but the lack of any privacy irritated him. Still, he remained cordial. "I only intend to reassure my father of my welfare."
"Thank you for your understanding," said Wufei with sincerity. "That is all you will need for now. If you have further questions, do not hesitate to ask Tetiun. If he cannot help you, he will fetch someone who can."
"His loyalty is to be commended."
The comment had been made so quietly and without humour that Trowa was surprised to realize that it was Duo who had spoken. He looked around only to be caught in the braided priest's deep eyes, whose colour he couldn't quite fathom. Sometimes they seemed blue and sometimes black and sometimes a deep and stormy purple, but always they were dark and bottomless. And while they were usually filled with glamour, this time Trowa could see no guile at all.
There was a message there...but Trowa would have to think on it when his head did not ache so badly.
"Duo, begin your examination so that I may show Lord Heero to his apartment," Wufei was saying. "State any prescriptions you might have. Tetiun, take note. I will interrupt if I find any of your suggestions questionable, but I don't see the need to have the orders repeated twice."
"My prescriptions are the same," shrugged the priest. "He needs rest, food, and washing to make him feel whole again. Nothing more and nothing less. Tetiun surely took note of everything in the audience chamber, didn't you?" He smiled as the young body servant rattled off his recommendations to the letter including the rather suggestive need to balance energies. "You see? He is a fine servant. I do not lie."
Wufei snorted and offered a mild shrug. "Very well, then. If the prince permits, I will leave with Lord Heero and leave him to Tetiun's care. What say you, prince Trowa?"
"I say that I would like to know why your Prince has the hair and face of a foreigner," said Trowa. Despite his headache, he did not want to be left alone in this strange place and he had come to regard Heero as a friend if not an ally. But the look of barely concealed fear in the steward's eyes changed his mind. "But I'm sure it can wait. I think I will be here for a very long time, may the gods protect my father."
"Thank you, prince," sighed Wufei with relief. "If you will dismiss me, I will attend to our other guest."
"You are dismissed."
"Thank you, prince."
Wufei bowed and stepped toward the door, but Heero raised a hand to hold him back and turned toward Trowa. "Know you that although we are here to protect the empire from you and your kind, so are we sworn to protect you from the empire. If anyone in this city does not seem able to properly honour a visiting prince, tell me and I will see to it that the matter is settled."
Genuinely touched by the offer, Trowa managed a brief smile. "Thank you, I shall. Greet your family for me. I hope to meet them one day."
"Perhaps," Heero nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps." He bowed slightly and permitted Wufei to lead him from the room.
"What a relief! I thought they'd never leave!" Duo exhaled noisily and looked around the room. Trowa wished the he too would leave. "It was kind of Wufei not to throw me out first. He should have. Don't tell the Prince that he didn't. Normally he adheres very rigidly to the rules which is why he is in such a favoured position, but he will let things slip if he thinks he can get away with it. Prince Quatre is blond because the gods have willed it so."
Trowa nearly missed his question amid the chatter. His look of surprise must have been evident for Duo laughed. "It is the only explanation anyone will give. His father was a dark-haired son of Kemet and his mother was a dark-haired daughter of Kemet...so say the records...but he was born with pale skin, blue eyes, and blond hair like the sun. That is the most obvious sign that he was born to be a Prince."
"Really," said Trowa.
"No. Really his mother was a Libu concubine who died in childbirth. His father's wife lost hers while it was still in the womb and adopted our current Prince, legally binding his blood to hers so that it might be pure and make him best suited to the throne. He would have ruled anyway, being the only son in a family of daughters, but the mother's blood is important [12]. Of course, there are still some that wish he would marry one of his sisters to keep the blood pure in more than the legal sense, but he seems disinclined to do so. Not that he hasn't got a fine selection to choose from."
Trowa wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had heard of this appalling custom. He himself had only an elder sister and though he loved her dearly, he would never think of marrying her to keep his own throne. That was a title which came with being his father's son! Besides, if he were to marry his sister, who would be left to form alliances with other tribes by marrying their kings? The marriage of siblings was such an impractical custom...
Trowa let his thoughts drift away as Duo's words filtered back into his mind. "In any event, I just thought that I would tell you this so that you would know that there are still some people in Nekheb who aren't afraid do give away a few secrets. Still, you'll find it easier to simply be clever and keep your eyes and ears open. The walls and pillars do. But I should leave Tetiun to his duties and you to your fate," said the priest before Trowa could think to ask him the meaning of his last statement. "It would be rude...and dangerous...to keep my Prince waiting. Take care of our guest, Tetiun, and remember what I told you about massaging oils."
