by Lady Bast
The dining hall and the assembly hall were one and the same though it took Trowa a few moments to recognize it in the glow of the myriad torches and braziers that lit the chamber with the dying of the sun. The administrator's benches had been removed to be replaced with low chair surrounded by cushions and a low table, creating an avenue of dinner tables that led to the foot of the Prince's dais. Trowa stepped to the right of the line to let Tetiun know that he had understood the seating arrangements, signaled to Inuiu that he was not yet ready to enter, and paused to examine the guests who had already arrived.
Though he was far from the first, barely half the hall had been filled and he regretted not letting Tetiun hold him back a few moments more so that he would not appear too eager, but there was no help for it now. Those milling about the room, calling greetings and sharing conversation, were dressed in simply with kilts for the younger men and an added shirt for the older. The women had chosen their most elegant sheaths and Trowa could tell the richest among them by their choice of nearly transparent and highly pleated fabrics. Those without the means or the inclination had settled for simple linen and tasteful jewellery which Trowa found the most attractive. Though he had a preference for young men, he was not disinclined to appreciate the beauty of women, an advantage as it served the dual purpose of covering his guilty yearnings and choosing appropriate gifts for his sister, whom he loved dearly.
But she was far too buxom to wear these sheaths though the light and easily washed linen would appeal to her. Perhaps one of the more flowing styles that began below the breasts then, he mused even as he absorbed the faces and features of those around him, with a draped overshirt for her modesty? Whichever he chose, he would have to include some fine gold armlets and pots of make-up...the former for her status and the latter to amuse her.
"Master," whispered Tetiun with unaccustomed discretion. "It is best to claim your place now, the others are beginning to notice you."
Trowa offered the barest of nods and stepped forward. Taking this as a sign of his official entrance, Inuiu reassumed his duties as herald, his powerful voice drawing the attention of any who had not yet noticed the foreign visitor. "The Gracious Prince Terewa of Teresh, protected by the Pharaoh," he announced, the words ringing from the stone walls of the chamber, stilling those gathered into silence. "May he live long, be healthy, and prosper."
"Oh, I think I could have done without that," Trowa breathed, stepping past the herald who did not even try to hide his amusement. Was he a game, even to the household servants? Perhaps he was too lenient with them.
Trowa dismissed the thought. The damage was done and it was best to simply get to his seat where he could speak with Tetiun in the guise of giving orders. It might be...unbecoming... to consort with one's servants, as Prince Quatre had once said, but at least the body servant was as familiar a face as he could expect to see. The feeling of isolation intensified as the stunned silence was broken by muted whispers. He knew he was the subject of their conversation. Large, dark eyes darted from himself to those of their companions, the sea of blue, green, and grey lids...the ocean of deep browns and blacks heavily rimmed with kohl...threatening to drown him in the depths of their curiosity. The fingers of hennaed hands pointed furtively in his direction, quickly withdrawing lest they be thought rude. Beads and gold disks chimed together in the wigs of heads bent to murmur comments or critiques in the ears of their neighbours. Trowa did not turn his head even once in his walk from the doorway to the low seat near the dais. He was used to being the centre of his people's attention, but that was in Teresh where he was respected as the heir to his father's throne, not Kemet where he was little better than a freakish creature from across the Great Green, practically a myth to frighten naughty children.
Be good or the Sea Peoples will come and steal you away.
He tried his best to ignore them as he sat, adopting an imperial air in the hopes of appearing self-confident. In fact, he was wishing he could have taken his meal in his chamber. Beside him, Tetiun had settled onto the cushions in a pose that suggested he was awaiting instruction. In fact, he had begun to whisper advice.
"Now that you've claimed the place of importance, Master," he said softly, barely appearing to move or speak, "you can move among the other guests if you like. No one will approach and speak to you without first asking your permission - at least not until the wine starts flowing more freely - but it would be bad form to refuse them. You can, of course, excuse yourself from their presence at any time and need not ask permission to approach anyone. If you need water or wine, there are servants circulating - the water-bearers have the blue jugs, the wine-bearers have the red . They can be signaled or I can fetch things for you as needed."
"I think I would rather you stayed here for the moment," murmured Trowa, forcing disinterest into his expression as he scanned the crowd to discourage companionship. He did, however, show interest in one of the wine-bearers, calling him forward with a gesture. "Are you permitted to eat and drink as well?"
