by Lady Bast
"You would think this was a procession rather than a trip the market," sighed Wufei.
Trowa smiled. As promised, the steward had convinced his Prince to hold a small feast for the city's officials and prominent members so that the Lady Relena could be properly introduced to the noble wives in a place of comfort and safety. Now additional produce was needed and he was the only member of Katrah-en's staff trusted to find the finest products available at a price that was not inflated too highly.
Thinking that this would be an excellent opportunity to see the market, he had been surprised by Her-ah's request to join them. It appeared that he had been convinced to bring his wife into the market square, both as an introduction to the city and for the purpose of buying material for a new gown, and, as he was new to the city himself, required a guide. Too kind to allow only herself an outing, Her-di had been invited to come along with Bakara in tow and - for reasons that Trowa was beginning to suspect were not entirely virtuous - Set-Aket-Dua invited himself along. It was only a wonder that the second general did not protest his inclusion, but a quick glance between priest and soldier was enough to convince Trowa that things had been mended between them.
Taking guards and servants into account, the whole party included Wufei, two kitchen boys under the steward's direction, himself, the ever-present Tetiun, his two guards, Heero, Relena, the nursemaid Hilde with Bakara, Seb to see to the comfort of the soldier, Miusheri to see to the comfort of his wife, two soldiers from the capital to see to the protection of the family, Duo, and the scribe Meribast who seemed flustered at having been hired to keep accounts for Wufei and finding himself with the lot to contend with. Only the promise of adequate recompense kept him from fleeing the square.
With such a colourful crowd at his heels, it was no wonder that Wufei felt like the head priest in a celebratory procession!
He did not need to worry for long. Once they hit the market square, their party spread out somewhat, taken in by the sights and smells of the wares. "Watch your purse," Wufei cautioned and Trowa put a hand to his belt to be certain that his bag of precious metals was still at his side. He carried no gold, but something far rarer in Kemet - silver - and was wary. "Although this is the finer section of the market with more guards and less crime, there are always pickpockets willing to test their luck," the steward continued. "I assume that I'm the only one here in search of vegetables?"
"Probably," Trowa agreed. "Although I'm not familiar with the city and wouldn't mind following you."
Heero must have caught his reply. "We'll follow as well. I want to purchase barley beer for my soldiers. Some of them miss the Delta and a boost for their morale is in order, but I wouldn't want to impose on your Prince for such a luxury."
"I'll go just to tease Imet about his fish," said Duo. He turned to Hilde and Miusheri. "He's too tight-fisted to buy himself anything...always wears the most threadbare linens you've ever seen and his sandals are a broken mess. Couldn't be bothered to buy new baskets or timbers for his stall which is why the lot of it collapsed on day and spilled fish all over the market road. Utter chaos. Donkeys slipping, birds everywhere, and officials smelling of fish guts. Harkuf - he's a merchant - was out with his wife when she skidded and caught her dress on a thick splinter as she went down. Tore it from ankle to tail bone. Did you know she uses body paint on her...OW! Heero!"
"There are noble women present."
Duo rubbed the back of his head ruefully. "Legs! She uses body paint on her legs to write prayers of beauty to Hathor. It's true!" he protested when his audience gave him an incredulous stare. "If she'd used it anywhere else, the whole market would have known after she'd made a display of her entire..."
"That's quite enough, thank you," said Hilde with mock disgust. "If you follow that particular track, I'm afraid I'll have to revoke your baby privileges."
"You're a harsh woman," said the priest, feigning a broken heart. "I will have to drown my sorrows in Miusheri's arms."
Trowa smiled at he watched Duo fall into step behind Relena and throw an arm around the body servant who returned his 'affections' with exaggerated enthusiasm. The priest might flirt with her quite shamelessly, but he treated Hilde with a strange sort of reverence and Trowa could see that Miusheri had noticed it too. She played along because she knew that it was safe to do so. Duo had been charmed, there was no doubt about it, and the only question that remained was whether the spell was his alone or shared.
Hilde gave no indication that she held any romantic notions at all, sighing at Duo's antics as though she were caring for two children instead of one. Then, with some reluctance, she held Bakara up and out as if in offering. It was one the priest was quick to accept and he held the infant high in his arms so that she could ogle at the world and laugh as he swung them both around in an improvised dance step. Duo seemed to love children in a way that was remarkable, even in a country where infants of both sex were honoured and indulged to a degree unheard of among the Teresh.
