Part Eleven—Missing Pieces

Part Eleven—Missing Pieces

The sun was peeking through the eyelet window on the east side of the tower. Heero woke to find his brother had not yet returned from his nightly jaunt. It was not unusual that the Night Prince stayed out all hours but he always tried to be back by dawn. He was clearly overdue and the restriction of the curse was such that Heero couldn't go looking for him. The First Prince dressed hastily and dispatched Noin and some of the more trusted guardsmen into the city to search, then proceeded to scowl his way through breakfast.

The king was in rare form. He drummed his three fingered hand on the table top and was unusually short tempered and downright snappish with the courtiers. Truthfully, the old man didn't look well. His skin was sallow and blotchy, he'd lost weight in the past month or so, and his eyes had a reddish cast to them.

Heero took in the information and catalogued it as dispassionately as he did anything else. There was no doubt the First Prince would intercept an assassins blade were it aimed at the king, and it wouldn't be the first time he had done so. His lithe body bore the scars as proof of it. But, if the old sorcerer were to expire right there at the table it is unlikely Heero would bat an eye.

Ambassadors and courtiers flitted and chattered like exotic birds vying for a prime roost; empty words and empty eyes. Heero knew he would be king one day but he was certain that if the curse permitted him such emotions he would unilaterally abhor the game of politics.

If one thought of the individuals of Jae's court as representative of the best and brightest of Yue one would wonder if the only thing keeping the kingdom functional…let alone prosperous…was the strength of the old man's magic. Surely there must be some men of value in this vast empire. That thought immediately brought Chang to mind. He was an ambassador of sorts…The first Heero could recall meeting that wasn't an empty headed moron.

He is also my guest, my responsibility. Heero frowned at the belated realization. Trace's lessons had covered how a prince ought to extend hospitality to another…though he had never practiced it before. What was keeping Trowa! He was supposed to be the guide in relational things. The First Prince bit his lower-lip in thought trying to recall his lessons on diplomacy.

Finally, he strode to the servants lounge and motioned Hilde over to arrange for a breakfast tray to be delivered to WuFei's chamber. "Tell him join me near the main gate as his earliest convenience." The prince grumbled.

"Are you sure, my prince?" She asked, eyes-wide, that he would even suggest the gate as a meeting place of any kind. The young maid was one of the few that knew the details of the curse and the symptoms which afflicted the princes.

When questioned, Heero generally responded with a terse "Hn," but not today. Today, his voice was quiet as he admitted, "Trowa's not back yet."

"I'm sure he is fine," she answered gently touching his arm and making a point to meet his cobalt eyes. Few did. The ice in his gaze tended to chill any who dared, but the maid was one of the few to consistently make the attempt.

The gesture of encouragement was largely lost on the emotionless youth, but thanks to Trace's lessons, Heero did, at least, recognize it for what it was. He nodded smartly in acknowledgement. "I'll be outside the main hall," he reiterated and stalked off with crisp military precision in every step.

The maid sighed sadly and went to do as she had been bidden.

-0-0-0-0-

Heero sat just outside the double doors to the hall, his back pressed against the wall, knees tucked up tight to his chest, cobalt eyes peering over the bulwark of his arms. His lower lip was tender from worrying it between sharp teeth and the coopery tang of blood was a clear evidence of his…unease. Hilde had been right. He was too near the gate. His face was impassive, as always, but his shoulders trembled from time to time, as the curse sought to remind him how helpless he really was.

In the deepest part of his mind a tiny voice, long-silenced, was begging, "Hurry brother, please hurry back – I don't know how long I can stand this."

As it happened, there was still no sign of the Second Prince by the time WuFei arrived. Heero sighed; seeing no point in waiting any longer. He nodded resolutely and turned his attention to the Dragon Lord instead. "This way," He announced without preamble.

Clearly, the First Prince thought the command was a perfectly acceptable morning greeting, especially as he was somewhat preoccupied putting more distance between himself and the gaping gate which threatened to bring oblivion pouring into his mind.

WuFei smirked wordlessly and followed. He couldn't have done a better impersonation of the Second Prince had he tried. Heero, of course, was oblivious. His booted heels struck out a staccato rhythm on marble as he led the obsidian eyed youth unfailingly to the royal treasury.

It didn't occur to the First Prince that this might not be the most prudent place to bring a veritable stranger, neither did he attempt to reason what Trace and Zechs might feel about him permitting an unknown to learn their secrets.

Truthfully, the situation had never come up before, and Trowa wasn't there with a subtle touch or gesture to guide him on the matter. Heero's only thoughts revolved around the fact that WuFei wanted to learn about his people's fate, and if anyone were to know the specifics, it would be the russet haired Jewel. The only question that remained was whether Jae restricted the information from Trace's knowledge base. If he had, then the questioning would be… difficult.

0-0-0-0-0

WuFei trailed behind the taciturn prince. His thoughts drifted back to the decedent sleeping chamber where he had spent the previous night. Neither he nor Nataku were accustomed to such things. In the temple he'd had a sparse cell with a small wooden pallet for sleeping. For much of his training the firedrake had been little larger than a house cat, and he had been unaccountably grateful for the fact, else she never could have fit comfortably on his chest while he slept. And there certainly hadn't been room for her to sleep anywhere else.

A reasonable young man; would have relished the fine accommodations; but that would have been too easy for one Chang WuFei Scion of the Long Clan, such things hade him uncomfortable. Nataku, thought nothing about accepting a prince's hospitality. She had no qualms about making the most of the situation. In fact, his partner was still there, curled sleepily in the center of the grandiose bed, sleep rumpled covers surrounding her scaled body like a nest.