"Arsenic should be rubbed into the skin with short, brisk strokes," repeated the body servant obediently. Trowa's eyes flew open in alarm and Duo paled considerably. "Oh, you mean about heating it and avoiding scents that are too sweet," said Tetiun slyly. "I think that myrrh was suggested for relaxation."
"It's a good thing you are being assigned a new master," exhaled Duo with relief. "And a better one that Heero is no longer in the room. I knew it was a mistake to let you watch me work. But for now I must attend to my Prince," he said before Trowa could question him. "Please forgive Tetiun's little jokes. I'm afraid he has had an unworthy master. I will have food, drink, and the appropriate oils sent to your chamber. A good night to you, prince Trowa." And before anything more could be said, he was gone.
Trowa could not decide whether to be amused by the priests discomfort or bewildered by his energy. In any case, he decided against laughter which would only cause his head to ache more severely. Instead he turned back into the room to take stock of his surroundings. The moment he turned from the door, Tetiun dropped to his knees and pressed his head to the stone floor. "Forgive me my jests, prince," he said fervently. "You would understand if you knew my former master. I would never think of harming you or any other. I am sorry."
Momentarily embarrassed - he had been bowed to by servants, but never with so much humility - Trowa paused in his reply. The position stretched the skin and muscle of the youth's lean torso and caused his kilt to cling to his well formed posterior. The room was becoming unnaturally warm. Trowa sighed. "You are forgiven. Please rise. If you must bow, do so from the waist...seeing you on the ground disturbs me."
"As you wish, prince," replied Tetiun, rising and offering a brief bow from the waist. "I know it is forward, prince, but may I ask a favour? I know you are a prince and I should address you as such, but may I be permitted to call you 'master'? My Prince Quatre must also be addressed as 'prince' and it might cause confusion. I do not want to cause confusion."
He desperately did not want to cause confusion. This much was obvious. Trowa relented. "You may if you will answer one question. Is your prince so terrible that no one wishes to utter a single word he might dislike? Not to mention misinterpreted..."
"Our Prince upholds Ma'at as his father before him, Master," replied Tetiun. "Order and obedience are pleasing to her. We are cautious in our words, but efficient in our work. Moreso than many other cities. Also..." Tetiun bit the edge of his lip as though weighing the danger of his next statement. "Also, the Prince's father was assassinated and he is much afraid," he said in a low voice. Then, "Thank you, Master, for granting my petition. You are kind."
"I will not be kind for long if my head does not stop pounding," replied Trowa drily. "I will have more questions for you, which you will answer to the best of your abilities, but not until I have rested. I will not let the answers you give leave this room," he added when the youth looked alarmed. "Now I wish to see my apartment, and then I wish to sleep."
Tetiun offered another brief bow and stepped aside so that Trowa might examine his surroundings. They were quite bare. The room in which he stood was obviously some kind of sitting room with a couple of low chairs and cushions for reclining, a small brazier ready to be lit during the cool desert nights, and a low table to hold refreshments. Stylized fig trees graced the walls with an illusion of a secluded garden. A clay chest, gaily painted, puzzled him for a moment until he opened it and noted the cooler temperature within its shadowed interior. A place for wine or beer, then...or any other possessions he might have that would be spoiled by the blazing noontime sun. A second chest - this time of painted wood - revealed, of all things, a set of games. He did not recognize them, but perhaps he could learn. Anything was preferable to boredom. The front room led to an inner chamber, cool and dim despite the heat, thanks to the heavily beaded curtain which covered the smallish window. The far wall held a curtained enclosure which encircled a small dais. On the dais was a couch of the sort favoured for sleeping. Fresh linen sheets had been spread over it, their soft texture one of the small luxuries Trowa could appreciate as prisoner, and a curving headrest sat at one end. "I want a real pillow," he demanded, knowing Tetiun had followed.
"Yes, Master."
He supposed he would simply have to get used to having a handsome tail.
He noted that his baggage had arrived and been unpacked. A quick inventory proved that nothing was missing - not a single jewel or coin...not even a sandal - but the invasion of his privacy still irritated him. It was something else he would have to get used to, he supposed. The people of Kemet entrusted everything to their servants, trusting their belief in this thing called Ma'at to keep all men honest. Still, he would try to instruct Tetiun otherwise.