Trowa was certain that Heero would protest his daughter's kidnapping, but he did not. If anything, a slight smile seemed to curl his lips as he watched the dance for a single moment and turned his attention back to his wife. They did not walk too closely together, though the Lady Relena kept one arm hooked quite tightly about her husband's. It was the only concession she made to her fear. In all other ways they seemed an ordinary couple taking a casual tour about the market. Periodically, too great a wave of movement and sound would startle Relena and she would stiffen, but she did not stumble as Heero matched his step to her own and would pause then, leaning forward to explain something to her matter-of-factly as though she had not stopped in fear, but simply out of interest. There were many things to be interested in, after all - jugglers and merchants and dancers and fakirs - and in those moments, Trowa fancied he saw Relena's eyes fill with warmth and gratitude.
Neither seemed entirely comfortable, but there was some subtle magic at work here, as there had been on the archery range. Trowa honoured it with as much privacy as he could allow, turning his attention instead to the street performers that filled the spaces between the stalls and near the inns and commons. He was particularly intrigued by a pair of dancing girls; not for their beauty, but for the perfectly synchronized dance they were performing. They faced each other on an angle so that they might catch the crowd with their eyes and the movements of one's right hand were echoed perfectly by the left hand of the other so that each girl seemed to be performing with her own reflection. Their movements were so perfectly synchronized that even when he stopped to watch them more carefully, Trowa could not tell which of them was leading; if, indeed, one led the other at all. They seemed to know each other so well that graceful, sweeping gestures - designed to scoop up the trinkets tossed by the crowd - were incorporated seamlessly into the dance, seemingly at random.
"You'll find yourself lost in the crowd, Prince Trowa."
Startled, Trowa turned to face Wufei. The steward seemed more relaxed away from the palace and even managed a slight smile. "You like the mirror dance? Ideally they should be dressed identically with matching wigs and make-up enough to hide the differences of their features, but peasants must make due with what they have and hope for favours enough to buy these things or the funds supplied by a rich patron."
Indeed the girls must have been poor for their possessions were few. They wore no wigs at all, though they had tried to style their hair alike, and, lacking similar dresses, they danced nearly naked with only a garter and cache-sexe of raw linen. They could afford little more than thick kohl for their eyes, but had made an effort to entice by temporarily staining their palms and the soles of their feet with red clay. Trowa watched them a moment more then, aware that he was holding up his party, he fished a silver deben [42] - far more than either girl was likely to see in a day - and approached the pair when the finished their dance and stopped a moment to rest.
Prompted by a premonition for which he had no words, he held out the offering, but would not release it until he had the dancers' full attention. The girls watched him warily, not wanting to lose their payment, but as fearful of strangers as any of their kind. "Tell me your names," said Trowa. When they hesitated, he waved the silver piece and added, "I am from the palace. There might be more of this one day. Tell me your names."
Unable to believe in one day, but perfectly happy to earn a living today, the girls seemed to consult each other with their eyes. Finally, one spoke. "My name is Thu. This is Metiru. What do you want of us, stranger?"
"You are very skillful. I might need performers one day, or I might not. Would you both be willing to travel and leave your homes if you knew you would return?"
Thu seemed to consider this. "To another city?" she said cautiously.
"To another country. Across the great green."
"It would take more than a silver deben to leave our Ta-sherit." [43]
Trowa laughed softly. "That's good enough," he said and dropped the trinket into Thu's waiting palm.
With snake-like swiftness, the silver was palmed and passed to Metiru. "Thank you, stranger," said Thu. "May Nekhebet keep you safe in her city."
"If you are done holding up your guards, I think the rest of the party has gotten ahead of us," whispered a voice at Trowa's side. Wufei smiled up at him knowingly though the prince doubted that the steward knew the truth of his interest. "I may be here to gather vegetables, but as your guide, Prince Katrah-en will not be impressed if I lose you in the market place."
Trowa chuckled lightly and took his leave of the dancers who bowed after him with uncertainty before returning to their dance.
"You know," said Wufei in a low voice. "If you desire them, you need only ask the Prince to retrieve them."
"It's not that," said Trowa. "I admired their dance, nothing more. I couldn't help thinking that they would enchant my sister, but she is far away and there is little chance of my being allowed to visit, I'm sure."
"Perhaps she will come to the capital if there are negotiations. I'm sure you would be allowed to travel back to Pi-Ramesses for such an occasion."
Trowa walked in silence for several moments before he replied. "Perhaps. In the meantime, we have the market."
The market was no small thing. Now they were approaching the food sellers. Like the handicrafts, only the finest of fruits and the costliest of imports reached this section of the city. There were certain...specialties...that could be acquired in the poorer districts, but like the buying and selling of slaves, a nobleman needed to slum a little to acquire them. Wufei's needs were simpler and he quickly and efficiently sought out those merchants that he preferred.
