The Quartz Key

by Lianne Burwell

My characters! All mine! Well, inspiration came from the Key game, a
product of the Yaoi-Slash Mailing List. For more info, go to
http://members.xoom.com/Chatelaine1/

My other fanfic can be found at:
http://www.squidge.org/~lianne

Feedback can be sent to lburwell@adan.kingston.net

Before reading this fic, it is recommended you read the Description of the
Quartz Key.
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CHAPTER ONE

The Prince of the city of Ajantha entered the House of Kemel, surrounded by
his guards and retainers, but with very little fanfare. Two guards moved to
block the doors behind them, while the rest fanned out to protect their
Prince from any threat that might appear. They did not expect trouble,
since while not well-loved, their prince was well-respected, but they were
ever-vigilant in their duties.

The employees of the house immediately descended on him like a pack of dogs
rolling over to bare their bellies and necks before the alpha dog. The
Prince stared down his long hooked nose at the fawning mass, his lips
curled into an expression of disgust. While he expected the respect and
deference due to his position, he loathed obsequiousness. Unfortunately, it
was something he encountered every day.

There was a sharp handclap, and the servants melted away, bowing -- and in
more than one case almost crawling -- as they backed up. To turn their back
on the Prince would have been a disrespect punishable by a flogging.

The overweight, richly-dressed man hurrying towards them was obviously
Kemel, the owner of the establishment. His face was flushed and he was
breathing hard. He was in need of some good, honest exercise, the Prince
thought to himself with a sneer. Kemel spent to much time being waited on,
obviously. The Prince, however, had been trained as a soldier in his youth
and still sparred regularly to maintain an impressive build.

"My Prince, you honor my establishment with your glorious presence," the
man said breathlessly as he came to a stop, bowing low in the flamboyant
manner that was currently the rage in court.

"Indeed," the Prince said dryly. Of course he was honored; a Prince spent
more money than a commoner. As well, saying that a Prince frequented your
establishment was the best sort of advertising.

"How can we serve your royal self?" the man asked, bowing yet again,
practically groveling. The Prince was tempted to just kill the worm, but
unfortunately, he was supplier of the finest merchandise in the city.
Merchandise that in this case was important enough to bring the Prince out
in person instead of simply summoning the man to the palace.

"I need an... item. One that matches a very specific list of requirements."

The Prince glanced around, pointedly, at the small crowd of employees still
watching intently from the corners of the room. It wasn't every day that
someone of royal rank came to the House of Kemel, and they obviously hoped
to find out why. There were plenty who would pay highly for such gossip.

Quickly understanding the meaning of the Prince's look, Kemel finally
straightened up and waved his people away. "What are your requirements,
Glory?"

"A slave. Noble-born, preferably. Attractive, naturally, between the ages
of fifteen and twenty. Male."

"Bed companion?" Kemel asked, suddenly all business. His voice sharpened,
and the Prince smiled. The slaver was not as foolish as he liked to
pretend. Suddenly, he found himself almost respecting the man. Almost.

"Yes. But more importantly, a confidante, a companion."

"For yourself?"

"My son."

"We have a noblewoman from the north..."

"Male," he repeated. That surprised the slaver, he could see, but while he
was willing to be... flexible on the other items, that was one requirement
that he was not going to back down on.

Kemel was silent for a moment, his eyes unfocused as he considered the
possibilities.

Finally he gestured towards a door. "Come with me, my Prince. I do not know
if I can exactly match your requirements, but I do have one possibility."
The Prince nodded for the man to proceed, even though it would mean turning
his back on his Prince, and followed as the plump man lead the way. "He is
a recent acquisition, from east of here. The grandson of a desert
chieftain. His younger brother sold him to one of my agents when the old
man died," the man said as he went.

"I take it that the older brother was to inherit?" It was an interesting
way to dispose of a rival. Usually, he would expect the deposed brother to
be killed to prevent him from coming back to try to reclaim his place.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. However, he is... unusual for his kind. An
albino, but without the pink eyes. Because of that, he cannot not go out in
sunlight. It would have been impossible for him to function as chieftain,
despite his grandfather's wishes. He even stepped aside in favor of his
brother, but if he stayed, it would have divided the tribe, according to my
agent. That's why the younger brother sold him rather than kill him. It was
necessary to get rid of him, but he didn't have the heart to harm the boy,
even though there were those close to him that wanted the brother dead."

The Prince nodded. An entertaining tale. However, "A desert barbarian, even
the heir of a chieftain, is hardly what I would call noble-born," he
pointed out.

"He is actually quite well-schooled, my Prince. Literate and as well-read
as a nomad can be. His grandfather indulged his scholarly leanings. He is
very graceful as well, although with no training in the dance. However, he
does have a bit of a temper when pushed. We planned to train him for a few
more months to make him a little more docile before selling him. Also," the
man added persuasively, "he is, as yet, a virgin."

