Duo woke, his heart heavy and his stomach queasy with apprehension. It was cold and even under his two blankets and a pile of hay, he shivered. The restless sounds of the horses beneath him and the gray light leaking through the narrow loft window said it was just past sunrise and he should be up. Tonight was Lord Yuy's party.

Thinking about the earl got Duo's stomach churning again. What had happened last night? There, for just a moment, he'd thought everything was going to be great, and then: Get out!

Wretchedly, Duo curled up tighter in the hay. Should he have refused the clothes, the kiss? Gods, what a kiss! It felt just like Trowa's and Quatre's looked! Maybe he was a terrible kisser. Maybe it was just that Lord Yuy came to his senses and realized what he was kissing. Or -- his heart took a sudden, sickening plunge -- maybe the earl had thought Duo had tried casting a spell on him. Lord Yuy claimed he didn't believe in such things, but Duo knew very well that people sometimes said one thing when they felt another way altogether.

Knowing he didn't dare stay out in the stable, Duo finally got up. He looked at the new clothes, but in the end, left them neatly folded on a box. He dragged on his trousers and torn black wool shirt instead and raced off to work.

He saw Lord Yuy twice that morning and both times the earl avoided his gaze. The little knot in Duo's stomach became a big knot. He couldn't concentrate on anything and finally, after dropping an entire basket of eggs and getting chewed out by a stressed and irate Lacy, Hilde asked, "What is wrong with you, Duo? It's like you're someplace else!"

"Sorry," he muttered and ran for the mop.

When Lord Yuy had asked him to give library tours, he'd been secretly flattered and excited. Now the thought filled him with dread. As the hour crept nearer, he kept finding excuses not to go change into his new clothes and it wasn't until the first of the guests' carriages was rolling up the lane that he remembered he hadn't bought good shoes.

J finally hunted Duo down in the stables, helping a boy from the village who'd been hired for the night to put away horses. He was not happy to see the young man's disreputable loafers. "We'll find you something," he snapped. "Now get ready!"

"Something" was a pair of Nick's dress shoes. They were too big, so Lacy stuffed the ends with wadded packing from a crate holding dessert plates. J growled about the length of Duo's hair, but Hilde sighed and said he looked "dreamy." That helped a little. Toby appeared in the kitchen while they were all passing judgment.

"His lordship wants you," he announced. Throat tight, Duo nodded.

Lord Yuy was in the library. He wore black velvet and white silk and he took Duo's breath away. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Duo nodded. His palms were clammy. "My lord..."

"Good," said the earl quickly. "Just wait here. When someone comes, show them around." He practically ran from the room. Spirits sinking even lower Duo found a seat in a nearby armchair.

All right, he thought. He'd do exactly what he was told. He would give the earl no cause for embarrassment. And he would say nothing about last night. If the earl wanted to forget it, well -- it wasn't as if Duo could blame him. It was just a mistake, which Duo would have known if he'd been thinking straight. The earl was the earl and Duo was shinigami and that was that. If he wasn't careful, Lord Yuy would end up having to deal with the same humiliating rumors that Lord Maxwell had.

It was an hour before the first of Duo's tour guests arrived, a wealthy farmer and his wife. A young lord with an estate near the edge of Wyrmhold was next, then Mr. and Mrs. Standish. Lord Kushrenada appeared with a handsome, black-haired young man who Duo was sure he'd seen before. No sooner had they gone when the door opened again. This time, Duo's heart plunged. Lord Tuberov.

He saw with further alarm that the baron was alone. With an oily smile, the man advanced on Duo.

"My dear boy, what a treat."

"You've been here before, my lord. Why do you need a tour?" Duo tried to move around him, but Tuberov kept himself between Duo and the door.

"Oh, come now. Be a good sport. Show me around. Let me hear your spiel." The man's beady eyes took on a mocking gleam. "The earl said you'd be happy to oblige me."

The hair lifted on the back of Duo's neck. "All right, my lord. This way. Over here are the classics. Many of them are first editions..."

Tuberov followed him as he went from section to section. Duo tried not to let the man's nearness bother him, but it was making him nervous.

"What's in there?" asked the baron, pointing to the door.

"It's where most of the cataloguing is done and the book repairs."

"Show me."

Silently, Duo led him there. Tuberov walked down the narrow room, reading the titles on the shelves. "What's this?" he asked.

Duo couldn't see what he was pointing to and he came closer. "I don't see what..." Suddenly, he was seized and shoved hard into the corner. Tuberov pressed his body against Duo's, pinning the youth there, kissing him savagely. Furious, frightened, Duo pushed him away and tried to run, only to be backhanded and knocked into the corner again.

"Leave me alone!"

"Stop fighting me, Duo," Tuberov purred, grabbing his wrist. "Maxwell is dead. This earl is more accommodating."

"W-what?"

The baron's eyes gleamed. A truly terrifying smile spread slowly over his face. "Didn't you know? He said I could do what I liked with you."

Duo shook his head. "That's not true." Surely it wasn't! But then he remembered last night -- how Yuy had ordered him angrily to leave. Sickness coiled in his belly.

"Stop struggling!" Tuberov raised a fist again. Duo tried to dodge, but there was no room and the blow sent him sliding, dazed, down the wall. The baron grabbed his braid and pulled him away from the corner and across the room toward a place where several shelves formed a sheltered spot, a spot no one would see.

"NO!" With desperate, angry strength, he twisted out of the baron's grip, scrambling clumsily to his feet. The nobleman swore and reached for him again, but Duo knocked his hand aside and followed through with a swift punch to the man's solar plexus. Tuberov's eyes popped and the air whooshed from his lungs as he folded. Remembering the old earl's teachings, Duo brought his elbow down sharply on the back of the baron's head. Leaving Tuberov writhing on the floor, he bolted from the room and across the empty library.

Tell the earl, said a voice inside, but even as he thought of it, he remembered Tuberov's words. The creepy bastard was probably lying, but what if he wasn't? What if Lord Yuy had given the baron permission to use him? The earl would be furious to find out what Duo had done. Considering how much trouble Duo had caused so far, he might even resort to doing what the priests had always nagged Lord Maxwell to do -- lock his shinigami up in a room for the rest of his life.

Duo's feet kept moving, taking him away from the lamp-lit passages and into the pitch-black part of the keep. He made his way unerringly toward the east corner. Letting himself through the small, side door, he stood at last outside in the lane, back against the wall, thoughts in chaos.

If he ran, the priests would find him and take him back to Cinnamon Mountain. Somehow, Duo doubted if the current earl would come racing to his rescue as fast as Lord Maxwell had. His hand stole to his neck and he pulled out the thrallstone. His fingers closed around it. If only he could get it off! So many times he'd tried, furtively, with saws and hammers and knives -- anything that would cut or crush the chain -- but to no avail.

"It's a special metal," Lord Maxwell had told him once. "No one can sunder it. No one but the Onii and me."

He'd never found the key either, although he'd looked for that, too. "Damn it!" he whispered, tears pricking at his eyelids. "What am I gonna do?"