At least his things had been neatly arranged in the cedar chests and on the shelves. He was pleased to see that he had been permitted to keep his weapons, the hilt of his sword and the point of his spear jauntily poking out of a tall urn in the corner. Considering the artistic clutter of the couch wall and window wall, Trowa was surprised to see one corner of his room all but bare. He asked Tetiun about it.
"Oh...that is for my pallet and few possessions, Master," replied the youth somewhat shyly. "I will keep my chest of oils there as well."
"You're to sleep in my room?"
Flustered by Trowa's apparent disapproval, Tetiun began to stammer. "Well...it...it is normally th-the custom...b-but of course if...if it makes you un-uncomfortable...I can sleep in the front. I...I must be on hand at all times, Master...to...to serve your needs."
They have no idea what my needs are, thought Trowa wearily. "No. It's alright. I was simply surprised. Of course you may sleep where it is best for you to perform your duties."
"Thank you, Master," replied Tetiun with relief. He seemed about to speak again, but was interrupted by a rapping at the door.
"Food and drink for the prince," came the muffled announcement.
It was Trowa's turned to be relieved. "Have them bring it in," he instructed, glad to be rid of Tetiun for just a few moments. "Set it on the table in the front. I will join you shortly."
With a brief bow, Tetiun vanished into the front room and Trowa was blessedly alone. Not for long, perhaps, but long enough to recover his wits and regain his composure. He wished once again that Heero was nearby, his strong but quiet presence having become a comfort. More than that, Heero was safe. With a wife and a child kept firmly in mind, Trowa was able to disregard the soldier's handsome features.
The prince gave himself a mental shake. Had it really been that long? More than likely. The sting of Lucen's death had faded. They had been little more than acquaintances, but they had understood each other and had provided one another with a safe haven for their needs and afflictions.
But now he was alone and trapped in the very land his father and his allies had fought in the hopes of securing enough land to take them away from the barbarians who'd come from the north, driving his own civilization ahead of them. Here, he was the barbarian. Thinking back, he supposed it was true. He, like the others, had come from the north sea, screaming their battle cries. And they had nearly made it as well, penetrating the Delta with surprising ease until Kemet could refocus her energies and stop them with a hand like the granite of her monuments.
Dismissing his thoughts he entered the front room just as Tetiun was preparing to send away a serving girl in a plain white sheath who tried her best to look over and around the body servant without seeming too obvious. Trowa supposed he was a bit of a curiosity. Who wouldn't want to lay eyes on a barbarian from a land they had surely never heard of until now? Seeing him, Tetiun changed his mind and motioned for the girl to stay.
"Master," he said. "Will you want to bathe in the showers or here in your room? If you would prefer privacy, I will have Khemti-nub order heated water and natron [13] for you."
Showers? This was something Trowa had never experienced, but the thought of more people only made him feel tired. "The showers are not private?"
"Some are shared by the small nobility and the high administrators who live in the palace precinct," the youth admitted. "The servants have their own bath house."
Trowa collapsed into one of the chairs and rubbed at his temples. "Then I will bathe in my room."
"As you wish, Master." The body servant issued several instructions to the girl who nodded, turned to smile at Trowa, and - with a bob of her head - was gone. "There was a message on the tray, Master."
Trowa leaned forward and noticed the scrap of papyrus which he plucked from between a jar and a vial. It had been scrawled in the brief shorthand descended from the hieroglyphs. He had some knowledge of the native language - who did not - but the exact meaning of this note was difficult to decipher. He looked up at Tetiun. "I cannot read this," he lied. "Can you?"
The young man looked embarrassed. "I should not be able to, Master. But if you wish for me to do so, I will. Please do not tell Prince Quatre." He held out his hand for the note, examined it briefly, and set it aside. "It is from the priest, Duo. There will be a delay in the arrival of all of my things, but he has sent along those items which he thought would be most useful. The jars are oils...the vial an essence of poppy which you are to take right away for your headache."
Trowa had thought as much. The script was difficult to read, but he had managed the key words. "We used poppy back home as well," he said, plucking the vial from the tray. "Is this a full dose or should I take only a part of it? And you may sit. I don't like people standing over me."
Tetiun sank to his knees on the floor and shook his head. "The note does not say, so I would think that you should take all of it. I know from watching my former master that this much will not harm you although it might make you quite sleepy."