Trowa trailed along behind, though not too closely, wanting to sample wares for himself. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the others. Bakara was now in her father's arms. Whatever other difficulties he might have in expressing himself, Heero was never at a loss when it came to his love for his daughter. Relena seemed more relaxed, her hold on her husband's arm having loosened considerably. Deprived of Bakara's company, Duo argued audibly with a vendor over a bowl of sweets. Oddly enough, though the market was quite crowded, the priest was given a wide berth and not a single man or woman dared to stand in his shadow. No one, that is, save Hilde who waited patiently for him to finish his transaction. Armed with candy, Duo made the rounds, offering his purchase to all of their party - noble, servant, and soldier alike - and a second time to the women.
"You should buy some for your sister," he said, stopping beside Trowa as the crowd parted around them. "They're from the South and will ship well enough. They are well preserved and the papyrus ends used to wrap them will keep them from sticking."
Trowa put the confection in his mouth and found it less sweet than he had imagined although there was an unmistakable hint of date and sugared honey. "I might at that. Do you know how they're made?"
Duo shook his head. "They use something unusual, brought from Nubia. The juice of some plant or the sap of some tree. Quite harmless or I'd no doubt have heard of it."
"I guess they're safe enough then," said Trowa, approaching the smiling merchant to negotiate a price for both the candy and a clay pot to ship them in.
When he turned back to his company, he found that they had moved further down the avenue though his guards and Tetiun were close at hand. Scanning the stalls, Trowa caught sight of Duo's hair and pushed his way through the crowds, glad for the height that lent him an almost unobstructed view. He had nearly caught up when Relena's voice, tinged with affront, rose above the noise of the crowd.
"I would hardly pay such a price for those grapes!" she cried in disgust. "I hope I am not overstepping myself in telling the king's steward his business, but if I servant of mine had returned to my father's estate with such a miserable lot, he would surely have been flogged."
Changing course, Trowa hurried toward the woman's voice and arrived in time to see Wufei rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Duo and Hilde drifted back from wherever they had wandered and waited to see what would happen. Relena stood beside her husband, her face alight with determination and perhaps a faint horror at the thought of what she was doing. Heero merely turned his attention to Bakara and said nothing tough the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a self-satisfied smirk."
"The Prince has a number of vineyards and I do not normally need to buy grapes," said Wufei after a moment's pause. "However, for feasts, the Prince enjoys a variety and does not grow fruits of this kind. Renhef has always been our supplier and we have had no complaints. Why do you think they would not be worth the price we have determined."
Pride in her ability to manage an estate won the war against Relena's fears. "This may be so," she said, "and he may not seek to cheat you, but if the Prince does not grow this variety of grape, he can't possibly know how well they're doing from one year to the next. If they are not as sweet one year, it is assumed that it was a bad year and that the price was paid for the best of the lot so there are no complaints. If a year was only half-good, a seller might be hard-pressed to fill a large order and mix lesser fruit into the best of his lot to keep a valuable contract."
Renhef drew himself up. "I assure you, good woman, that I would never attempt to sell the Prince's steward other than the best of my produce."
"I never suggested that you would," replied Relena hotly. "I am simply saying that the best of your produce is not all of equal value. I know this variety. See how these grapes are fat and dusty with their own nectar? That is how they should be. Those beneath are leaner, harder, and have no doubt been dusted by hand to appear more ripe than they are."
"Peace, Renhef," said Wufei as the merchant's eyes narrowed in anger. "I'm sure that a quick sample well determine whether or not the Lady Relena is telling the truth and, if she is correct, I'm sure there's a logical explanation for it."
"Well,," said Renhef, calming. "I did not personally supervise the packing of these particular grapes as I was busy minding the servants handling the chick peas. It is possible that a novice has tried to be helpful and topped up a basket with grapes of a lesser quality."
"I'm sure that's the likeliest possibility, if what this woman says is true," said Wufei. "Which bunches should I compare, Lady?"
Relena indicated the two she had been comparing and the steward sampled a fruit from each. "I'm afraid I will have to agree with the Lady Relena. The grapes of the second bunch are less sweet and juicy than those of the first. Noticeably so."
Renhef affected a look of anger. "Then it is the last time I will entrust a job to servants alone. Forgive me and I will ensure that this never happens again."
"Ensure that it does not. I don't really want to bring my custom elsewhere," said Wufei, his voice disinterested at best. "What, then, will you charge me for the lot? I have no time to wait for the good to be picked from the bad and the original price is far too high for grapes of an unknown quality."
Trowa watched with amusement as a new bargain was struck, Relena bending her ear to the argument until she was satisfied that Wufei would not be cheated a second time. The steward had Renhef tie bits of cord around the best bunches to ensure that these would be presented to the Prince himself and issued the merchant a delivery notice. He would be paid when the fruit arrived unharmed at the palace and not a moment before.