What can you do? came a little voice in his head. Throw yourself on Lord Yuy's mercy and remember your place from now on. You're shinigami. You're damn lucky you're not locked up in some room with no one to talk to. Ever.

Hands balled into fists at his sides, he closed his burning eyes and struggled for calm. The wall of the keep was cold at his back, the chill air heavy with damp. He would wait awhile, Duo decided, until he had control of his temper and his fear. Then he would go back, apologize to Lord Yuy, tell him what happened and accept the consequences. Slowly, he slid down the wall until he was crouched at the base of it, hugging his knees.

A sound to his right made him open his eyes and look in that direction, heart leaping in alarm. Duo saw a slim figure moving quickly past the far corner of the keep, hurrying down the lane leading to the gate. It was Treize's companion, the handsome, exotic youth -- Lord Chang. The young man didn't look in his direction,

And then the slave remembered where he had seen that man before -- with Lord Tuberov! He jumped up and made his way down the lane to the corner. He saw Chang disappear around the battery. Duo hesitated another moment, then his curiosity got the better of him once again. He headed toward the gate after the black-haired youth.

The autumn fog was gathering outside the walls, creeping up from the ocean below. Duo saw the stranger's silhouette ahead, barely visible in the light of the torches that stood on either side of the gate. Chang stopped. Duo heard a clicking sound and then a small glow appeared. The stranger had a lamp.

Duo watched the figure move on down the road, away from the castle, and followed. Soon the dark swallowed them both and it was only that pinpoint of lamplight that kept the stranger in view.

Several hundred feet from the gate, the light stopped. Duo did, too, and heard the jangle of horse-tack and clatter of hooves on stone. Dragonfell was a dark hulk behind him, looming against the hazy moon. Edging over to the side of the road, he made his way silently and carefully down the embankment toward some bushes, circling toward the light and the noise.

He was almost upon them when he saw them. Feezing, he ducked down into the bushes. Two men on horses were waiting on the road. They were armed with both swords and pistols.

"It's all clear," Duo heard Chang say. "Are your men ready?"

"Yes, sir," said one of the riders.

"Is the coach in position to take him back to Dragora?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Remember. He is not to be injured! Do you understand? You're being well paid to handle this retrieval with kid gloves."

Retrieval?

"How will we know him?"

"He's the only one there. Do you know where the cottage is?"

"We checked it out this morning, sir. You sure the other man is gone?"

"I left him having drinks with the earl. Our so-called Master Pierrot won't be back for some time. Even so -- take care of this quickly and quietly. Any questions? Good. I have to get back before I raise suspicion. I'll meet you later at the border."

These people were after Quatre! Duo sank back on his heels, appalled. The blond's family had found him! Duo watched the stranger turn and start back toward the castle.

He had to warn Quatre, but if he ran back and got Trowa, they might be too late. The two soldiers turned and cantered off down the road. Duo crept out of the bushes. He knew the land like the back of his hand, knew ways over the hills that would get him to Bay Cottage before the riders if he was fast enough. Without hesitating another second, he was off.

Chapter 17

Heero smiled politely at Mrs. Standish and privately wished the glittering, chattering guests in hell. Not one of them seemed a likely Dragoran sympathizer. This entire affair was a waste of his time. Furthermore, in spite of all his efforts, thoughts of Duo kept intruding, just as they had all day. He was going to have to face up to it, Heero thought suddenly. He would have to apologize for forcing himself on Duo like he had. It was the vilest of betrayals, to take advantage of his power and position in such a way. Sanc laws protected other servants from such abuse and he, who heartily approved of those laws, had turned right around and broken them. True, Duo was shinigami and those rules didn't apply, but in Heero's heart the principle was the same and he was bitterly ashamed of his behavior.

"If you'll excuse me," he said abruptly to the chattering old lady. Leaving her gaping after him, he made his way through the crowded parlor and out. He headed purposefully toward the library, but as he rounded the corner, he encountered Baron Tuberov. His eyes narrowed sharply at the sight of the man, rumpled and disheveled, his nose red and swollen. "What happened to you?"

"I -- I -- uh, fell," muttered the baron, and pushed past him without meeting his eyes.

Unease touched Heero. Tuberov had gone for a library tour quite some time ago. Heero quickened his steps, practically running by the time he reached the library.

It was empty. "Duo?" he called, craning his neck to check the upper mezzanines. No answer. The side rooms and stacks were empty.

He met Treize on his way back to the party. "Have you seen Duo?"

"No. Have you seen Chang?"

Heero frowned. "No."

"Damn it!" Treize growled. "I know something's about to go down. He was prowling around that damned abbey this morning at the most ungodly hour. I swore I wouldn't let him out of my sight, but..."

"He's a Hunter," retorted Heero, who couldn't care less. "It's what they do."

"Where are you going?"

"To find Tuberov. I have a bad feeling. Duo's missing."

"Tuberov," agreed Treize grimly. "Our little Hunter's host. Coincidence or not, I think I'll come along."

Duo ran as fast as he dared through the misty dark, scrambling over rock and glen, dodging the trees. He kept an eye toward the east where the torches were distant smears of light in the fog, the riders making their careful way down the path to the cottage. There were more of them than he'd thought. He would get there before they did, but only barely.

A single light burned in an upstairs window when he raced through the gate. He tried the door, but it was locked. He pounded frantically on it. "QUATRE!"

Just as he despaired of being heard, it cracked open.

"Duo!"

It opened wide. Duo pushed in and whirled around, shutting and locking it.

"Duo! What's going on? What are you doing?"

"Someone's comin' to get you!" gasped Duo. A stitch ran up his side like fire and he had to reach out and brace himself against the wall. "Guys on horses. A bunch of them. That foreign guy who's staying with Tuberov was talking to 'em. I heard 'em say they were gonna take you back to Dragora..."

The blond youth whitened. 'Oh, my gods," he whispered. The candle he held in his hand trembled. For the first time, Duo noticed that Quatre was dressed for bed in a long, white nightshirt.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," Duo went on. "We gotta get out of here."

"B-but where?"

"Dragonfell! The earl will help, I know he will!"

"Maybe."

"What do you mean? He's not the kinda guy who's gonna let armed strangers just grab someone on his land."

"He might," Quatre replied in a thin voice, "if he knew the circumstances."

"Bullshit! Besides -- Trowa's there."

Quatre nodded, but he still looked undecided. Duo swore and moved to the window. Sure enough, they were coming. He could see the first of the torches, tiny flickers of light through the trees. "Quatre!"

"All right," said the blond setting down his candle. "I -- I'll go get dressed."

"No time," Duo decided, mind racing. "Here. Change clothes with me." "What?"

"I overheard 'em talking. I don't think they know what you look like. If I stay here, lock myself in the bedroom, stall 'em and pretend to be you -- you'll have time to get to Dragonfell for help."

Quatre stared at him. "Duo! That's too dangerous!"

"No, it ain't! They're supposed to handle you with kid gloves. I heard the guy tell 'em so. Just hurry, all right?"

