One of the keep's west chimneys had taken a lightning strike. Duo found the metal pipe melted and twisted, lying flat on the roof. He sighed and looked across the forest of chimneys toward the horizon. The sun was beginning its slide into the sea. At least it wasn't one of the chimneys in use. It could wait.

Collapsing to sit cross-legged on the roof, he pulled the crinkled, dog-eared list from his pocket. There were still several tasks left undone. He stared at them resentfully, his hope of visiting Bay Cottage evaporating. Looking again at the approaching twilight, he reckoned he should go about finding enough lamps to line the corridors leading to and around the bedrooms of the earl and his guest. He thought he remembered seeing some in a dusty storeroom on the fourth floor. What shape they were in was anyone's guess, nor was he sure there was enough lamp-oil around. The old Earl had used only the handful of lamps. More economical, he'd said, preferring, as always, to spend his money on books and the maintenance of the library.

The new earl was going to fix the place up, according to Lacy. The duke had told her so. There was to be a party when Lord Yuy's fancy l'Sanjil servants arrived, a sort of housewarming to introduce himself to the local gentry. Personally, Duo couldn't wait. With more servants around, he could stay out of the earl's way.

Bone-weary, Duo got to his feet and trudged back to the trap door, scrambling down the rickety ladder into the attic. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worked so hard. His back ached and there was the dull pain of hunger in his belly. He'd managed to tear his good shirt scrambling up and down the tall castle gates oiling the hinges so the damned things would close. Why Yuy cared about shutting them, Duo had no idea. Paranoid effing bastard. Duo had also cleaned out most of the front stables, moving all the junk stored in the stalls down the lane to the old armory.

What he really wanted, he thought, was a hot bath and his own narrow bed. Making his way down the dark stairs, he headed for the kitchen. Maybe, if Lacy wasn't in too bad a mood, he could cajole a bit of dinner before his master and Lord Kushrenada ate. No such luck. He let himself through the door to a room filled with mouth-watering odors and a harried, out of temper cook.

"There you are!" Lacy greeted him sharply. "Their lor'ships got back an hour ago and the master's been askin' fer ye. They're in the lib'ry."

Shit. Duo nodded, turned back around and headed off to the library.

"Well, well. He is still here," greeted the duke. Both young men were seated at one of the tables. A decanter of wine sat before them. Duo bit off an exclamation. The old earl had forbidden food and drink here to discourage vermin. He kept his silence, however, and bowed. Like himself, the library was Yuy's property now.

"I thought I asked for lamps to be put around our rooms," the earl said straight off.

"Sorry, my lord," Duo muttered. "Ain't got to it yet."

"And the sitting room?"

That had been on Duo's list, too. The sitting room needed lamps, the heater cleaned out and the flue repaired. Duo also had to find a decent couch and replace the one already there which had become a home for bat-beetles. That was pretty far down on the damned list, though, and Duo had thought it had low priority. Staring back at the earl, he said, "Sorry. Didn't get to that, either."

"And what have you been doing?" Yuy asked, slender eyebrows rising.

Take it easy, Duo told himself. Punching out your master was a bad idea.

Yuy's frown deepened. "I thought I asked that you be clean and presentable. Those clothes are filthy."

Duo took a deep breath, then another. "I ain't got any others," he said. "Just this and what I was wearin' when you came, milord. I -- I ain't had time to wash nothin'."

"I'm not interested in your excuses," was the cold response. "Tell That Woman we'll eat in the kitchen tonight and wait upon ourselves." The cobalt gaze drifted to Duo's dirty hands and back. Duo swallowed his rage and nodded. "In the meantime, mount the lamps in the corridors I've indicated and see to the sitting room. I'm tired of living in a place I can't use."

"M'lord," Duo muttered and turning on his heel, stalked from the room.

"That was well-done," said Treize, looking at Heero with an odd expression. "I've never known you to be quite so -- harsh with your servants. The boy isn't that bad and it's not his fault he hasn't got any decent clothes. It's obvious the only thing the old earl spent money on was this damned library."

"He's never serious," said Heero, even while he wondered at his own reaction. Treize was right. If Duo had only two sets of garments, then it was entirely reasonable that he'd not had time to see to them and the list of tasks he'd left Duo that morning had been a long one. Yet, each time Heero laid eyes on the long-haired youth, the oddest feelings arose in him, feelings that disconcerted him and left him feeling uncertain, insecure and angry.

"Well," Treize said, waggling his eyebrows. "I think he's delightful."

"Then help yourself," snapped Heero, tired of it all. "I have more important things to think about -- like the yacht sitting in the bay and no one knowing who it belongs to."

"Ah, that," agreed Treize, pouring himself another glass of wine, "and the delicious young Hunter. Hmm. Decisions, decisions. Pretty shinigami slave or fiery Hebrondan assassin? I swear, this mission gets more interesting by the second."

"Feh." Heero pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'd worry more about why the Hebrondan's here."

"Yes," agreed the duke thoughtfully. "Will you tell the king about this interesting development?"

Heero nodded.

"Where are you going?"

"To my room for my notepad. Milliardo's leaving for Dragora any day, so I'll have to get it off quickly. What about you?"

"I think I'll stay around here a bit and have look at the books until supper is ready," Treize decided.

"You?"

Treize's blue eyes glinted. "I'm sure some of them have pictures," he replied sweetly.

A maid let Wu Fei into the lodge, taking his coat and vanishing. There was no sign of his host. Relieved, Wu Fei continued straight to his quarters, another over-lavish bedroom that looked out into the forest. At least the view was pleasing.

Discovering the Red Duke in Wyrmhold had been an unpleasant surprise. Yuy's presence could be explained comfortably -- Dragonfell was his property, after all -- but Kushrenada? Uneasily, Wu Fei wondered if his mission was as secret as the Council thought it was.

The Hunter took a seat in the high-backed armchair by the window and stared out at the trees. In truth, he had not expected the duke to be so young or so damned attractive. He remembered the way those eyes, the color of the sunlit sea, had taken his measure. Thinking of it now warmed Wu Fei's blood. A knock on his door made him look up. It was a maid, informing him of supper.

The lodge dining room was small but pleasant, overlooking the distant bay. Tuberov greeted him heartily before digging into another excessive meal. While the baron's well-trained servants moved discreetly around them, Wu Fei picked at his salad.

"You mentioned that you've been in the castle library. Have you ever been anywhere else in castle?"