"The servants normally eat afterwards unless they are food tasters. I may drink water as well if you allow it, Master."
"Then you will be my official food taster this evening," murmured Trowa. "And don't content yourself with little bites. I am not too proud to admit that I could not have done without your help and won't have you waiting while the rest of us are eating. Although, for appearances sake, I will ask you to fetch your own water."
Tetiun coloured slightly, obviously pleased. "Thank you, Master...it is my pleasure to serve you."
Trowa felt his own temperature raise and was relieved when Inuiu's voice shattered his thoughts. He was doubly relieved when he heard the announcement.
"Lord Hor-ah, Second General of the Division of Horus, and Lady Relena of Pi-Ramesses!"
Trowa nearly did not recognize the soldier in his dress uniform. The pratcial sort, Heero did not tend to dress any differently than his soldiers in the field, but now he wore a shirt of bronze scaled armour in addition to his white kilt which was adorned with a belt and apron of white trimmed in blue - the colours of the Royal House. The stiffened leather cap he wore by custom bore similar markings and blue faieance [22] decorated his armlets, bracelets, and the Eye of Horus hung about his neck. Fully made up for the first time since making Trowa's acquaintance, the foreign prince fought to suppress a smile. He did not think that Heero was the type to enjoy eye shadow and henna, and the sour expression on the soldier's face could only confirm his suspicions.
Trowa could only suppose that the young woman on his arm was his wife. He had known that his keeper's wife was a foreigner, but he had not yet met her. He was somewhat surprised to see that the Lady Relena was blonde - not with the sunlit brilliance of Prince Quatre's hair, but with warm honeyed tones that were rich and pleasing. Her faintly olive skin, where it had not been buried in layers of ochre, henna, clamshell and kohl, was much lighter than that of most native women though it was darker than that of her Achaean peers. She offered Trowa a friendly smile as her husband helped settle her on the low chair and then joined her, leaving their two servants to settle themselves on the cushions beside them. Fortunately, the distance between them was not too great for conversation.
"That priest left Seb to serve us tonight," grumbled Heero in Trowa's direction, his voice made it clear that he did not enjoy being waited upon...at least not by unfamiliar servants. The dark-skinned body servant only slipped the lord's make-up box beneath his seat and put a pair of bound papyrus sandals on the floor for Heero to step into. "He is adept, but unduly superstitious. Do you know that he sprinkled some foul liquid from a blue pot all about our room just after the midday meal?" Beside him, Relena pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her smile, then leaned over to whisper something in her husband's ear. For a moment, Trowa thought the soldier might blush, but his eyes hardened into points of steel. "My wife reminds me that I have neither made obeisance nor introduced her. My apologies."
"No need for the former," replied Trowa. "Although you are supposed to make sure that I behave myself, I have no intention of making things difficult for my father and have come to regard you as an ally and...I hope...as a friend. We are both strangers here, after all. Even so, I would like the pleasure of an introduction."
Inclining his head slightly to the left and reaching across with his right hand to lightly, and somewhat awkwardly, touch his wife's arm, Heero said, "May I present to you my wife, the Lady Relena. Her father is an Achaean merchant...very influential across the Great Green and well known in the capital. Relena, here is the reason for our sojourn, Prince Terewa of Teresh."
Trowa bowed his head in respect and returned Relena's gentle smile. "You do not favour the wigs that the other women do?" he asked her mildly.
"No more than you seem to favour the local method of dress," the woman replied in good humour. Trowa had forgotten for a moment his attire and fought the blush that he could feel rising to touch his cheeks. "Sometimes I will wear them," Relena continued, "but no...I do not like them at all. Until my marriage to Heero I had spent little time in Kemet and cannot seem to adopt the customs entirely." Here she smoothed the linen of her wrap which fell in fell in distinctly Achaeanian folds over the fully native sheath dress beneath. "But please don't think that I regret my position for even a moment. I very much love my new home...just as much as I love my family. I do hope that your stay will be pleasant, prince, though the circumstances are not."
"Please, lady, call me Trowa. I have few enough friends here. I would like to count your family among them."
