Sands of Time

I apologize. I know I should be working on Empathy and Dare You To Move and Grains of Sand and Waking Up In Vegas and Trial By Fire.... but.... um.... these chapters have been rotting on my computer for about four months now, so I decided I'd just post to see what everyone thought of this story.

A 3x4 set far in the past, almost medeival time period. Quatre, son of an Arabic spice merchant, sets out on a long journey with the Maganacs, his father's contracted traders. Learning strange customs along his way, Quatre saves a green-eyed slave and finds something he never expected.

This is a little different than my usual, but it's still 3x4. And the first few chapters are all kind of short, though they should get longer over time. (It's that way with just about all my fics, I'm afraid.)

And I DO NOT OWN Gundam Wing. I make not a penny off of this. *pouts*

Chapter One

The Spice Merchant's Son

The trading city of Kum, Quatre noticed from his very first glance, was much less a city than a sea of tents set up along in the landscape: a wide plain set off by a river and surrounded by mountains. But... they called it a city. And as it was hub for most all trading routes between Africa, Asia, and Europe... it most certainly should be a city. It was here he'd traveled from his less than glamorous home in Venice.

Certainly Master Winner, one of the most successful spice merchants to ever come from Arabia had a very large mansion set up there... but Venice was a rather less than glamorous city. The stagnant waters, the stench, the trash. Quatre... the fourth and youngest Winner child- and coincidently the only boy... had hated Venice, and when his father suggested that at age eighteen, it was high time he learned the family trade... Quatre leaped at the chance to explore the world beyond his family's two homes... Normandy and Venice.

And from here in Kum, it was on to Arabia, where his father was from. It was a long journey, long since he'd left Venice... and even longer still until Arabia, and then Asia. No-one but two others besides him knew he wasn't planning to return straight to Venice after Arabia, like his father expected.

But Quatre was content. Master Kushrenada had taken him this far under his so called apprenticeship, but from here, Quatre knew he would be going on with a band of Arabian merchants, friends of his father's. His father had been born and raised in Arabia, in the desert, but had moved to Venice and married a French knight's daughter, Quatre's mother.

The tall, ginger haired man astride the beige stallion beside him sent him a small smile.

"The real trading will begin at sun-up, Master Winner. Why don't you wonder around and take in the sights, hm? Duo... accompany him, wouldn't you?" It wasn't that he didn't trust Quatre, but rather he would take no chances with his bosses only son.

"Right, boss," The braided young boy behind him nodded. It was one of the two interpreters who'd came along from Venice. It was far from Duo's first visit to Kum. Duo'd traveled from France to the furthest reaches of China and back again, and was now on his second trip east. Always shadowing the slim twenty-year old was an equally young man with slanted eyes and gold skin. From what Quatre knew, Heero- for that was the second boy's name- was a slave that Duo had taken in on that first trip, far, far to the very easternmost coast of China. Apparently, Heero had been taken from his island home and sold into slavery on the mainland, where he'd come into Duo's care. The braided youth treated his companion less like a slave and more like a friend, an equal. It was an odd relationship, Quatre thought. Duo was bright, boisterous, exuberant. But Heero was quiet, withdrawn. But they apparently got along just fine.

Quatre had become quite fond of Duo- and Heero- during their trip so far and the time they'd spent together in Venice, and knew that Duo would be continuing on with him into Arabia. It made him a little less apprehensive... at least he would know two people in this new caravan.

Taking care of and bedding down their horses, the three set out. Duo and Quatre did most of the talking, with Heero putting in a few words in his odd accent here and there. Heero's clothes were as fine as Duo's, so if one did not know, one would never have though him a slave. It was early afternoon when they started out, the sun barely past it's zenith, and by the time they'd finished perusing a good share of the stalls and merchants, the sun was preparing to sink and they were winding their way back to their own seclusion of tents. But a commotion from a fairly large tent they passed on their way back stopped Quatre.

"What is going on there?"

Duo grabbed his hand, Heero tensed.

"Slave Market," Duo hissed. "A place not for the likes of you, youngling. Too fair of heart for that sort."

"But it sounds like their hurting someone," Quatre persisted, trying to pull away.

"They probably are," Heero said. "That's what they do when you're a slave. Now please, let's leave this place."

Quatre moved towards Duo, as if accenting, but the moment the other boy's grip eased, Quatre twisted out of it and entered the tent.

Duo groaned, and after a quick look at Heero, moved after him.

"Don't worry, 'Ro," he said. "Just stay out here."

But Heero was not deterred. Pressed closely to Duo's back, the former slave followed his former master into the one place he feared.