The torches were several hundred feet away, moving down the path. Duo leapt forward and blew out the candle. "Hurry!"

In the dark, Quatre fumbled off his nightshirt and handed it over. Duo relinquished his new shirt and slacks with a slight pang. "It's gettin' real foggy," he said, "so be careful."

"I'll get lost."

"Maybe, but just keep headin' uphill and you'll be all right. Dragonfell is hard to miss, even in the fog. I'll hold out as long as I can."

"Thanks, Duo. Lord Yuy damn well better reward you well for this." And the youth was gone, running silently through the fog-shrouded garden and out of sight.

Duo shut and locked the door after him, heart hammering. This was probably really stupid. He should have turned around and gone straight back to the castle, informed Lord Yuy and left it all to him. But if he had, and if the earl didn't believe him, or if they weren't in time...

Trowa and Quatre had been kind to him, treated him like a real person, invited him into their home, let him play music with them. Turning, he made his way through the dark cottage and up the stairs. He found the bedroom, then retreated to the bed to wait.

Wu Fei slipped back into the parlor and was immediately accosted by Tuberov. The baron was flushed and nervous, pulling at his tuxedo jacket

"Where the hell have you been?" he grumbled. "I'm tired of this boring party. Let's go."

"I'm not ready yet," retorted Wu Fei, privately cursing the fool. He had no intention of leaving until after Winner had been removed from the cottage. Kushrenada was just too damned sharp. As if on cue, the duke appeared, followed by a darkly scowling earl. Both men saw them and came straight in their direction. Tuberov muttered and slipped off to the dining room. Yuy was after him like a shot.

"I was afraid you'd left," Treize purred, throwing a friendly arm over the Hebrondan's slight shoulders before Wu Fei could follow. "Don't you dare sneak off with anyone but me."

"I needed a breath of fresh air," Wu Fei replied, making no effort to dislodge the arm.

"Is it stuffy in here? I was thinking there was a bit of a draft."

"You Sancenes overheat your houses," retorted Wu Fei, glancing toward the cheerily glowing heater.

"It's that decadence thing again," agreed Treize apologetically. "Oh dear. It looks like the baron's upset."

From the dining room came the sound of raised voices. Everyone in the parlor fell silent a moment, heads turning toward the door. A moment later, Tuberov came storming in, Yuy right behind him, face like a thundercloud. The baron glared at Treize, then said waspishly, "We're going, Chang."

"I . . ."

"I don't think Lord Chang is ready to leave yet," Treize objected. "I'll be happy to take him home later..."

"No," Wu Fei interrupted hastily while a traitorous part of him wanted desperately to stay a little while longer. "I'd best go with him. I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon and there's packing to oversee."

"So soon? You never said anything."

"I wasn't aware that I needed to check my schedule with you," Wu Fei retorted. "Your Grace?" With a stiff little bow, he hurried after Tuberov, acutely aware of the duke's sharp blue eyes boring into his back.

A boy brought their carriage. Tuberov fumed silently the entire time. There was a bruise forming on his face. Had the earl done it? Once in the carriage and on their way down the road, Wu Fei asked, "What the hell is going on?"

"That damned boy struck me!"

"Who are you talking about? Yuy?"

"Him? No. The shinigami! We were in the library. I was just about to have a little fun when he hit me and knocked me down. DAMN HIM! Then Yuy had the effrontery to read me the riot act over it and in public! He's worse than Maxwell, I swear it!"

Wu Fei struggled to keep the sneer from his lips. So, the old lecher got his comeuppance, did he? The thought was amusing as hell. Still, he kept his face expressionless. "I'll be leaving tonight as soon as we get back to the lodge. You can send my belongings to Hebronda on the next ship."

"What? So soon?"

"The mission should already be underway. You need to make sure neither Kushrenada nor Yuy find out that I'm gone until tomorrow afternoon. By then, I'll be far away."

"Suits me fine. I myself will be going to Dragora the day after. I damn well better get what I was promised, too!"

"I'm sure you will," agreed Wu Fei scornfully.

Tuberov subsided into a sullen silence, gingerly touching his swollen nose. The coach drove slowly onward through the fog. Wu Fei stared out into the dark, thinking of Kushrenada. He was surprised, frankly, that Treize had let him go. A part of him has basely hoped that the duke would have objected more strongly to his leaving. One more night in the general's arms...

Fool! This land and that man are corrupting me! I cannot get back to the Temple soon enough!

Desperately, he thought of a mantra, but it didn't have the soothing effect it usually had. His mind still moved restlessly around Treize, memories of that lazy smile, the skilled touch, the sudden, unexpectedly boyish laughter. He remembered lying together in the inn, senses reeling under the twin assault of the soft mattress and Treize's lean, hard body.

No! Remember the Temple. Remember your duty!

But it was difficult. Treize had known how to touch him, what to say to him. When Wu Fei was in the duke's presence he felt as if he was truly with his equal, as if he was with a man who, in spite of his lamentable decadence and inability to be serious, still had, at the core of him, a nobility and fineness that called to Wu Fei's soul.

Bitterly, the Hunter smiled into the dark. Regrets were useless. The duke was not for him, had never been. Wu Fei was a Hunter. His life was mapped out precisely in the Way of the Dragon. Someday, he would be given a wife and would have sons who would follow in his footsteps. He would serve the Council and Hebronda and the memories of this mission would fade.

If only the prospect didn't leave him feeling so empty.

Chapter 18

The sound of the door being kicked in was loud, even from the bedroom. Duo pulled the covers over his head and tried to tell himself he wasn't scared. Rough voices drifted up to him. He heard them thundering through the first floor, going from room to room.

His nerve failing him, Duo threw back the covers and went to the window, thinking he might try climbing down, but he saw at once that there were men moving around in the yard. He thought of Quatre and his heart jammed itself into his throat. He ran back and locked the door. Please, he thought, let Quatre get to the castle safely!

The door shook. He looked wildly around. There was another crash as a large body hurled against it. Leaving the window, Duo ran across the room and pulled open the wardrobe. He scrambled inside, squeezing his body behind the clothes. It was useless and he knew it, but anything to eat up time. Hugging his knees to his chest, he waited.

The door gave with a loud, splintering. Duo heard the heavy tread of booted feet enter the room and stomp around it.

"Where the hell is he?" "Look around! He's gotta be here!"

"Maybe he's not here! Maybe he went to the castle with the other man."

"Chang said not. He's probably hiding."

The wardrobe door was yanked open. Instinctively, Duo tried to make himself smaller. Rough hands swept aside the clothes and suddenly there was a bearded face looking down at him.

"Found him!"

"Bastard! How dare he? He's lucky there were so many people around! I'd have gutted his worthless carcass...."

Treize held up a hand. "Heero! My dear boy! Take it easy!" It was clear the duke was amused, something that hardly worked to cool Heero's temper. "It sounds to me like Duo was more than up to the task of discouraging him."

"It doesn't matter. Duo is MINE!"

"Hmm. Yes."

Heero opened his mouth, thought about what he'd just shouted, and shut it again. He felt his face heat. It was an effort, but he regained his composure. Damn. "Maybe he's back by now," Heero said. "I think I'll go see."