Tuberov shook his head and gestured to a servant for more wine. "No. Why should I? Antiquities ain't my thing, Chang, and you don't get much more antique than Dragonfell. The place is a gloomy labyrinth. I can't even imagine the expense that would be required to install heaters in all the rooms or to build staircases in the central shafts."

The place was certainly huge enough to hide any number of fugitives. "Legend claims that the dragonstone is in there somewhere," said Wu Fei, carefully avoiding his real interest.

Tuberov laughed. "So -- that superstition has made it all the way to Hebronda, has it?"

"Maybe it isn't superstition."

"The stone that wakes the Dragon Warrior. Hmph." The baron shook his head, eyes narrowing. "I own it's an attractive thought if you're in the mind for a little world conquest." A sly gleam appeared in those small, narrow eyes. "Is that your mission, Chang? Planning on doing a little treasure-hunting while you're in Wyrmhold?"

"It was not only machines of war the Onii possessed. The Onii could cure any illness, it's said, even madness. They traveled everywhere across the face of the continent in a single day in machines that ate sunlight..."

"They say the Onii could fly, too," snickered Tuberov.

"Our studies in Hebronda indicate that could very well be true." Wu Fei replied. "But if it isn't the Onii magicks or history that interest you in the library, what does?"

"Novels and erotica." Tuberov's smile changed subtly, raising the hairs on the back of Wu Fei's neck. "And, of course, Dragonfell has other attractions, as well. There is its shinigami. Maybe you should speak with him, my lord. They say those with Onii blood can recall memories of their ancient past. Since you find their works so interesting, try asking the lad the right question. Who knows? He might be able to reveal how they were able to call forth light with only a word or something equally fantastic."

"Speaking of superstitions," muttered Wu Fei and chased a bit of tomato around his plate with his fork.

Tuberov shrugged. "There aren't many shinigami left, you know, and most of them probably aren't really descended from the demon lords. Still, I hear that Dragonfell's is the real thing, the last in a line going back at least five hundred years and with the documents to prove it."

Wu Fei smiled politely, but he was intrigued. That was something he'd not heard before. He thought about the young man with the long braid and those unusual violet eyes. "What is the status of shinigami in Sanc? Slavery's been abolished here, hasn't it?"

"Unfortunately." Tuberov scowled. "Our king fancies himself 'progressive,' but shinigami are a special case. They're technically wards of the Church and for the moment, at least, still beyond Peacecraft's interference. In cases like Dragonsfell, however, the Church gives up direct control in exchange for large yearly tithes and donations. And, of course, Duo is a special case, if local gossip is to be believed." He smirked.

"Indeed." Wu Fei murmured, skin crawling. Not for the first time did he wish his employers had found someone of higher moral fiber to act as his host and liaison in Sanc. "I hope to see Dragonfell's library myself, soon."

"Shall we invite the earl and his guest to luncheon tomorrow?"

Wu Fei shrugged. "If you wish. I should warn you, however, that his guest is none other than the Duke of Oz."

"Kushrenada?" Tuberov's expression became sour. "So that's who came with him, eh? Damnation."

"You are acquainted?"

"Slightly," Tuberov replied. "Arrogant, overbearing bastard."

In that, at least, Wu Fei and the baron agreed.

Chapter 7

A clank and rattle woke Heero the next morning. He sat up straight in his bed, every sense alert, then fell back into his pillow. Duo was pouring hot water into the thermos beside the washbowl. Sensing Heero's eyes on him, he looked around. Bowing, he replaced the thermos lid and went to open the curtains. Then, retrieving his bucket, he slipped from the room.

Heero yawned. Sunlight poured through the windows. The air was warm and close. He pushed back his sheet and sat up. His day lay before him, full. There was the matter of that elegant little yacht that needed to be resolved. And the most troubling of all, the presence of the Hunter.

Was someone in Wyrmhold the target for assassination? Heero ran through Duo's list of the local gentry and could think of only one likely possibility -- Treize.

Treize had denied it. "He says not and I believe him. Hebrondans are honest to the point of idiocy."

Maybe, thought Heero, not entirely convinced. Still, even if Treize was right, there was the very interesting question of why the Hunter was here, who hired him and why.

Heero slid from the bed and went to the window. He opened it, but there was not much of a breeze to dispel the heavy warmth.

Duo was waiting for them at the breakfast table, dressed in the ragged trousers and threadbare shirt he'd been wearing when the two noblemen had arrived. Both garments looked damp, as if they'd been hastily washed the night before and hadn't had time to dry. He had a small white envelope that he handed to Heero.

"There's a man from the Lodge waitin' for your response, m'lord."

It was an invitation to lunch. Silently, Heero handed it over to Treize. Tuberov was a snake. Given the reputation of the Hunters, it was curious to find the two men together. Another puzzle. This damned county was teeming with them.

"Ah! A chance for you to offer a formal invitation to Chang to attend your party!" Treize exclaimed. To Duo, he said, "Send back our acceptance."

They left the castle early. Heero was determined to find more information on the mystery yacht. The harbormaster had been ill the day before, but this morning he was at his post when the two young noblemen visited. He had a red nose and a cough, but declared himself reasonably recovered. "The yacht?" he asked. "It's of Dragorran make, but I believe it's registered here in Sanc. The Muse, it's called. It belongs to a Mr. Barton of New Port City."

"Barton?" The name was familiar to Heero.

"Yes," agreed the harbormaster cheerfully. "He brings it up here now and then." "Is there a log of its recent ports of call?"

"Of course." The man looked offended. "We may be a provincial little county, my lord, but we're careful to obey the law."

"Where was it's last stop?"

" Let's see here -- Esene in Dagorra."

Heero straightened. Treize turned swiftly around and the two noblemen exchanged startled glances.

Heero nodded curtly to the harbormaster and thanked him. The two men left the building and stood, looking out over the bay. The yacht bobbed gently on the water.

"I take it we'll be looking up Mr. Barton?"

"Yes," agreed Heero.

Wu Fei checked his watch frequently as the morning advanced. Tuberov had planned the luncheon with the earl and his guest for shortly past one o'clock and the young Hunter found himself looking forward to the event with an excitement that was almost unseemly. For, although he tried to pretend otherwise, it was not the opportunity to get an invitation to Dragonfell he eagerly awaited, it was a chance to see Kushrenada again.

The duke was well known to Hebrondan military strategists. Although mighty Sanc itself was at peace, there seemed to be endless wars between the many small kingdoms that surrounded it. As a result, the Sanc military was kept busy defending its allies and its borders.

