The Heralds of the White God: 3

[mikkeneko]

Title: The Heralds of the White God, chapter 3 - A Cold Welcome
Rating: M
Warnings: Violence, sexual content.
Spoilers: AU. Sequel to "The Wizards of Ceres."
Summary: In which Kurogane and Syaoran have a narrow escape at the border, and Syaoran checks for tails.

The Wizards Of Ceres
Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV
Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII  - Chapter VIII
Chapter IX - Chapter X


They started meeting the real security when they ascended the collapsed pass -- using a cable-and lever contraption that hummed with magic -- to the final gateway into Ceres. Kurogane had expected it sooner. Although the newly-defined border between Nihon and Ceres had been lined with soldiers, dressed in the dark brown bearskins and carrying the traditional halberds of the Ceres military, he knew better than anyone that Ceres' true strength was not found in soldiers. They had merely been there to mark the boundary, to make sure that no forbidden visitors slipped past. But as he stepped onto the rough wooden stone ledge above the broken past, he felt the thick humming of magic in the air, and knew that this was where Ceres' defenses truly began.

There were more bear-furred guards at the top of the pass, and a young, light-haired woman in pale linen robes. His sharp eyes caught a blue cloth armband decorated with a familiar-looking silver sigil; but she did not wear the full regalia of the Wizards of Ceres. Convenience, or was she low-ranking in their hierarchy, merely an acolyte? Either way she seemed nervous and hesitant, not at all secure in her role.

As he reached the level ground at the top of the pass, Kurogane recognized the scenery, and involuntarily glanced to the right; only a few hundred paces away would be the opening to the stone gallery where he and Fai had been caught in a cave-in. Only Fai's powers had protected them from being crushed by the rock during the three days and nights it had taken for help to come, and as soon as he'd left the cave, it had collapsed again. Despite his substantial physical courage, Kurogane felt a shiver of involuntary fear as he remembered the ordeal.

Instead of the black opening into dark rock, however, the pass sported a new feature; a large stone building, growing out from the rock face and extend back into the hillside. Made of undecorated native rock, it was plain and utilitarian, and seemed to be more for storage and housing than for defense. From the outbuilding alone, Kurogane estimated, there were probably more soldiers stationed here at the pass than at any single checkpoint down along the borders.

A dozen of the soldiers were forming into a ceremonial array, watching his approach; they were alert and wary, but not angry or surprised, so Kurogane supposed they must have been told of his coming. Two of the officers, one of them the senior officer judging by his grey hair and insignia, strode forward at their approach and barred their way with his long metal weapon. "Halt, stranger. State your name and your business, please."

The question was brusque and undiplomatic, but at least it had been spoken in Nihongo, and a fairly polite mode at that. Kurogane nodded recognition to the man, and pulled out his carefully protected letters of passage from King Ashura. "My name is Kurogane Demon-Queller, Lord of Suwa," he said, and felt Syaoran's brief start of surprise that he'd chosen to use his title of nobility. But since everyone in Ceres already knew him by that title, it was better to continue as he'd begun. "I have come from Shirasagi Castle to visit the court at Ruval by invitation of King Ashura, and at King Ashura's request. Here are my letters of passage."

The senior officer took them, and regarded them with a frown; his lieutenant, a younger and sharper-faced man, peered at them over his shoulder. They conversed for a few minutes in the low, liquid tones of the language of Ceres, and Syaoran stiffened up.

"They're not speaking Nihongo!" he said in surprise. "They have their own language? I never knew that!"

"Of course they do," Kurogane muttered back, his lofty tone making it sound like it was obvious -- although truthfully he'd had no idea himself, until he'd first come here. "Why would they all speak Nihongo all the way up here?"

"Well, of course," Syaoran said, flustered. "But you'd expect it to be more similar to Nihongo, since the two countries are so close, and because Nihon is superior. But their language doesn't even sound like it's in the same family! If anything, it has ties to some of the Uraic languages in the far west… They don't even use the same syllabary as Nihon. I wish I could get a look at their alphabet, to compare the characters…"

He trailed off into a mutter, and Kurogane rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting; he never knew what Syaoran was talking about when he went off on a tangent like this, but anything that distracted him from his angry hostility was an improvement.

The foreign conversation finished up, and the senior officer nodded in satisfaction and looked up at them again. "My apologies for the delay, my lord," he said in his heavy accent. "Everything seems to be in order. You are expected at Court. We will provide you with an honor guard of twenty men, to escort you to the capital."

"I've been here before," Kurogane said shortly. "I know the way."

"All the same," the lieutenant said politely, "we will provide you with an escort."