"Heero!" Treize gave him an odd look. "You're the host of a party."

"You entertain 'em. You're better at it anyway."

"Yuy!" Treize shook his head. "You sound like you're in love."

"Don't be silly."

Those dove-tailed eyebrows shot up and Heero flushed. He wasn't in love! He was just concerned.

"Ask one of your servants to look for him," the duke suggested reasonably.

Of course. Heero drew a long breath. He nodded shortly and let Treize take his arm and lead him back to the parlor. Once there, he summoned Nick. The servant, a tray of wine-glasses in hand, was dispatched on the errand and Heero resumed his role as host.

It was fortunate that they kept country hours in Wyrmhold. Mr. Standish and his mother were the next to come up and say their good-byes. Barton was not far behind. He murmured his thanks and hurried off.

Nick reappeared. "I'm sorry, my lord. There's no sign of him."

"You've looked everywhere?"

"Hilde and J have been going through the keep, and he's not in the stables..."

Heero's sense of unease deepened. "I don't like this."

"The party's almost over. We'll help them search afterwards."

The young earl was in a fever of impatience for his guests to be gone. When the last carriage had rolled down the road, he summoned his staff. "Find Duo," he ordered.

"Isn't the Finder for his stone at the abbey?" asked Treize. "That will find him quickly enough."

Heero had no desire to bring the priests in on this. He could just imagine the smug expression on the abbot's face. Besides, if Duo somehow left the county, they would know before he did.

"What if he went to Bay Cottage?" Lacy suggested.

Heero looked at her and frowned. "Why would he do that?"

"They're nice to him," she said flatly and looked him right in the eye. He felt his face heat. "I'll ride down and ask," he said.

"My lord!" objected J. "It's late and the fog is thick as chowder out there! If that's where he's gone, surely it can wait until morning."

"And if he's wandering around in the dark -- or fallen in the fog and injured himself?"

They all looked at each other. Finally, J said, "Nick -- go with his lordship."

"I'll ride up to Tuberov's lodge," said Trieze. "Just in case he's a bigger scoundrel than we reckoned."

Heero hadn't thought of that and his anger returned, full force.

Into the consternation came a new sound. The door to the corridor that led to the lane opened slowly. Heero's heart leapt, but the man who peered tentatively into the kitchen wasn't Duo. The earl found himself looking into the apprehensive face of a complete stranger.

The young man was handsome, with pale blond hair that hung in damp strands over his eyes and into his collar. There was an ugly bruise on his face. His white shirt was muddy and torn. The shirt, thought Heero with a start, looked very familiar.

"I -- I'm sorry to intrude," came a low, soft voice. "B--but is T-- Mr. Pierrot here?"

Treize made a strangled sound and seemed paralyzed. Heero frowned at him, then at the stranger.

"No. He's gone home."

"Oh, no!" The stranger turned and would have gone, but Treize swore and leapt forward.

"Wait!" he cried.

The man, a look of alarm crossing his fine features, turned and bolted.

"Oh, no you don't," muttered Treize and ran after him. Heero looked around at his equally mystified staff. A moment later, the duke reappeared, dragging the frightened young man with him. Propelling him firmly across the kitchen, Treize sat him down on a chair in front of the stove. Then, to everyone's surprise, he bowed very low.

"Good evening, Your Highness" he said pleasantly. "What brings the Crown Prince of Dragora to Dragonfell?"

The back door of the cottage stood open. Trowa, coming in from the small horse barn, saw it with a shock of alarm and started running. Just inside, he groped for the lamp kept on the shelf nearby, but his fingers met emptiness. At the same time, the toe of his shoe struck something on the floor and it went rattling away.

"Quatre!" he shouted. "Quatre!"

As his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he saw the shadowy form of the table overturned and chairs fallen this way and that. Fear was a hard lump in his gut as he stumbled through the room and into the hallway beyond, shouting his lover's name. In the parlor, he finally found a lamp and lit it, only to see more destruction. Turning, he fled up the stairs.

Their bedroom was in shambles. The blankets had been stripped from the bed and lay in a heap on the floor. By the wall, the wardrobe doors stood wide open, clothing pulled out and scattered around. Sick with fear, Trowa sank to the bed and sat, his shaking hands pressed between his knees.

They had Quatre! His worst nightmare had come to pass. Desperately, Trowa fought to keep panic at bay. Who could have found him? They had been so careful. Only Duo knew he was here. Duo. Damn him! The shinigami had betrayed them! But to whom? The earl? That hardly seemed likely. There had been nothing in the Yuy's demeanor this evening to suggest he was plotting the abduction of a prince. Kushrenada was a more likely culprit, given his closeness to Peacecraft, but neither had he seemed to have anything on his mind except the dark-haired, foreign youth who was visiting with Baron Tuberov.

Sitting here accomplished nothing. Would they try to take Quatre by sea? No. It would attract attention to take him through the village. They must be attempting a dash for the border. Leaping to his feet, Trowa ran back downstairs. Somehow, he would catch up to them and, no matter how many of the abductors there were, he would get his lover back!

In the parlor, in a locked trunk, he pulled out his sword and his pistol. Grabbing a handful of bullets, he put them into the pocket of his coat. But as he ran out the back door for his horse, he saw other horses approaching, the riders carrying lamps. At once, he drew his pistol, then lowered it. With a glad cry, he sprang forward. "QUATRE!"

The blond youth, seeing him, reined in sharply and jumped from the saddle, racing across the wet grass to throw himself into Trowa's arms. For a second, the young musician was certain he would faint, so great was his relief.

"Oh gods," he whispered into that soft hair. "Oh, gods, Quatre, I thought they had you."

Quatre was with the earl and two of the earl's servants. All of them were armed. The earl looked exceptionally grim. Quatre pulled back and looked up. "Duo," he said urgently to Trowa. "Where's Duo?"

Trowa shook his head, not really caring.

"He's not here?" The earl reached them in time to hear this last. He was pale and grim. "Duo?" he echoed. Quatre shook his head. Pushing back from Trowa, he ran into the house, the earl right behind. Trowa, mystified, followed.

"Quatre! What's going on? What happened?"

"Duo came. He said there were men on their way here to take me back to Dragora! There was a Hunter! I tried to get to the castle as fast as I could, but I got lost..."

"What?" At once Trowa thought about the handsome, dark-haired youth. He remembered suddenly that the man had disappeared briefly from the party and, when he'd returned, his hair and clothing had been damp. As if he'd been outside. "Chang!"

"Kushrenada is taking care of him," said Quatre grimly. "Duo thought the men didn't know what I looked like so he stayed here -- to stall them, he said."

"No one's here."

"You're sure?" Yuy asked harshly. "You've looked?"

"I searched for Quatre. I didn't find anyone." Trowa set hands on the smaller blond's shoulders. "We'd better leave. We don't dare stay here. If they've taken the shinigami by mistake, they'll realize it soon. They may already be on their way back!"

"No!" Quatre jerked back, eyes flashing.

