Welcome back! I'm sorry I took so long with this chapter--there's has been soem drama going down here at the house, and I've been forced to give all my attension to de-toxing the situation, so don't worry I haven't given up on this story-it's like my baby after all.

Thank you for the kind reveiws, it's so awesome when I get a new one in my mail box. Now, on with the show!


"Well, took you long enough to greet your friends," Seth said as the two slaves descended the stairs.

"Then I will not take any longer. Greetings Tiye, Mina," Mozenrath said. Xerxes chuckled as much as the small joke was worth, and slung an arm around Mozenrath's shoulders.

"Well Tiye, you're looking particularly golden this morning. What brings you to my humble abode?" Xerxes said, grinning.

Tiye rolled her eyes. "Believe me, if it was my choice, I would not be here. Mirage sent me to deliver messages to Destane."

"She couldn't send them herself?" Mozenrath asked. Mirage, though one of the more hammy people of the young wizard's acquaintance, was relatively powerful. And he had seen her in the Black Sands often.

Tiye shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, thank you for dropping her off, but you should leave before it gets too late," Xerxes said.

"It's barely sunset," Mozenrath said, shrugging off Xerxes' arm. "I think maybe they'd like to be watered first before shoving them out the door."

"Really, Xerxes, how inhospitable of you," Seth said.

Both slave boys balled their fists. Seth's voice, while not all together unpleasant, was grating on the nerves. Maybe it was because the owner of the voice was such an unlikeable twit.

"Yes, but," Xerxes said, his grin starting to look like a grimace, "we have a lot of work to do, Mozenrath and I, and I'm sure Mina would like to be home."

"Please, make no fuss over me," the girl in question said in her hushed tones.

"True," Seth said, wrapping an arm around Mina. Mozenrath's eyes narrowed. "The work of a slave is never done, is it?"

"Thank you for that brilliant observation. And how is the glorious career of a stable boy going for you, friend?" Mozenrath inquired.

Tiye's mouth turned up again as Seth visibly deflated. Serves him right, Mozenrath thought. The only person of any technical worth among the group was Tiye, as she was in training as a priestess of Ma'at, but even she would soon become Mirage's main servant. He had no place to act high and mighty, just because he was half a centimeter above them in the food chain.

"The sun's setting, you'll want to get some distance before night falls," Xerxes said, edging towards the door.

"They just got here," Mozenrath said. What was his problem? They always stuck together as long as they could in these small windows of relative freedom. Well maybe not with Seth, but Tiye and Mina were welcome faces. Xerxes was often cheeky, but never outright rude, and practically pushing them out the door was so unlike him.

"I know, but we still have work to do," Xerxes insisted.

"We've cleaned everything that has a surface."

"I've cleaned, I've cleaned, need I remind you. But we have to....you know...read up on that scarab we found out about," Xerxes said pointedly.

After a few confused moments, it dawned on Mozenrath. Xerxes wanted Mina and Seth out so they could tell Tiye about Jafar's half a scarab and his stupid plan. At first Mozenrath wanted to tell Xerxes to shove off, and lead the group to the kitchens, but on second thought it was much easier to agree with Xerxes than to have him hovering excitedly while they were here.

Forgoing a few minutes of camaraderie for a night without a headache, Mozenrath nodded, going along with his friend. "Oh, that scarab."

"Then we won't keep you from your work, in case Destane gets mad. Come on, Seth," Mina said tugging on Seth's sleeve.

"What scarab?" Seth asked.

"The none-of-your-damn-business-scarab, indigenous to the deserts of butt-out," Xerxes said.

"No, something's going on with you, what's happened?"

"We really shouldn't ask, it's not polite," Mina said, still trying to pull him along.

"Um, hell no, not till I know what's going on."

"Seth, take Mina home," Tiye said with finality, meaning the subject for him was closed. Mozenrath smiled. Hopefully when he turned sixteen, he'd have the same kind of presence as his friend.

Seth's shoulders slumped and he turned on his heel, stalking out. He dared not argue with Tiye and her 'voice of finality'. Mina turned and hugged Xerxes. "Take care, please don't make Destane mad."

"How about I stop breathing as well, fae," Xerxes said, using the nickname given to her because of her delicate and soft features.

Mina shrugged and reached out to Mozenrath, who took a slight step back. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't want her touching him. Usually, she was the only one he'd hug, but now he didn't think it right. As if she'd know he was thinking of a princess while holding her, as if he were an adulterer.

Adultery indeed! You have neither a relationship with her, nor Mina.

Mina looked slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly, and gave him her usual bright smile. "Be safe, and be quiet. Okay?"

Feeling slightly bad for snubbing her he offered her one of his rare half-smiles. "I always am Mina."

"I know," she said, following Seth.

Since the guilt still hadn't left go of his heart, Mozenrath followed behind her, calling her name. Just outside the gate, the young wizard caught up with the servant girl. He took a hold of her small purse and reached inside. As he expected, there was a small paper folded model of a bird. It helped 'calm her nerves' as she said, during trying times. With Mina a simple disagreement was a trying time, so she was in great supply of the small figures.

The young wizard placed the bird in his palm, which glowed subtly. The bird shook for a second before coming to life, flapping its paper wings slightly and moving its head. "Here," Mozenrath said handing it back to her. "To entertain you now that you've lost your only sane companion."

Mina grinned brightly at the small gift. "Oh, it's wonderful."

"It's just moving paper."

"It's moving paper from a friend. Anything from a friend is something special!"

Mozenrath was slightly irritated by this poetic answer.

"Mina," Mozenrath, smoothing her bangs over her eyes in a rare playful display. "You could find an amiable quality in the devil, you could." She smiled from below his hand, waved slightly, and ran after Seth.

"Mozenrath," Xerxes called. "Hurry up, hurry up!"

Rolling his eyes, he made his way back into the entrance hall, where Xerxes was practically hopping form foot to foot with excitement. Tiye had finally relaxed and handed her cloak to a spare mamluk. "What is this all about, you two having to read up about a scarab?"

"You'll see, you'll see, we have so much to tell," Xerxes exclaimed.