Hebronda watched it all carefully, taking special note of Sanc's best commanders. The Dragon Council reckoned, not unreasonably, that Hebronda might find themselves someday facing the likes of Yuy or Kushrenada on the battlefield. Yet now that Wu Fei had seen Kushrenada in the flesh, he had a difficult time matching the fearsome reputation with the languid aristocrat.

A servant knocked on his door to announce the arrival of the two guests. Wu Fei forced himself to linger a moment before going down, unwilling to be seen as too eager to meet the duke again. When he walked into the parlor, Tuberov was deep in conversation with Kushrenada. The smaller, dark-haired earl stared out the window, a glass of wine unheeded in his hand. At Wu Fei's entrance, the young man turned and fixed a stern, thoughtful gaze on him. Wu Fei inclined his head slightly.

Tuberov broke off. "Ah, there you are, Chang. Gentleman, may I present my guest, Lord Chang. Chang, this is His Grace, General Treize Kushrenada of Oz."

"We've met," smiled Kushrenada, extending a hand.

Handshaking was a custom Hebrondans did not share. One did not touch another unnecessarily. Wu Fei looked pointedly at the lean, outstretched fingers. Kushrenada didn't withdraw his hand but stood, smile unabated, holding it between them. Annoyed, Wu Fei finally took it. Strong, dry fingers gripped his with startling strength.

"Welcome to Wyrmhold," said the duke, and released him.

"His lordship, Heero Yuy, Earl of Wyrmhold."

Yuy nodded shortly and made no move to touch him. Here was a man more to Wu Fei's liking, no artifice, no subterfuge.

"How long have you been in Sanc, my lord?" the earl asked.

"Only a few days."

"And how do you find us so far?" asked Kushrenada.

Wu Fei smiled. "A pleasant place, Your Grace."

"Ah. Such a cowardly response." Blue eyes gleamed. Tuberov snickered.

Wu Fei met the wicked gaze squarely. "You're right, Your Grace. My apologies. I find Sanc to be weak and overly concerned with comfort."

"Even our military?"

"Especially your military." Wu Fei looked from the duke to Yuy, who frowned back at him but said nothing. "For instance, I've heard that you, Your Grace, insist upon bringing a luxurious tent to the war camp, with dozens of thick carpets, heaters, alcohol lamps, servants -- even a brass bathtub!"

"More people should bring bathtubs," the duke replied gravely. "Then I should not be required to air out my tent after each strategy meeting."

"My people have learned that only by hardening the body, by focusing the mind on the pure honor of battle can a warrior become truly invincible."

"There is no such thing as an invincible warrior, Lord Chang. There are only warriors whose strength and desire for justice have the power to change fate. That is the goal to which we as soldiers should aspire. The paths to reaching it are as individual as the warrior himself."

"I would expect such a philosophy from the south," Wu Fei said. "It basically asks nothing but that you give in to your emotions. It's hard to believe Sanc has stood so long with a foundation like that."

"I notice we're not speaking Hebrondan," purred Kushrenada. Wu Fei's scowl deepened.

"Gentlemen," Tuberov interjected nervously, "I do believe lunch is served."

"Treize," Yuy said in a warning voice, and he, too, scowled at the red-haired duke. Kushrenada, however, was blithely impervious.

"I suppose," he said, "you think you could best me in a duel, what with me being so soft and decadent."

"Easily," retorted Wu Fei.

"Very well," Kushrenada said, eyes sparkling. "Let us meet tomorrow afternoon. If I lose, I will pay the price of your choosing. If I win, you will pay mine."

"Agreed!" Wu Fei declared and it was only much later, when he had cooled down, that he wondered what the hell he had just done.

Chapter 8

"Let's take that last passage again," frowned Quatre. "It sounds like the timing's off."

"I think you're right," agreed Trowa. "In the fourth stanza, let's make the C-flat two eighth notes."

Quatre nodded and leaned across the keyboard to make the changes on his sheet music. The windows of Bay Cottage stood open to the unseasonably warm afternoon. The breeze that made its fitful way through them was heavy with the scent of the sea and the tangy fragrance of leaves about to turn.

"All right," Quatre said, leaning back, lifting his hands to the keys. "Let's try it now."

"One, two, three, four..."

It worked this time, the music flowing smoothly past the troublesome part to the end. Trowa lowered his flute, pleased.

"H'llo, sirs. Sounds great!"

Startled, he looked around. Leaning in the open window was Duo. Dark violet eyes sparkled.

"Come on in," invited Quatre. "The front door is open."

The young man vanished. Quatre looked over at Trowa and grinned. "The invasion of the Onii is underway."

Footsteps in the hall announced the arrival of the earl's eccentric servant. Duo went right to a nearby chair and sat down, tucking his feet up, face alight with anticipation. "Don't let me stop you," he encouraged.

Trowa looked over at Quatre. "From the top?"

They ran through the piece again. From the corner of his eye, Trowa saw Duo listening attentively, smiling. When they stopped, he applauded enthusiastically.

"Trowa wrote it," Quatre said.

"You're jokin', right? You made that up?"

Trowa nodded.

"Are you famous?"

Quatre choked and Trowa grinned faintly. "I've been lucky enough to have my work performed in the capital a few times," he hedged. "How are things at the castle?"

That expressive face darkened slightly. "The earl's here."

In spite of himself, Trowa felt a small frisson of alarm. "You don't sound like you approve."

"Like it's up to me," sighed Duo. He stretched long legs out in front of him. "Lacy says I ain't used to normal aristocrats and that they ain't that bad, but he and the duke seem awfully full of themselves to me."

"Duke?"

"Yeah. Someone named Kushrenada."

A chill shot through Trowa and he couldn't help the way his eyes flew to Quatre. The other man sat, pale and still, his face giving nothing away.

"You know the duke?" Those Onii eyes missed nothing, thought Trowa uneasily.

"We've met," said Quatre.

"I should go up and introduce myself," said Trowa. It would be better, he thought, than having the earl -- and perhaps even Kushrenada -- come to the cottage.

"They're in the village today," Duo said, adding with relish, "Good riddance. The earl is nuts. I think he wants to turn Dragonfell into some kinda country manor or somethin'. Lacy said he's sent for some of his fancy l'Sanjil servants. He's gonna fix up the place and even have a party. She says then I'll probably go back to doin' maintenance and outside work again. That's fine with me! This waitin' at table shit isn't my style." The youth jumped up, bowing low, an expression of fawning obsequiousness on his thin face. "More wine, your lordships?" he simpered. "Do your lordships require me to lift your forks to your mouths?"