"I am sleepy anyway," snorted Trowa, drinking the full dose. "And you may use a chair. Or at least a cushion," he amended when the other looked embarrassed. He had always been too generous toward his servants, but none of them had ever been quite as...servile...as this one.
"Thank you, Master," said Tetiun repositioning himself one of the pillows and laying the dishes out on the table, setting the jars of oil aside for later. "Do you want me to taste them, Master?"
"What?"
"Do you want me to taste them? Normally I would be required to prepare your food myself, but things have been a touch disorderly today. It would only be right that I test your food for poison, Master. I doubt anyone in the palace wishes you ill, least of all the Prince, but one can never tell."
Trowa offered him a wry smile. "You can if you wish. It is probably safe enough. Did your former master make you do this thing?"
"No, Master," replied Tetiun, taking a small amount from each dish. "Duo would not permit me to do so. He said that he had already tasted every known poison and had not been killed yet!"
"He did not seem so unpopular."
The servant swallowed a bite of date. "Oh, no one has tried to poison him, Master. Duo makes poisons. Sometimes he tests his ingredients on his tongue...but only those which do not kill in small quantity. Most of Set's priests are trained to make poisons."
"Oh?" Trowa was amused. Tetiun seemed to have learned his speaking habits from Duo and would no doubt divulge much with few questions. He wondered if the priest had known that when he'd had Tetiun assigned to the visiting prince and decided that he had.
"Oh yes. Any physician can make poisons. The ingredients are often the same, but in larger doses. But it would be immoral. They are for healing, not killing. Most other priests will not perform exorcisms either. No one wishes to deal with demons. Only some, like the priests of Khonsu [14], will do it, but they must be of a special class."
"What about speaking to the dead?"
"Not even Asar's priests speak to the dead." Tetiun's eyes were bright and distrustful. His voice dropped, becoming barely audible. "The Prince should not have it done. He is foolish for wanting to speak to his father."
"And priests like Duo?"
"Do what all the others will not...as someone must. Forgive me, Master," said Tetiun with uncertainty. "I have never tasted food before and I'm not sure what signs I should be aware of other than my death."
Trowa could not help being amused by the statement. "Do you feel well?"
"Yes, Master."
"You are in no pain at all?"
"No, Master."
"Then I suppose it is safe enough," he said, reaching for a honeyed date. "I do not intend to wait for any poison that will take effect hours from now."
He paused in his questioning while he ate. The drug had, in fact, begun to make him feel sleepy even as it began to dull his pain and he thought that he might put off any further learning until after he had slept. Hot water, natron, and swatches of linen arrived just as he finished the last of the meal and Trowa wondered if he was expected to bathe in front of Tetiun as well when the body servant answered his question by stretching one cloth out on the floor and inviting him to stand on it.
Curious, the foreign prince obeyed and was shocked when the young man began to undress him. Enough so that an animal hiss escaped him and he drew back, holding his kilt - he had taken to the native fashion while still living in the Delta - though his belt fell into Tetiun's hands and was nonchalantly put aside. "Please, Master," smiled the servant, lowering his eyes demurely, "this I am accustomed to. It is my function. I will treat it as simply another task. You have my promise. Step forward again and hold out your arms."
Trowa considered dismissing him then and there - Wasn't he above a mere servant? Didn't his wishes count for anything? - but the thought was quickly discarded. If he had learned anything about survival, it was that those who fit in lived the longest. From what he'd seen of Kemet, the Norm was an all-powerful force and deserving of the emphasis his mind placed upon it. Steeling his nerve and clenching his jaw, he stepped forward once again and did as asked, barely breathing as he felt his kilt and loincloth removed, his sandals set aside, his bangle slid from his arms and neck. A smaller cloth, rough woven, was dipped in the water, wrung out, and passed over his body, vigourously rubbing the sweat and grime of his travels from his skin. It was not an unpleasant sensation. In fact, it was entirely too enjoyable for the prince's comfort and he kept his eyes closed tightly as he concentrated on anything other than the young man who seemed intent on scrubbing every inch of his body with the searing liquid.
Every single inch.
Next came the natron, rubbed into his flesh with a separate cloth. It produced a stinging, tingling feeling of cleanliness once it was sluiced away with water-choked linen. With his skin thus softened, he permitted Tetiun to shave his face, but protested the rest of his body which had very little hair to begin with. He drew the line entirely at his head. The other nobles could go bald beneath their wigs and skull caps, but he would not be one of them. His refusal forced him into a kneeling position so that Tetiun might wash the oil and grit from his hair, combing out the worst of the snarls. A trimming of the ends was also permitted and once he had been dried with a second sheet of linen, Trowa was asked to step off the drop sheet so that the whole could be gathered up and sent for washing. He reached for his kilt once again, but Tetiun scowled at him and snatched it away.