"My wife may never go to the markets of Pi-Ramesses, but we have never missed out on a bargain," said Heero with more than a trace of pride as they moved away from the stall.
"Hmph. Give you a baby and you think you know how to run a household," said Relena amiably. "Give her here. A mother should be allowed to handle her daughter."
The child was handed over with good grace and it warmed Trowa's heart to watch such a domestic scene unfold. It reminded him of his own family and he felt their absence acutely as he wandered through the food sellers' stalls just behind the rest of the party. Fortunately, there was much to see and his heart did not remain heavy for long. He asked Tetiun about certain features in the market place and what the servant could not answer, Duo did as he and Hilde fell back to walk and talk with him. They all smiled to see Relena take to Wufei and quickly become his produce advisor. Heero appeared smug about his wife's abilities and fell back to gloat to Trowa about his household's success, returning Bakara to her keeper. Hilde and Duo took the opportunity to walk ahead of the party a little as fruits and vegetables gave way to arts and crafts.
Trowa was discussing the soil conditions of the Delta with Heero when Wufei finished his order and returned to them with Relena on his arm. "You my have your wife back, Lord Heero," he said with the first genuine smile Trowa had seen since his arrival. "She has been an excellent help. I envy your house."
Heero held out one hand to welcome his wife's return. "I'm glad she was able to put her talents to use for you and your Prince. I'm afraid there has been little for her to do far from home and with her husband always working."
"Well, with the Lady's consent," said Wufei bowing in Relena's direction, "I would ask my Prince for her assistance in certain matters of entertainment. With no Chief Wife to rule the nome, I'm afraid that much has been neglected."
Relena looked stunned and then managed to stammer a reply. "I...I would be honoured to help you with the permission of my host...and my husband."
"If the Prince asks her, then she doesn't need my permission," said Heero in turn.
"There's no need for an immediate reply. I have yet to ask my master for his thoughts on the matter," Wufei assured them both. "In the meantime, perhaps you should look for the linen you wanted. You may carry the coin, Lord Heero, but I don't doubt you'll need this Lady's assistance when it comes to barter. As I understand it, the linen merchants have been greedy this year."
Wufei bowed as Heero nodded and stepped aside to let the soldier and his wife pass him in the direction of the dry goods. Rising, he fell into step beside Trowa. "I wouldn't have expected her to be so shrewd a buyer. In her way she reminds me of my own wife. So, has our honoured guest found the market to his liking?"
"It's been an education," said Trowa. He watched as a merchant shook out some cloth for Heero's inspection and turned back to Wufei. "Your wife knew the market well?"
Wufei did not answer immediately. Sadness gathered behind his eyes. "She assisted me before she was sent away," he said hesitantly. "She now helps my Prince's sister, Iras, in much the same way. The princess enjoys the company that is found in feasts, but has no desire to arrange them. She fancies herself a physician and prefers to study medicine, leaving much to Meiran though she regularly checks the accounts." He chuckled softly. "My father would have been horrified. He thought my wife ran too freely in Nekheb when she worked as my assistant. Now she manages the estate of a princess."
"Your father was more like the Lady Relena's then? He kept his women at home?"
Wufei shook his head. "I don't know. He says so and deems they have far less value than men in our country, but he himself is unlike the men of our country for he joined many members of his family in wandering far from home - men and women alike. I wonder how much of his own stories he believed. Certainly he never forced my mother nor my wife into the kind of servitude he would sometimes say they were meant for. Perhaps the circumstances here in Kemet were different than in our homeland." He smiled. "He always spoke that way. 'Our country', he would say, or 'our homeland'. Nekheb is the only home I can remember, though I understand I was born beyond the Eastern desert."
Trowa nodded. He was of the Teresh, had always been so, but there were soldiers in his command who had been born elsewhere and raised among his people. They felt the same way. "Do you like it here, in Nekheb?"
Again the silence was lengthy. "You ask dangerous questions, Prince Trowa," said Wufei carefully. "I love the city and the great river and would never betray them, but I miss my wife and child. I am permitted to visit them for a month of the year, but it is never enough. I would leave it at that. I can't understand why I've told you as much as I have."
"Maybe because I am far from home and might know something of missing loved ones?" replied Trowa with a sad smile of his own. "I won't press. Let me tell you instead of my sister. I owe her some gifts and I don't doubt that you'd have a much better idea of what is offered here than I."