Yuy said something in a low, angry voice.

"I'm coming, too," said Quatre in a determined voice. "Just give me time to get my coat and weapons."

"Quatre, no!"

Yuy paused and turned back. Quatre met Trowa's panicked anger squarely. "This is my fault, Trowa. If I hadn't run from my duty, none of this would have happened. When they discover that they've been tricked, God only knows how Duo will suffer!"

Trowa stared down into that clear, forthright gaze. "Quatre, why? He's a shinigami, he..."

Quatre shook his head and pushed past Trowa, running into the house. Looking around, Trowa flinched at what he saw in Yuy's face. The earl swore and jumped gracefully into the saddle. With a flick of his reins he was away, his servants right behind him.

Chapter 19

They had the prince. The messenger had delivered the coded, poorly spelled note to Tuberov's butler just before the baron and Hunter arrived at the lodge. Reading it, Wu Fei relaxed somewhat. Good. Now to join up with them.

Leaving Tuberov and his wounded nose in the tender care of the servants, the Hunter went to his room and hastily assembled a change of clothing and a few other incidentals, pushing them into a small bag. "Tell the baron I'm away," Wu Fei informed the butler shortly. "Thank him for his hospitality."

The man bowed and ran to open the door for him.

An ostler was roused and, yawning, went to saddle Wu Fei's horse while the Hunter waited impatiently.

"Here ye go, m'lord," the boy said, leading the animal out. The damned fog would slow him, but it would slow the coach, too. Leaving the lit stable yard, he headed back for the road.

"No further, Chang!"

The voice rang out of the fog and froze him in his tracks. Wu Fei's heart faltered. Light appeared as a lamp was unshielded, illuminating the severe, handsome face of the Duke of Oz. In one long hand was a pistol held unwaveringly on Wu Fei's chest.

"What is the meaning of this?" Wu Fei blustered.

"Your little game is up," Treize replied coldly. A twitch of his knee started his horse forward slowly. Wu Fei snarled and set heel to his, surging forward. A shot rang out and something hit him hard in the shoulder. An instant later, pain roared through the Hunter. He gasped in disbelief, folding forward across his horse's neck. His grip on the reins faltered and he slid slowly from the saddle into the muddy road.

Wu Fei struggled to his knees, pain making him dizzy, but the Duke was there to grip his other arm and pull him to his feet. He threw Wu Fei back against his restive horse. "It's a flesh wound," the duke informed him with a curl of those elegant lips. "What's the matter, warrior? Never taken a bullet?"

"Go to hell!" Wu Fei gripped his biceps, blood seeping through his fingers. Treize was right. The bullet had passed right through. It hurt like the devil, though.

"Tsk, tsk. What a face.." Setting the lamp on the road behind him, Treize whisked a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat. Keeping the gun firmly in one hand, he handed the handkerchief to Wu Fei.

"I confess," continued the duke, "that I never expected to see a Hunter reduced to something as ignominious as a kidnapping!"

Wu Fei snarled at him. The duke's insufferable grin appeared. "What a shame you bungled even that, Chang."

"What are you talking about?" Wu Fei dropped the kerchief into the mud and pressed his palm hard against the wound.

"You've got the wrong man," said the duke soberly. "Someone saw you giving instructions to your men on the road. It's the Dragonfell shinigami on his way to Dragora, not Prince Quatre. Whatever possessed you to use Sancene mercenaries?"

Wu Fei's mouth sagged. "You -- you're lying!"

"I wish I was. Yuy's in a murderous foul mood. You have no idea how glad I am to be here and not with him at this moment. He can be such an asshole when he's pissed."

"It's not true."

"It is! I've known him for years!"

"That's not what I meant!" Chang said between gritted teeth.

That smile appeared. "No? Care to see His Highness for yourself?"

"I do not! Leave me alone."

"I can't do that," sighed Treize. He swept up his lamp and motioned with the barrel of his gun toward Wu Fei's horse. "This is all so very curious. Let's go."

"Where?"

"To the abbey. The priests have a Finder there, or so I hear. Furthermore, I suspect they had a part to play in this little drama. I'm sure they'll be happy to patch you up while I'm threatening the abbot with imminent death."

Heero, Trowa and Quatre met Treize and the Hunter outside the gates of the abbey. The Hebrondan sat straight and stiff in his saddle. There was a bandage around his left arm. His wrists were shackled and the reins of his horse were looped around the duke's saddle. Treize had the Finder, a small, metal box inset with a tiny square of crystal. The duke appeared grimly satisfied. Heero took one look at the Hunter and started toward him, but Treize moved his horse neatly between them. "No," the duke said.

"You and me," promised Heero softly, looking past Treize at the pale, expressionless Hebrondan. "Later."

"They're taking the Cantorson road," said the duke. He looked at Quatre, who was astride a thoroughbred white mare, looking strained but composed. "The plan was to take you to the fortress in Crassel, Your Highness. That's probably where Duo is headed. From there, you were to be transported to Esene in time to take place in the various rituals and ceremonies that precede your wedding."

Treize handed Heero a small, metal box. "The Finder," he said "And be careful! If what I suspect is true, there may be more trouble in Cassel that you think."

Heero took and frowned. "You're not coming?"

Treize shook his head. "I have something else I must do." He looked straight at the young prince. "Have you asked yourself, Highness, why the regent hasn't canceled the wedding ceremonies?"

Quatre just stared at him.

"Because he knew he would get the prince back," returned Trowa angrily, "and he was right!"

"Perhaps."

Heero's eyes narrowed sharply. Treize had not taken his eyes from the prince. "Why didn't you go directly to Milliardo and tell him you had no wish to marry his sister?"

"We did -- or we tried. Twice. The second time we were attacked by Dragoran agents not a quarter mile from the royal palace. Trowa was wounded, so we fled here. We sent a letter, but for all we knew, that, too, was intercepted."

"It seems an awfully lot of trouble to go to just to keep a wedding on track, doesn't it?" Treize suggested gently.

"My uncle is a proud man and Dragora needs the alliance..." Quatre looked suddenly uncertain.

"It's a possibility," agreed Treize grimly. "Or maybe he has something else in mind entirely.: He looked over at Heero. "Be careful," he said again. Then, yanking on the Hunter's reins, he and the Hebrondan wheeled around and rode off.

The carriage was slowing again. Was this their destination or another change of horses? Duo stirred uncomfortably in the corner and opened his eyes. He had no idea how long they had been riding, but he had seen the cracks in the carriage go from dark to light and to dark again. Now the edges of his blackened windows showed gold once more and it was much warmer than it had been. His stomach ached with dread and the future yawned before him, filled with danger.

He had never expected it to get this far. Duo had been sure they would come from the castle in time -- or that his captors would realize he was not the man they sought. Once they had pulled him from the wardrobe, however, they had wrestled him to the floor, ignoring his protests, and thrown a blanket over him. They had carried him wrapped like a damned bag of potatoes from the cottage and since then, the coach door had been locked, the windows barred and shuttered. They had stopped only occasionally, always at night, letting him out on the roadside with guards all around to relieve himself or to give him water and a bit of food. Each time, he'd thought about revealing the truth, but fear -- both for himself and for Quatre -- held his tongue. So it was back inside the coach again, not a word uttered.

