"That'll be fifteen-hundred silver pieces. I'm sad to say that your kind doesn't get a discount."

Sylvain gave the servant behind the desk a small smile, opting not to comment. To avoid the curious gaze, he busied himself with searching for the pouch that contained his money. He knew he'd placed it somewhere in his traveling pack, but finding it again was easier said than done.

To his dismay, the Palace's aide didn't see Sylvain being occupied with his bag as a disincentive to talk. "I always thought that your kind was... you know, above this sort of thing. I don't think I've *ever* seen one of you out here. Or at least," he added as an afterthought, "not recognizable, anyway. You know, like if they *do* come, they go to great pains to see to it that no one knows what they are."

"In the end," Sylvain interrupted smoothly, flourishing one of the pouches of coins he'd taken on his journey, "we are all human."

The aide, a tiny, angelic boy barely out of adolescence, blinked his wide brown eyes and cocked his head. "I suppose you have a point, there. But if so, why not just take care of each other? I always thought that you magic-types stuck together. That's what the stories say."

Sylvain fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Stories will also tell you that men return to life, that pigs fly, and that giants roam the southern plains."

"So wizards *do* like people?"

The question was so innocent that Sylvain couldn't help but answer. "It depends on the wizard, to tell you the truth." He spread his arms and gestured to his robes. They would have been white and silver were it not for the dirt on them. As it was, they were recognizable. "Wizards like myself exist to help other people, you know. Haven't you ever seen a curative sorcerer?"

"I've seen plenty of wizards," the aide assured him, "just never up close. I couldn't tell one from the other. All I know is that they usually don't care about other people. I suppose that's what comes with being so high and mighty. I bet you can move mountains."

Sylvain wondered if part of the reason for the boy's talkative behavior was fear. Surely the child didn't think Sylvain would harm him? "Hardly." Even if he wanted to, Sylvain didn't have the skill. Offensive magic simply wasn't where his talents lay.

"So what do you do?" the aide piped, leaning over the front desk with a look that was part curiosity, part unease.

I could put you to sleep for a good, long while... He raised a hand and laid his index and middle fingers against his temple. "Sir, if you would be so kind as to give me my Key..."

The aide swallowed and pushed back from the desk. "Please forgive me. I was just curious." He bent his head and started fiddling with papers and other material. "A week's stay is fifteen-hundred silvers, I said. Is there any Key in particular you would like to spend the time with?" Sylvain frowned, thinking. He'd never been to this Palace before, and had no idea what Keys would match up well with him. He was surprised that there was even a Palace in Aster; he was still in the Mid-western area of Hiberia. If Sylvain were ever prone to generalizing by geographical location, he would have said that the further West you went, the more the indesto were despised.

"Sir?"

"I'm afraid this is my first visit to the Asterian Palace," Sylvain admitted. "What Keys are available? Good-tempered and comfortable, if you please." A good many Keys - in some areas, most Keys - often had no fondness for the Palace or their "work." Every Key was different, of course. Some adored the profession of giving pleasure, some were there because they had nowhere else to go, and in some Palaces... some were trapped. Sylvain would never force his presence upon a Key who didn't want to please him; it was against both his beliefs and his *own* profession.

"Let's see..." The aide shuffled through a large book and looked at some more papers. "Considering that you'll need this Key for a week... um, the Crystal Key is available. He is even-tempered and knows how to do his job. There's also the Ivory Key, but he's feeling a touch ill, so we were thinking of letting him rest this evening..."

"I should make it a point to see him if it worsens, then," Sylvain murmured absently. His mentor would have been proud; even at the entrance of a Palace, ready to give money to be showered with sexual pleasure, he was thinking about healing the sick.

"The Amethyst Key is also available.... You wanted someone who likes being a Key, right, sir?"

"Please." Sylvain was already counting out the silver pieces.

"Well, there's -- oh!" The aide looked up, beaming with satisfaction. "The Tiger-Eye Key is available, if you'd like him. He is very good; rarely does a customer leave unsatisfied."

Sylvain considered it. "If you're certain..."

"Very," the aide assured him with a nod. "Aubrey is truly skilled, and he enjoys what he does."

"Aubrey..." Sylvain nodded, pushing the small pouch of coins across the top of the desk. "The Tiger-Eye Key will do just nicely."