They spoke in quiet tones and Trowa described his homeland and family as best he could while Wufei led him around the booths, examining linens of various weights and discussing their suitability for life across the Great Green. It was explained to him that he would have to purchase the linen first and bring it to a craftsman to have it fashioned, which bothered Trowa somewhat as he had seen no one in Kemet who could match his sister in size. Indeed, only he himself shared her height, but, as he explained to Wufei, he feared he was lacking in the bust. This visual seemed to amuse the steward to no end and he chuckled to himself at odd times as he helped to estimate the amount of cloth required and find some suitable cosmetics. Trowa thought that she would be greatly amused by the kohl and resolved to write her a long letter as to its correct usage. Swept up in the excitement of gift-giving, Trowa also purchased a wig made of lamb's wool and set with gold lotus blossoms. There were many wigs of natural hair available, but it was no use in spending more than necessary on something that his sister would no doubt view as a novelty.
"Your sister would be able to pass as a woman of Nekheb with all of these things," said Wufei with amusement. "Is there no one else you need gifts for?"
"Only my father," replied Trowa. "And I think he would fancy something more soldierly. Perhaps one of your scimitars fashioned to suit his grip. I'll have to ask Heero about it when he is less busy with his family."
As though summoned by his name, the soldier appeared at that moment with his wife on his arm. Relena no longer clung quite so desperately. Indeed, she seemed much at ease in the market, at least in the presence of a familiar face, and smiled warmly. Behind them , Miusheri chatted with Seb and Hilde carried Bakara who happily sucked her fingers. Duo walked alongside them, speaking softly to Hilde and making faces at the toddler as warranted.
"I see you've found what you're looking for," said Heero, eying Trowa's packages.
"Nearly. I need to have a gown fashioned for my sister and I wish to have a sword forged for my father." The soldier smiled, amused. "I can help you with the latter, - will have to, in fact, if you want to ship it North - but the former is beyond me."
Trowa waved him away. "I have names. It's only a matter of time. I will need to find a way to ship them. I was given the use of runners for messages, but I think these parcels will be too heavy."
"Well, if the rest can be ready by the end of the month, I'll have them sent up with my reports," offered Heero. "They are always guarded and the ambassadors at the capital will be more than happy to see that your gifts are properly handled."
"Thank you. That's very generous," said Trowa with a smile. "I see that others have received gifts as well." At his words, Hilde blushed slightly and bent her head as though checking Bakara's health.
"Hm, well...our priest seems to think that my child and my child's keeper need a little extra protection," explained Heero with a smile. He took his daughter from Hilde's arms and held her up so that Trowa could see the beaded headband that encircled the dark, curly hair of the girl's head. Some of the beads were the carved heads of dwarves with plumed headdresses. "These are amulets of Bes, who protects the family and home," said the soldier. "And honey on her fingers which protects ears from the cries of hunger. Hilde is wearing amulets of Nebt-het who makes the wearer invisible to all misfortune."
For once, Trowa found the nursemaid at a loss for words. He smiled as she twisted the beads nervously between her fingers, then released them suddenly, noticing that her actions merely drew unwanted attention. She opened her mouth, closed it, and finally smiled secretly as Duo spoke for her. "It's been a long time since we've had children in the palace of Nekheb," he said with a shrug of feigned indifference. "It would be disastrous to let them fall to harm."
"Spoken like a true priest," said Heero, "with cunning, but empty words."
Trowa thought that he might have said more, but their conversation was interrupted by a commotion a few stalls away. A man, obviously involved in an argument, was loudly voicing his opinion regarding one of the princesses. It was, in fact, the princess Iras and Trowa recognized both man and voice from the night of his welcoming feast. Kamenit. Whatever Prince Katrah-en had commanded as a warning, it had not been enough to dissuade the man from speaking his mind.
"It is said that favours flow like the river on the estates of Iras and Tahotep," said Kamenit, seemingly ignorant of the impatience of his companions. "They keep proper festivals. What have we here under the watchful eye of our miserly Prince? Worked like donkeys under the hot sun without even a..."
"Excuse me a moment," murmured Duo, distracting Trowa from Kamenit's litany. As he turned to approach the daring speaker, the priest seemed wearier than Trowa had ever seen him. Kamenit's company drew back as he neared them though the man continued to talk until Duo had placed a hand on his shoulder. Trowa could not hear his friend's portion of the exchange, but, judging from the other's protests, he gathered that a warning - more heartfelt than any the Prince could provide - was being issued.
"And why should I heed your words?" The man was angry now, inflated by his own self-righteousness. "No one so pale and fair belongs on our throne and I mean to be heard!"
"Then you are a fool!" There was no mistaking Duo's reply this time. His voice seemed to ring across the market square. Many stopped to hear the drama, though few were daring enough to watch it openly. "You are a long-winded fool who can do no more but stir the grass at his feet! No one takes you seriously, Kamenit. No one except the Prince himself and every one of your words speak treason to those who want to see it! The princess refused you. For the sake of your own life, forget her and go quietly about your business."