"I have some pretty important news too," Tiye said, digging around her knapsack.

"It can wait," Xerxes practically yelled, grabbing her wrist and dragging her behind him.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Mozenrath followed at a purposefully slow pace-until Xerxes grabbed him too and pulled them along his b-line to the observatory.

Tiye tore herself away when the dirty blonde boy finally stopped. "What in heaven and earth is so important?" she said rubbing her wrist.

"Tell her Moze, tell her."

"You're so excited, you tell her. Personally I'd like to hear what this message is for Destane."

Tiye pulled the letter form her bag, and brandished it. "I can't open it, and I'd rather not see what'll happen if I try, but apparently something's going down."

"Yes, something is," Xerxes said.

"You've waited a week, Xerxes, you can wait five minutes," Mozenrath said.

"Fine!" Xerxes snatched the letter from Tiye and held it up the light, to see the words written inside. "What's wrong Tiye? Another drove of slaves leave your country, or did they just move your water bowl and bone?"

"That's a record," Mozenrath said, seating himself on a cushion. "We've gone a whole three minutes before the first barb was thrown. Now the fun begins."

Tiye sucked her teeth for a moment before turning her face to Xerxes. "Speaking of bones, how are the fleas, chamber-pot cleaner?"

Xerxes narrowed his eyes and returned to the letter. Tiye situated herself next to Mozenrath, smiling at her temporary victory.

"What do you mean something's going down?"

"Mama says Mirage has been agitated since Destane's last letter. Like she's restless, or angry." Tiye shrugged. "I don't know, I just feel something's wrong-you know, in my gut."

"And what else?"

"Nothing."

"Liar," Mozenrath said. "You're fidgeting. Something's bothering you."

Tiye slumped back against the pillows, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Just...suitors are starting to come. I'm going to have to marry in a year or so, and you know what happens after that."

Mozenrath's stomach twisted. Yes, he did know. When Tiye married, that meant she was basically a woman, and ready for a woman's responsibilities. And that would also mean her parents, Selene and Imhotep would be useless to Mirage. The incarnation of evil did not like having more than one married servant. Any more and the risk of rebellion went too high. So her method was, as soon as a child reached adulthood, said child would be forced to kill their parents, or let Mirage kill them in some horrible drawn-out way.

The thought of Tiye being forced to perform patricide and matricide sent an icy shot down Mozenrath's spine. She would be damned in the afterlife, unless Osiris took pity on her and her position.

"Why does she make you do that," Xerxes said, looking away from the letter. "Wouldn't it just be easier to zap them away herself?"

Tiye shot him a dirty look at his light tone.

"She's the incarnation of evil, not logic," Mozenrath supplied. "I guess it's more horrible this way, albeit stupid and pointless."

Tiye shrugged. "What is, is." Too bad she negated this passive response by her pale color and tightly gripped fists.

"Well I wouldn't be too worried if I were you. Nobody would marry you willingly, so you've got some time," Xerxes said over his shoulder. "And in any case, I know what's happened."

"Really, then please, Thoth, bestow your knowledge," Tiye said, as Xerxes joined them on the cushions.

The slave tossed the letter back at the priestess in training. "The Agrabanian queen is dead."

"Dead," Tiye said, looking at the parchment in her hand.

"I saw 'Shawdi died, two day illness' and that's all I could make out, the sun's almost set." Xerxes seated himself in the spare room on the cushions, facing his friends.

"Well that'll give Jafar some breathing room, as well as the magical trade. Maybe they don't have to be absolutely secret anymore."

"Queen Shawdi really was prejudiced? I thought she only hated Jafar," Xerxes said.

"Magical beings were never her favorite people, let's put it like that and leave the dead alone," Tiye answered, obviously wanting to say more, but keeping silent for reverence's sake.

"And I thought it was just Jafar's sparkling personality. Well, that'll make traveling into Agrabah easier at least-comes at the perfect time, hmm?" Xerxes said, nudging Mozenrath.

But the young wizard gave his friend a scathing look. He thought a few hours back, to when he was playing the game, right in this very room, wondering whether the princess was looking at the same sunset as he was. Of course she hadn't been, she had probably been in some small, dark corner of the palace, weeping herself to sleep, mourning the loss of a parent. And in that moment, Mozenrath had a sudden, crazy urge to run across the desert and throw his arms around her.

"Perfect...timing? Okay," Tiye said, lifting her hands, palms up, "What is going on? What's this scarab you're talking about? I haven't seen you this happy since you snuck away that bottle of liquor."

When Mozenrath didn't seem to be coming back to the Black Sands anytime soon in his mind, Xerxes plowed ahead. "Last week we went to Agrabah--Destane was giving Jafar some rubies-apparently they were vampire's blood crystallized."

"That has mind control powers. He really gave that up so easily?"

"Destane doesn't need them, he has fear and power," Mozenrath said mechanically, mind still in the warm sands of Agrabah and its princess.

"I suppose," Tiye started.

"Hey! Important story going on here," Xerxes cried. "Anyway, we were wondering around his lab and Mozenrath was listening to them talk-,"

"You mean you weren't? Why am I not surprised. Let me guess, mind on a cute servant girl."

"Hush! As I was saying, apparently Jafar found this gold scarab thing that's supposed to lead him to a lamp!"

"...So what, Agrabah's having a candle famine? What are you talking about?"

Xerxes threw his arms up exasperatedly. "He was talking about it like...like...like he had found out where Mael's Lost Council chambers were. Even Destane was watering at the mouth."

Tiye's eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. "Destane was?"

"I know! He said after Jafar over took Agrabah that the lamp was to come straight to him!"

"Wow, that's...frightening actually. Why are you so happy? If Destane gets this lamp he'll be virtually unstoppable if I think it's as powerful as you say."

"If he gets the lamp, if he gets it he'll be virtually unstoppable. But If we get it--,"

"We...?"