Quatre chuckled. Trowa shook his head. "Are you this honest with the earl?"

"Do I look suicidal?"

That was too much for Quatre, who laughed aloud. It was a sound Trowa had not heard often enough lately. He grinned and shook his head. "I suppose you've run off to come here."

"Uh, well, maybe..."

"Here." Trowa went to the big trunk by the fireplace and pulled out a tambourine. "Don't think you can come down here and slack off."

"What's this?"

"You have to help us with this next song."

"Excellent idea!" approved Quatre. "The Milkmaid's Reel?"

Trowa nodded.

"I can't play music!" objected Duo, looking at the tambourine as if it might jump from his hand and bite him.

"Just try."

"But . . ." Duo gave the instrument an experimental jangle and laughed. "I've never used one of these before, sir. I'll ruin your song."

"Call me Trowa. And don't worry about it. Just do what comes naturally."

"All right, but remember," Duo winked, "it was your idea!"

Quatre started off the peasant dance with a flourish of rollicking notes. Trowa jumped in and, after a few moments, heard a tentative bang and rattle. As he'd suspected, Duo's reticence didn't last long. He got the hang of it quickly and was soon banging and shaking it for all he was worth.

"See?" Quatre said triumphantly at the end of the song. "You've got natural rhythm."

"Hey, I ain't half bad!" Duo grinned. "This is fun! Can we play another?"

So they did, a country-hop this time. To Trowa's astonishment and delight, Quatre started to sing along. Song after song was played, with Quatre switching from piano to violin and back. The blonde even convinced Trowa to sing a little, providing harmony for a romantic ballad. Duo turned red and refused when asked to add his voice, but he was full of compliments for their efforts.

Finally, breathless, Quatre sat back on the piano bench and said, "I'm all played out. What do you say to some supper? Trowa was at the market this morning and brought back some of the first of the new season's cider."

"Ah, shit!" Duo cried, throwing a horrified glance at the window. The afternoon had waned and now the sun hung just above the horizon. He threw down the tambourine. "I've gotta get back!"

He bowed, babbling his thanks and was gone, his footsteps receding through the cottage and, a moment later, the door banged shut. Quatre sighed and got up from the piano. "I hope he won't get into trouble," he said, gathering the sheet music into a tidy pile. "I like him."

"So do I," Trowa agreed. He went to the window. The parlor looked out into the back garden and the hills that lifted to the rocky feet of the Wyrm's Talon. He saw Duo running up the path, then the trees swallowed him up. Trowa started to turn away when he caught sight of movement in the trees in the distance, nearer to the village road. Frowning, he looked closer. Was that a figure lurking there? Alarm quickened his pulse. So preoccupied was he that he didn't hear Quatre come up behind him. When the other man's arms came around him, he started.

"What are you looking at?"

"Just watching Duo," he lied, not wanting to frighten his lover.

"I have to admit," Quatre said, leaning his head against Trowa's back, "that I never really expected that a shinigami could be so normal."

"Hm?" The figure was gone. It was probably just someone walking past on the path above. Trowa absently lay his hand over the two clasped at his waist.

"Ishtaria's shinigami are so different."

"Your home is Onii-built?" Trowa turned around. "I didn't know that."

Quatre looked up at him, but his smile was distant, gaze turned inward. "The inner part, yes. The rest of the castle was built around it. We have two shinigami, a mother and her son. I rarely see them and when I do, they can't speak, of course."

"Why not?"

"Their tongues have been cut out."

Trowa stared, shocked. "Why?"

"So they can't utter spells or charm us into disaster. It's a common practice among our people. I've heard that the Church shinigami are simply locked up for their entire lives." There was just the faintest edge of bitterness in that soft voice. "Duo may be confined to Wyrmhold, but at least he gets to see the sun."

"You will be master of Ishtaria soon enough," Trowa reminded Quatre. "Then you may do whatever you wish."

"Dragora is not like Sanc," sighed Quatre, releasing Trowa and stepping away. "The Church has much more power in my country. They are some of the loudest voices for war. There's been a lot of outrage over the way the Church here in Sanc has been stripped of so much authority. The council of high priests has even forbidden the people to adopt the few simple, Onii-based technologies Peacecraft has encouraged here in Sanc. I would like nothing better than to put in a central heating device like the I've heard is being installed in Sanc Castle, but I can just imagine our clerics' reaction to that!"

"I think you'll be more than equal to the priests once you come of age," Trowa said.

"I hope so," sighed Quatre.

Chapter 9

It was later -- much, much later, than he'd thought. Duo fled up through the trees to the road. Damn! Damn! DAMN! If the earl had returned before he did, Duo was in trouble! Again. He practically flew the last quarter mile to the castle, racing between the old stone buildings to the keep. A quick glance in the stables confirmed his worst fears. Bursting into the kitchen, he knew at once from Lacy's expression that he was sunk.

"Lord Yuy's in the lib'ry," she said. "He said you're to go there at once when you showed up."

Feet dragging, Duo made his way there. The earl sat in one of the armchairs. Shadows gathered in the huge room as dusk approached. He was alone. "Thanks for coming," came the flat, dry tones, heavy with sarcasm.

"My lord, I can explain..."

"Where were you?"

"Lacy was working in the kitchen. She didn't want me underfoot..."

"Where were you?"

"Bay Cottage."

"And what were you doing there?"

It trembled on the tip of Duo's tongue to claim that he had gone to make repairs, but one of the things the previous earl had taught the youth was to tell the truth. "Master Pierrot invited me to come listen to him play," he said finally. "I -- I'm sorry, m'lord. I forgot the time."

"Pierrot," said the earl, "is not your master."

"Yes, sir." Duo said stonily.

Yuy was on his feet in a swift, fluid motion. Duo stumbled backwards. His master's lean hand shot out, bunching up the shirt at his throat. Then, almost as quickly, those fingers opened and pushed him away. The earl stared at him, breathing hard. Duo's heart was beating wildly. He knew he should probably be on his knees, begging Lord Yuy for forgiveness, but instead he stared back defiantly. Yuy's slender black eyebrows narrowed and he jerked his chin toward the door. "Outside."

"You can beat me here as good as anywhere else," Duo spat, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his side.

"Who said I was going to beat you," Yuy replied, indigo eyes glinting. "You can defend yourself."