"You would put on soiled clothing after being cleaned, Master? And sleep in it besides?"
"What would you suggest?" said Trowa as he discreetly tried to cover his nakedness with his bare hands.
"I would suggest laying down on your couch, Master," replied Tetiun with obvious amusement as he picked up the tray with the jars of oil. "Face down, of course, that I might finish the duties assigned to me."
Resigned to his fate of sublime torture at the hands of his body servant, Trowa did as he was asked and retired to the back room where he stretched out on the firmly padded couch and felt the linen sheet pulled up to his waist and folded back over his legs. He cautiously peered over his shoulder at Tetiun as the young man removed the stopper from one of the jars and poured a little oil between his hands. These he rubbed vigourously together for a short time before applying them to his master's shoulder blades.
Trowa gave a slight gasp and sigh as the warmth of the oil was absorbed by his body, seeking out aches and stiffness whose presence he had not even suspected. "I will go no further than your back and shoulders this time, Master, as you seem unused to such attentions," said Tetiun as he worked a knot of muscle high on the prince's back. "Perhaps, in time, you will allow me to give you a full massage. I think you would enjoy it."
"What is a full massage?" said Trowa, acutely aware of how much energy it had taken to simply ask the question.
Tetiun leaned closer as he reached across his master's back, his warm breath tickling the back of Trowa's sun-browned neck. "In a full massage, I would rub every one of your muscles...in every part of your body. It is a good way to balance the humours and promote good health."
"Mmmmn...I couldn't ask such a thing of you," replied Trowa in a haze of semi-sleep, unconscious of his moan of pleasure. "It cannot be right. Among my people..."
"We are not among your people, Master." Through the mental fog, Tetiun's voice was as pure and sweet as honey. "And you may ask me whatever you like. I am your body servant...your will is my will."
My will... thought Trowa as he drifted off to sleep.
[10] We all remember Seth from "Strength of One", don't we? Although he's looked upon as more of a war god than anything else, Seth's priests tend to be known for necromancy . What...you thought Duo would be serving someone normal?
[11] Following the logic set above, Sekhmet - a goddess of violence and pestilence - had priests who were well known for their skill as healers. Anyone who can cause wounds and fevers should damn well be able to get rid of them too.
[12] In Egypt, the right to a young man's profession was determined by his father, but his bloodline was determined by his mother (because she's the only parent a person can be sure of, I imagine). So, the elder son of a Pharaoh by a concubine has the right to rule, but can be cut out of the will by a younger brother who is the son of both the current Pharaoh and the current Queen (generally referred to as the Great Royal Wife). An elder son in this position could get around the law by marrying the daughter of a Great Royal Wife...generally his own sister unless his father had died in the interim. In Quatre's case, a legal adoption by the ruling princess would make him her blood relative...but traditionalists might not see it that way and choose to support the sons of one of his sisters if they were ever to rise up against him. His supporters would prefer it if he married a princess - a sister - to secure his position.
[13] Natron: native sodium carbonate. The Egyptians used a natron bath to preserve their dead and kill any germs or diseases that could arise from a corpse. It was also used as an anti-bacterial agent while washing (they would have loved the influx of such products on the market today). The Egyptians - at least those of the upper class - were neurotically clean. Just like it is generally agreed upon that the Bible's Exodus actually happened (although not precisely as described as the Bible is - like most religious texts - largely symbolic), the current theory (among Egyptologists anyway) is that the Orthodox Jewish regulations regarding cleanliness had probably been learned in Egypt and carried out with the Hebrews.
[14] A recent development as per a well-known Egyptian folktale about how Khonsu expelled a demon from a foreign princess during the reign of Ramesses II.
"The Prince of Nekheb" copyright A.C.Smith (aka Lady Bast), 2002. Send comments to asmith@ican.net Please do not repost or print (other than for personal use) without permission. The Gundam boys and all their paraphenelia belong to whomever currently holds the rights...I'm just borrowing them for a while. No infringement is intended, really. Really really. Please don't sue me, I have no money. If, however, you have a burning desire to hire me and PAY me money to write this kinda stuff, feel free to track me down.