"Listen," Xerxes said scooting closer to her. "Listen, Mozenrath is like a walking encyclopedia, and he can find anything if it's in those scrolls of his, and you have ready access to information on all sorts of keys and such--and a scarab is mostly Egyptian symbolism. If the three of us could find the other half of the scarab before Jafar does, and find this lamp then...then…then Mozenrath and I could be free—Free, Moze!" Xerxes attached himself to Mozenrath's sleeve.

Mozenrath's look darkened as the brown-blonde slave locked his optimism arrows on him.

"Freedom! We wouldn't have to work if we didn't want to--all those kids could go home, find homes! We could have this land all to ourselves. We could talk, sing, and scream in the halls if we wished it! Marry who we want, have, wear, want anything! And you," Xerxes said, shifting his crosshairs to Tiye. "We'd give the lamp to you next, of course. You could be free, your parents could be free! You could marry who you want--hell, if you wanted to you could even leave the temples, and go where you wanted to!"

Mozenrath wrenched away from Xerxes. It was a stupid idea, one that would get them killed! Would Mozenrath like freedom? Yes, more than anything in the world, and a thousand times yes. But was it attainable? Not at all. Xerxes' plan depended on too many things going right. Two slaves and a priestess in training could not by themselves find a wondrous prize and also battle the two greatest magical foes in this world. They needed power, something they couldn't get, and probably would not get anytime soon. If Jafar, a hapless but somewhat intelligent wizard, with experience and training on his side, couldn't find the other half, how could they?

Freedom was an unfeasible treat. It was like a honey cake on the other side of an un-climbable, un-open able fence, and Xerxes was not helping Mozenrath's frustration by describing how delicious and moist it looked.

"That's enough," Mozenrath snapped. "The sooner you give up this stupid plan, the sooner we can all be grounded in reality."

"Mozenrath, this isn't stupid," he said, his voice almost whining. "We can do it, I know we can, you-,"

"No, we won't, because I won't. I'm not risking my neck for the impossible. Destane would find us out, and that will be the end of it, and us."

"Mozenrath's got a point," Tiye said. "He'll know something's up."

"We'll be on our very best behavior," Xerxes said, scrambling now. "We'll obey him flawlessly."

"Even worse, that's a dead giveaway that something's wrong, you never behave."

"Then we'll just act normal! Mozenrath's always in the library when he can be, that's not suspicious, is it?"

Tiye cocked her head to one side, and opened her mouth again, but Mozenrath cut her off.

"Don't. Don't do it, don't encourage his delusions of grandeur."

Tiye was about to respond again, until they all hear the sound of the gate being opened, and then shut with a thunderous crash. Mozenrath's stomach felt empty and his heart raced. It was just past sunset, Destane shouldn't be back now. Or...

How long had they been talking? Mozenrath look up at the ceiling. The dark blue night sky winked down at him with its star-eyes. Xerxes leapt to his feet. "I'll go to him, Moze, bring Tiye into the library-look busy!"

Out in the hall they went their separate ways, Mozenrath still seething. He wasn't really too mad at Xerxes. They boy was a hopeful fool, and Mozenrath couldn't blame him for wanting an opportunity to escape this hell, even if it was farfetched.

Now, the young wizard was mad at himself, for letting his heart consider the possibility of this plan, for wanting it, for hoping himself. It wasn't fair, and he wanted to stamp his foot like a child, and say so. No, he wanted the chance to be a child, to act his age. Of course he wanted to run and play and laugh like other thirteen-year-olds. He wanted to flirt and learn, and work in peace. Was it not enough that he would be persecuted as a wizard?

But listless thinking about impossible things never helped anyone. No matter how many kind old maids, loving mothers and goodly sages said that dreams could come true, Mozenrath knew better. How sad was it that in this world a thirteen-year-old was wiser than a sage who had lived thrice as long?

The library itself was vast, but unused. Destane was powerful and apt at finding magical artifacts, but wasn't the most well-read of people. Mozenrath, by laboriously teaching himself, knew all dialects of Arabic, two of Hindi, Egyptian (including hieroglyphics) and a smattering of Elvish. Destane only knew his own dialect of Arabic and Egyptian.

The library's shelves were made of the same black marble as the walls. Books were crammed into the shelves, organized by Mozenrath himself. There was a small upper level, were small windows let in a few rays of light. The lower level sported a long polished old fashioned table, covered with large scrolls of parchment, monster models, broken quills, burnt out candle stubs as well as a few candelabras, and leather bound books opened, lying on one another haphazardly.

Mozenrath took a long, thin stick of wood and kneeled by the fire place, lighting the end on fire. Covering it slightly with his hand, Mozenrath took his small torch to the table and lit the candles. Soft, warm, orange light danced and illuminated the papers on the table. Mozenrath had been working on a translation for Destane from the leader of some tribe or another. It was written in Punjabi, so of course Destane could not read it and passed it off to Mozenrath to translate.

"If you can find a place, sit," Mozenrath said, sliding into his hard wooden chair, and searching for a new quill.

Tiye lifted a pile of slim volumes off a stool and perched herself on it. She was distant, staring at the table without really seeing it.

Mozenrath found a spare pen and flicked open his ink well. "What's wrong?" he asked, setting to work again.

"Just thinking about what Xerxes said..."

"What? His plan?" Mozenrath glanced up. "Please tell me you don't truly think it's plausible."

Tiye shrugged, and Mozenrath scowled. Tiye was the epitome of sanity and level-headedness, and if she sided with Xerxes, Mozenrath would lose all faith in her. That's not true...but I would question if her current situation isn't affecting her thinking.

"Xerxes is like an infection, disturbing all he touches and speaks to. We have no chance at this."

"We don't..."

"But?"

"You do."

"What," Mozenrath cried, incredulous, head snapping up.

Tiye placed the books she had been holding on the table. She made sure they were in a perfectly straight tower before continuing. "I doubt Xerxes has the disposition or discipline to carry out such a delicate operation, and with his loud mouth, I'd give him a day. And I only have a few magical powers bestowed upon me by Mirage, and my knowledge of the ancient ways does not extend beyond my country's borders." She picked up a few discarded scrolls and started to roll them up. "You on the other hand...Mozenrath, I've never met someone so young and so accomplished at so many things. You retain information like a camel does water. Also, you're exceptionally powerful for someone so young, you can manipulate things and move them without any training, and you've disciplined yourself to learn so many things with all the odds against you. The more I think about it, the more the years go by, the more I'm certain that out of the three of us-five of us I suppose I should say, you are the one meant for great things."