Weary, discouraged, he pulled the blankets close. For all he knew, the earl had never come. Lord Yuy might very well see this as Providence, a way of ridding himself of his annoying, inconvenient shinigami. After all, the earl had said he didn't believe the legends. He wouldn't be afraid for his family line. Duo leaned his head against the wall of the coach.

Outside someone shouted and another man answered. The coach swerved sharply, and he was thrown across the seat to the other side. It slowed further, then stopped. Swallowing on a mouth gone dry, Duo gathered himself up, wishing he was wearing more than Quatre's now-filthy night-shirt. The coach bounced up and down, then the door opened.

He raised his hand against the blinding light that flooded in. "Please, Your Highness!" he heard. "Come out! You're home!"

Highness? Duo's already flayed nerves jangled. Highness? Heart hammering, he pulled the blanket up over his head like a hood and stepped gingerly out into the doorway.

Eager hands helped him down onto a wide gravel path surrounded by a crowd of people. He saw soldiers, lots of them, and men in fine clothing. Everyone was bowing to him! Looming over them all was a tall building, Onii-built.

His heart raced. Blanket clutched tight around him, he was hustled along the path and up the broad, shallow steps. Through the door they hurried him and down a broad corridor with a floor of gleaming wood and an arched ceiling high above.. There were more people here, more silks and satins and fine jewels, more uniforms gleaming with silk braid and medals, more bowing.

Ahead was a pair of imposing double doors, ornately carved with religious and battle scenes, and guarded by soldiers. The men sprang to open them and Duo was swept on through. There was a table in the center of the room, very long and polished to a high sheen. Around it sat more men in fine clothing, more soldiers and priests in robes almost as fine as the garments of the noblemen. At the head of the table was a man with a large nose, clearly the leader, who turned in his chair and fixed a pair of sharp eyes on the apprehensive young man. As the doors shut behind them, everyone at the table rose and bowed. Duo gulped and stopped dead in his tracks, unable to go another step.

The man at the head of the table suddenly hissed and his eyebrows drew sharply together. His eyes bored into Duo's. "Who the hell is this?"

You could have heard a pin drop. The man standing beside Duo, the mercenary who had brought him there, said, "It's the prince, my lord!"

"The hell it is!"

Suddenly the room was filled with the babble of angry, alarmed voices, everyone talking at once. The blanket was ripped from Duo's clutching fingers and he was alone in a small, open circle, the cynosure of every eye.

"SILENCE!" roared the man at the head of the table, and silence there was. "Who are you?"

"My name is Duo, my lord." His words seemed to echo down the room. "Where am I?"

"You liar!" shouted the mercenary angrily. He seized Duo by the shoulder and shook him. "Where is Prince Winner?"

"P-please. I -- I don't know anything!"

"It's a shinigami!" someone shouted suddenly.

The mercenary released Duo as if he had suddenly caught fire and all around the room Duo heard gasps. He looked down belatedly and saw that the mercenary's rough handling had shaken loose his thrallstone. Quickly, he covered it with his hand, but it was too late.

"What the hell is going on?" The man at the head of the table looked as if he might explode. His face was red and his eyes blazed. "Is this some kind of a trick? Where's the Hunter? Why isn't he here?"

The mercenary stammered and backed away even as the doors flew open and more soldiers rushed in.

"P-Please, Lord Catalonia! The Hunter told us this was the prince! We followed his orders exactly!"

"Lord Catalonia!" cried an officer with small, unpleasant eyes who sat at the lord's right hand. "The stone -- it's black! There's only one thrallstone in the world that color! This creature belongs to Dragonfell Castle in Sanc! It belongs to the Earls of Wyrmhold!"

"Is that true?" Catalonia fixed a baleful glare on Duo.

Duo nodded.

"Did he send you? How much does he know?"

Duo shook his head. The looks he was getting, especially from the priests, scared him to death. This had been the worst idea, he thought faintly. Sometimes he was so stupid!

"I hear the earl isn't with Peacecraft in Esene," someone added.

"So," Catalonia said at last. "It would seem we are betrayed." He looked at the mercenary, now firmly in the grip of the Dragoran soldiers. "Take them below and find out what they know. Start with him..." Dekim fixed the unfortunate mercenary with a dark look.

"My lord! Please! We were tricked just like you! No! PLEASE!" Howling, the man was dragged from the room. Duo, terror clogging his throat, could only stare back into the enraged eyes of the nobleman. More soldiers came in.

"You -- Dhargan! Send messengers to Esene at once!. Dermil was a fool to trust the Hebrondans! Obviously, they're playing both sides in this. We must push up the timetable or all will be lost."

"What about him?" asked one of the officers, glaring at Duo.

"Dragonfell was the last of the Onii strongholds to fall," cried another nobleman. "They say its shinigami is of the purest and most direct line surviving from the dark times. Kill him, my lord! Kill him now!"

Swords and armor rattled as soldiers moved forward. Duo closed his eyes.

"Don't be fool!" The richly dressed priest's voice cracked like a whip. "It's disaster to kill a shinigami. Only the gods may do so. Wall him up if you wish and leave him to their will, but do not invite their wrath by taking that privilege upon yourself."

"Besides," Catalonia added drily. "If all goes according to plan, we'll need him!"

There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

"Then cut out his tongue before he curses us!" urged the frightened nobleman.

Catalonia looked and sounded irritated. "If we get nothing from the Sancenes, this creature may know something. Take the shinigami to the cellars and put him with the others for now," he said. "We'll see what the mercenary has to say."

"Gag him if he frightens you," the priest advised. "A simple enough precaution."

They dragged Duo from the chamber. In the corridor, his paralysis broke and, wild-eyed, he fought to break free. But he was one and they were many, and they threw him face down to ground again, tying his hands behind him. Holding him tightly, they forced open his jaws, shoving in a wad of filthy cloth, binding it in place with another strip. Then they dragged him through the corridors, past staring priests and soldiers to a stairway leading down. Memories of another cellar and other priests rushed back and fear stopped him in his tracks, digging in his bare heels. Not down there! Please! Not down there!

They pushed him forward. He fell down the damp stone steps, landing in a heap at the bottom, dazed and aching. They were right behind him, hauling him up, handling him without gentleness as they hustled him down a low-ceilinged, dimly-lit corridor. Another door was opened, this one of stout wood braced with iron. A hideous stench greeted him. He was flung forward and the door slammed shut. He lay, trying to catch his breath, head spinning, as the sound of their nailed boots receded.

After several minutes, when it was clear they were not coming right back, he struggled to his knees. It took a little while longer for the pulse thundering in his ears to quiet. When he it did, Duo realized he was not alone in the cell. He went very still, listening, trying to see through the dark. There! He heard it again! A shifting sound, as if someone moved.