"Very good, sir." The aide took the pouch and, to Sylvain's dismay, began to count the coins. As he did so, he reached over with his free hand and rang a little bell at the end of his desk. The sound resounded throughout the foyer, and seemed to echo through the entire Palace. That was quite a feat; the Palace was no small inn.

The aide looked to be about halfway through the count, going by tens, when another servant appeared. This one was a mite older than the aide at the front desk, almost pretty enough to be a girl. His dark curls fell to his shoulders, and his almond eyes stood out due to his pale face. Gods, *was* he a girl?

"Yes?" No, he was a boy.

"A guest, Hamel," the aide informed him, gesturing to Sylvain. "He's just paid for a week's stay with the Tiger-Eye Key."

"Really?" Hamel mused, aiming a sly grin in Sylvain's direction. "Excellent choice, sir. You've been with Aubrey before?" Sylvain shook his head. "Oh? I thought you had, and that was why you'd come back for a week." Hamel winked.

"And here we are!" the aide at the desk proclaimed, finally finishing with the coins. "Sir, Hamel will take your... bags...?" The servant leaned over the desk, searching for Sylvain's nonexistent luggage.

"There'll be no need for that," Sylvain chuckled. "Lead the way, young man."

Hamel was only too glad to comply, snatching the proffered key from the Palace aide, and he chattered all the while as he led Sylvain through the halls. The Palace was quiet; Sylvain figured that patrons had either not arrived, or were shut away with their Key already. Hence, Hamel's voice carried off the walls, and Sylvain hoped the little one didn't disturb anyone.

"You will enjoy Aubrey, sir," he nattered, walking backwards for a time so he could look at Sylvain as he spoke.

"I expect I will," Sylvain murmured absently, once more attempting to stave off any conversation. "I hope he will enjoy me." Though he indulged in the pleasure Palaces offered, Sylvain did not like to put himself on precisely the same level as some of the other patrons. He was never cruel, and made certain that the Key whose services he bought was comfortable with his profession. Sylvain wished, sometimes, that he could be allowed to find a lover. Alas, his own profession kept him away from home for weeks at a time, and often had him traveling to the four corners. Sometimes that distance was covered by his own volition; as a curative wizard, he valued the opportunity to help others above all else. If that opportunity necessitated his traveling far away, then so be it.

"You don't seem a cruel man," Hamel said. "I'm sure Aubrey will be honored to service you."

"Thank you." He mustered a gentle smile for the beam Hamel gave him. The child continued to ramble until they reached an oak door that, to Sylvain, looked the same as any other. When he got closer, though, he could see that there was a pattern carven into the wood. Tiger-stripes, it looked like. Fitting, he supposed, for the room leading to the Tiger-Eye Key.

"Here you are, sir." Hamel stepped aside of the door and bowed at the waist. "These are Aubrey's quarters. I apologize that he has no knowledge of your arrival. Your visit took us by surprise."

"I take it reservations are preferred in this Palace."

Hamel blinked, a rosy hue spreading across his cheeks. "Oh -- no, sir. It's not like that at all. It's just that Aubrey may not be... ready for you immediately."

"Is that all?" Sylvain waved a hand. "I'm hardly ready for him, am I?" For the first time, he reached up to touch his hair, and winced. He hadn't had a chance to wash it in a couple of days, and it was becoming obvious. He'd tied it back, since the tawny locks almost reached his shoulders and were long enough to do so, but now he badly wanted to shake it free and soak it in nice hot water.

Hamel bowed again and offered the key. "Then, sir, please enjoy your stay at the Palace. If there is anything you require, please don't hesitate to ring the bell in your room."

"Thank you." Sylvain bid the servant boy farewell, and watched him scamper back down the halls. When the boy was out of sight, Sylvain glanced down that the key in his hand. The key to his Key looked like any other, except it was slightly larger and decorated with stones that could only be tiger-eyes. How fitting.

The key slid into the lock, and the door opened with an audible creak. The oak door was a little heavier than Sylvain expected, but he had no trouble entering the room and shutting it behind him.

The tiger motif was present throughout the chamber. The expensive carpeting was casually striped with orange and black, and the tapestries that hung in various places throughout the room shared the pattern. Candles were strewn about, illuminating the entire chamber, and Sylvain felt the heat from the fireplace even as the fire crackled in his ears. The luxurious four-poster bed, sporting patterns almost identical to the carpet, was situated next to the far wall, and looked very inviting. Sylvain couldn't wait to bathe and stretch out upon it.