"Meant for great things," Mozenrath sneered scornfully. "You sound like a fairytale poet. If you haven't noticed, I'm an orphan and a slave. What great things can I be meant for?"

"Why else would fate give you such assets? When you speak, people listen. You have a presence, and a commanding one at that."

Mozenrath couldn't speak for a moment. It was so surreal that the girl who he had thought of as a pillar of strength was attributing to him the very same force he thought she solely possessed. He opened his mouth and shut it, repeating the action for a few minutes. What could one say to that? "Aya..." he muttered. It was the name he had called her in his toddler days, when he still couldn't pronounce the't' sound.

Finally he placed his quill down, and sighed. "Aya, listen to me. I....I would love to be rid of this position, but what would you have me do? Follow Xerxes and bear the mark of Spartacus? Even if I did have all those things you think I do, we would be two slaves and a servant against Destane the Feared. Surely I do not have to repeat it again; surely you can see the logic in this."

Tiye slouched a bit. "No...no, I suppose you're right." She started rolling the scrolls again. Then as quickly as the fight had seeped out of her, she straightened her back again. Raising an elegant eyebrow, Mozenrath could almost see the cogs turning behind her eyes. "Suppose two slaves can't have hope of fighting him..."

Mozenrath narrowed his eyes. What was she thinking about? More importantly, what was she planning? He went back to his work, but only kept half his mind on it, continually glancing up at his companion.

Tiye placed her elbow atop the table, and leaned her chin against her palm. Her eyes narrowed in thought, and her free hand drummed on her knee. Mozenrath saw her completion change from pale to flushed, and then back to pale horror again. Her eyes darkened, and she frowned. What the hell was she thinking? He asked if she was alright.

Tiye shook her head, and said she was. But on her face was a new resolve, like she had come to some kind of conclusion. He tried questioning her, but she told him to get back to his work, in case Destane decided to check up on him.

Mozenrath obeyed, knowing he wouldn't get any information out of her. Yet.

As he mechanically worked through the letter, he let his mind wander, but still, something kept echoing in his thoughts, over and over. 'Meant for great things'. Yes it was a marvelous compliment, but just something about it struck a chord with him. What greater things? Anything was greater than this life.

And if Tiye, a girl significantly older, and in his opinion, wiser, thought he was, then maybe...he could be. And for once, Mozenrath let that hope remain unscathed in his heart. Even if it was just for a little while.

Made for great things...hmph.


"So you went there, and found out that not only did Eros steal a potion from his mother's store, but made it so when you drank it, it'd make you fall in love with him?"

Eris nodded, slowly stirring honey into her tea. She and Athena were both sitting in the rooms outside her realm. Nothing was broken down or moving. The room was comfortable, and fairly furnished, with a wide rimmed man-sized basin that made up the majority of the room. The image currently sitting on top of the water was a Japanese trade boat, calmly minding its own business. "I can honestly say that in all my years, I've finally been shocked by something."

Athena looked out the window. "Is the sky falling? Is Hades catching a chill?"

"Funny." Eris leaned back on her divan and crossed her legs. The tea was welcome on her dry tongue. Her mind was still in a whirl after the confrontation at Aphrodite's chateau. For a goddess of chaos, she was usually calm and collected. But now she felt like the floor had been violently ripped away from her.

"What did he say in his defense?"

"Nothing. I think he stuttered out something but I wasn't paying attention. I got a good shot in, though."

Athena chuckled. "Never let it be said that someone of that family didn't need a good smack now and again."

"More than true. What I wonder is why now? Why is he doing this? What possible motive or reward could he reap from this?"

"Well, didn't you say it was probably slaps and giggles? To see you running around lovestruck with a man so completely out of your--world," Athena said, catching herself before she said 'league'.

Eris smirked and cocked her head to the side. She had not missed that. "True enough, but I don't think they're that shallow...if they were, I will truly have lost hope in everything." Eris ran a finger around her cup's lip. "You think after all that's happened, them to me, me to them, they'd leave me alone. My whole life with him was thrown to the wolves and now-,"

"You know, this unhealthy obsession with dwelling on your heartbreak will turn you insane," Athena said, sipping her tea.

Eris snapped. "It doesn't bother me anymore."

"Of course it doesn't."

Eris narrowed her eyes. "Love in general is tedious. It brings nothing but pain for a few minutes of pleasure a few times in a while."

"Well," Athena said smirking. "With Eros it wouldn't be a few minutes of pleasure only a few times-,"

"Could you please at least make an attempt to be serious? This is not amusing; use some of that wisdom you're so famous for." Eris rolled her eyes at the irony, and poured her tea into the basin. The clouds above the trade ship instantaneously darkened, the sea suddenly coming to life and tossing the poor traders around like a ball.

"We do have a dilemma then. Apparently the god of love is in love with a goddess who has sworn off his very trade." Athena sat back. "I think Pan had a solution to this."

"Now you're just being disgusting." But Eris couldn't help but smile. The entire situation-the society of the gods in general was so ass backwards from their very conception, to bring logic to this community was like bringing a boat shop to Arabia.

"What are you going to do?"

"Keep them away. I can't let them know I went against an edict."

Athena nodded. "If you're found out, you'll end up like Hecate, and go down alone."

"Thank you friend," Eris sneered. "So lovely to know that my colleague since all eternity has her loyalty to me."

"Your choice. I told you not to watch him-to let it go," Athena patronized. She pointed a finger to her friend. "I had wards in my time-hell-I had Imperioris as well in the ancient days, less you forget, but I never got personally involved. And now I live a happy life."

"Oh yes," Eris said, tired of the many times Athena had demeaned her over her relationship with Rathana and her vigilant watch of Mozenrath. "We should all aspire to be like you, to turn a raped child into a monster all because she chose to be raped in your temple!"