"Trowa, then," said Relena with a slight nod. "Unless protocol demands otherwise. I must admit that I am a little apprehensive. In the Delta, one is accustomed to a certain amount of foreign trade around the palace as well as the marketplace. I feel terribly out of place." She touched her hair nervously, then willed her hand back into her lap. "I feel as though I should have at least used more pins and ribbons. Perhaps left it down instead of pinning it back and added an over-wig of gold disks. But I am, in my way, a foreign representative and I do not wish to hide the fact. Still, I admire your courage in appearing as you do."
"Oh, I will be more compliant in my day to day dress," Trowa assured her. "But I will not hide what I am at my introductory feast."
"I hope that is the only reason for your tunic," warned Heero. "I won't be able to protect you if you willfully antagonize the Prince of this city."
Trowa's reassurances were cut off by the announcement of the High Priest of Nekhebet, patron goddess of the city, followed quickly by the arrival of the mayor. The former was a thin, tired-looking man - reserved, but polite - attended by two temple servants. Relena took it upon herself to cheer and relax him. Being a beautiful young woman, Trowa was sure she would have no difficulties. His own new companions, the mayor and his wife, were ample, jolly people and once they had paid their deference to his station, they were content to carry the conversation for which Trowa was pleased. He thought he sensed some disapproval regarding his choice of costume, but they did not dwell on the subject, sating their curiosity of his homeland with trivial questions and asking his opinion of their city.
"I'm afraid I haven't been here nearly long enough to have sampled all the pleasures of Nekheb," Trowa replied.
"That is quite alright, my dear," smiled the mayor's wife, a pleasingly plump woman named Nefera. "Nekheb is very beautiful, but not nearly the attraction it once was. We are comfortable now. We have trade, but not so much as to make us a threat in any war and we have peace, but not so much as to become bored with ourselves. And there are many festivals celebrated here. I'm sure that some will appeal to you."
She did not come out and say that he might like them despite his beliefs, but it was clearly implied. Few, if any, of Kemet's festivals were not religious in nature, but while the people were rather intolerant of dress and appearance, a plethora of gods in all cities and towns had made them surprisingly accepting of foreign beliefs, occasionally adopting the more interesting ones as their own. Few were the visitors who could not find a familiar face among the deities or at least one greatly resembling their god of choice. Trowa thanked Nefera for the suggestion and, as it was obviously the favourite subject of both the woman and her husband, asked her more about the city. "What is the market like? Are there any good craftsmen? I am looking for a gift for my sister."
As both the mayor and the mayor's wife made suggestions, giving the names and locations of merchants and artisans who had received their own personal favour, Trowa kept one eye on the growing crowd of people, cataloging faces and names as best he could whenever Inuiu made an announcement. He was not even aware that he was waiting, breath shallow with anticipation, until one of the herald's exclamations drew his attention.
"The Pure One, Set-Aket-Dua of Kom Ombo."
How odd that Duo should arrive before Quatre, thought Trowa...and then he knew. Oh, why should I be thinking of the Prince anyway? I would rather walk the grounds than be in his presence, he chastised himself as his companions in conversation were distracted by the whirlwind arrival of the young priest who'd charged right up between the tables - a space normally reserved for servants - before his name had even left Inuiu's lips. The mayor and his wife cast a disapproving glance upon the young man though their tight-lipped scowls melted into smiles in spite of themselves when the charming young man turned his grin upon them and bowed very deeply.
"My most humble apologies for my abrupt entrance, my Lord...my Lady," said Duo breathlessly. "I am infinitely happy that you have been taking such wonderful care of my friend." He bent over the table and slung an arm around Trowa's shoulders kissing him firmly on the side of the head as he tried to shrink away. "A terribly antisocial, but very courteous guest," was his verdict. Trowa half expected derision from his new companions at Duo's familiarity, but they only shook their heads with amused sympathy.
Heero was less amused. "You look like a Sheep-herder," [23] he snorted.
Distressing familiarity aside, Trowa thought that Duo looked just fine. His hair was uncommonly long, but it had been neatly rebraided with ribbons of red and gold. Those shorter strands of hair which had escaped or been purposely left undone had been twisted into tiny braids of their own, tipped with glass and gold beads. He was not wearing the common white kilt and pleated shirt of most priests, but a white kilt and red overskirt with a beaded belt, also in gold and red. The colour theme was matched by his jewellery: rings, earrings, armlets and an elaborate pectoral depicting two odd canine creatures face to face with the twisted reed of the Southlands between them. Oddly, Duo wore no bracelets or anklets. Instead, his limbs were tightly wrapped in red linen from ankle to knee and from wrist to elbow. Trowa wanted to ask him about this unusual accent, but the priest had already turned his attention to Heero.
