A/N: In case anyone didn't notice, I rewrote chapter 7 recently. If you happened to read it when it was still focusing on Celes, it is VERY different now. Sorry this chapter took so long. It was a combination of lack of internet access, stuff happening in real life (we're planning on moving out of state, and there's a lot to do) and, yes, laziness. By the way, does anyone know how to get paragraph breaks to survive the transition to ff.net, or is it even possible?

Rocket: Thanks, and I'm glad I seem to have redeemed myself.

Seagull12348: I'll try to keep your advice about Locke's personality in mind. My excuse is he was in a serious and stressful situation, so I didn't want to make him too flippant, but the truth is I have an unfortunate tendancy to make everything too serious.

Thanks to both of you guys for telling me what I was doing wrong. I'll try and keep this from getting too bogged down again. If I do, just give me a swift kick in the pants, OK?

ooo

Chapter 8: Trust

ooo

I had come to meet you

with a question in my footsteps,

I was going up the hillside

and the journey just begun

Suzanne Vega, Rosemary

ooo

Figaro castle was no less impressive up close. It rose from the shifting sea of dunes like an iceberg, and Terra got the impression that like an iceberg, the castle had more to it than was immediately apparent. The walls had been scored and weathered by harsh desert winds, but such damage seemed only superficial – the castle itself looked strong and proud in the sharp desert light, bright banners flying from the top of every tower.

"Ah, civilization..." the treasure hunter said, "I don't know about you, but I, personally, am sick of sleeping in a tent and keeping one eye out for monsters. It'll be feather beds and silk sheets for us tonight."

"Are we expected?"

"Probably." He answered with a brief laugh, "We're in the middle of a desert, after all – from up in those towers, you can see everything for miles around. Figaro doesn't get many surprise guests." She nodded, glancing up at the tall watchtowers sprouting around the perimeter of the castle, and the bare, sandy ground rolling off in every direction. It would take considerable skill and luck for even one man to approach the castle unseen.

Uniformed guards stood at attention before the main gate, surveying the two travelers with the flat, professional gaze of soldiers everywhere. They were armed with what looked to Terra to be some form of heavily altered crossbows, sleek and metallic, seemingly built to shoot multiple bolts at once. The guards weren't hostile, but had the appearance of men who could become so at a moment's notice, should circumstances demand it. Terra was suddenly very conscious of her own appearance: rough, travel-weary, somewhat less than clean… she didn't look or feel like someone who would be at welcome in a castle, and she certainly didn't know how to act in front of a king. Locke didn't seem worried, but Locke was hardly the sort of person to be fazed by mere heavily armed guards, and in any case claimed to know his Royal Highness personally. Indeed, the soldiers seemed to recognize Locke on sight, and Terra found herself slightly reassured when their wary demeanor shifted almost immediately to familiar smiles. Terra and Locke were waved through with a simple "oh, its you" and a friendly grin, which the thief returned readily.

Inside the castle itself, Terra became aware of a very slight vibration in the atmosphere, a sort of underlying background hum. She got the sense of powerful machinery at work somewhere beneath her feet, or perhaps running through the structure of the entire castle. I suppose the people here must get used to it after a while… I wonder what it is. Some kind of weapon, perhaps? The idea of modern technology in this ancient-looking stone building seemed deeply incongruous, but Terra suspected that Figaro itself was home to a great many surprises. Locke lead her through the entry room down a large hall, occasionally waving or nodding at liveried servants or guards going about their daily tasks. Terra could feel their eyes on her as she passed, the way they stopped startled when they saw her and their lingering scrutiny as she walked on. Their naked curiosity was different from the quiet fascination she had sensed from the moogles, but no less unsettling. Locke told me that green hair is unusual, she told herself. That's why they're all staring. Or I just don't look like I belong in a castle. She wasn't certain it was the truth, but it was better than believing that they could all see something in her that she could not, some hidden wrongness or strangeness… She realized suddenly that with the exception of Locke, this was the first time she could remember being in the company of other humans. Perhaps that was why she felt so out of place in that echoing hall, so alien.