"I told you never to bring that up again," Athena thundered. In a split second the baby blue sky out side the window turned iron grey, ripped by lightning strikes.

"And I told you--,"

"Um...am I interrupting?" a small male voice murmured from the door. The two women turned, their eyes still full of thunder. Eros stood in the doorway, looking from one to the other. "Because I can come back..."

"No, no," Athena said, smiling. "I'll leave the love birds alone." She gathered her cloak and helmet and moved past him. "I cannot wait to hear how high your voice is when you're done talking with her." She grinned and turned to leave. As she left, Eris flicked her hand and the door slammed right behind her, hitting her squarely on the rear end.

Eris folded her arms, pleased that she inflicted some pain. There was a reason why she never went to Olympus, and Athena's attitude was a prime example.

The goddess now locked her eyes on Eros. The thunder had not left them. The handsome boy shifted from foot to foot again.

"I'm all healed," he said gesturing to his cheek. There was a very faint white line on his cheek, barely discernable.

"Then I didn't hit hard enough. I shall not repeat my mistake next time."

Eros nodded, and took a precautionary step back. He tried again, starting with a smile this time and rubbing his arms. "Bit cold, eh?"

"You're about to get much colder."

"You know, I think that's your way of flirting," Eros tried again, his grin slanted.

"Flirt, planning homicide; in a way they're all the same." She placed her hands on her hips, inspecting him. Of course he was handsome, being Aphrodite's son. He had a chiseled jaw, and bright, playful violet eyes. His smile was usually lopsided, and his body language always easy. How could it not be? He was the physical embodiment of the perfect male.

But Eris viewed him as she viewed most everyone else in the world, as them. Those on the other side, who spoke so freely of acceptance, but denied it to those most in need of it. Those who viewed heroes as practically perfect, and not pompous bullies who were either too arrogant to realize what they were doing, or too naive.

Eros was part of 'them', while Hecate, Rathana and Mozenrath were 'us' in her mind. They could understand that there was no overall justice, that fate never gave the good they're due. They survived and clawed their way to a stable platform of power, and held on for dear life. They had no time for sympathy. Why should they, when they had been deprived of it?

Eros continued his show. "The devil would soil his pants in terror from you, dear chaos."

"He has on multiple occasions. Leave."

"You wound me, dear girl," Eros said, placing a hand over his heart.

"With simple words? Watch what I can do with my bare hands," Eris said, pointing at her, her finger glowing.

"I would love to see what you could do," he said, coming close and capturing her finger. "Especially with your hands." He leaned in close, grinning at his joke.

Eris slapped the heel of her hand on his forehead to prevent him moving any closer. She shoved him hard. Eros slammed into the wall on the other side of the room.

"Mph! Well, whatever gets you romantic, I can handle the hurt," he said, one side of his mouth tilting up.

He was obviously not leaving anytime soon. Resigning herself to her fate, she looked to the ceiling, silently asking her mother above for help before moving next to the basin. "If you're going to torture me, at least tell me why you started this in the first place."

"Why does anyone give a woman a love potion?" Eros said shrugging and sitting on the rim of her looking portal. He ran his fingers over the surface. Much to the traders' delights, the sky suddenly parted to show its radiant blue face once more.

Eris slapped his hand away. "To start a social fire? Chaos is my job, and you should leave it to me."

"I never intended to infringe on your job. I fear if I tell you the reason, you won't believe me." He folded his hands in front of him, staring at the ground.

"Try me," Eris said returning to her divan, and reclining.

"I gave you the potion because you would never fall in love with me on your own." He continued after she gestured for him to go on. "And I wanted you to fall in love with me because I love you."

There was a full minute of silence. Eris blinked and then burst into hysterical laughter. She even snorted once or twice, clutching her aching side. "Th-that's your excuse," she said, in-between desperate gasps. "That's so pathetic! You couldn't think of something better to throw at me?"

The god of love nodded bit his lip, nodding. "Wonderful. My mother nearly blasts me across the cosmos, my wife runs off with my father, and any shred of dignity I ever had has now been completely demolished. Thank you for witnessing this fantastic day with me, really." He paced around the basin, agitatedly. The clouds began to form over the boat again, and they could almost hear the sailor's groans.

"Wait, wait," Eris said, clutching her chest. "Psyche is Ares' lover now? Truly?" She collapsed into another fit of laughter. For a moment she was going to pass out and die from the lack of oxygen. "Ow, ow," she said, rubbing her stomach. "Alright, for that good laugh, I forgive you. Honestly, I do." She stood, wiping the tears from her eyes. The man standing across from her was a testament to 'things could be worse'. From where she was standing, she could honestly point to Eros and say, 'well, at least my day's not as bad as that.'

"I am excited beyond measure," Eros deadpanned.

"I thought she was injected with a love potion."

"No, she wasn't. That would be me."

"You accidently injected yourself with one of your own arrows?"

"I was leaning over at the time; I forgot it was in my hand."

"Hmm, poison-er, breaking and entering, and now not being able to handle your own equipment. Your resume is shaping up nicely."

"I can handle my equipment perfectly fine, thank you. And apparently the potion wears off of gods, because it was just a small amount. Disillusionment is a bitch, hmm?" He scratched behind his ear, head bowed, looking at her up through his lashes.

She wasn't falling for the pity-boy act. She leaned her cheek against her knuckles. "Uh-huh. I wasn't delivered in the birthing room yesterday. Am I to believe that you've had a sudden epiphany after the love syrup evaporated, and I was your answer?"

Eros laughed hollowly. "Would you believe me if I said I loved you before the potion?"

"Not at all."

"Then I really don't see much point continuing in this vein."

Eris narrowed her eyes. "I'm sure your mother isn't exactly happy with her former enemy taking her lover."

"Mother is not exactly a happy person. Fickle and jealous, dishonoring to her husband."

"And you're better? Letting your wife run around while you do the same thing. You're all al-,"

"I am not like them," he suddenly shouted. His raised voice made the glasses and vases in the room ring with the magnitude. "I have sent that...that...that mortal from my house-she is no longer my problem."