"Such language!" he said, feigning shock. "And in front of such beautiful women. I hope this brute has not offended you, my Lady," grinned Duo with another deep bow in Relena's direction and a sweeping gesture that caused servants to skitter out of his way.
"This brute happens to be my husband and he will have to try much harder to offend me, Pure One," said Relena mildly, the slightest of smiles tugging at her lips.
"My wife, the Lady Relena," said Heero by way of introduction. "Dear sister, this is Duo of the Temple of Set. Kom Ombo...not the capital."
"So I imagined. I am I sure I have not seen him before. It is good to make your acquaintance, Duo."
"And who is this lovely lady?" the priest continued with a lesser bow in the direction of Relena's servant. The woman gave her mistress a startled look and, with a barely perceptible nod from Relena, stammered, "I..I am but Lady Relena's servant, Pure One."
"To serve a Lady, you must be quite the lady yourself," replied Duo with a grin. "Your name?"
"Miusheri, Pure One."
"Bastite?"
"My parents were, yes."
"Trowa!" said Duo, swivelling his head back toward the prince. "If you stay here long enough, you should complain until you're brought to the festival at Per Bast. [24] I've only been once. Don't remember a damned thing, but I came back with two new poisons, five new drugs, and three new social diseases. I highly recommend it." Miusheri giggled as he offered her another winning smile, "But I'm sure fine ladies like yourself have more sedate celebrations."
"Oh yes," replied Miusheri before she could stop herself. "I only acquired one new social disease." She blushed brightly and pressed her hand to her mouth, shocked by her own audacity.
Duo laughed. "That is what I like to see! Some daring!" Heero glared at Relena, but his wife was trying to suppress a smile of her own. Across from them, Tetiun was playing the part of the perfect servant - unseen and unheard - but Trowa noticed the smile that tried to emerge. He understood more perfectly now that his body servant's forward demeanor in private had been greatly influenced by Duo's unorthodox example. In many ways, he was glad...Tetiun had already become a friend and ally, more so than any silent servant could have been.
He must have been the same for Duo for the priest had not forgotten him. "Hope you are taking care of our most special guest, Teti," he grinned, sprawling out between the tables with his back against the dais and his legs impeding the servants.
"I am trying," the young man replied demurely. "It is my Master's place to say whether or not I am doing well."
"He is doing very well," supplied Trowa without hesitation.
"The gods will smile on you when you pass into the Field of Reeds, Teti, I can see to that at least. I hope Seb is doing as well," the priest said slyly, catching the other's attention with a peek from the corner of his eye. "Seb?"
"I have secured the apartment," replied the dark-skinned body servant with a hint of pride. "It is quite safe from demons."
"Oh, is that what he was doing," said Heero drily.
Relena slipped her arm in his and leaned close. "Now, Heero...play nice," she said teasingly, her voice not quite a whisper. Some of the joy left her face when her husband only grunted in reply, but she recovered quickly, offering Duo and Trowa a mildly exasperated look as if to suggest that there was really no help for him.
Duo shrugged off the soldier's impatience. "I know what the man needs, My Lovely...a real drink and not this piss-poor water they call wine. Pardon the harsh language, please...it is a subject for which I have great depth of feeling. Haven't they passed around the beer yet?"
"I don't believe we're having any." Heero's tone was carefully regulated lest a stray comment reach the ears of his host as an offending statement.
Duo made a show of appearing shocked and appalled. "Sacrilege! I'm a simple man with simple pleasures...and I'll have none of that snickering from your direction, Tetiun," he huffed though Trowa's servant had done little more than smile secretly. "Oy! Khemti! Little Kemet!"
One of the female servants looked around cautiously. Trowa recognized her as the one who had brought food to his apartment earlier that day. She was carrying a red jug of wine and looking less than pleased at being summoned. Still, she broke from her rounds and approached. "Wine, Pure One?"
"Khemti...you know better than that! Is there any beer available?"