He began to make things out in the tiny amount of light that seeped under the door. Then, suddenly, a brighter light flickered into life. Duo froze, horror and disbelief widening his eyes. The cell was not large. In the corner huddled three people, although calling them people was probably being kind. There were two males and one female. All had long, unkempt hair, matted and filthy. The men were bearded as well, beards reaching to their swollen bellies. They were naked and their skin was black with filth. One of them held a tiny stub of a candle in claw-like hands. Around each emaciated neck was a blue-black chain like the one around his, and each chain held a bit of red stone. Sunken eyes reflected the light of the tiny flame, staring at him.

Duo was paralyzed. Shinigami. Like him. Gods.

Lord Maxwell had told him what happened to his kind in the south and even in Sanc in some places, but he'd never really understood. In Wyrmhold there had been those villagers who had made the sign of the evil eye around him or who turned their back when they saw him coming, but he realized now that those were small slights, insignificant. Heart thumping, he watched one of the men suddenly go to his hands and knees while the others tensed, hunching forward, never taking their eyes from Duo and the stone he wore.

The man crawled toward Duo slowly and Duo, panicking, scrambled back until he came up against the wall of the cell. Closer the creature came. Duo's heart began a frantic pounding and his stomach rolled at the smell. There was a hole in one corner of the room, its sole sanitary facility, most likely, and the among the bits of rotted straw that covered the floor were the remains of food. He saw the quick, furtive movements of vermin, as well. Fear blended with pity.

Close enough to touch him now, the creature stopped. Its blackened lips parted and it made a guttural noise. Duo closed his eyes then, seeing the rotted teeth and empty mouth cavity. The man had no tongue. Somehow, the youth kept from making any sound at all as those skeletal fingers brushed his face, then touched the thrallstone.

The temptation to kick out and knock the wretched thing away was almost overpowering, but somehow, Duo stayed still and submitted to tactile examination. The eyes, away from the candle's reflection were filmy. The man might be almost blind. How old was he? How long had he been here, locked in the dark? Anger was starting to overtake fear.

The man's hand fell away and he retreated. The light winked out. Maybe they weren't supposed to have the candle, thought Duo. Suddenly, he wanted the gag off in the worst way. He bent his head and began rubbing his face against his shoulder.

Chapter 20

Heero and his two companions rode through the night, pushing their horses to the limit as they raced south. At midmorning the next day, they came upon an inn high in the hills where the innkeeper admitted to having seen the coach.

"They stopped and changed horses here, m'lord," he told Heero. "I didn't see who was inside. They had the windows blacked."

Heero was able to procure a change of horses and they kept on, snatching catnaps in the saddle. By sundown they were drawing close to the Dragoran border where they changed horses again and spent another night in the saddle. His anger had cooled as the hours passed, but his fear was as sharp as ever.

"They won't kill him," Quatre said once as they crested a hill, slowing a moment to give their horses a breather. "It's ill luck to kill shinigami and my people are very superstitious in that regard."

Heero wished he could have faith in that. He consulted the finder. The metal box was inset with a small square of crystal. According to Treize, when they were close enough, Duo's thrallstone would appear as a bright dot of light in the square, but so far, it remained dark and empty.

As they drew closer to Dragora, the land was descending. The condition of the road began to deteriorate, becoming rutted and narrow. On they went. As the sun rose again, Heero could see signs of the crippling drought. The surrounding hills were no longer lush, but showed a patchwork of green and brown. Once, as they rounded the curve of a hill, they saw a valley to their right, its slopes biscuit-colored and sere.

"We go carefully from hereon in," said Heero, setting his hand briefly at the pistol at his belt. "There may be border patrols." He looked over at the prince. The young man had ridden without complaint, although it was clear he wasn't used to such hardship and physical exertion. "What is this fortress like?"

"It's Onii-built, like Dragonfell, but not as large. It overlooks the town of Cassel and has a militia of about five hundred men."

"I don't think they'll expect anyone to come after Duo," Trowa said.

"I doubt it." Nor would Duo, probably, thought Heero with a pang. "Why the hell did he do such a stupid thing?"

"It wasn't stupid," said Quatre coldly. "It was very brave."

Heero set his jaw and saw nothing.

Trowa suddenly stiffened, rising in the saddle. "Someone's coming."

Without hesitation, Heero pulled his horse from the road, plunging down a shallow ravine into a thicket, the others following. A moment later, a group of riders came up over the rise. The men were moving fast, their horses hooves making a quick staccato on the dusty road. In minutes they were lost from sight. Soldiers.

"Border patrol?"

"And on the wrong side of the border," agreed Trowa in a low voice. "I wonder..."

And then Heero knew. "Damnation," he whispered, everything falling into place. "I think I know what Treize was hinting at! Milliardo is riding into a trap!"

The gag was off. Duo drew breath after shuddering breath. Now for his hands. He looked up. Three pale blotches in the gloom stared back. "Hey," he said in a soft voice. "Can any of you talk?"

No answer. Without tongues, of course not, stupid! He twisted his wrists, looking for some give in the heavy ropes that held his wrists fast. "You've probably been here all your lives, haven' you?" He didn't expect an answer, but needed to hear a human voice, even it was his own.

"Are there any more of you, or are you it? Gods, I hope you're it. This is too sick for words."

"Ngggl."

Startled, he narrowed his eyes. The woman had made the noise. She looked at her companions, who shook their heads violently and clutched at her. Brushing them off, she crept toward Duo. "Hi," he said, smiling tentatively. "I don't suppose you could give me a hand, here, eh?"

Damn, they smelled bad! Almost at once, he was ashamed of his revulsion. As if they could help it. She touched his shoulder and he held his breath. She was fingering his nightshirt, rag that it was. There was a look on her face that reminded him of Lacy when she got a new hat.

"You want it?" he asked. "You can have it if you'll help me get off these ropes."

He had no idea if she understood a word he said, but he shifted around, hoping for the best. Alarmed at his sudden movement, she retreated hastily, a crab-like scrabble back to the safety of her companions. He almost swore in frustration, but kept silent and went still, waiting. Please, he thought, please, please, please...

She was coming back. He saw her from the corner of his eye. Again, she plucked at the once fine fabric. He wriggled his fingers. "Untie me," he repeated, "and I'll take it off and you can have it. It'll look great on you. You'll be really pretty."

Then, miracle of miracles, he felt her fingers on his wrists. He almost sobbed with joy. One of the men made an angry, frightened sound. The woman responded with an angry growl of her own and her fingers plucked roughly at the ropes, long, jagged nails tearing his skin as often as they tore at the bonds.

He was free! Shaking, he rubbed his raw wrists, turning around. She scuttled back to the men, making garbling noises. They all seemed distressed, especially when he stood up. Duo pulled the nightshirt off and, clad only in his ragged drawers, took a couple steps forward and set it on the ground. Slowly, he backed away. For a moment, no one moved. Then the woman leaned forward and snatched the garment and held it tight to her narrow chest, making little cooing noises and petting it.