The room was silent, the glasses humming back into immobility. Eris raised both her eyebrows at Eros tense form.

I've hit a nerve, Eris thought. "So the boyish god of love finally realizes something about his craft." She stood, slinking up to him, circling him slowly. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders from behind, leaning to whisper in his ear. He smelled like coconuts and greenery, and just a hint of cinnamon. "The only thing worse than requited love is when it fades and bites back," she hissed, emphasizing the last word with a smack to the back of his head.

Eros turned and came face to face with her, closer than her comfort. "Forgive me; I thought you would be sympathetic."

"Really," Eris said. She stepped back to give herself some space, bumping into her basin. Eros advanced on her, trapping her between his arms, as he placed his hands on the edge of the looking-glass basin behind her. "What gave you a stupid idea like that? And why should I have sympathy for you? I've been on time out for a long time by the gods, and you're not doing yourself any favors talking with me, and bringing unwanted attention on me. And I should have sympathy for you?"

"All things considered about your past, I thought you'd be in a position to understand. Maybe some other positions as well."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Sympathy? You seem to bounce back alright by yourself."

"I..." Eros trailed off as his eyes slid from Eris' face to the basin behind her. His pupils dilated, and his face snapped from flirtatious to shock.

Eris twisted around to see what had captured his attention so. The trader's boat at sea was no longer there. Instead, Mozenrath, just awaking before dawn dominated the surface of the water. He strolled around his small room, half awake, packing up, readying for travel.

He slept in only his loose pants, so his bare chest was completely visible, including the delicate black tattoo branded into his marble skin.

Eros gasped. "Y--"

But he didn't have time to finish. Eris grabbed him around the neck and slammed him against the opposite wall, so hard the marble cracked and began to crumble. "If...I let you breathe again...will you not shout?"

Eros, turning blue by this time, nodded as much as he could. Eris slowly released him, and he fell to the ground gasping, rubbing his throat. He coughed a few times, taking ragged breaths before getting to his feet. "Who...Please tell me that is not who I think it is."

"Alright. It's not."

Eros shot her a nasty look. "What are you doing?! Grandfather declared an edict for you not to follow him-let alone give him your mark! What are you going to do next, make him your Impiriori?"

Eris raised her eyebrows and bit the side of her mouth. "No I'm not going to do that next, so don't worry."

"Oh, by Gaia, you already did, didn't you? Are you insane, woman? Do you know what they'll do to you if they found out that you've marked him--even spoken to him? They'll lock you away like Hecate!"

"If they found out, if," Eris said.

"You went against an edict, it's not like grandfather simply yelled at you not to-this was voted on that-,"

"That I have no further contact with their line, never again try to resurrect the Council, nor seek revenge for what happened--Yes Eros, I was there and I can read."

"Then what's he doing--oh Uranus' ass-he even has the blade." Eros clutched his hair whimpering. "Oh this is bad-very very bad. This is like when-they-tried-to-overthrow-grandpa-bad!"

Eris, by this time, had returned to recline on her divan. She interlocked her fingers, and rested her chin on them watching the young god. "Are you quite finished, or shall I fetch you a bag to stop your hyperventilating?"

"Why are you not hyperventilating?" Eros tore his gaze away from the young sorcerer. "You could very well start a war, Eris."

"The pantheon is not paying attention-and they haven't for many millennia now."

Eros barked out a laugh, putting his hands on his hips. "They were paying attention during the Trojan War."

"Only because it was about pride and vanity," Eris said, stretching out, bored now with his antics. The truth, her stomach was writhing. If he went and told his mummy like a good little boy, not only would her plans be thwarted, but she would be put in chains in some secret place, Mozenrath would die, and a whole plethora of other nasty things. "Besides, it's my job to stir it up once in a while."

Eros wasn't buying it. "Oh, so you just happen to want to stir things up with the son of your servant-who has no other godly connections besides you. Hmm. And this isn't about your pride how...?"

"It's about justice," Eris said through clenched teeth. "And putting things to rights, but you, who has licked a silver spoon all his life wouldn't understand."

This seemed to strike another chord with Eros. He spun on his heel and paced for a few moments, circling the basin, watching Mozenrath dress and prepare for travel.

"Now what will the good honest boy do," Eris asked, breaking the silence. "Will you run and tattle?"

"No, of c-..." Eros trailed off, and glanced up. Locking eyes with chaos, a cruel smirk twisted itself onto his face. "Yes, I will."

Eris' face momentarily tightened in panic, but she quickly hid her rising hysteria. "I knew it. All alike."

"I will tell the gods, that is, unless you do something for me in return." Eros folded his arms grinning. He leaned his hip against the basin waiting for her answer.

"Don't toy with me boy, I could strip you of your voice and equipment if I wanted to," she hissed sitting bolt upright.

"No you won't, because that will cause them to come snooping around and put your secret at risk." Eros grinned and clapped his hands together, like a child contemplating a plate of sweets.

Eris' fingernails ripped into the fabric of the divan. "What do you want in exchange?"

"I won't tell anyone about him, if you let me stay here with you," Eros said, victoriously.

Eris mouth hit the floor. "Why?!"

"Because," he said striking a dramatic pose and pointing a finger at her, "I want a chance to win your heart!"

A beat.

"...You're an idiot," Eris said standing up and pushing past him to lean her hands against the basin.

"What? it works out perfectly. Your secrets hidden, and you just let me hang around here for a while."

"How long," Eris snapped, wanting to define terms. She couldn't believe she was actually entertaining the idea.

"Until you love me."

"You're not staying here forever-and stop talking like that, it's sappy and facetious."

Eros crossed his arms. "What do you have to lose? Your secret is safe, and you get to be privy to my charm."

Eris tapped her fingers against her hip. She couldn't let him go skipping off--there was too much to lose, too much power and glory at stake to let one bubble headed twit ruin it all. And really, besides annoyance, what was the harm with letting the fool sit around? Maybe he'd open a cage and get mauled by one of her beasts, that way the deal went through and she'd get another good laugh.

"Is that all?"