Duo's mouth dropped. "D-defend myself?"

"If you think you have the strength to defy me, let's see it."

It took a moment to sink in, then Duo nodded jerkily. He turned and stalked from the room. Defend himself? Against a colonel in the king's army? In spite of the dire circumstances, he felt a chuckle bubbling up inside at the absurdity of it.

Lacy looked up from her vegetables, owl-eyed, as he strode through the kitchen and out onto the lane, the earl right behind him. The sky showed crimson and gold between the keep and the granary. Shadows thickened along the edges of the lane. Turning, he faced Lord Yuy who was pushing up the sleeves of his jersey. Duo swallowed.

It was ludicrous. They might be the same age and roughly the same height and build, but there the similarity stopped. He was a slave who spent his days fixing and cleaning and hauling. Lord Yuy was a warrior who had trained and fought for years. On the other hand, Duo did have those bizarre moves Lord Maxwell had taught him. They were only defensive, but they might spare him the worst of it.

Shit. What was he thinking? He was going to get pulverized.

Lord Yuy shifted into position, body poised, radiating power. Duo fought the impulse to retreat, moving his own weight onto the balls of his feet, letting his knees bend slightly. The palms of his hands were clammy. Desperately, he tried to remember what Lord Maxwell had taught him.

Lord Yuy leapt with a speed and ferocity that made Duo yelp and throw himself to one side. Even as he did so, Yuy was spinning, kicking up and out. Reflex and Lord Maxwell's instruction made Duo fling up his crossed arms to block it, ducking and rolling away.

He regained his feet as Lord Yuy came at him again, this time seizing the earl's wrist as it flew past his jaw and adding his weight to the other man's momentum. There was a brief, but exquisitely satisfying glimpse of the surprise on Yuy's face as the earl flew past to crash into the wall. Duo moved hastily into the center of the lane, shaking with reaction and the surge of adrenalin.

Yuy's handsome face had connected hard with the stone. Slowly, he turned, rubbing his bleeding, elegant nose, eyes narrowed. He was smiling. Duo's heart threatened to jump out of his mouth at the expression. This time, Yuy was a blur and Duo was too slow. A fist like a rock smashed into Duo's jaw and he went sprawling. Instinct made him roll before Yuy's foot came down and somehow he got to his feet, staggering out of reach.

His jaw hurt like a son of a bitch and he was dizzy. Still, he managed to block the next blow and get one in that connected, even though it wasn't a direct hit. Yuy, however, got in two more, knocking the breath from Duo and sending him back to the ground. Again, he managed to squirm out of the way. This time, however, he had to use the wall of the granary to get to his feet.

"Had enough?" asked Yuy.

"Fuck you."

The earl's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing more, coming at Duo again. Duo blocked, dropped and rolled, knocking the earl's legs out from under him. He got his hands on some of the dark hair and managed to crack Yuy's head against the cobbles before Yuy threw him off. They were both breathing hard when they stumbled to their feet again. This time, it was Duo who jumped at the earl. They went down, a thrashing tangle of arms and legs. Duo got in another clumsy punch, but in short order, he found himself on his back. A fist slammed into his jaw, knocking his head hard on the stone and, that fast it was over. He saw stars. Hands like vises seized his wrists and held them still.

"Enough?" Yuy panted.

Yes, Duo thought, but even now couldn't bring himself to say it. Yuy growled and Duo turned his head away, staring blindly at the wall of the keep. After a moment, the earl got off him. Duo noted with some satisfaction that he was none too steady on his feet.

"Clean up," said Yuy, wiping blood from his mouth, staring down at Duo, "and finish the work on your list. If any of it's still undone when I get up in the morning, I will beat you." And turning on his heel, he limped back into the castle.

"You did what?" Treize asked the next morning, staring at Heero in astonishment. The amazement faded almost at once to be replaced by an immensely annoying grin. "And took some damage, too. The Onii prince is no princess, it seems."

"He -- had an interesting style," Heero allowed grudgingly. He touched his jaw and winced.

The two young men made their way toward the dining room. It was time for breakfast. Heero was in no mood to see Duo, but there was no way in hell he would allow the slave to sway him from his routine. Duo waited upon table, therefore, Heero would simply have to put up with it. With luck, J would be here soon and Duo would be relegated to the stables and kitchen where he clearly belonged.

The slave waited silently by the table when the two lords entered. He stared sullenly at the floor. Bruises were stark on his face and arms. His lips were compressed into a thin line. Trieze, a wicked smile on his handsome face, leaned close as he passed and said, "Good show, Duo." Unforgivably, that battered mouth quivered.

An uncomfortable silence held until Duo had served them and withdrawn to fetch more coffee.

"You don't need to encourage him," snapped Heero.

"Why are you so upset?" returned Treize cooly. He regarded Heero with a half-lidded gaze. "He's just a shinigami, right? This is quite unlike you, colonel. The mere sight of him turns you into a growling dog. You challenged him to a duel, for pity's sake!" Treize's eyes suddenly got wide and exaggeratedly round. "Come to think of it, that's exactly what I've done with our delicious Lord Chang."

"I'm not hell-bent on seducing Duo."

"Are you sure?"

Heero opened his mouth for a fiery retort and shut it again, falling back into his chair. Treize smirked and polished off his last bit of toast.

"I think I'll ride out to Bay Cottage this morning," Heero said finally, "and meet my tenant. Would you like to come?"

"Thank you, no," Treize yawned. "I'll take a walk into the village and speak to the landlord of the Gull about a private parlor for tonight. I think a romantic dinner with my Lord Assassin followed by a moonlit walk along the shore might put him in the mood to forget his defeat, eh?"

"Do you ever think of anything serious?"

"Love and battle," retorted Treize. "What else is there? Besides, what am I to do? You consistently spurn me, Yuy."

"Chang is a Hunter. He may win," Heero pointed out. "In fact, this might be just what he wanted."

But Treize merely smiled. "Don't underestimate me, either, my friend."

It was almost a relief to walk out of the castle alone and across the descending hills to the shore. Following That Woman's directions, Heero strolled down the winding path through the trees and across a brook as the sun rose higher at his back. The scent of wood smoke reached him before he saw the cottage.

His path widened, emptying him out on an open hillside with a few low, spreading pines standing about, branches gnarled from the sea winds. He headed toward the bit of roof he could see peeping over the rise. It belonged to a charming limestone cottage surrounded by a low stone wall.