Kurogane sighed, but he hadn't really hoped to avoid it. "Let's get started, then," he said. "I was led to believe that King Ashura wanted me there as soon as possible."

At a signal from the officer, a dozen of the soldiers broke formation and moved swiftly to pick up packs of gear. Kurogane strode forward into the pass, not waiting for them to finish assembling; if they were all that eager to come along, they could catch up.

The path approached a narrow cleft in the ridge, and Kurogane saw a large, perfectly circular device set into the stone about twenty feet up; there was one embedded into each rock face, like a sphere that had been divided in two and set to guard either side of the passageway. Kurogane looked at them with mild interest as they approached, his sharp eyes picking out individual runes from the complex and flowing inscriptions written around the rim. Obviously it was magical, but what was it for? He could read one or two of the runes by themselves, such as eye and guard and cold, but what they might come together to mean he had no idea.

"Sensei," Syaoran muttered behind him, and his voice was full of suppressed panic. "Those, those globes, I've seen something like those before. They --"

A humming sound was emanating from the magical wards, increasing in volume as they approached. As he stepped over the threshold from the steep gravel pass onto the main road, the center of each of the hemispheres suddenly lit up with a deep red glow. Shouts of anger and consternation rose from the soldiers around them, and Kurogane halted with one foot on the road as the 'honor' guard suddenly appeared around him, bristling with weapons.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded, bluster and annoyance covering his own shock.

"That is precisely the question I mean to ask you, outsider," the senior officer growled at him, all pretense of politeness aside. "No enemy spies may cross our borders! You will pay for this deception with your life!"

"Sensei!" Syaoran grabbed onto Kurogane's elbow. "That's what I -- this is what happened before! This is exactly what happened before, when they killed my father! I knew it, I knew it, you can't trust any of them! Filthy wizards!"

"Shut up!" Kurogane motioned Syaoran urgently to silence, and turned back to the senior officer, taking a deep breath and marshalling as much diplomacy as he could. "There must be some mistake," he said carefully, keeping his hands away from his weapons. "We are not spies. You have our papers, you must have had word from the capital that we were coming. Why would you think we were?"

"These --" and a sweep of the captain's arm indicated the sullenly red-glowing globes, " -- are the Eyes of Ko. The wizard-general set them here years ago, to detect the presence of hostile magic. When they glow, an enemy bearing hostile magics approaches!"

Magic again. Kurogane clenched his teeth, and wished with all his might that Fai were here -- not only to grease them out of this mess, but to explain how the hell a rock was supposed to know when anything approached. He tried to remain calm. "Our countries were lately at war," he reasoned. "We are the first people of Nihon to pass through this gate since the war ended. Is it possible the wards just still think of us as enemies because of that?"

The captain and his lieutenant looked taken aback, and Kurogane realized that they had no more understanding than he did -- or less -- of how the magical devices actually worked. He felt like tearing his hair out in frustration, but the tableau was broken by another voice.

"No, that's not it," said the girl with the blue armband -- the one Kurogane had recognized as affiliated with the council of wizards. She wilted a little bit as everyone's attention turned on her, but pulled herself together to say, "Th-the wards are set to detect the approach of magic. They wouldn't activate without it. But -- but I don't see anything on either of you that could be…"

"Well, I'm just a simple hunter of demons," Kurogane said firmly, folding his arms in front of him. "The Wizard Flowright --" dropping that name caused a stir in the crowd, and Kurogane was emboldened -- "once told me that I must have some magical talents of my own, but I've never used them, I'm neither wizard nor spy. And," he continued, jerking his thumb upwards in the direction he knew the incredible palace floated among the mountain valleys -- "I'm expected. Do you want to explain to King Ashura why you disobeyed his orders to let me pass?"

That produced the expected flurry of consternation among the Ceresians, and Kurogane sat back a little, watching them argue with satisfaction. The debate was centered around the two senior officers and the acolyte. The captain thrust the papers holding Ashura's seal signet towards her, and rattled off an urgent-sounding question. Fumbling a little, the girl held her hand out towards the bottom of the page and made a sign; a green glow flared up around the King's signature immediately, and she shook her head fiercely back and forth. The captain glared at the paper as though it had betrayed him, and added something in a frustrated tone.

At last the acolyte nodded agreement, turned and hurried away, and a tense silence fell over the group. The soldiers still glowered, but they seemed nervous and uncertain; in some ways this was no improvement, as a tense and hilt-happy soldier was just as dangerous as a furious one. Kurogane kept up his stoic demeanor, giving no hint as to his own feelings.