"That's all," Eros grinned holding out his hand.

Eris slipped her hand in his. It was much larger, and comfortably warm. They shook on it, to seal their deal, and before Eris could pull away, he kissed the back of her hand. The place burned like a brand on her skin. She kept a hold of his hand and pulled him into another room.

"Already to your room? That was quick," Eros chuckled. "Me thinks the lady doth protest too--hey!!"

While Eros had been quoting away, Eris had opened the door to one of her spare closets and shoved him inside. Caught unawares, he tripped over himself and fell inside. Eris shut the door and tapped the handle, the lock clicking in place.

"Eris--Eris, what in hell are you doing," he said, rapping on the door.

"The deal was that you could stay-fortunately you didn't specify where in my home you could stay. Night, night!" She grinned, spun on her heel and returned to her looking basin.

"Eris! Eris, stop it! Let me out, come on! I'll tell the gods I swear I will. Eris...? Eris...don't you walk away!"


The street bustled with activity. Mozenrath felt an odd sense of déjà vu as he leaned in the dark arch way, angling his body so he could watch the main street. The pale early sun beat down at the reddish brick buildings. Young wives and girls cloistered around the meager fountain, collecting water, and chatting happily. Customers and vendors haggled loudly, trying to be heard of the sellers shouting their deals, even though it was so early in the morning. When the fruit vendor wasn't looking, he levitated fruit off his stand and caught it from the air.

He shoved his map back into his cloak's pocket, and shinned the fruit on his vest. The madhouse was a yards away, and if the little lady was going that way, she'd definitely pass by him. He bit into the shiny green apple as he contemplated the girl he was after. How small and delicate would she be? Maybe fiery yet workable like little Jasmine, or stubborn and quick like the witch Sadira. If fate favored him, she'd be quiet, kind and meek like Mina.

But he really didn't think so.

Hopefully, she'd be pretty at least. If he had to carry around a prisoner, she might as well be…enjoyable. The side of his mouth tilted up. At least he'd have that.

A couple of urchin children screeched as they ran by, ripping him from Mozenrath's pleasurable train of thought. They pushed one another playfully, and one bumped into a brown cloaked woman. Had she been there before? No, she must have just arrived.

They giggled and waved at her as they scooted past. But the woman was not fooled, and grabbed one, the short black haired boy, by the collar. She held out her hand. The boy hung his head and pulled the small change bag he had just nicked from his shirt. She took it back, and pulled out two coins from it, tossing them at him. He caught them happily and went to rejoin his friends.

The woman replaced the change purse in her cloak, and readjusted her hood. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't stuff all her long curling brown hair from sight. Keeping her head down, she made her way past the archway, down the empty street, to the madhouse.

Mozenrath grinned. Found her.

Flitting from shadow to shadow, he followed her down the street. Once or twice she whipped around, glaring into the shadows, hoping to see whoever she thought was following her. He hid himself with a simple obscurity spell. He still couldn't see her face, though he caught a glimpse of one of her features every time she turned. Her full lips, elegant nose, heart shaped cheeks, but nothing that could give him a solid foundation of her face. Mozenrath contemplated simply taking her here. A stunning spell, throw her over his shoulder and run like hell. But Eris said 'willingly', and he could see the logic in that. If she was halfway willing, he wouldn't have to worry twenty four hours every day of her escaping or blowing his cover.

She seemed to relax and stopped turning around as much as she nearly jogged down the street. Bending his knees slightly, he ran silently behind her. He was getting closer and closer, till he could reach out of the shadows and touch her, until someone above them let out a shrill loud whistle.

Mozenrath flattened himself against the wall, heart racing. The cloaked woman covered her face and looked around hurriedly before breaking out into a full run. In three seconds flat, she was down the street and around the corner. The sorcerer scowled, lip curling, and looked up at the person who could have ruined everything.

Two stories up in the building he was leaning against, the window shutters were thrown wide open. Henuttawy was leaning out of it, and waggled her fingers at him. Mozenrath glared at her. Damnit, he thought he was done with her when they parted ways.

She said she'd be in Rome. Just my luck, Mozenrath thought. He had forgotten she would be here.

"Come up," she said down to him. "The door's right there."

Mozenrath wanted to turn on his heel and walk away, but then again he had no place to go, barely anything to eat, and his hand was throbbing from lack of cleaning. Was it worth the aggravation?

You're not a wounded, whimpering boy like before. And you're hungry. Best to go up. Mozenrath rapped on the clean, new wooden door. After a few seconds a timid servant girl opened the door, and bowed out of his way.

On the outside, the house looked like any other Roman building, but upon entering, it was like taking a step across the continent and straight into Egypt's land. The walls were covering in pictures of the gods, and oil lamps and incense burned steadily for them.

The tables were covered with white fabric, and the all the entrance ways he could see where hung with white gossamer. Everything was gilt in gold, and the entrance hall had a sense of freshness and openness about it.

Mozenrath, still in his traveling clothes, was careful not to brush up against anything. He wished he'd bought new clothes first thing this morning.

The servant girl hurried up the stairs, calling for her master, passing Henuttawy on the stair. She looked much better, now out of her rough cloak and shift. Her steel grey hair was pinned up, and she looked a little less severe. She might have been a beauty in her youth. Now he really wished he had his usual finery.

"I see you made it in more or less one piece," she said, glancing at his wrapped hand.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he said, holding his hands behind his back.

"I'm glad you are safe, I'd rather not have Tiye down my throat if something befell you. Let me see it."

"See...what?"

"The blade, I want to know if it looks the same."

Mozenrath's brow furrowed. 'The same'? How did she know what it looked like in the first place? But, he was never one to pass up an opportunity to show off. Unhooking it from his belt, he lifted it on his palms. The small nubs on the hilt twinkled and shone in the sunlight.

Henuttawy touched the backs of his hands, moving them this way and that as she examined the blade. She used his hands and pulled the blade from the sheath. He barely noticed the soft glow the metal had. His name was still delicately carved into the steel.

"Well, well, it's in perfect condition. Listen," she said.