Locke paused before a pair of heavy, polished oak doors to speak briefly to the guards on either side, who stepped aside smoothly, bowing their heads slightly in respect. Just a simple treasure hunter, eh? Right… He turned to offer her a reassuring smile, then pushed open the doors and stepped into what was obviously the castle's main hall.

Two ornate golden thrones sat on a raised dais at the end of a long gold carpet of gold and green. Similarly colored banners hung beside high, arching windows, decorated with royal insignia. One throne was occupied by a slim, handsome man in a gold-embroidered blue jacket, his blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and a gilded scepter clutched listlessly in one hand. The king, of course, Edgar, but Terra had to admit he wasn't what she had been expecting. His clothing, though sharply tailored and made of silks and satins of the highest quality, was otherwise simple and practical, and the crown sitting jauntily on his head little more than a thin circlet of gold. There was no air of pomposity about him, no authoritative arrogance. If anything, he seemed slightly distracted. Terra got the impression he would much rather be somewhere else, perhaps reading or researching in some quiet library.

As they stepped through the doors the young king looked up sharply, and his entire demeanor shifted as suddenly and drastically as spring weather. Wherever his mind had been before, it was suddenly back in the moment.

"Locke!" he exclaimed, stepping forward to greet the other man, "Its good to know you're safe. When I heard about events in Narshe, I'd assumed the worst…"

"News travels fast," The thief replied. "Sorry to get your hopes up, but it takes more than magitech armor to get rid of me."

Edgar laughed, then turned his attention to Terra, who had been standing slightly off to the side, unsure of what to do or say. He surveyed her with a sort of absent-minded fascination, his head tilted in unabashed curiosity, and once again she got the impression that his thoughts were wandering somewhere else. She found suddenly that the king reminded her of someone, though she couldn't say who. His searching, studying gaze was all too familiar, as was the mild and impersonal way he examined her. She imagined this was what a specimen in a lab must feel like, some creature in a glass cage living under the piercing scrutiny of others, and she hated it. She wanted to hit the man, to shove him away from her or… no. Not that, she rebuked herself firmly, not that. I thought these past weeks taught you some self-control… She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, but stood in silence.

"So, this young woman…" Edgar murmured absently, turning to Locke with a question in his voice. The thief nodded slightly, and suddenly Terra had had enough. This… this king might feel comfortable treating people as though they didn't exist, walking around them and staring and talking like they weren't even there, but she had expected more than that from Locke. She felt betrayed, slightly; she had thought of the thief as a friend, someone who saw her as a person, not a thing. Am I just a tool to him too? No, no, surely not. I trust him… Still, she thought suddenly, I'm damned if I'm going to let them talk about me like this, like some… some specimen, right in front of my face!

"Who do you think you are?" she hissed, anger simmering in her veins. It would be unacceptable – wrong – to incinerate the king where he stood, no matter how rude he was being, but surely she had every right to yell at him…

Edgar spun around at the sound of her voice, in some ways truly seeming to notice her for the first time, and to her surprise she found her temper cooling a little.

"Oh… sorry," he said, seeming surprised and honestly upset by his lapse in manners. Perhaps he had simply been lost in his own thoughts, too caught up in whatever he was thinking to really be aware of the outside world and the people in it. It was Terra's turn to feel embarrassed about her actions, and ashamed of the fact that she had even contemplated reacting to rudeness – unintentional rudeness at that – with violence. Even if she hadn't done anything, the desire to hurt the man had been there. It had been a sudden impulse, small and shameful and quickly suppressed, but there, and that fact was impossible to ignore. I really have to get a grip on myself… This is ridiculous, I can't let anger control me like that. Not everything is a battle, and not every person is an enemy.

Once Edgar finally seemed to register her presence, his attitude underwent another remarkable change. It was as though some switch in his head labeled "charisma" had been flipped on. He offered her a charming smile, and she was sure that if he had had a cape he would have flourished it. Instead he went down on one knee, bowing his head elegantly.