Then he realized that the writing table in the room was occupied. He locked eyes with the Tiger-Eye Key himself, and both the Key and Sylvain started and stared. They remained still for a moment, Sylvain with the key still in his hand, Aubrey still holding a pencil against what looked like a half-finished drawing.

"I'm sorry," Sylvain said, not knowing why he was apologizing, "I didn't mean to startle you." Even as he was speaking, the Tiger-Eye Key was almost scrambling out of his chair and coming around to meet him. "I just arrived without notice and..." he trailed off under the Key's stare, feeling a touch unsettled.

Aubrey's eyes were a beautiful shade of brown, but his even, calculating stare was making Sylvain a little uncomfortable. When the Key noticed Sylvain's discomfort, he offered a small smile and bowed his head.

"I'm Sylvain," he went on with a bow of his own head. "You must be Aubrey. Very nice to meet you."

Aubrey made no reply, gently fingering strands of his shoulder-length auburn hair. After a few moments had passed, Sylvain began to wonder if perhaps the clerk had been wrong about the Key's fondness for his profession.

Eventually, the Tiger-Eye Key realized what was troubling Sylvain, and smiled again. Almost apologetically, he tapped his throat and shook his head. Then, Sylvain understood the silence: He can't speak.

"Can you hear me?" Sylvain queried, curious now. Even though Aubrey's response -- or rather, lack of one -- answered his question, Sylvain repeated it, this time tapping his ears.

Aubrey tapped his own ears, and shook his head. He can't hear, either.

Sylvain mimed speaking, and received the same response. By then, he was both surprised and impressed. The Tiger-Eye Key was deaf and mute, but at the same time, he was apparently a talented Key. "How are we to communicate, then?" Sylvain murmured. "Can you write?" he asked, louder, miming the actions of writing a letter.

Aubrey shook his head, and before Sylvain could do so, mimed the actions of reading and repeated the negative head-shaking.

"A deaf mute who can neither read, speak, nor sign." Sylvain shook his own head in wonder. "You must," he added with what he hoped was a warm smile, "have other talents."

Aubrey spent a few more moments studying him, and then raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes," Sylvain said, speaking without realizing that it wasn't necessary. "I'd like to bathe, actually." He added gestures when he spoke to better articulate his needs. He did not know how to use hand-talk, nor did he know if Aubrey would even understand it.

Aubrey was quick to show him to the adjoining bathroom. Sylvain was instantly impressed, and very grateful. It had a deep, in-ground bathtub. Sylvain hadn't been in one of those since his last stay at a very expensive inn. Without being asked, Aubrey turned on the water and the tub started to fill with hot liquid.

Sylvain bowed his head to show his thanks, and Aubrey's face lit up. Sylvain was reminded that he would do well to refrain from adopting a moody temperament around the Key. If Aubrey could not understand his words, then Sylvain would have to rely on body language and gentle smiles to assure the Key that he was doing well.

Once the bath was ready, Sylvain began to strip. Off came his dirty wizard robes, breeches, and shirt. He noticed a basket in a corner of the bathroom and tossed the soiled garments into it. Naked and unashamed, Sylvain turned to Aubrey, tapping his lips as he tried to think of how to make gestures for "clean clothes."

The Key, whose head was tilted to the side as he considered Sylvain's fumbling gestures, eventually blinked in realization and offered a smile before walking briskly back to the main room of the suite.

Sylvain chuckled, mildly amused at his situation. What a Key he had the pleasure of keeping company with! Without waiting for Aubrey to return, Sylvain slowly lowered his trail-worn body into the steaming tub. It was so good he nearly began to cry. The heat shot right through his sore, tired muscles, and he slid lower so that he was chin-deep.

Aubrey discovered him like that, and draped a new set of clothing -- it looked like silk -- over the bench. Sylvain looked up with a smile, trying his best to convey gratitude into his gaze. After the Key had been standing there for several minutes, his eyes trained on Sylvain's face as he bathed, Sylvain lifted a hand from under the water and beckoned to him.

"Would you care to join me?" He didn't think he'd be able to shake the habit of speaking, but still made sure to try and use gestures.