Mozenrath cocked an ear toward the blade. Very faintly, almost inaudible, he could hear a soft humming.

"It senses your magical power," Henuttawy said, letting go of his hands. "This has killed many a great person, boy. You have a treasure on your hands."

"I know, but then again," he said with a light air, tying the sword to his hip again, "I am usually in possession of such things, so this grandeur is nothing new to me."

"Mhmm," she said. "Come, let's get that hand fixed, it's not looking so good. It's stinging isn't it? You've probably gotten sand in it."

Mozenrath flexed his fingers slightly. The wound was turning a sickly shade of purple. He followed her up the short staircase into the room she had waved to him from.

The window angled directly at the morning sun let in its bright, pale yellow rays. It was a pleasant sitting room, with a dark oak table, in the middle. All the walls had been carved into bookshelves, tomes and scrolls placed neatly inside.

At the table sat a man, a little older than Mozenrath, with thick black hair, and an imperial face. He looked the perfect relatively good-looking Roman, save for his Egyptian styled tunic, and the long, thin scar from his temple, wrapping around to his chin. He was relaxing in his chair, flipping through a thin volume.

He looked up as the door closed behind Henuttawy. When his emerald eyes alighted on the wizard, he smiled and shut his book. "Lord Mozenrath?"

It felt so refreshing to hear that name again instead of 'boy' or 'Rathana's son'. The wizard nodded. "Haji, I assume?"

Haji nodded, and stood, taking the cane that was leaning against his chair. He limped around the table. On his left leg, from the knee down, instead of flesh and blood, there was a wooden duplicate. He held out his right hand to Mozenrath.

Mozenrath glanced at it, but instead of taking it, he pressed his palms together in front of his face, in a non-physical greeting.

Haji retracted his hand, and smiled after a moment of awkwardness. "It's an honor. Cousin Tiye speaks extraordinarily high of you."

"Not exaggerated, I assure you," Mozenrath said smirking.

"I'm sure," Haji chuckled as he sat down again.

Henuttawy lead Mozenrath over to the spare chair, and took his hand, unwrapping it. "Tut-tut, this is almost festering." She forced his hand flat, and Mozenrath hissed in pain, as the wound stretched. 'This'll sting," she said, wetting a cloth with some weird, yellowish liquid.

Sting wasn't the word; it was like she pressed a red hot poker to his skin. He grit his teeth as the fiery liquid seeped into his blood stream. Henuttawy took out a needle and thread and started sewing him up.

"Come here for recuperation?" Haji asked, trying to break the silence.

"Business," Mozenrath said from behind clenched teeth. "I was doing well until someone interrupted me." He shot a glare at his temporary nurse.

"You were about to make a bad choice," she said. "She's a little more volatile than you think."

"I have it under control, thank you," He said, pulling his hand away, her stitching done.

"Who," Haji asked.

"Lady Meg."

"Meg," Haji repeated smiling. "Well if you have business with her, I can introduce you."

Mozenrath brightened. "You know her?"

"She's a nice girl, if a little odd. Siti-my wife-is doing her new wardrobe-actually, that is what Siti is up to now," the cripple said, glancing at the ceiling.

Mozenrath's mouth tilted up. Perhaps this would be a little easier than he thought. If he could slip into the circle of friends she had, then it would be much easier to convince her to leave, or at least get close enough to knock her out and sweep her away if worse came to worse.

"I didn't know she had connections with you, what would she be doing with an Arabian Lord?"

"He's going to kidnap her," Henuttawy said, replacing the yellow vials into the cabinet.

Mozenrath started. How did she know? More importantly, how could she blatantly speak about a very delicate course of action to the intended victim's friend? The sorcerer was just slipping out of his temporary state of shock until Haji smiled.

"Really now? That's new. It's good then that fate brought you here."

"Pardon?"

"You're in glad company, boy," Henuttawy said, taking her seat again. "You'll find allies here."

Mozenrath raised an eyebrow. Allies. He had never put much stock in them, preferring to do everything alone. It was more fulfilling, he could claim all the glory, and there was no risk of treachery. Then again, he was easily outnumbered. You're not a boy anymore. This is a fresh start, and it's time to try new things -your old ways aren't working. You walk through the door, does it really matter that someone simply held it open for you? Maybe it's time to fight the street rat with his own strategies.

Haji smiled. "I've heard of your plans, My Lord, and I know you have our reasons. You're probably the only wizard in power left that practices the ancient ways, and for that alone you deserve respect. And any friend of Tiye's is welcome here. Besides," he smiled, "this life isn't for her. The mortals have rigid structures, an ideal image of women, like Helen: meek, always beautiful, desperately in love with her man, and virtuous, yet somehow always sensual. Never a thought to their power or potential. Kirrata would shake her head, and a have a few choice words for magicians following such rules."

He pushed himself up again, and took his cane. "I think you're in need of some decent clothes, and I'm sure you'll want to get started as soon as possible."

"Definitely," Mozenrath said, picking up his hand rag to retie it on his left hand. But as he looked at his palm, the wound was nearly healed, and the stitches almost useless. Flexing his fingers, he stood and turned to follow Haji.

"Boy, I would talk to you after you freshen," Henuttawy said over her shoulder.

"I'm sure you would," he replied, shutting the door behind him. He pushed down the feeling of awkwardness as he followed the limping man down the stairs.

Allies, welcome, respected; much different than what he was used to. Either people were begging him for mercy, bowing to his wishes, or railing against his efforts. Now he had someone temporarily on his side. Of course he'd always had a friend in Tiye, but he kept her far away for the past four years. He knew that if it came down to it, he'd step over her to complete his goal, so the only way to protect her was to keep her away.

So, at the moment he had an ally. Now if only he could be rid of those dreams and the damn ghost, he'd be made.

Allies could be...interesting. A new way of seducing and kidnapping a victim; it could fun, he mused. Then again, I'd trade them all for a sizable lab and a crate of fresh beakers in a Gomorrah minute.


Did you like it? Please reveiw! And I just want to note that the Eris subplot dose have a point and a real impact on the story-so never fear, no fluff here.