"No, Pure One," the girl shook her head light and bowed slightly in apology. "Wufei instructed us carefully. The Prince does not feel that beer is well suited to this meal and we are not to serve it. And my name is Khemti-Nub, Pure One."
"And my name is Duo, Little Kemet," replied the priest with a grin. "Are you sure you cannot find us some?"
"Quite sure," replied Khemti-Nub. Her eyes had narrowed in suspicion. Trowa had the distinct impression that she knew what was coming next and was already debating the issue in her mind.
"Are you very sure?" persisted Duo, reaching up to tug at one of his smaller braids. "Not even for a chance to earn your name?" [25] The girl looked uncertain. "How many jugs of beer can one little bead of yours buy?"
For the first time Trowa noticed that, unlike the other servants, two of the braids framing Khemti-Nub's face were tipped with little gold beads. He could not decide if this was a symbol of status or of vanity. She seemed to value them, for her frown was plain as she considered Duo's question. "They are pure," she ventured carefully. "Three jugs, I think."
"Mention my name to wine steward and it will be four," replied Duo promptly. "Now, how many of your little beads will this one buy?"
The bead in Duo's hand was the size of a small grape and the servant's interest in it was plain. "More than three," she said matter-of-factly.
"Indeed. So...the deal is this: You will go to the wine steward and buy four jugs of beer with your little bead and hide them in the usual place. Serve me and those of my friends," here he indicated Heero and Trowa, "as well as their guests and servants from those jugs and at the end of the evening you will be more that three times richer for your trouble. You will, of course, be doing this under my orders."
The uncertainty which had coloured the girl's features left her then and she nodded. "Yes, Pure One. As you have ordered," she said and quickly disappeared among her fellow servants.
"Don't waste your gold on a servant, Duo," snorted Heero.
"Why not?" The priest looked genuinely surprised. "It's only gold, Heero. If I want more gold, I can get it. Beer, on the other hand, I'd have to get up for. Anu! Water! I am dying!"
Does he know the names of all the servants? mused Trowa, amazed. He had little time to pursue the thought, however, as Inuiu's voice called attention to the Prince's approach. Servants quickly scrambled away to the far walls, even Anu though he had nearly been tripped by Duo in the latter's attempt to jump to his feet. Not as familiar with the layout of the hall as the servants, the priest cursed and simply jumped over his own table, skidding into the priest of Ra who scowled him as he dropped onto the low stool which served as his seat.
"The Prince of Nekheb, Katrah-en," announced Inuiu. "Beloved of Amun, Son of Ra, may he live, be healthy, and prosper!"
Prince Quatre stepped into the hall, pausing in the centre of the circle made by the tables at the far end of the chamber before moving toward the narrow space in front of the dais, flanked by Rashid's men. Trowa tried to feign indifference, but nearly choked on his wine as the Prince drew near. The hollows of the Prince's lightly tanned skin had been brushed with gold dust and he shimmered as he moved...a desert mirage. No attempt had been made to hide his hair, though Heero would never have dared to comment on it. In fact, it seemed to have been purposely whipped into a frenzy of sunburst gold. Longer strands were woven with fine cord which extended well past their tips and clinked together softly their beads of blue and gold. Eyes bluer than the sky peered haughtily from kohl-lined depths, their lids also brushed with gold. Painted cheeks, hennaed lips, hennaed palms and soles of feet, hennaed swirls and whorls and patterns spiraling out from beneath inlaid armbands of green and blue and gold...all of them emphasizing the clean lines of his body. For he dressed simply, the Prince, in a plain white kilt and sheer overskirt, without sandals, without decor other than an intricate belt and plain gold earrings, and a pectoral depicting two Nekhebet vultures flanking the plumes of Amun into which had been inscribed a series of hieroglyphs in an oval frame. Most of all, he was flesh - golden brown and shimmering flesh - and it was all Trowa could do to suppress a groan of physical pain at the sight of his beauty.
For he was beautiful...and cold...and cruel. His eyes narrowed in thinly veiled hate as he passed Trowa in his woolen tunic and climbed the dais without a word to sit in his low seat with Rashid on his left and Wufei on his right and Inuiu standing at the ready a few steps behind. He raised his cup and it was filled from a red jug. He raised his hand and a servant stepped forward with a platter. The meal had begun.