Heero knocked on the front door. No one answered. He knocked again. After several minutes, he left the front porch and walked around to the back. Thinking he saw movement in one of the windows, he stopped and looked up, but they stared back at him, empty. More knocking at the back door again brought no answer and when he tried the knob, it was locked.

The earl stood a moment, undecided. He hadn't counted on Pierrot not being home. Still, it was a fine day, if a bit warm, and some exploring up the coast might be fun and educational. After all, he thought, still not quite believing it all, this is my land.

Heero left the cottage. He kept an eye out for the musician, but saw no one. After five minutes, he reached the edge of the trees and stepped down onto the narrow strip of stony beach. The sun was halfway towards zenith, sparkling on the blue waves. On his right was the bay with the village clustered across its green slopes. To the left, the Wyrm's Talon pointed into the sea. The vista was beautiful, Heero thought in surprise, wildly, austerely beautiful.

Did Duo come all the way down here, he wondered suddenly? Heero pictured the long-haired, elfin shinigami standing on this desolate bit of shore, the wind blowing back that heavy braid, bright gaze drinking in the humbling sight. Heero swore, bending over and picking up a stone. He threw it with all his might into the waves.

"It's an amazing view, isn't it? Inspiring."

Heero spun around. On the embankment behind him, sheltered between a couple of large boulders, sat a young man, cross-legged, a large journal open on his knee. The brisk wind blew brown hair back from his narrow face. He held a pen in one hand, watching the earl, expression shuttered.

"Barton," said Heero when surprise finally faded enough to release his tongue. "Lt. Trowa Barton!"

"Formerly." Green eyes glinted. The young man shut the journal and made his way down the rocks to the beach. "I see you remember me, my lord. Should I be flattered -- or nervous?"

Nonplused, Heero could think of nothing to say. Sir Trowa Barton had once been a soldier of great promise, his rise in rank almost as swift as Heero's. Then, one day, Barton had sold his commission and left the army, no explanations given.

"I hear you've become a musician," Heero said finally and knew whose yacht that was in the harbor.

Barton shrugged. After a moment, he turned his face toward the water. "This bay was called Shinigami's Cup before the Onii wars. The name changed when the Maxwells were ceded Dragonfell."

"I stopped by the cottage."

The green eyes turned abruptly wary. "You were looking for me, colonel?"

"I wanted to meet my tenant, see if everything was all right with the cottage."

"No problems. How long are you staying?"

"A while. Several months, at least."

"You're not going to the royal wedding?" Heero shook his head. "His Majesty has plenty of support."

"You don't find Wyrmhold boring after l'Sanjil?"

"I like it here," said Heero and realized with an inner start that it was true.

To his surprise, a genuine smile lightened those somber features. "Me, too. Its wildness appeals to me. Bay Cottage is comfortable, as well, my lord. And speaking of which, I should go back and try out these new stanzas."

He rose, brushing off his pants. Heero fell into step with him as he started up the beach.

"I saw your boat in the harbor. Nice."

"It gets me around."

"Been anywhere interesting in it lately?"

Barton turned his single, visible green eye on Heero. "Here and there. Most recently, Dragora."

"Really? Business or pleasure?"

"I composed music for the state ball celebrating Relena's betrothal last year and won a few minor commissions from some of the Dragorans who attended."

They continued on in silence. The sun was warm, but the breeze coming in from the bay kept them cool as they made their way up a low, grassy ridge. Trowa stopped. Over the hill Heero saw the peak of the cottage roof. He turned for one final look at the bay.

"Why did they callit Shinigami's Cup?" he asked.

"The sunsets and sunrises here have a lot of red in them. They reflect in the bay and the water looks like blood." Barton nodded slightly and, journal under his arm, strode off through the trees toward Bay Cottage. Heero stared after him, then headed back up the hills to Dragonfell.

Chapter 10

Tuberov had suggested a meadow not far from the lodge as an adequate fighting field. He'd wanted to come along and watch, but Wu Fei had refused. "This is a battle of honor between warriors," he'd said coldly. "Even if you are my host, Tuberov, you will not ignore my wishes in this matter."

The baron had pretended to laugh, but he'd also lost a bit of color and made some excuse about working on his accounts.

Wu Fei rode along the narrow dirt road and meditated on the coming encounter. He had no doubt that Kushrenada was good, but neither did he doubt his own skills. His prowess as a warrior was one of the reasons he'd been chosen for this mission. He would simply keep his mind clear and his soul pure and victory would be his. The thought of seeing the humiliation of defeat on the duke's cool, arrogant face appealed to him mightily.

Soon the forest gave way to open hilltop. It was level enough, he noted, and the grass not too high. Woods edged the meadow, giving it an enclosed, private feel.

Kushrenada was already there, lounging against the remnants of an old stone wall, his magnificent warhorse tearing at the grass. The man was casually attired in loose-fitting trousers and a sleeveless cotton shirt. Sunlight glinted off his red hair. He was, Wu Fei thought in spite of himself, a most attractive man.

The duke stepped away from the wall as Wu Fei dismounted.

"Hot day," said Kushrenada with a wink. "I'd get rid of some of those clothes, if I were you."

Wu Fei was dressed in the traditional Hebrondan challenge uniform of white silk shirt and trousers and black overtunic. He scowled at the ignorant lout.

Kushrenada's grin widened. "Or not. Please yourself, Hunter."

Vaulting over the wall, Wu Fei started into the meadow. Kushrenada fell in beside him. "Have you decided what victory price you will exact on the unlikely chance you win this duel?" he asked.

Wu Fei permitted himself a small smile. "I have, my lord."

"And will you condescend to tell me?"

"I wouldn't want you to take fright and call off our meeting."

There was a chuckle from the insufferable duke. "Dear me. How ominous."

"And what of you?"

"You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

Wu Fei snorted. "Is this good enough?" he asked, stopping. They were directly in the center of the meadow. The ground felt good underfoot. All that grass might hide obstacles, but Wu Fei could see no evidence that Kushrenada had been nosing about, scouting it out before him. They would be at an equal disadvantage.

"It's fine," replied Kushrenada indifferently. "Pistols or swords?"

"Swords."

"As you wish." Kushrenada drew his and touched the edge to his forehead in a lazy salute.

Wu Fei drew his honor-blade, whisking it through the air, the familiar weight reassuring in his hand. The duke paused to examine something on the bottom of his shoe. Whatever it was seemed to alarm him since he spent several long moments attempting to scrape it off against a stone. Then he smiled beatifically, murmured an apology and faced the Hunter, sword raised and ready.