Behind him, Syaoran was shaking with fear, or more likely knowing him, anger. "Sensei, these --" he started in a low heated voice.

"I said shut up," Kurogane hissed. "This is no different from a battlefield, and I'm still your commander." Syaoran subsided into unhappy silence.

After a few minutes, the acolyte came back into view; she looked at them, cleared her throat, and spoke in Nihongo again.

"I have spoken with the C-rank wizard, Yukito Tsukishiro, the Seer of Ceres," she said in a shaky voice, "and he says -- he says that this man is not an enemy, and should be allowed to pass."

"But the Eyes --" the lieutenant began in outrage.

"Yukito says, 'The man may be bearing wards and blessings that were gifts from the Tsukuyomi of Nihon which the Eyes could wrongfully detect as hostile magics.' That's what he says," she emphasized his point. "The -- the wizard says, let him come directly to Ruval; if there is any problem with magic, they are much more able to detect and neutralize it there.

"He also says, we shouldn't delay any longer, and we need to come to Ruval at once!" Her voice grew slightly fearful with the urgency of those last words, and Kurogane wondered what the pale, mild-mannered wizard could have said to leave her so shaken.

"You heard the man," Kurogane said to the soldiers, seizing the high ground. "He and his kind designed these Eyes in the first place. He'd know better than any of us here what is and isn't safe."

The captain glared at Kurogane and the acolyte in turn, his jaw working, but then gave a grudging nod of acquiescence. "Very well, you may pass," he said unhappily, then suddenly pointed a long arm at Syaoran. "But the letters of passage only mention you, Kurogane of Suwa. There's no mention of this unknown boy. He must stay behind!"

But Kurogane had the advantage now, and he was willing to press it; he had no intention of backing down. "I am a noble of high stature in my country," he said, adopting the best haughty airs of the nobles he'd observed in Kendappa's court, "and have the right to my own attendants. I have come in response to the appeal of Ceres' ruler, but I will not appear in Ruval like a beggar, without even one servant to assist me! Either my servant accompanies me to Ruval, or I will turn back to Nihon right now and leave you to explain matters to the King!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Syaoran's look of pure disbelief in his direction; Syaoran knew perfectly well that he was student, not servant, and that Kurogane would sooner have cut off his own finger than allow himself to be pampered by servants like the courtiers of Shirasagi. But Kurogane was locked in a staring contest with the old soldier, and nobody else noticed his reactions. The officer snarled silently, but was forced to relent. "Fine," he snapped. "But you will be answerable for him!"

"Of course," Kurogane said in a haughty tone, and as the captain turned away, and signaled his men to fall back into formation, he didn't bother to try to hide his smirk.

"Sensei," Syaoran hissed to him in an undertone as they got moving on the road once more. "What are you doing? I'm not one of -- of your liege-men, I'm just your student!"

"It's either this or you go back home by yourself," Kurogane whispered back. "You were the one who wanted to come; so just play along."

Syaoran fell silent, but Kurogane could still feel his outrage and disbelief -- not just at Kurogane's outrageous claim, but over the whole undignified episode -- simmering just under the surface. He just hoped the boy would be able to keep a lid on it for the rest of their visit to Ceres, and that there wouldn't be any more confrontations like this one.

-------------------------

Syaoran gaped, dumbfounded, at the sight of the palace rearing ahead of them -- magnificent, the bright white marble seeming to float above the patchy grey and green narrow valley like a cloud. The sight of it, the sheer scale of the effort that had gone into making it and fortifications that surrounded it, left him feeling more than a little intimidated. This was Ruval, the very heart of the domain of Ceres, filled with elite soldiers and powerful wizards. And the only nihonjin within a hundred ri would be the two of them. If he could have, he would have dragged his feet, reluctant to enter the enemy's stronghold.

His teacher didn't seem to share Syaoran's trepidation, though; in fact, he seemed increasingly impatient to reach the castle. He kept urging his horse further ahead, the escort trying to match his speed, until the commander would order them back with a sharp command and Kurogane would reluctantly drop back to join them.

The cavalcade threaded their way through the stone streets and houses, then climbed the dizzingly steep switchback trails to the palace itself. Syaoran was torn between clutching at his horse in a death grip and sliding off to stand on his own two feet -- but this horse was Ceres-bred, confident in its footing. Then they were at the top, and Syaoran couldn't tear his gaze away from the view; the long descent down the valley surrounded by massive ice-topped mountains.

"Welcome back, Lord Suwa," an accented voice said from behind them; Syaoran looked quickly around to see a light-haired man in grey clothes inclining his head shallowly in their direction. "We had expected you earlier. They are awaiting you in the meeting room."