"How rude of me to turn my back to a lady," he said smoothly, rising to his feet again. "I am Edgar, King of Figaro."

"Terra," she responded, bowing her own head politely.

Locke, looking immensely relieved that the pending crisis seemed to have been averted, chimed in, "Surprised someone like me knows a king?"

Edgar responded calmly, "Surprised someone like me knows a thie-" but didn't get far before he was interrupted by Locke, who raised one finger in a gesture of warning.

"Go carefully…" Locke said, his voice serious but his eyes teasing.

"Treasure hunter. Whatever you say. You know, it's quite the neurosis you've got there…"

"At least I don't flirt with anything that moves…" Locke answered, bantering, before turning to Terra.

"I've got some things I need to take care of," he said to her. "Talk to you later. If Edgar tries anything, set his eyebrows on fire or something. He deserves it." The king blinked at that, unsure what to make of it, but Locke was already on his way out the door.

"I swear, his sense of humor gets weirder and weirder…" Edgar muttered, then, addressing Terra with all the charm he could muster, continued "So… you're an Imperial soldier? No problem! Figaro and the Empire are allies… Please relax while you're here. It's not in my blood to harm a lady."

She really didn't know what to think of this Edgar. He seemed to be a man of many layers, and perhaps many false faces. On the surface he looked simple: perfectly courteous and perfectly charming, with a flirtatious grin… but there was a penetrating intelligence in those clear blue eyes, a seriousness hiding behind that dashing smile, and she got the impression that he noticed more than he let on. His voice was light and casual, but there was something else underlying the words, an almost… probing quality. "Figaro and the Empire are allies," she thought, almost amused. What a charming liar you are… But you're testing me, aren't you? Where my loyalties lie… but I'm not sure even I know the answer to that question… She could feel him watching her, noticing every detail and filing it away for later use, and all the while keeping up his amiable façade. Who are you? And what are you after?

"Look," she said to him, "Why are you helping me? Is it because of my abilities?" Or in other words, I'm not going to play your games.

He looked truly scandalized that she might suspect him of any ulterior motive, but that calm intelligence was still there in his eyes, measuring, weighing…

"My lady," he answered, his voice a strange and, Terra suspected, deliberate combination of offended and amused, "what kind of person do you think I am?"

He laughed to show it was all in fun, and continued, amusement hiding around the corners of his voice, "I'll give you three reasons. Your beauty has captivated me," he exclaimed grandly, "I'm desperate to know how I might win your heart… and, I suppose, your… abilities would be a distant third." Terra rolled her eyes. At least he was honest about that last part…

"Do you really expect me to be taken in by such… melodrama?" she inquired, but not harshly.

"I guess my technique's getting a bit rusty," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, feel free to explore the castle. I wish I could be a better host, but I'm afraid I've got a bit of work to do…" He bowed urbanely and sauntered off, leaving her alone in the arching chamber. No, not alone… he doesn't trust me that far. There'll be guards, somewhere out of sight.

Terra sighed, more confused now than ever. She supposed that anyone else might have found him dashing, but she wasn't anyone else, and she found herself unwilling to take anything about him at face value. Can I really trust this man? Locke seems to think so, but…

ooo

King Edgar Roni Figaro swept out of the throne room and through the castle, barely noticing where he was going but still dodging servants and guards with practiced ease as they went about their daily tasks. At last he fetched up at the top of the long staircase leading up to his tower-bedroom. Edgar was always neat and dapper about his personal appearance, except for the occasional oil-stain, but his room was a mess. Every available surface, up to and including the floor, was strewn with books, diagrams and scribbles, not to mention various and sundry unfinished mechanical experiments. Edgar navigated the obstacles with ease and sat down gratefully in front of a desk heaping with papers, resting his head in his hands.