The fire-drake had roused herself just long enough to devour his breakfast. Of course the assortment of fried foods and pastries and candied fruits had been two rich for him. At least that was what he had been trying to convince himself before she had settled the matter. "Greedy omnivorous lizard," he grumbled to himself.

It had smelled so good too. A far cry from the lumpy congee Master O served in the temple. But he didn't even have his customary rice gruel this morning, thanks to a certain scaled menace. Nataku would insist that she had left him some of the pastries, but semi-corrosive dragon drool is not what one would consider an acceptable condiment.

WuFei supposed it was for the best. Hunger teaches discipline, as his master used to say. Unfortunately, his stomach had never completely learned that lesson.

The fact made him feel all the more guilty. The dragon lord sighed, feeling rather forlorn. The fact was, sleeping amid feather mattress and silk coverlets and dining on rich breakfasts should have been second nature to him. He was a prince in his own right, after all, the Chang of Chang. But when he returned from the temple there had been nothing…no buildings, no people, no answers...

In his heart he knew he should be with them. Wherever they were, whatever their fate had been, he should have shared it. But the sun rose; the sun set. And he lived, day by day – there was no justice in it. He could not permit himself happiness. In indulging his own desire, he failed his people. He was here on a mission. The prince was a means to an end, nothing more.

He had no business being content…or comfortable. He had not meant to befriend Heero, but the longer they had talked, the easier it had become. Now where was he? The obsidian-eyed youth could not help but wonder if he envied the Prince his curse. Perhaps, if he couldn't feel, he couldn't hurt. WuFei frowned at the thought, thrusting it aside almost violently.

Heero had just disappeared through a low doorway in a secluded hall. A narrow stairway descended deeper into the castle before it leveled into a barrel vaulted chamber. WuFei's dark eyes grew round in surprise at the tremendous wealth he saw strewn carelessly about the room. "What is this place?" he wondered aloud

"Jae's treasury," Heero answered nonchalantly.

"W-Why are we here? I thought you were taking me to the archives," WuFei faltered.

The prince extended the well-worn non-answer, "Hn," then soundly ignored the other boy for the length of time it took to wake the Jewels.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Zechs blinked to life first. Heero had a completely 'no-nonsense' approach to everything and magic was no different. As a result, the blonde's movements were stiff and his hair was still in tangles. "Where is Trowa?" he asked with a frown, deftly cracking his neck before groping for a silver brush setting among the other treasures near his alcove. It was a beautiful piece, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and semi-precious gems. Truthfully, he didn't really care what it looked like so long as it got the tangles out, which it would since it had been spell-crafted to do just that.

"He didn't come back last night. I sent Noin and the guard after him. They haven't returned either and there has been no word. Go to the gate and inform me immediately if there is news." Heero commanded.

Zechs grunted at that, crystal-blue eyes wide. "Of course my prince," He bowed tucking the brush in his belt pouch and shrugging into his blouse, grateful he hadn't taken the time to unbutton it the previous night.

Stepping into the main chamber, he almost collided with a dark-eyed stranger. "Who is this?" he demanded. "What is he doing here?"

"None of your concern, Go." Heero's eyes narrowed in a way that declared he had no patience for this right now. The blonde understood and went to obey.

WuFei was gaping in astonishment at what had just come to pass. Not just at the unprecedented spectacle of a statue coming to life, but the fact that he was reasonably certain that he recognized said statue. The Capital of Yue wasn't the first place he had gone seeking news of his lost clan. Several months previous he had been in the boarder province of Sancier. While dining with the Vice Foreign Minister he noticed an exquisite portrait. The eyes in particular had been riveting and the coy half-smile made him shiver.

His congenial host eagerly explained the painting depicted the last heir of the Peacecræft line. The foreign minister confided that many of the people in this district still mourn the day their bright young general fell in battle for it also marked the passing the proud Kingdom of Sanc.

"Peacecraft?" He breathed the name after the hastily retreating figure.

"Zechs!" Heero snapped, a spark of anger tingeing his usually impassive voice just for an instant before it was gone again. "His name is Zechs. This is Trace. They are the King's Jewels," he said in a more even tone.

"Trace." WuFei echoed the name as he watched the russet-haired gentleman flush to life. He looked equally disconcerted at finding a stranger regarding him first thing upon waking. WuFei wished he could read what was going on within the shadowy depths of those startlingly blue eyes. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Dàifū." He bowed respectfully.

A forked eyebrow quirked at the formal address, "Great one, hmm?" the newly wakened statue practically purred. "I am not, though I thank you for the thought." He shook his head and rubbed the visibly pulsing gem situated where his heart should be. Somewhat wistfully he added, "I am called Trace for a reason. Consider the word. It means a surviving mark, some small evidence of something that has come before. Or, as the king is so fond of pointing out, one of two straps to restrain horses used to pull a carriage."

"That is no bad thing," the foreign youth mused, "when one considers princes to be fine thoroughbreds in harness to the carriage of state."

"King Jae has nothing so flattering in mind when he says it," the Jewel scoffed, but the thought caused a slight smile to grace the corner of his lips, and his sapphire eyes shone brightly.

"Trace, WuFei Chang." Heero continued the introduction as he had been schooled to do. "He is looking for information on the lost Long Clan."

Ginger-haired young man winced visibly, eyes flicking down to study his polished boots. "I am sorry," he murmured quietly, then made purposeful eye-contact with Heero. "Can we go somewhere more comfortable?" he asked.

The prince nodded once and motioned the other two back to the stairway. It was rare to see that expression from Trace. Heero knew this was not going to go easy – not in the least.