Wu Fei made the first move, moving in with a lightning thrust. Kushrenada parried without grace -- barely deflecting Wu Fei's blade. Looking startled, the duke retreated several steps. Encouraged, Wu Fei lunged and again, Kushrenada barely avoided a skewering, his blade rattling down the edge of Wu Fei's.

"My, my," he observed somewhat breathlessly, falling back another step. "How energetic."

"Fool," sneered the Hunter. He was unexpectedly disappointed that the Sancene lived up to his expectations and in such a spectacular fashion. The best thing to do was end it quickly and decisively and claim his victory prize. Coldly, moving with the speed that had earned him his high rank, he went at the duke with a flurry of savage strikes.

The general, although stumbling and flailing like some bumpkin, miraculously did not go down. It was then, too late, that Wu Fei saw the trap yawning at his feet. He hesitated and his eyes met Kushrenada's. An unholy light burned there. With the smile of an angel, the duke sprang at Wu Fei, fast, unpredictable and agile. It was the Hunter now who stumbled back, parrying desperately as the general's sword seemed to come at him from every direction. Twice it grazed him, arm and flank, slicing silk to the skin but no further.

Wu Fei was surviving, but only just. His hair came loose from its ponytail, falling into his eyes and adding to his misery. Breath burned in his lungs. Then his heel caught in a hole and it was with a sense of relief that he went sprawling in the tall grass, sword flying from his hand.

Panting, drenched with sweat, the young Hunter stared up the length of Kushrenada's slender blade. That handsome mouth curved into a sweet smile. "Ah. It would seem, my lord, that you are defeated."

Shame and fury roiled Wu Fei's stomach. He couldn't speak. Kushrenada lowered his sword and held out his other hand. Ignoring it, the Hunter struggled to his feet. They stared at each other.

By the Dragon! Disaster! If Kushrenada now demanded to know the real reason for his presence in Wyrmhold, Wu Fei was honor-bound to give it. No doubt this was what the duke had intended all along! Wui Fei's insides shriveled at the prospect and he steeled himself.

"Well," he rasped. "What is your victory price?"

"Hmm," replied Kushrenada, and before Wu Fei realized what he intended, the duke tossed away his sword and pulled the Hunter close, tilting up Wu Fei's head and kissing him thoroughly. For a second, taken utterly by surprise, Wu Fei could do nothing but stand still for it, then he gasped and pushed violently away. "Y-Your Grace!"

Kushrenada looked down at him, a strange, almost wistful expression on that handsome face. Then he grinned and retrieved his sword, returning it to its scabbard. "Well fought, my lord," he said.

Wu Fei lifted an unsteady hand to his mouth. His lips tingled. "That -- that was it? That was your victory prize?"

"No. That was just because I wanted to." He smiled down at the speechless Hunter. "Tonight, My Lord Assassin, eight o'clock at the Gull. I will name my price then. Bring an appetite for decadence."

And leaving Wu Fei staring after him, Sanc's most dangerous general strolled back to his horse.

Heero returned to the castle in a pensive state of mind. He found Lacy in the kitchen, kneading bread. "Where's Duo?"

"Dunno, m'lor'. Somewhere about," she replied and gave him an uneasy look, probably wondering if Duo was in trouble again. Heero nodded and left her.

There were lamps set at infrequent intervals along the inner corridors as he'd ordered. In the sitting room, the bug-ridden couch was missing, but there was no replacement yet. Then he heard a scraping noise. Poking his head out of the sitting room door he saw Duo coming down the corridor, huffing and puffing and pushing at a large velvet and mahogany sofa.

Glancing up, the shinigami saw Heero. He scowled and returned to his task. Heero left the room and taking the other end of the couch, helped drag it forward. Together, they got it to the door. Duo, surprised, gave the earl a wary look.

Getting the monstrous piece of furniture through the door was an entirely different matter.

"It's too big," Heero said flatly.

"The hell it is!" snarled his oh-so-meek slave. "I didn't drag this damn thing all the way here for nothing. I'll get it in, my lord. Just see if I don't!"

"Why not find a smaller one?"

"Where?" Duo straightened. "My lord, do you even know what you have in this place?"

Heero, much struck, considered the question. Aside from his involuntary ramble through the castle on his first full day in it, he had not actually looked around in any detail. With his mission foremost in his mind he hadn't actually cared.. Now, however, he found himself curious.

"No," he admitted finally. "Why don't you show me?"

"Uh, sure." Duo looked at the couch. "What about this?"

"Leave it for now."

Duo nodded, still wary. "Where do you wanna start?

"The top floor?"

"The attics? Sure. Wait while I get a lamp."

Heero stood by the couch, critically evaluating the possibility of maneuvering it through the door until Duo returned, lamp swinging from one hand. "C'mon."

They took the east stair up -- and up and up and up. Heero counted six floors. At the top Duo pushed open a dented steel door. An enormous space greeted Heero, most of it lost in shadow. The sound of his boots echoed as he followed Duo into it.

In Heero's experience, most attics were stuffed with broken furniture, discarded clothing, forgotten mementos of all sorts. This place was mostly empty. A few moldering trunks and boxes came into view as Duo's lamplight flowed over them, but otherwise it was simply dust and emptiness.

"Wait," Heero said suddenly. Duo stopped. Dropping to his haunches, Heero cleared dust from the floor with a sweep of his hand. The material beneath was not wood, not even stone, but some smooth, dully-gleaming material.

"It's all around," said Duo. The slave lifted the lamp to show walls and ceiling. "And there ain't a mark on it."

Heero walked to the wall and ran his hand over the surface. Duo was right. Smooth as glass, yet at the same time, it didn't seem as hard. "Why only here, I wonder?" he asked.

"It's not only here," replied the other youth. "It's just that on the first few levels of Dragonfell it's been plastered or paneled over. If you took an axe to your bedroom wall, for instance, you'd eventually hit this stuff."

"But outside it's stone."

Duo's grin flashed. "Nope. Look closer. It's made to look like stone, but it's really this stuff -- molded or somethin'. At least, that's what Lord Maxwell said."

Molded?

"Lord Maxwell used to get in big arguments about it with some of the scholars who came to visit. They claimed it was made by Onii magic -- you know, some guy standing around, chantin'. Lord Maxwell said anyone could make it as long as they knew how and had the equipment and the right ingredients."

"Ingredients?"