"Who are you to threaten, priest? You are not even born of our city."
"If you continue to gibber like a monkey, I won't have to threaten," said Duo in a low voice that carried only due to the silence of the square. "That is your last warning. I have no more to say to you."
Turning on his heel, the priest returned to the company. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, running a hand though the strands of hair that had come loose from his braid. "That man...he doesn't...he just doesn't understand the Prince's fears. I...Feel free to continue your tour, but I think I'll return to the palace. The Prince is seeking another audience with his father and I should rest while I have the chance. I think it'll be a long night."
"I'm finished for now. I'll go with you." Though he might sleep alone, something told Trowa that it would not be wise to let Duo walk alone. Thoughts came unbidden in such moments...and not all of them were pleasant.
It seemed that he was not the only one to feel this way. "I think we've all finished for now," said Heero quietly. "Wufei will need to return to receive the orders he's placed and I promised to bring Relena to practise her bow a little longer. Hilde and Miusheri as well."
"You should join us," added Relena. "The afternoon is long; surely you can't sleep all that time? Come and rest in the shade if you don't want the exercise yourself and you can watch Bakara while Hilde takes her turn."
"You should come too, Trowa," said Heero. "We can talk about your sword. I'm sure you'll have thoughts about that, Duo."
"I am promised to Selket-em-paf and Prince Quatre later this evening, but until then I'm free," said Trowa, quickly grasping the ruse. "It would be a terrible shame to break up such pleasant company too quickly."
The priest sighed and some of his old mischief crept into his smile. "Alright...you win. I'll join you for a little while. Some faces I can't resist." He reached out to take Bakara from her father's arms, and Heero wisely obliged, but it was Hilde beside whom he fell into step. Relieved by the feeling of camaraderie that their little group was beginning to acquire, Trowa walked a little behind, watching the pleasant interaction of blossoming friendship. As he had done in the market, Wufei walked beside him.
"I have lived almost all of my life in Nekheb," he said quietly, "and so am less a stranger here than even Lord Heero. It is our way to distrust strangers. And yet...I don't think there have been as many smiles among guardsmen or servants since you arrived with your party. I hope your stay will be long and prosperous, Prince Trowa, and that at least one more smile is left in your wake."
And with those cryptic words, the steward fell back a step, pretending to be engrossed in reviewing the orders of the day.
Duo awoke disoriented and in darkness. He could hear the rush of his blood in the quiet of night and, with it, the rhythm of a second heartbeat that only added to his confusion. It was best, he decided, to close his eyes and think for a moment.
Warm bed. Warm body. The taste of sour wine in his mouth. A vague memory of vomiting into a deep pot. Not a feast or a celebration or he would be tasting bile instead of wine. Besides, he felt battered and bruised and his limbs burned fiercely. Not to mention the pain in his belly...
The figure beside him stirred, sighed, and resettled. He recognized the voice and smiled in triumph. Quatre. He was with Quatre and he had gone into the trance. He must have. Though he never remembered the things he said or did while in the grip of the potion, he knew he must have. Nothing else hurt quite like it.
A wave of dizziness and nausea struck him as he tried to sit up and he collapsed back into his place beside the Prince, his thoughts swirling like sand on the wind. Probing fingers touched coarse linen about his head and he wondered for a moment where it might have come from. Then, as though backed by the pressure in his skull, the gates of his mind burst open and the memories poured forth like churning water.
He had thrown a fit on the stone floor of the Prince's bedroom.
They were but black spots in his memory, but he could still hear Het-Hori's panicked voice in his mind as he'd awakened the second time. The trance often ended in convulsions, but this had been the first time that a second wave had hit. He had been unprepared and awakened bruised and bleeding, vomiting what little of the poison was left in his stomach into a clay chamber pot. He had administered no punishment - he would not have had the strength to do so - but the look of horror on the Prince's face was a better lesson than any he could have hoped to provide. It was the first time in years that Duo had seen such pure and naked emotion on his friend's face.
He had been put to bed - he remembered this clearly enough though he had paid little attention at the time - on Quatre's own couch rather than Het-Hori's pallet. The Prince had lain beside him and whispers of concern and fear still echoed in his ears. It was a victory of sorts, but Duo could take no delight in it. He shivered, though the night was warm, and gathered the linen sheets tightly around himself.
He wasn't ready to die.
It had always been a consideration, of course. The possibility had always been there and the likelihood had grown with every potion and every trance, every herb tested on the tip of his tongue, and every long-shot risk he'd taken to keep up his aura of mystery and magic. He had been ill for a long time, but even illness was no tangible threat if it never worsened. Now, death was no longer a remote possibility and it frightened him. He was young, he realized, and in love with something more than the city; someone more than the Prince. He wasn't ready to die.