Bread was plenty, although it jarred Trowa's teeth to eat it. It seemed that not even the nobleman's table was safe from the sands of Kemet. "Smaller bites and don't chew. Soften it with water or wine," whispered Tetiun under the guise of 'tasting' his master's meal. A quick glance told Trowa that the preferred method for bread consumption was in a thick slab spread with onions or vegetable paste, but some - among them Lady Relena - ate as Tetiun had demonstrated. Duo, without looking up or giving any indication that he had even noticed Trowa's dilemma, switched from one method to the other in the space of a heartbeat. Trowa smiled to himself and dipped the bread in his wine. It helped, but he called for water. The sweet taste of the wine was not one he wanted mixed with the taste of grain.
Aside from the bread, there was a variety of fruits and vegetables, nuts and sweetmeats made with honey. Dates were used liberally and there were even olives - an expensive import this far from the Great Green - as well as stuffed grape leaves and cold roast duck with a succulent glaze that he could not readily identify. Trowa tried a little of each, hungry for the foods he enjoyed, curious about those he didn't recognize. As a result, Tetiun as well received a varied menu...and when Khemti-Nub returned, silently bearing a blue jug, he did not object as she filled his cup. Nor did Trowa, who turned his face away, but proved his understanding by draining his water glass and holding it up to be filled.
Heero also accepted the gift - he had not seemed to like the wine - and though he did not offer the drink to Seb, he did not protest when the servant received his measure. Relena accepted, ignoring her husband's faint frown of disapproval - he could hardly protest after all - though she stopped at half a cup, before turning to Miusheri and making a formal offer. The servant seemed about to decline, but accepted a half-cup as well. Duo was the last to be served and bore the stigma of his rank cheerfully, pulling Khemti-Nub closer that he might speak with her, and with a gesture that would have gone unseen by all but those who had been expecting it, Trowa saw him slip the larger bead onto the bare braid and secure it with a dab of wax. Early payment, he thought without much interest. He must trust her. But he was surprised when the gesture was repeated at the other side of the girl's face and when she stood, two thick beads swayed against her graceful neck.
That was too much gold to give to a servant as a gift, mused Trowa. Duo bears watching.
"My Prince requests the pleasure of your company."
Startled, Trowa turned quickly to face Wufei who bowed before him deeply. "Prince Quatre would like you to join him on the dais," the steward repeated, his tone making it obvious that the statement was an order and not a request.
With a brief nod, Trowa stood as one of the Saracen guards lifted his chair up beside Quatre's. Trowa was relieved. For a moment he had been afraid that he would have to take the place of a servant on the cushions at the Prince's feet. This he would not have stood for. "And my body servant?" he said instead, masking his uncertainty with a level voice.
"He may sit at your feet although I doubt you will want for much."
Trowa followed the steward onto the dais. Wufei took Rashid's place on Quatre's left and a brief gesture from the Prince indicated that Trowa should sit on his right. Though they were both seated on low seats, Trowa was quick to notice that Quatre's sat higher than his own. This was, he supposed, only fair...but also very disconcerting. No doubt an effect carefully strived for. Unconcerned, Tetiun curled at his feet.
"Prince Trowa...it is good of you to join me for the entertainment," said Quatre with a measured tone. "How have you enjoyed your first day in my city?"
Tall as he was, Trowa did not have to look up to see the cool contempt in his host's eyes. "Nekheb is filled with many good people," he replied cautiously. "They have made me as comfortable as possible given the fact that I am far from home."
"Though you have brought some small comforts with you, I see," said the Prince indicating his Teresh clothing with the briefest of gestures. "You might find such attire much too warm for your days in Nekheb."
"But I understand the nights are cold," replied Trowa smoothly. "And I was given to understand that this was an official diplomatic dinner. It is only right that I should be identified by my dress...although I will agree that I have found the cool linen of your kilts to be preferable in the heat of day." Quatre offered a reluctant nod of acceptance and Trowa felt a wave of desire followed by a twinge of self-reproach as he appraised the Prince's elegant silhouette. "And your servant..."
"Tetiun," supplied Trowa.
"Your servant, Tetiun," continued Quatre without pause, "he is dependable?"
"Better than I could have hoped."