"Complain to these guys about us being late, if you want," Kurogane said as he briskly dismounted from his horse and tossed the reins to a stableboy. "It wasn't my idea. But I'm here now, so let's get going wherever the wizard is."

Syaoran moved closer to his teacher, intending to stick with him like glue in this strange new environment. However, the servant frowned and shook his head, pointing to Syaoran. "Excuse me, but this is a very confidential meeting," he said in formal language. "The King himself will be there. Only Lord Suwa is permitted to attend."

Syaoran shook his head. "I go where my master goes," he said stubbornly.

"Sorry, kid," Kurogane muttered out of the side of his mouth. "But this time we're on their home turf, so we play by their rules. Besides, there's no way I'm going to take you into a roomful of wizards just yet; God knows what trouble you'd make."

"But, Sensei!" Syaoran whispered, grabbing the edge of his coat as he turned away. "What should I do? Where should I go?" His voice was filled with suppressed panic, overwhelmed by the surroundings.

"Go wherever. Find other people your own age. Make friends. You're good at making friends. I'm going now," he said, and strode purposefully forward, leaving the boy behind looking around rather forlornly.

Abandoned by his teacher, Syaoran stood helplessly in the doorway of the receiving room, with their gear strewn about them. The important-looking man had vanished into another room along with Kurogane, and everyone else seemed to be going about their various errands. He was just wondering if he ought to gather all their stuff and retreat to the stables, to oversee the care of their horses, when a female servant dressed in light grey appeared at his elbow.

"You're Lord Suwa's servant?" she asked him, in polite but accented Nihongo. "Come with me, I will show you where his room is."

He nodded flustered acknowledgement, gathered up the various bags, and followed her as she turned to go. It annoyed him that she didn't offer to help him carry anything -- he wasn't really a servant, damn it, even if it was one of his duties to help his master with his gear -- did she think she was too good for him, or something? He fumed to himself as he labored through the corridors, through long white hallways and up interminable numbers of stairs.

Surreptitiously, as he followed behind her, he tried to see if there was any tail poking out from under the skirt, or perhaps hidden under the dress. He didn't see anything, somewhat to his disappointment -- but maybe they dropped off when Ceresians grew up, like tadpoles turning into frogs.

They stopped in front of a door in front of a hallway that was smaller, narrower, not so well lit as the main hall; the woman he'd been following flung the door open to reveal the chamber inside. "We've arrived," she declared. "So you can put your things away, and stop trying to peek up my dress."

Syaoran sputtered, seized between embarrassment and outrage. "I was not!" he denied heatedly, not wanting to admit that he'd been trying to do just that, if probably not for the reason she thought.

She turned around in a huff, glowering angrily and with her hands on her hips. "Don't lie, I saw the way you was bobbing your head around," she said. "You'd better not try anything with any of the other staff, or the king'll have your head off your shoulders."

"Gross!" Syaoran yelped loudly. "I'd never -- as though I'd want to look at, or touch any woman in this castle! I'd rather die! Anyway, you're probably all -- "

His stomach growled.

Syaoran shut his mouth, his face flaming so hot with embarrassment that he thought his cheeks just might burst. Of all the things, of all the times -- betrayed by his own stomach in the face of the enemy!

The woman's face slowly grew into a smirk. "Boys are the same the world over," she said smugly. "The stomach is the part that always thinks the loudest."

"W-we've been traveling all day!" Syaoran defended himself, stuttering slightly. "We came all the way from the border without stopping! Nobody offered us anything to eat or drink even once!"

The woman tsked. "Once you have put away your master's belongings, you can run along to the kitchens. I'm sure one of the cooks can spare a snack or two for you," she said.

Syaoran mumbled a thank-you, clutching his own and his sensei's saddlebags around him like armor. The woman smiled at him again and then, to his surprise, gave him an almost motherly pat on his head as she left.

Confused, Syaoran wandered around the small suite of guest rooms -- really it was just two small, sparsely decorated rooms with a connecting door. It was scrupulously clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, the sheets drawn up over the raised platform beds so tightly that not a crease could be seen. At a loss for what else to do, he quickly unpacked his master's bags and arranged the gear on the bed and nearby floor. That done, he looked around.

The bright white lights gave a spartan, almost chilled feel to the chamber, although it was as warm as any castle room he'd been in in Shirasagi. The decorations and furniture were alien, different from what he'd grown accustomed to in Nihon... but rather than leaving him feeling lonely or alienated, the taste of differences was refreshing, and it sharpened and almost-dormant hunger for adventure -- to go new places, investigate new things. It reminded him, nostalgically, of his days traveling with his father.