Steeling himself against pain and sickness, he eased himself off the couch and groped in the dark for a kilt. He found nothing though a heavier sheet of linen had been left folded at the foot of the bed and this he wrapped around himself. He briefly considered rummaging around in his belongings for his medicine, but rejected the notion. He wasn't shaking, he wasn't seen, and the less of it he took, the better. Besides, the dark was stifling tonight. He wanted air and light, if only from the stars and the moon. He made his way unsteadily to the window and drew aside the beaded shade with as little noise as possible.
The night was not the comfort he had hoped it would be. Even the wan light of stars and moon seemed cold and accusing. How dare he be afraid when so much hung in the balance! And yet, despite the weight on his heart, the fresh air, though only slightly cooler, refreshed him. He sighed and sank to the floor, gathering the linen sheet around him as he leaned his head against the wall. He could hire a physician, he supposed - he had access to the best services in the city thanks to his association with the Prince - but he would have to give up far too many secrets if he followed that path. If Quatre's tenderness remained come morning, it might be an option worth considering, but if he insisted on following his father in all things, then any revelation could prove disastrous.
And yet, Duo felt that he would soon have to make a decision. All of his secrets would pour forth and it would be up to the Prince to decide whether his city should live or die. He had hoped to have more time, but...
A stirring drew his attention to the bed where Quatre stretched and groped beside him, sitting up quickly when he felt the emptiness that Duo had left behind him. "Aket-Dua?" the Prince called softly, fearfully, in a voice that could have belonged to a child. Duo might have replied, but the words felt thick and heavy and stuck in his throat.
There was a scuffling on the far end of the room. "My Prince, do you need me?" said a voice in the dark.
"Go back to sleep, Het-Hori. You hear and see nothing."
The lack of reply could only mean consent as the body servant turned away from the sound of his master's clumsy step in the dark. The faint light of the moon illuminated the room but slightly and though Duo could now see his environment in shades of grey, the Prince had only just awakened and had yet to adjust to the gloom. "Aket-Dua?" he repeated, more urgently and with a little more authority. Duo sighed.
"Here," he said.
"Ah." Quatre made his way cautiously through the dark, kneeling and creeping his way to Duo's side as he approached the window. "Why are you sitting here alone," he asked in that childish voice. "I woke up and you weren't there. I was worried."
"I feel the same way when it happens."
"Ah." The Prince's tone was regretful, but there was no hint of apology in it. Perhaps apology was not for the nobility. Instead, Duo felt one slim arm slip around his shoulders and hot breath tickled his neck as the blond head came to rest on his shoulder. The gesture warmed him though whether Quatre wished to give or receive comfort was uncertain. "That doesn't explain why you're sitting here alone."
Duo sat in silence for several moments before speaking. "I got scared and wanted some light, but there isn't much out there to be had."
"Scared? I should say so! You certainly scared me. I hope you aren't taken by demons," said Quatre sternly. "It would be hard to explain why I need to exorcise my exorcist."
Though the words should have been insulting, Duo laughed. He had known the Prince far too long not to recognize an attempt to master fear through command. Even so, the humour was bleak at best and the sound that escaped the priest's throat was edged with hysteria. "Not demons, just poison. I've told you before that speaking with the dead means getting close to them."
"But it's never been so bad before!"
"I need to take more each time," said Duo patiently. "I am building an immunity, but this simply means that each dose must be stronger. They must be nearly lethal. But I think they might cross that line soon and go from 'nearly' to 'certainly'."
"Well then," said Quatre, reclaiming his position of authority. "I won't have you drinking that potion again. I will have to find myself another necromancer."
The breath caught in Duo's throat. "You would replace me? Who would take care of you?"
"Oh, Aket-Dua," crooned the Prince as he drew both arms around the priest and hugged him with the childlike fervour of a brother. "You are the only person I feel I can trust anymore. I wouldn't send you away and you can keep all other duties. I would only need someone new to drink the potion and speak with the dead for me. Someone who can do so more easily."
Someone less useful that you can throw away, thought Duo, shamed by his own assumption. "Are you sure you need to speak with your father at all, Quatre? Would he have left you a nome to rule if he thought you couldn't handle it?"
Duo grunted in pain as fingers dug into his bruised flesh. "I must need to," said Quatre in a hushed voice. "He made the city a thing of nearly perfect order and I want to follow his ideal. I have even made sure that I can't be harmed in the same way by putting all of my servants in my absolute power. And yet...and yet they want to change it all!"