"I am glad to hear that my pet priest did not lead you astray." The Prince's smile was diplomatic and that was the most that could be said about it. "Our beginnings did not fare well. For that I am sorry...but that does not include Duo's rites of exorcism. These were necessary and I hope you will not consider them an insult."
Trowa did...he always would...but there was no sense in bearing a grudge. Still, he could not bring himself to allow the Prince even the veneer of forgiveness. "Such things are not necessary in Teresh. We do not have quite so many demons. Those that see them are too close them...they are, perhaps, possessed themselves. But your demons are no doubt different," he finished, sipping beer from his cup. It was really quite good.
"Indeed." Quatre's face was a mask. "You are in a place of high magic now, prince. You might laugh," he continued and Trowa feared for a moment that his amusement had been betrayed by his expression, "but spirits and demons are everywhere. Gods too. No? Look you...look at your keeper, the Lord Hor-ah. Falcon and name and in fact. He is fast...and strong. I have only seen him on occasion, here and when I have visited the Delta...and I know it is so. He would not hold such rank otherwise. His eyes are bright and as sharp as knives. I would not doubt that he is clever, but single-minded. It is not for nothing that Duo calls him 'Little Horus'."
"I'm afraid I would not know," said Trowa stiffly. "Your gods are not my gods."
"But you know they are gods...you are not completely ignorant of our people." It was not a question.
"Have you other gods that serve you, Prince?"
The phrase was meant to be humourous, but Quatre remained impassive. "Heero is not in my service, but yes. And costly they are. Their temples would dearly like them back, but I'm afraid the temples are rather blinded by greed these days. You can purchase even the gods if you have enough riches and that is the one thing the priesthood of Amun is not without...riches. My allotment and my family's fortune can buy many things indeed. I will not pretend that I like you, prince Trowa," he said bluntly, "though I will do everything in my power to see that you are comfortable here. Part of that is a warning. There is magic in the air and spirits all around us. Greater forces are at work than any of us could ever know or suspect. I am cautious...and so should you be." Trowa opened his mouth to reply, but Quatre raised his hand for silence. "Later you may speak. Now we will watch the acrobats."
The arrogance of the statement caused Trowa to seethe, but though he would have happily strangled the Prince in that moment, he was also terribly aware of the diplomatic implications of that particular action. How could he not be when he was on display in front of the city's leading administrators? And so he contented himself with the acrobats.
They were not native, that much was obvious from their olive skin alone, but they were incredibly talented. Trowa thought he might have heard the name "Keftiu" mentioned, but it meant little to him. They put him in mind of gymnasts he had once seen as a small boy when he had accompanied his father to Knossos on the island of Crete. There were no bulls to share the dance here...the acrobats challenged each other instead...but their routine was inspired and greatly pleasing to the crowd. Applause thundered and trinkets were tossed and the acrobats bowed as they left, gathering their payment, to make room for a complement of Nubian dancers and drummers. Their skin was rich and dark...darker even than Seb's...and rattled with layers of beads and feathers that mesmerized as they shook and bounced to the sensual rhythm of the drums. So taken was he with one of them - a young man of graceful limbs and flesh so black it gleamed blue even in the warm light of the torches - that Trowa nearly missed his host's address.
"I've always liked the acrobats best," said Quatre. What his voice tinged with just a hint of sadness? Here he indicated the dancers. "I'm afraid I have never developed a taste for the Kushites. But they are talented and quite popular and so I let them stand. But I will not take their magicians. There will never be magicians better than my own - save in Pharaoh's palace, may he live long, be healthy, and prosper - and they are too important to be wasted as entertainment."
"You refer to Duo, I presume." Trowa looked to the floor and was surprised to see that the priest had vanished. No...no so surprised. Had Tetiun not said he would wander? There he was, further along, speaking with some noble man or woman, now turning away to speak with a servant...now turning again to speak with another. It was easy enough to track a figure clad so brilliantly in red and gold and yet he seemed to vanish the moment Trowa's concentration waned.
Yes...Duo would bear watching.