Ceres had killed his father -- murdered him for no reason. He had to avenge him, didn't he? But if he thought about his father's bespectacled face, his kind voice, he had to admit to himself that he had no idea whether Fujitaka would have approved of that wish. He'd been an adventurer and scholar, not a warrior. His father had wanted to come here, wanted to study Ceres, its language and its cultures… and its people. In a sense, that had been his father's last wish. Was it Syaoran's duty to avenge him, or to carry on his work?

Revenge or study -- he didn't know which was the proper course of action, but one of them wasn't even worth considering when surrounded by this many guards and wizards. He'd have to wait, learn the layout of the castle and where all the guards were anyway. Spontaneously he decided that he would go find the kitchens, after all. If these Ceresians thought he was just going to cower in their spare rooms all day, they had another think coming!

And besides... he really was very hungry.

With his new resolution firmly in place, he tossed his traveling cloak aside, defiantly did not  change to his indoor shoes, and set off to explore his way to the kitchens.

He wandered through the palace corridors -- not quite at random; most buildings had a plan and if you knew what to look for, it wasn't too hard to figure it out. His wide eyes took in everything, flickering over elaborate decorations and peeking surreptitiously into open doorways or through unguarded archways. He avoided hallways that had pairs of guards posted, eyeing them warily as he picked his way around; but gradually he managed to make his way down from level to level, following his nose to the source of the tantalizing, aromatic smoke.

The kitchen was noisy and chaotic. Although the lights down here were no less bright, the drifting smoke and auburn-stained walls lent a more homey tint to the atmosphere, and heat blasting from the many ovens made it almost too warm for comfort. At first Syaoran hung uncertainly back, not wanting to get in the way or draw attention to himself; but gradually he was drawn forward despite himself, fascinated by watching the cooks in action.

The evening meal was clearly in the making, with the main body of action centered in a tight buzz around the main table; Syaoran watched the preparation of a large skinned beast, about the size of a pig but of a different shape, with longer legs and a narrower face. Although he'd never seen one used for food before, he thought it might be a sheep or a mountain goat, surely more suited to this cold mountainous region than the cattle common to the grass plains below.

In Nihon -- among the nobility especially, but even among the peasantry -- freshness was prized above all other qualities of the food. Fruits and vegetables were eaten the same day, if possible; portion sizes were carefully calculated so that there would be no leftover, since any food not eaten immediately was thrown away. Once foodstuff started showing signs of rot or decay, it was considered impure, unclear; it was thrown out immediately so that it would not contaminate the household.

Watching the cooks of Ceres prepare a meal, Syaoran was fascinated by the forthright thriftiness of each motion. As the beast was disassembled, every part of it was used for some part of the meal, or saved to stock to flavor future meals. Root vegetables were being carried up out of a cold room, withered and soft from their long storage; in Nihon, they would have been immediately discarded. But instead, the cooks carefully diced the vegetables and discarded only the rotted parts, adding them to stews for flavor or mashed into paste.

After years of living in Nihon, Syaoran was faintly revolted by seeing the way they prepared the food. But to an older part of him, the Syaoran who had traveled and learned from his father, the foreign way of cooking was just another intriguing facet of the culture to study. Enticed by the delicious smells, Syaoran's stomach growled plaintively again, reminding him that he was meant to eat the food, not look at it. He crept carefully among the long rows of tables, looking for someone he could ask without interrupting something important; he didn't want to just snatch something off the table like a thief.

Perched on a stool in an aisle between two tables, seated in front of a crackling fire, was a girl who immediately stood out from the other servants. Although she was chatting with the cooks, laughing and even peeling away at a potato, she was obviously not a servant herself; her clothes were richer and finer than anything they wore, and her collar, wrists and temples were adorned with delicate silver jewelry. She had bright ginger hair and wide green eyes -- and when she turned her head and her eyes caught the firelight, they seemed to glow with an inner emerald fire of their own.

Without even realizing it, he found he had taken a step forward towards the girl, moving out of his safe place in the shadows. The girl looked up in his direction, and her eyes widened as one hand flew up to cover her mouth in startlement. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed; he voice was high and sweet, like windchimes. "I-I didn't realize anyone was there. You startled me!"

Half a dozen other faces turned towards him, with varying degrees of unfriendliness. "Who are you?" one of the cooks asked; a large burly man, up to his elbows in flour as he was kneading the dough for a loaf the side of Syaoran's legs. "Who let you in here?"

"I… I…" Syaoran stammered; he meant to explain that he'd been invited to come down here by another one of the palace maids, but he found himself inexplicably tongue-tied, and he flushed. "I -- well, I was hungry…" he mumbled.