Now that his hands were free, he needed to get out of the cell -- and from the cell, out of the fortress and from there, of Dragora... For a moment, the enormity of the task seemed almost too much for someone who had never been beyond the close borders of his master's county. And if, against all odds, he made it, what sort of reception would he return to?

No. Don't think about it. Take one thing at a time.

While his cellmates watched, Duo went to the door and tried it. Locked, of course. He stared at it in frustration. Dropping to his knees, he peered through the keyhole. The corridor stretched away before him, empty at the moment, lit only by smoking torches.

Duo collapsed, his back to the door, his knees bent, resting his arms on them. He had some small skill at picking locks, having learned it in an attempt to gain access to the food cupboards when Lord Maxwell was traveling and Lacy was one of her frequent pissy moods. Unfortunately, that required at least a scrap of metal, none of which was available. If picking the lock was out of the question, what else was there? If only he wasn't so damned tired. His thoughts kept spinning uselessly around and around.

He slept finally, something awaking him with a start much later. Sitting up, Duo looked through the keyhole again. A priest was making his way down the corridor, carrying two buckets. Quickly Duo got to his feet, heart thumping, and pasted himself against the wall beside the door. The door opened and the priest took one step inside and dumped out the contents of his buckets. A heap of food scraps -- bread crusts, apple cores and other things less easily identified hit the dirty floor with a sodden squelch.

Duo pounced. The priest gave a startled squawk as Duo's fingers closed around one wrist, hauling him all the way into the cell and jerking him around to smash him into the wall. The man made a gasping sound and Duo, desperate and terrified, drove his fist into the man's bloody face. Without another sound, the priest toppled. Duo's cellmates shrieked.

For a moment, Duo simply gaped, not having expected success. Then, moving quickly, feverishly, he dragged the supine body across the cell. While the other shinigami gibbered and squealed, he stripped the robe from the priest and put it on. He plucked up the fallen ring of keys with hands that shook so badly he dropped it twice before getting a firm grip on it. All the while, he kept throwing frantic looks down the passage, expecting at any moment to see guards or priests rushing toward the cell.

The robe was too big, the hem dragging on the floor and threatening to trip him up. He turned to the others. They shrank from him, eyes round and bugging out.

"I'm leavin'," he said. "You wanna come?"

They gave no indication that they understood, even when he gestured toward the door. He couldn't wait. Steeling himself against the pitiful sight, he ran out of the cell and slammed shut the door, locking it. Pulling the hood up, holding the skirt of the robe out of the way, he ran toward the stairs.

Wu Fei heard the sound of heavy boots in the corridor outside the cell. He folded his hands together on his thighs and gathered his composure. They had reached the garrison late in the night. Treize had spoken to him little during the ride, turning him over immediately to guards as soon as they'd ridden through the garrison gates. Since then, Wu Fei had been here, alone in the dark cell with his thoughts and none of them pleasant.

The footsteps stopped at the door, blocking the light that came from under it. A rattle, then a rusty creak of hinges and it opened. Two guards stood without.

"On your feet, Hebrondan," one said harshly. "His Grace wants to see you."

Wu Fei rose and did not resist when they shackled his hands. The light from the torches made him blink rapidly, unused to it after hours in the dark cell. Apprehension coiled painfully in his gut as he walked with the two men from the cellar up into a corridor roughly plastered and lined with maps, the floor of worn, scuffed wood.

The general waited in a surprisingly spartan office -- nothing more than a wooden desk and a couple of wooden chairs with a large table in the corner strewn with maps. Wu Fei's heart turned over at the sight of him. Treize' face was still and cold, those blue eyes arctic as they rested on the young Hunter.

"Leave us," he said to his two men, who saluted and withdrew. "Sit," he said, nodding to a chair in front of the desk.

Wu Fei lifted his head and remained standing. Treize shrugged, leaning back in his leather chair.

"What did Hebronda hope to gain from war between Sanc and Dragora?"

"War?"

"Oh, please, Chang. Do you think I don't see it? The wedding was a trap. While the handsome prince Quatre was being wed to the lovely Princess Relena, some terrible disaster would befall the lot of them. What was it to be? An attack on the wedding party by Hunters disguised as Sanc assassins? The collapse of the marriage chapel?"

Wu Fei kept his face still, but he was shocked to hear it.

"Except," continued the Duke coldly, "the prince was in love with someone else and eloped. That must have caused Dermail some sleepless nights. You can't very well have a successful coup unless the rightful heir dies as well, can you?"

"I knew nothing of this. My orders were only to find the prince and return him before there could be a scandal."

"Do not think that a mere tumble in bed will prevent me from getting the truth, Hunter. I ask again -- what advantage does Hebronda think to get out of this?"

"Such base deception is not the Hebrondan way, Your Grace."

Treize's eyes drooped. "You're either pitifully naive or an accomplished liar," he drawled. "Which is it, do you suppose?"

"I'm telling you the truth," said Wu Fei again. "My orders were only to find the prince and return him. Nothing more. If there was treachery planned in Dragora, neither I nor Hebronda knew anything about it! Even if you torture me, Your Grace, I can tell you nothing else."

"Cannot or will not?"

Wu Fei shook his head helplessly. "But Dermail doesn't have the prince, does he, my lord? The plot has come to nothing!"

"He has Milliardo, or will soon. I've sent men to warn the king, but they won't reach him in time." There was real pain in those blue eyes. They were cousins, remembered Wu Fei, and close ones. "Furthermore, if what I suspect is true -- if they have Yuy's shinigami -- they will suspect that their plot is exposed and may, in desperation, figure they should attack before we do. They have troops stationed near our central southern allies of Jenin and Braought. Neither of those kingdoms can offer much resistence to a determined assault from Dagora. That leaves me with the extremely tedious job of almost singlehandedly organizing the defense of Sanc."

In spite of the duke's lazy voice, his eyes were flinty. The young Hunter tried again. "Your Grace, if there was treachery, we Hebrondans are victims, too. There is no advantage to us if there is war between you. We depend upon trade with Sanc for grain and fresh produce! You have been to Hebronda! You know our economy is mainly based on herding and hunting! We have little arable land. War would be a disaster to us!"

Treize simply stared at him. Wu Fei's heart beat erratically. He clenched his hands in their shackles and fought to keep his voice steady. "I cannot help if you don't believe me, Your Grace. If you choose to put me to the question, I cannot help that either, but I swear to you, I have told you the t-truth."

Shamefully, his voice broke. He gritted his teeth, wishing he didn't so desperately want this man's goodwill, his approval. He tried not to let bitter disappointment fill him with misery that it should end this way between them.

Something changed in the duke's handsome face. The hardness faded from those blue eyes. He sat forward, arms resting on the desk, gaze thoughtful. "Do you know, Wu Fei," he said finally. "I believe you."

Wu Fei stared, not believing what he heard.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of that sensual mouth. There was a rueful quirk to it. "I hope," he added, "that it is not just my heart speaking."

"Your Grace..."

"If I release you, will you swear to me and see this through?"

Wu Fei began to tremble. He closed his eyes briefly, relief washing through him in an icy flood. "Yes, Your Grace," he whispered. "For as long as you say."