Aubrey understood, as Sylvain had been certain he would, and began to disrobe. Aubrey's clothing, Sylvain noted, were detailed and had a touch of flair. Dark silk, which in the low lighting looked like a forest green, was the prominent fabric, but Sylvain could tell that a strip of velvet encircled each shoulder. His vest, it looked like, was velvet also. All of the Key's clothing was placed on the bench as well, and Aubrey, in all his naked perfection, was gingerly stepping into the tub.

The tub was far from small, but Sylvain craved closeness, as he often did after a long journey. He beckoned again, almost shyly, for Aubrey to come closer. The water swished around as the Key did as he was asked, coming to a stop when he was in front of Sylvain. Now clean, with washed hair, Sylvain was ready to experiment a little. The attendants had assured him of Aubrey's prowess and willingness to be a Key, but Sylvain wanted to know where Aubrey's boundaries lay -- whether the Key often crossed them or not.

Slowly, tenderly, Sylvain raised a finger to Aubrey's mouth, traced his pink lips, his wet finger leaving water in its wake. When he cupped Aubrey's cheek with a hand, the Key leaned into his palm, and the three earrings in his left ear caught the light and glittered. Sylvain moved closer, and at Aubrey's encouraging shy smile, finally closed the distance between them.

The kiss was awkward, both because of Sylvain's position and because he had never kissed Aubrey before. All the same, Sylvain could immediately tell that the Key possessed a talented tongue. Aubrey's kiss was submissive but carried undertones of a precision that Sylvain didn't think he could ever imitate. Faced with such quiet confidence, Sylvain was uncertain if he wanted to kiss Aubrey with more hunger, or lie back and trust Aubrey to perform to the best of his ability.

In the end, he was forced to pull away sharply when his shoulder cracked. Sylvain winced at the pain, one hand going up to grip the sore joint. He rubbed it for a few seconds, and then glanced up at Aubrey, who was watching him, understanding just beginning to dawn on his features.

Carefully gauging Sylvain's reactions, Aubrey reached out, his hand replacing Sylvain's. A short, tentative squeeze; Aubrey wondering if this was something Sylvain would appreciate. In response, Sylvain began to turn, already anticipating the massage.

It was all he could do not to sag in Aubrey's arms. Instead, his head drooped as the Key's fingers kneaded the loosened muscles of his back, neck, and shoulders. The touches were not only meant to be soothing, but, as Sylvain could tell from the lingering strokes and motions, also arousing. Needless to say, it was working.

When Sylvain felt the hesitant swipe of a tongue against the back of his shoulder, he moaned softly, encouraging, and belatedly remembered that Aubrey wouldn't be able to hear it. To help urge Aubrey on, Sylvain tilted his head to the side. The Key needed no more request than that, and even seemed overly eager to taste Sylvain's wet skin. Sylvain was shivering by the time Aubrey dipped his tongue into Sylvain's ear. With one arm, Sylvain tried to reach back, awkwardly stroking Aubrey's still dry hair.

Where Aubrey's tongue was talented, his fingers almost outshone it. A few teasing tickles to his nipples had Sylvain nearly melting, and it was fairly certain that was only *partly* due to the time he'd spent on the road. When Aubrey's soft hand touched his arousal, Sylvain couldn't help it: he leaned back against Aubrey's slender frame, head falling back against the Key's shoulder.

He was too weary yet for a more... thorough tryst, but Aubrey didn't appear to mind. With warm lips against his neck and a skilled hand stroking his erection while its partner was hot where it rested on his belly, Sylvain climaxed, hips jerking.

Now he didn't want to get out of the bath at all, so relaxed did he feel. But when his head cleared, he became aware of something poking his back. A moment later he realized that Aubrey was aroused, too, and pleasure-slave or no, Sylvain was never one to avoid reciprocation, at the very least.

So he turned in Aubrey's arms, checking briefly to make sure his attentions would be welcome, and slipped his hand below the water to slide along Aubrey's arousal. The Key's mouth fell open, but no sound emerged other than slightly heavier breathing. Those golden eyes closed, and Sylvain claimed that open mouth. Aubrey's tongue skipped beats only when he came, and Sylvain released both mouth and spent penis.

When Aubrey gave him one of those smiles, Sylvain made sure that his return reflected the satisfaction he was feeling. Their short session in the bathroom hadn't really been what Sylvain would have planned for their first tryst, but once he was more rested, there would be much more for them to do.

Though not what he'd expected, Sylvain had a feeling that Aubrey would prove to be one of the most talented partners Sylvain had ever been with.

END