"You can't just come in here any time you please and expect to be fed!" another cook, a red-cheeked woman with graying hair tied back in a kerchief. "We've got a lot of work to do, you know, without feeding greedy boys as well."

"Oh, Lora, don't be so unkind," the girl protested. "If he's hungry, we should give him something to eat! Surely we have some bread on the side table…?"

"And just who are you, anyway?" demanded a third cook; younger than the first two cooks, but taller and more bony than the girl. "I don't remember seeing you before, and I thought I knew everyone who worked here."

"I," he said, feeling as though he'd been caught out in a lie; then he swallowed and said, "I - I just arrived at the palace today, we came from -- from down in the valley, and -- "

"If you just arrived today then you were traveling and you must be hungry," the girl said firmly. "Come on, I know we have some spare bread, and I think there are some preserves that we can put on it, and perhaps some of the cheese as well. Come on!"

She pulled him over to the side table, and her sponsorship seemed to be enough to buy him acceptance, at least for now; the other cooks turned unwillingly back to their tasks, and soon seemed to put the unexpected intruder out of their minds.

"Your nihongo is very good," she complimented him, as she made busy with a large bread knife to cut slices for both of them, then reached for a large glass jar of dark purple jelly. "Where did you learn it?"

He realized she had gotten entirely the wrong idea about him; he rushed to correct her misapprehension, not wanting her to think he'd been deliberately deceiving them. "Yes, I, um -- I lived there. I came from Nihon, you see, with the Japanese ambassador…"

The girl's face lit up in a smile, an amazing wide smile that seemed to illuminate her from within and made her eyes sparkle. "If you came in with the ambassador from Nihon, then you must be a friend of Kurogane-san's!" she cried, grabbing his hands in a warm squeeze of friendship. "I'm so glad to meet you! What did you say your name was?"

"Sh-Syaoran," he stuttered, heat suddenly rising in his face at her nearness. Too embarrassed to meet her eyes, he looked down; but her gaze followed his down to their joined hands, and she exclaimed in dismay.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I had jam all over my hands, and I just reached out and grabbed you… I've gotten you all sticky. Please forgive me…"

She handed him a towel, and he quickly took it and wiped his hands on it, then offered it back to her so she could wipe her own hands off. "It’s nothing to be worried about," he said quickly, but then realized that he hadn’t gotten her name in return. "Miss…?"

"Sakura," she said, and her cheeks dimpled as that wide smile returned. "But just Sakura will do, you don't have to call me 'Miss' anything."

"If you say so, Miss -- er, I mean, Sakura," he finished rather lamely, and she giggled at him. He smiled back rather foolishly, thinking how nice she was; even when she laughed, he didn't feel like she was making fun of him, or that she thought he was stupid, even if he was making a fool of himself.

They finished making the jam-and-bread sandwiches, and sat for a few moments in silence, munching on them and watching the rest of the kitchen at work. He kept stealing glances out of the corner of his eye, noticing how her clothes and manner were different from everyone else's here. His curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "You aren't a cook, are you? I mean, you aren't a cook who works here, are you?"

"No, I'm not," she said, and she made a little face. "Though sometimes I wish I were. I don't work here, but I like to come down here sometimes and help prepare the evening meal, or to cook something special. I like cooking! The cook always says that you can put your feelings into your food, even special dishes will taste better if they've been made with love."

Her smile faded, and a sad look shadowed her eyes, made the firelight dance in them. "Even though he can't eat what I make anymore," she said, so quietly that he almost couldn't hear her.

"I -- I'm sorry," he said. He was chagrined at having brought up a topic that obviously made her sad; she must have lost someone, he thought, a family member or maybe a boyfriend. Maybe someone who had died in the war last fall? He didn't like that thought, didn't like the uncomfortable realization that his own country was not the only one who had suffered losses. The thought sent a pang of guilt through him, and he hurried past it. "B-but I'm sure everybody appreciates that you help to cook!"

"Yes!" She smiled back at him, her good cheer restored. "I like to be able to help, at least a little. Then I know when everybody sits down to eat at dinner, at least a little bit of my feelings go out to everybody!" She glanced guiltily at the table by the fire, the heap of unpeeled vegetables that she'd abandoned.

"I -- I'd like to help too!" he blurted out. "I've had enough to do for now. My master doesn't need me for anything right away, so… maybe I could help you?"

"Sure!" she said enthusiastically, and darted away to drag a second stool up to the fire, and handed him another knife. Syaoran set to the fire with a will, thinking that for all that he'd come a hundred miles away from his teacher's house, he seemed to be facing the same list of chores.