"Among others," Quatre was saying. "Not all priests are magicians, but it is generally safe to say that, on some level, all magicians are priests. And all priests vary in talent and skills. Duo, for instance, will not charm snakes as my priest of Ra will. He does not like them. But he can dazzle your eyes and your mind in ways that others can't. Duo is an expensive commodity." As he looked over the assembly, the Prince's lit on a man at the far end of the hall and his expression twisted into a grimace of mingled hurt, fear, and hate. "And worth twice his price though I loathe the thought of giving those...those assassins any more of my treasures. Wufei! Have Duo brought to me immediately. I think his services might be in order once again. Kamenit..." hissed Quatre through his teeth as Wufei bowed and left them.
"Who..."
"That man....the one in green with the disks sewn into his wig," whispered Quatre very rapidly in a low voice. It was the man he had been looking at earlier. "That man, Kamenit...do you know what he would like? He would like to see me sent into the desert and my sister's husband upon the throne. A sister who is not even the blood of my mother! How pretty that would be." Trowa felt as though his nationality, his purpose, and the threat of his existence had all been forgotten. "Even now he continues to spout his lies. Look at him, there...bent in conspiracy with seatmates..."
The man called Kamenit was indeed hunched over with his dinner companions, perhaps speaking in low voices of conspiracy, perhaps simply too courteous to disturb the performers. "Well, I think..."
"Tell me, prince of Teresh, how do you deal with those that whisper treason?" Trowa cleared his throat, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. "Without proof? Perhaps a warning..."
"A warning," agreed Quatre absently. "Unlike any you've seen. There will be proof enough." Trowa felt Tetiun stiffen beside him.
The Prince's father was assassinated and he is much afraid.
Afraid, yes...but mad with fear? Trowa hoped it was not so.
Duo appeared before the dais as if by magic and bowed deeply as Quatre extended a hand of invitation. "Tell me of Kamenit. What is he planning now?"
The priest shrugged nonchalantly, but Trowa could see caution etched into every gestures. "He speaks of your sister, Iras, my Prince. He always speaks of Iras. I think he is infatuated."
"He wishes her to replace me."
"Perhaps," Duo reasoned. "Perhaps not. He has said that she would look pretty on a throne...he did not specify your own. This time." Quatre's eyes narrowed and Duo sighed. "Kamenit is a fool, my Prince. Why heed him? No one else does..."
"I do not like people getting ideas."
"I've noticed," said Duo pleasantly. Quatre glared at him, but said nothing. "What exactly do you have in mind, my Prince?"
"A warning," Quatre replied mildly then bent to whisper near Duo's ear. Trowa pretended not to hear though the occasional word filtered through. Words like "magic"..."item"....
Curse.
When they parted, Duo did not seem please. "Very well, my Prince. As you wish," he said and vanished back into the crowd. Trowa tried for a time to follow him as native musicians played their music and the guests began to mix and mingle once again, but it was very difficult now. The lights were dimming and his head was muzzy with drink. He thought he saw the priest near the man called Kamenit, bending close to speak with him, but when he focused on the spot, he was gone again. Soon he could not even catch the momentary glimpse of red or the sway of a long braid among the diners and the dancers. The priest had left the hall.
"What have you done?" whispered Trowa to no one in particular.
"A warning," said Quatre quietly. "I think I will retire now...it has been a trying day. Inuiu, announce that the gathering will be moved to the garden. Prince Trowa, you are dismissed. Enjoy your evening. But remember to return quickly to your chambers when it is over and to use the well-lit corridors." His lips twitched into a cold smile. "In the light the guards will know you...I cannot vouch for your safety otherwise. Good night."
Leaving Trowa to stare after him, Quatre rose and swept from the hall - flanked, as always, by Rashid's men - and the revelers followed slowly in his wake.
[22] Faieance is a type of glass product used extensively in Ancient Egypt for anything from building tiles and inlay to jewellery, dishware, and decorative items.
[23] "Sheep-herders" used derisively is a derogatory name for the Asiatics the Egyptians are currently at war with. It generally means the person referring to is dirty, smelly, and unshaven. That can - as in Duo's case - include the head.
[24] Per Bast is also known as the city of Bubastis, my patron's home town. Yay me! Bast's festival was extremely popular as it consisted of approximately three days of food (rich), drink (alcoholic), and excercise (carnally depraved). I'm surprised Duo's only been once.
[25] Khemti-Nub's name breaks down as such: "Khemti" - approximates to "who is like the black one" and can be loosely interpretted to mean "who is like Kemet (Egypt)". "Nub" is the wonderful word for gold, heh heh heh.
"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.