"Change is a part of life," said Duo quickly. "There's no stopping it, and the dead can't understand that. Your father's advise might not be appropriate even if he gives it." He sighed in relief as the Prince's grip loosened. "What's wrong that you feel you need to cling to the past?"
"Foreign princes, soldiers from the Delta, and Wufei," said Quatre, nearly spitting the name of his steward from between his teeth. "They want to change all. First this feast to introduce the Lady Relena to the wives of Nekheb, and then the suggestion that I should give her temporary employment! I hold no quarrel with the Lady and will give her a feast gladly because she is far from home and because I have no wives to do this courtesy for me, but to give her a position of authority in my house..."
"Hardly a position of authority," said Duo quietly. "I know what Wufei meant to ask you. He only means for Relena to plan entertainment on your behalf. The people will see you as a recluse if you don't open the palace to them. It is a position that a servant could fill and Meiran would have done it if she'd been allowed to stay."
"Now you say so! It was you who sent her away!"
Duo felt the words catch in his throat once again. "No, it wasn't," he said wearily, his voice heavy with regret. "You asked me how to make your servants fear you and I told you...but it was you who sent her away. You sent them all away. There is a lot of discontent. Open your doors to the city, my Prince. Clean up the women's quarters and the Chief Wife's garden and give them to Relena to use for socializing. You will make many people much happier and you will not even have them clutter the floor beneath your feet."
There was a lengthy pause as the Prince considered this. "Alright," he said finally, his voice softening once again. "I will do this thing because you think it is right and I trust you though it's far from what my father has advised. Even so, I fully intend to find another necromancer, though the search can wait a while. I won't trouble you with any more problems; your head must be hurting terribly. Close the shade and come back to bed with me."
"I can't."
"Can't?"
Duo sighed. Despite the cold, accusing glare of the moon, it was preferable to the dark cavern of the room. "I need the light tonight. The dark is unfriendly."
"But I thought you liked the night and the darkness," said Quatre, stroking Duo's braid as though he were a favoured pet. "You are always saying that you prefer to walk unseen."
"Not tonight," repeated Duo. "I like the darkness because I can then appreciate the sun and vice versa, but I have looked into an afterlife of darkness and there is no sun for me there. I don't think I ever really noticed it until just now. Will you make me a promise?"
He turned to look at the Prince who was once his friend, trying to read the gleam of silver moonlight that lit each eye. If the Prince...if Quatre...had a shred of compassion...
"You have been my friend as well as a loyal servant. What would you have me do?" said the Prince with obvious concern.
"Think of me," said Duo quietly. "When you walk through the Field of Reeds, think of me. And when you do, say my name three times so that I will be remembered and the face of Ra will turn toward me for just a moment or two. Then, having seen the sun, I will be able to live in darkness for just a little longer."
For a moment it seemed that Quatre breathed a sigh of relief. "This much I can do for you. You have always been loyal in your tasks and darkness is a poor reward for it, though it can't be helped. Come now and lie down and I will have Het-Hori light the brazier for you. Better to sleep in a room full of light than huddle by the window until the sun rises. You have had a rough time of it and you need to sleep."
The Prince called to his body servant who awoke and tended to the light while Duo climbed wearily to his feet, the warm words of his friend as comforting as the sheet around his shoulders. Perhaps all was not lost after all. One touch of trust and compassion could lead to so much more. Duo relaxed a little as the possibilities began to take shape in his mind. He could ask for a physician and reveal a few secrets. Small ones that might cause the Prince to doubt the wisdom of his orders or at least believe that the need for them had passed...
His hopes died quickly as the Prince turned in the soft red light of the braziers and caught him in the steel of his gaze. "Lay down," said Quatre gently, his voice a knife sheathed in soft leather. "You need your sleep. I have a task for you and need you well. I have heard of Kamenit in the marketplace and you know what must be done."
"As ever," replied Duo, as he stretched out stiffly on the couch. His words were ashes in his mouth.
"Why suddenly so cold?" whispered Quatre, joining him, reaching out to brush strands of hair from his face. A favoured pet he was indeed. "Don't you love me, Duo? Haven't I given you my word to care for you after death? Do you think I will forget to speak your name whenever I think of you?"
Duo forced himself to loosen up and mould himself to the Prince's side. "I don't doubt your word at all," he whispered as his master sank into sleep. "But when you walk in the Field of Reeds, I don't believe you'll often think of me."
[42] A deben is not a form of coinage, but a measure of weight. It is not a large amount, but since Trowa is giving them silver, he doesn't need to part with much. It is extremely valuable in Egypt where gold flows like water, but silver is almost non-existent.
[43] Ta-sherit is a pet name of sorts for Egypt. It literally means "beloved land".
"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.