But somehow, as the girl bent to peeling beside him, he couldn't even begin to mind.

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The seasons had changed, war and peace had changed, but the palace seemed to be exactly the same as he remembered. With every step he took through the palace corridors, Kurogane's nagging sense of urgency grew. He'd felt the pull of it for days, ever since he'd been summoned before Amaterasu in Shirasagi, but it was rising to an unbearable pitch. Fai was here, somewhere in this grand building, waiting for him; they had been apart for too long already.

His guide led him along familiar white-walled corridors lit by brightly burning lamps, into a small conference chamber crowded with people. King Ashura dominated the crowd as always, his dark sable robe standing out among the assembled white-robed wizards like a crow among doves. He stared narrowly at Kurogane as the warrior entered, but did not seem to be in a hurry to speak.

Kurogane's eyes darted from face to face, seeking out the people he knew; he recognized Yukito, looking strained, and a dozen others -- a few wizards, some of the guards he'd gotten to know better than others and a few of the court officials. The familiar shock of straw-gold hair, however, was disappointingly absent.

He was glad when Yukito stepped forward to greet him; the pale-skinned, ash-haired seer was the single person in Ceres he was on friendliest terms with apart from Fai himself. "Kurogane Demon-Queller, Lord of Suwa," Yukito greeted him formally, "Welcome to Ruval Castle, the heart of the Ceres Empire. I greet you in the name of our master, His Royal Majesty Ashura Ceresu, and give you our welcome -- and gratitude, for traveling so speedily in response to our letter."

"Greetings. I accept your welcome and your thanks," Kurogane said rather brusquely. And because he, like Amaterasu, was samurai,  he pushed aside his impatience for long enough to look Yukito straight in the eye, and then bow deeply.

"I and all my country owe you thanks, Yukito Tsukishiro, Second Senior Wizard of Ceres," he said, loud enough for his voice to carry to every part of the room. "As do all living human beings. Your speedy response -- and the bravery of you and the men you commanded -- saved uncountable numbers of our people from certain death and our country from destruction. I have fought the demons all my life. I cannot express in words how total the devastation would be that you spared us from. I hope that your own country honors you as highly. Know that you have the gratitude of every subject of the Nihon empire, and the service of any warrior of the samurai class, should you choose to draw on your boundless debt."

Yukito blushed; in his colorless face it was impossible to hide, the pink spreading up his face through his cheeks right to his hairline. He glanced around uneasily, and Kurogane saw Ashura scowl disapprovingly, but he really could not give a damn. "No debt is owed to me, Lord of Suwa," he said uncomfortably. "I -- that is, it was the work of my comrades, the wizards of Ceres, at the command of King Ashura to whom you owe your thanks. And, um, I'm no longer Second Senior to the King," he added miserably.

"Really. I must be behind on the news," Kurogane said. He decided to let the matter drop; he wasn't here to piss off the King, as satisfying as it was, he was here to see Fai. "All right. You called me, I'm here. What's this all about? And where's the wizard? Why isn't he here?"

A ripple went out through the receiving room; not exactly a mutter or a sigh, but a definite reaction from each person. Yukito's expression did not change, and at first Kurogane thought he should clarify which wizard he meant; but then Yukito glanced around, took a deep breath, and turned to face Kurogane squarely. "Fai is in his rooms," he said, seeming to take a moment to gather his nerves, and said, "He is… very ill. He did not come to greet you because he no longer has the strength to leave his chambers."

"Ill?" Kurogane stared at Yukito, feeling the heat and color drain out of his face as his worst fears were confirmed.

Yukito nodded gravely, his strange amber eyes reflecting compassion. "He never completely recovered from the battle against the Master of Demons," he said. "When he returned to us, injured --"

"Not just injured," Kurogane said flatly. "Mutilated. Do you understand what was done to him? Did you understand what he'd become?"

He saw remembered sorrow and pity that flitted across Yukito's expression. "Yes," he said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "That his nature had been changed to that of a vampire. That he required human blood to live. We understood."

Kurogane breathed out silently; at least the idiot Fai hadn't tried to hide that from them. "And then…?" he prompted, although he had a bad feeling he knew what was coming.

"He was… reluctant to feed, at first," Yukito confessed. "Although several people volunteered their blood, they were willing to try… but he wasted away, and nothing we could do was able to reach him. We hoped -- we still hope -- that you would be able to succeed where we failed."