"Yep. He claimed it started out as a goop and hardened into whatever shape you wanted. There's an old book on it down in the rare books section of the library."

"So this entire castle was built of goop?"

"Hey -- I'm just tellin' ya what Lord Maxwell said and what I've read." Duo continued on into the vast space.

"How big is the keep?"

"Coupla acres."

"The stables are real stone, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Most of the outbuildings were built a hundred years or so after the war -- all 'cept the battery and the outer walls. They're the same stuff as this. Here. Check this out."

By Heero's calculations, they had reached the center of the building. Duo held out the lamp and Heero found himself looking at a small room that stood in lonely isolation. There was no door, only a large square doorway. He peered through it and stepped hastily back. The room had no floor.

"Goes all the way to the deepest cellar," Duo said.

Heero stared down. A chill, dank updraft ruffled his hair. He smelled earth and damp and corroding metal. "Have you been all the way to the bottom?" he asked.

"Sure. There are more of these shafts on the other floors, three on each. This is the only one that goes through all ten levels. They're lifts of some kind. Lord Maxwell said the Onii had some power that turned off gravity. People just floated up and down. You can see what's left of the machines up there."

Heero looked up and saw bits of rusted metal in the shadows above. "How many levels are in the keep?"

"Ten. Seven above ground, three below."

Curious, Heero ran his hand along the doorframe. "How do you cut this material?"

"It ain't easy! That's why there are only a few bedrooms with heaters. It takes forever to vent the damn things. Ready for the next floor?"

The sixth level was empty, too, room after room of dust and silence. At one point, Heero stopped Duo again and pointed to the ceiling. There was a narrow, rectangular opening cut into it and what looked like some kind of passage. It was too small, however, to fit a body through.

"Lord Maxwell said it's a ventilation and heating system. It's how people were able to live in the building's interior where there ain't no windows. Down in one of the cellars are these old machines that used to pump air through the whole building."

Central heating was not a new idea, although it was expensive and impractical for anything but small houses. He'd never heard of it used in a building of this size. If it worked, Heero suddenly saw possibilities of making this place liveable after all. "I'd like to see those."

"Sure, but there's not much left of em, just bits and pieces. If you want, though, Lord Maxwell kept a sketchbook where he drew what he thought they used to look like. I think he sent copies of it to the king himself a year or so back."

They walked on. Some rooms were big enough to fit an entire company of men, others were very small. Corridors snaked this way and that. Heero was quickly lost, but Duo walked confidently through the maze and in no time they were at one of the corner stairs.

It wasn't until the third floor that Heero saw evidence of habitation again -- plaster and paneling, heaters, and glass in the windows. Like the second level, with which he was familiar, the furniture was old and rotting from the ever-present damp. He heard the chittering of rats. Up here, the heaters were wood-burners, too, which told him how long it had been since these floors were used.

Not only did Heero get to see his property that day, his talkative shinigami delivered a wealth of information on the county, its inhabitants, customs and folklore. Duo had never traveled, never been anywhere but Wyrmhold, but he was well read and smart. Heero listened attentively, caught by the young man's sense of humor and sharp, wry observations. The tour flew by.

"Did the earl believe the dragonstone really existed?" asked Heero at one point. They were in a large room with a mural painted on one wall. It was a battle scene, with humans shooting at Dragon Warriors flying above them. The mural showed many of the monsters falling to the earth in flames. True history, however, painted a different picture.

"Yeah. We looked for it most of my life. He did a lot of research on the Dragon Warriors. Like most of their machines, the Onii themselves destroyed the Warriors rather than let the humans get their hands on 'em, but Lord Maxwell says some escaped the destruction. His research said that at least the stone is still here, the thing that brings the Warriors to life."

"And no one's ever found it."

"Nope. Ready for the cellars?"

Heero nodded.

As Duo had promised, there were three. The first was full of junk and looked like it served as the attic instead of the upper level of the building. The second was mostly empty, but the third and lowest level was not. Duo showed him the rusting hulks Lord Maxwell thought were the giant fans that had forced air through the massive structure. There were other equally mystifying constructs, as well, great tanks, their curved sides collapsed or riddled with holes. There was one section that was almost as big as the attic with a large door on one side that was blocked by stone and earth. The wall was bowed inward and there were cracks in the otherwise impervious black material.

"What happened here?"

"No one really knows." Duo ran his hand over the fissured surface. "It was probably an earthquake. They happen on this coast every once in a while. Who knows? Maybe the dragonstone was on the other side and now it's buried under tons of rock."

"Maybe."

"That's it," Duo said finally. "You've seen it all."

"Amazing, Can I see those books you talked about, the ones with the drawings?"

"They're yours," Duo reminded him.

The two men returned to the library where Duo pointed out a section Heero hadn't seen before. It was a small niche in the main room behind some shelves. In the niche was a glass-fronted cabinet, locked. Heero remembered the key was in his luggage, given to him by the solicitor with other official papers. It looked to be full of books, journals and papers having to do with the castle and surrounding countryside.

"Have fun," advised the shinigami with a grin.

"Where are you going?" "Back to fit that damn couch into the sitting room."

"I'll help you."

Duo opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Thanks," he said, and smiled. Suddenly, it was hard for Heero to breathe, there was so much of light and good will in that expression.

"You'll never get it through on your own," he replied gruffly.

"Got that right," agreed the slave and was off with a spring in his step. Heero followed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

They did get the couch into the room, although only with a lot of swearing, scraped knuckles and sweat. Afterwards, they collapsed on it. The silence between them was almost companionable. Heero looked over at his slave. Duo's head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. Heero was transfixed.

Onii blood. He could barely believe it.

"Do you remember your parents?" Heero asked finally.

"Huh? Me?"

"Yes. Which one of them was shinigami?"

"My mom."

"Is your father still alive?"

A shadow crossed the slave's face. "I dunno and I don't care." Seeing Heero's expression, Duo shrugged. "Lord Maxwell hired him to make her pregnant. He did the job, took his money, and left." There was silence and those violet eyes fell away. Heero watched the slim form tense. "Will -- will you breed me?"

It was the custom and Duo's question was entirely reasonable, but it took Heero's breath away and left him shocked and somehow appalled. "I -- I don't know," he replied honestly.

Duo nodded tightly and rose. "I better get down and help Lacy with dinner, if that's all right with you, m'lord?"

Heero nodded. Duo bowed and was gone, leaving a disconcerted young earl alone on the big couch.