What was Locke thinking, bringing that girl here? An Imperial, a bloody Imperial! Did Narshe snap his sanity?! The Imperial Witch too, by the look of her, thatmysterious living legend that nobody ever admitted they believed, but that everyone whispered about nonetheless. Green hair, all the stories were clear on that, and those golden topaz eyes… beautiful, certainly, but by all accounts quite, quite deadly. What is she? Not bloody human, that's for sure… and Locke confirmed she could use magic. That had been typically discreet of him, conveying such important information by means of a joke, but that didn't answer the question of why his trusted friend thought it was a good idea to bring an Imperial sorceress to stay in his castle, especially now with all that was happening.

Edgar scowled, realizing that he wasn't thinking things through. Locke wouldn't have knowingly endangered their cause; either he had been forced to bring the witch here or in his mind she posed no threat, and Locke had given no indication of being forced or given Edgar the secret signal to watch for treachery. Not to mention the fact that the girl hadn't behaved like any Imperial he had ever met. They tended to be an arrogant lot, not to mention confidant in their own power and superiority; this girl Terra was anything but. She had jumped from shyness to open anger to cold suspicion, but all her actions and reactions had suggested she considered him a threat, not the other way around. For some reason the old cliché sprang to mind, more afraid of you than you are of her. People were always saying that about things like scorpions and sand rays, but somehow they always neglected to mention that that fact was oftentimes precisely what made such creatures dangerous. Edgar sighed, rubbing his temples. You've got some explaining to do, Locke… What are you playing at, and what have you gotten us into?

Edgar wasn't frightened. He had hated and worked against the Empire for years, but he had the prudence and skill to keep any rebellious activities where they belonged – hidden. Even the most meticulous Imperial spy, if that was what the witch-girl was, would be hard-pressed to find or falsify any evidence of treachery, and Edgar didn't think he had given Gestahl any reason to doubt his loyalty. Discretion is the better part of revolution, that's the truth that I know and my father didn't. You can't fight the bastards openly, no matter how much you want to, not when they're this strong. That was the lesson he had learned from the old king's death. You had to let them into your cities and your homes, had to smile and fawn and make small talk with their smirking generals over a glass of wine that might or might not be poisoned, the memory of your father's murder still fresh in your mind. And you had to wait, and plan, and hide, because honesty and courage would get more than just you killed. Sabin took different lessons from that day. But Sabin was… lucky.

Sabin…

Edgar could still remember that day clearly, the one where his brother had finally left to find his destiny and his freedom… Indeed, all memories from those times were as sharp in his mind as reflections in a mirror, and doubtless as distorted. But it was another day running through his mind now, one from before the weight of kingship had landed firmly on his shoulders…

"What's wrong with father?" his brother had asked, his voice full of the anger and desperation of one who cannot accept what he knows to be true. "What's all this talk of his successor? He's not going to die!"

Sabin had been so innocent then. Had he changed, Edgar wondered? Had he been tainted by hardship and pain out there in the world he had chosen, broken by the cruelties of war? Edgar refused to consider the possibility.

But Edgar, the other Edgar, that young boy from a lost time, had been unable to deal with his brother's innocence. He had snapped, taking out his anger at the Empire and his own helplessness in a flood of bitterness.

"Are you blind?" he had snarled, his voice as venomous as the poison that coursed in the old king's veins, "Can't you see how thin his face has become?"

He had shoved Sabin violently out of the way and run down from the high tower, tears blurring his vision, not fast enough to outrun the other boy's call after him, "Brother!" That night had seen the beginning of the distance between them, the gulf that had grown as their father languished and faded and finally died. Before that time the two of them had trusted each other fully, understood each other instinctively. But Edgar retreated into isolation, turning his grief to rage and hatred because such emotions hurt less, and he pushed his brother away. Sabin had left on the night their father had died, but the real rift had happened before then.

Edgar wondered now if it could ever be healed…

"Maybe he was right… " Edgar said aloud. "Maybe this is cowardice. Maybe it is collusion. But I can't see any other way."

ooo

A/N: I hope I didn't screw up Edgar too badly… or Terra's reaction to him, for that matter.