There was a mutter of agreement that ran all around the crowd, but he barely aware of the dozen pairs of eyes on him, torn between hostility and hope. Instead, he felt a knot of anger pulsing in his chest, threatening with each beat to expand and choke him. His vision was red around the edges. He promised, Kurogane seethed, nearly bursting with the effort not to rage aloud. He promised that this wouldn't happen again. I leave him alone for three months and this is what happens?

"I understand," he said, keeping his voice civil with some difficulty.

"I don't think you do," someone called out from the crowd; the nihongo was less polished than Yukito's, stiffly polite, but unmistakably hostile. Kurogane was a bit surprised to recognize the wizard; it was the short, rude, ginger-haired boy who'd helped dig him out of the mountainside last fall. His intense green eyes glared with the promise of dire retribution. "Lord Flowright is one of ours. He is… the most eldest, the most respected. He has taught and guided us for many years. We will not allow any harm to come to him."

"A little late for that now, isn't it?" Kurogane snapped, but then made an effort to contain his anger. This… protectiveness, he realized, was not really directed at him; it was a defensive response to nearly losing the man they obviously all cared about; as the outsider, the foreign warrior who'd been so wrapped up in events around Fai's devastating wound, it was no surprise that their anger would transfer onto him. That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

"You'd better be able to help him," another voice told him curtly; a short, gruff, older-looking man, not one Kurogane knew well from his previous stay. "You'd better not hurt him, or you won't live to regret it, outsider."

Kurogane rolled his eyes and did not comment, not wanting to get tangled up in a display of bravado posturing now, so close to his goal. "Are we done talking?" he snapped. "I'd like to go see him now if possible. The sooner I can start, the sooner, I can convince him to eat."

He'd expected Yukito to escort him around, like he had the last time; it was something of a surprise when Ashura rose and swept out of the chamber before him, with a curt gesture signaling his attendants and guards to remain. The king nodded a curt acknowledgement at him, and swept off down the hallway. Kurogane followed close behind, eyeing him suspiciously and hoping he wasn't being set up for something.

"I do not want you to underestimate the severity of the situation that caused me to call you here," the king said, and the gravity of his deep, carefully controlled voice still sent a warning tingle through Kurogane. "Outsiders -- especially warriors from Nihon -- are still strictly forbidden. You are seeing what no other barbarian is privileged to see, walking where no others are permitted."

"I've been here before," Kurogane said, irritation sweeping through him; he made little effort to hide it in his voice. "You were the one who wanted me to come so badly."

"Yes. As a last, desperate measure," Ashura said, frowning. "You were able to… help him before. I hope that you can persuade him to eat now. He is like a son to me, Lord Suwa, and I love him. For the sake of his health, I am willing to bend even the laws which protect our country --"

"Oh, cut the crap. These are your laws -- this is all your doing in the first place!" Kurogane snarled. He knew it was unwise, but this was just too much to swallow. Ashura stopped short and whirled around, fury in his eyes as he glared at Kurogane. Kurogane met his anger with a defiant glare of his own, drawing himself up to his full height, inches towering over the king. "You know why he's dying now -- because of what that bastard Seishirou did to him, when you sent him out there like a lamb to the slaughter! What kind of pathetic excuse for a liege-lord are you?"

"A barbarian like you would never understand." Every word seemed to drip with ice, crystallized fangs threatening a poisoned bite. "Everything is for the sake of my country. When I took the throne here, we were a tiny country, a pitiful backwater of squabbling minor nobles with no land, no men, and no army. I remade this country from the ground up to be a land to be proud of, a nation to respect, a nation to fear. And we aren't finished yet. Before my day is done, Ceres will be a name known and feared all over this world. Fai understands; my vision is his. He is as devoted to this land as I, and he understands the necessity of sacrifice."

Kurogane looked aside, breaking the clash of wills between them. "You can lie to your subjects -- maybe you can even lie to yourself," he said. "But I'm not fooled. I was there; I know. I helped him escape from the demon-master's cellar; I cleaned the blood out of his eye after he got out of that hellish pit. I saw his magic smeared all over the walls of his cell, pinned there by the geas you put on him. You sent him out to meet the enemy with his magic crippled, and you know you did. You're every bit as much to blame for what happened to him as that monster is."

"You can't possibly understand my reasons," Ashura started.

"I think I do, Your Majesty," Kurogane said through his teeth, then pushed past the furious king and set his foot on the bottom step. He was done with this conversation, done with King Ashura.

He paused only long enough to shoot back over his shoulder: "You did it because you were angry with him, and jealous, because he was in love with me. You did it because you wanted to punish him. Well, Your Majesty, you got what you wanted."

He turned his back on Ashura, and took the steps to Fai's chamber three at a time.