The Prince raised an eyebrow. "How old?"

"Just short of nineteen."

The Prince snorted softly. "I did not realize that you could reach that age
and still be a virgin."

Kemel shrugged. "His strange looks made his people consider him possibly
demon-sired. Between that and an overprotective grandfather..."

The Prince nodded. This could actually work to his advantage. A virgin
might be more controllable. As well, someone who'd been a target of his own
people before being cast out would be grateful for a place and protection.
Yes, this one sounded like he had potential. "Show me him."

Kemel nodded and led the way to a narrow stairway. The Prince motioned one
guard to follow, but indicated that the rest should remain behind. The
captain looked upset, but nodded his obedience.

The stairway was steep and narrow, and led to an equally narrow hallway,
lined with lacy panels on either side. The Prince stopped and looked
through them.

To each side was a series of rooms. They were all quite simple, with a pile
of cushions in one corner, a few objects for the occupants to entertain
themselves with and the occasional mosaic or tapestry to add interest to
dull, white-washed walls.

In the first room, an elegant woman with the slanted eyes and yellow skin
of the far east reclined on her pile of cushions, playing a soft melody on
a stringed instrument sitting on her lap. The tune was haunting and unlike
any that the Prince had heard before. He watched her hands moved and could
easily imagine them moving equally skillfully over an instrument of a
different sort. His own instrument swelled at the thought, and he quickly
controlled himself.

"They cannot see us through the screens," Kemel said softly as he led his
client on. The Prince smiled, realizing the truth of the statement. If the
occupants were to look up at just the right moment, all they would be able
to see was a dim outline. As well, the screen would no doubt muffle their
voices. It was a very clever arrangement.

Halfway down the hall, Kemel stopped and gestured towards the left.
Stepping close to the screen, the Prince looked down into the room.

Like the other rooms he'd noticed in passing, this one was sparsely
decorated. The only furniture -- if you could call it that -- was a pile of
cushions that appeared to serve duty as both a seat and a bed. In a corner
was a small covered chamber pot, amusingly made from fine silver, he
noticed, amused. The outside wall was covered with a large tapestry that
depicted an angel and a demon engaged in a battle that was more erotic than
violent.

The slave was pacing his chamber, not impatiently, but more from boredom,
the Prince thought. As Kemel had said, the young man showed great grace. If
trained properly, he would be the finest of dancers. Or warriors. It might
even be worth training him -- in secret, of course -- to be a bodyguard for
his son as well, since no assassin would think a bedslave worth guarding
against.

He wore mostly black; full pants with a high-necked tunic over it,
glistening with black on black decoration. It served to emphasize the
pallor of his skin, which was almost completely without color, like an
albino. And his hair. It was white, but when the light hit it just right,
it seemed to shimmer a light... pink? Darker near the roots. Whatever the
cause, the result was beautiful and exotic, just like the boy.

"Yes," the Prince said, almost a sigh. "He does not look like a desert
barbarian at all."

At the softly-spoken comment, the young man looked upwards, somehow having
heard them. The Prince met his eyes and fought the urge to gasp. Albinos
always had pink eyes, but this boy's eyes were a silver that almost glowed
in the soft lamp-light. For a moment, he was sure that the boy could see
him clearly. But them he turned away and dropped on his pile of black and
silver pillows. He curled up on them in a way that would seem almost
calculated to entice if he were not so obviously innocent.

The Prince smiled to himself. Perfect.

Staying silent, Kemel gestured the Prince to follow him to the end of the
hallway, where a door led to the man's private offices.

The Prince sat, while Kemel, of course, remained standing. "You say he has
a temper?"

"As the son of a chieftain, he is not accustomed to taking orders. When
pushed, he pushes back. However, because of his brother's actions, he is
also given to bouts of depression."

The Prince's satisfaction grew. Argumentative enough to challenge Nemir,
but vulnerable enough to appeal to a young man's romantic and protective
instincts.

"I will take him. My majordomo will collect him at sunset, since you said
that he is sensitive to light. I trust that this will suffice?"

Kemel's eyes went wide as the Prince casually tossed him a small velvet
bag. Inside were five gemstones of the highest quality. "It is far to
much," he stammered, despite the greed in his eyes.

The Prince waved the comment away. "In return, I expect you to be discreet.
Full details of the boy's origins are to be kept confidential. However, if
anyone asks -- and I am sure they will -- I will name you as the source of
the boy."

Kemel preened at the implied praise, as well as the promise. The name of
his House on the lips of the Prince would bring him a great deal of new
business.

"I will do as you ask," he said, bowing low. "The boy and his possessions
will be ready when your majordomo arrives."

"Good."

Business concluded, the Prince got to his feet and allowed the slaver to
lead him back down to the foyer. The easy part -- finding an appropriate
slave for his son -- was complete.

More difficult would be getting the boy to accept his new slave.
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