Dedication: To my beta, for poking me into posting this.

Adrian sat on the beach--his beach, no one else lived on it--watching the approaching rowboat with interest. In it, he knew, was his friend Dakota, who was a page at The Palace. But something was different this time; the bright red hair that wasn't pushed behind his ears, for once, hid Dakota's normally bright eyes. A wall of dark red, Dakota looking down. Something was wrong, not only with Dakota but with the entire visit: the normal supplies that would have been brought weren't there.

Not a word was said until the rowboat had been pulled onshore. Even then it was nothing more than the normal greetings. Hello, been doing well? Fine, smile, go and lay down on the sand as if this visit were like any other.

Adrian sat up on his elbows, staring down at Dakota. This visit was different, yes. Normally they'd be talking. Chatting about some Key who had a new master, a prank that a couple of the pages had pulled. But today there was silence and a blank look on Dakota's face as he stared up at the sky. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"You have a new master."

A new master? How can this be bad? Adrian wondered. He laughed despite the fact that Dakota's somber look remained.

"Dakota! Why the sad look; do you not want me to have a master?" At that, Dakota looked genuinely ashamed.

"I want you to have a master," the page said softly, a fingertip toying with the sand. "It's only... how he wishes to have you..." Dakota trailed off for a moment, sighing. Adrian leaned closer, giving his friend a little nudge in hopes that he would continue. Dakota wrapped one arm around his waist, drawing him close.

"Come on Dakota, keep going," Adrian whispered excitedly. "I want to know what my new master wishes of me."

Dakota shook his head, pulling away. "I'll tell you in a bit," he said, standing and offering a hand to help Adrian up. Adrian didn't really need it--Dakota's head scarcely came to Adrian's chest, he'd knock the boy over if he tried to use his help to stand--but it was a gesture of kindness to which he was accustomed. Adrian took Dakota's hand, but rather than standing up he pulled Dakota down on top of him.

"Come on," he said, laughing as his hands slid down to tickle his friend's sides, "tell me!"

Dakota laughed, squirming as he did. After a minute, he ended up lying face-up on the sand next to Adrian, panting as he tried to get his breath back.

"We, we have to, we've gotta, up to the cottage."

Adrian sighed reluctantly and stood, helping Dakota up. In an odd silence, they began their walk up the beach to the small cottage where Adrian lived. It was almost unnerving for him--Dakota was always talking, always full of fun. Why was he being this way now? It wasn't until they were inside the cottage, sitting at the table that Adrian decided to try to get information out of him anyway.

"At least tell me what it is he wants?"

The page bit his lip. He had to say it sometime, he knew, but he didn't want to. He couldn't protect Adrian forever. That had been something made very clear to him by those higher up.

"He wants to take you out of The Palace."

Adrian stared blankly. Out? Out of The Palace? But why? He'd never been outside; he'd been born inside so far as he knew. Why would anyone want to take him out? It couldn't be true.

"You're lying," he said, staring at Dakota. It didn't make sense for Dakota to lie, but it had to be a lie. It was impossible. He hadn't had a master in years, since the days when he was a fresh, virgin key that was highly coveted.

"I'm not," Dakota replied, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. He'd guessed that something like this was likely to happen, and had been prepared accordingly. He watched Adrian silently read the orders for him to pack enough belongings to fill the two suitcases that Dakota had brought with him, and to make himself look presentable.

Adrian's face wasn't ghostly shade of white, but it was close. He had without a doubt lost his usual healthy glow. He sat down on his bed, eyes beginning to fill with tears. Dakota slowly sat down next to him, watching carefully.

"Why?" Adrian asked. "Why's he doing this to me?"

"He needs a traveling companion. Policy is that he tells the Palace where he is going and why a Key is required; he doesn't have to say why he's going," Dakota replied, trying to use his mildest tone. Adrian nodded, and Dakota reached over to loop an arm around his friend's waist. "Listen, 'rian. You'll be back before you know it and I'll be here waiting, alright?"

"Alright," Adrian replied, but he couldn't shake his thoughts. Out. Out of the place where he'd spent his entire life. And with someone he'd never met before. What if this master was cruel? It'd be his luck to get such a master.

"You need to pack," the soft whisper at his ear sent a little shiver of fear down Adrian's spine. Of course. The note had said to pack two bags by sunset, and the light was already dwindling. He didn't want to pack. He wanted to stay here in his nice, secluded cottage and pass the time alone. "Come on, I'll help you."

The two of them were packed in no time, Adrian's suitcases loaded up along with a little travel pack that he had used to hold books and paper while down on the beach. He tried not to look back, tried to will himself not to worry about the things he'd left behind. They'd be there for him when he returned, right? If.

Pushing those thoughts away, he climbed into the boat. Dakota pushed off and, by magic, the boat began moving. Adrian had always known that the endless look of the water was an illusion, and now he was going to see the other side. He suddenly wasn't as eager to see it as he had been. He was scared, much more frightened than he'd ever been before. He had to do something, something...

"Think about anything other than what's happening right now," Dakota said with a little smile, as if he'd read Adrian's thoughts. Adrian smiled at the little red-headed page and thanked him, then concentrated inward.

Something else. What else was there to think about than the new Master? Masters... Adrian had had very few masters; he could count all of them on one hand. Dakota had told him that he was lucky to no longer be one the most coveted of keys in the Palace. If anything, he was one of the least coveted. Horror stories about Keys that had been mistreated made him almost proud of his status--or lack thereof.

The reason for his lack of masters wasn't that he was ugly, quite the opposite, in fact, but that he had a secret and a mystery surrounding him. Whenever he was put into deep water, something happened. Something bad. The Palace staff apparently knew what that thing was, but Adrian had no clue, due to the fact that he had a deathly fear of being in deep water. Baths were fine, but anything up to his shoulders or above made him want to run in fear. The water in his room had all been at a nice chest high level no matter how far he tried to swim out. The few times he had been in deeper water he didn't remember what had happened, it was like he'd been pushed out of his mind. Dakota had told him that his mind had probably blocked the memory out.

"Adrian? Adrian!" Dakota's voice brought him out of his musing, and he started to see that they were now next to a large stone dock, both his bags already out. "Time to meet your new Master."

"Lao!"

The boy walking down the street, Lao, turned at his name being called. He had no desire to speak to his parents or to even so much as look at them but he knew that he'd be on the street without a penny if he didn't. He'd had it done to him before when he'd gotten too out of line.

It wasn't that he was a bad kid. He just had no respect for anything or anyone around him unless that person was giving him something, and even then it was minimal. Acting. Quite simply, he didn't care about anyone. Other people saw it as a problem, but he didn't. Life was good.

"Lao! Now!"

Sighing, Lao began to jog back toward the house where he and his parents lived. Stupid obligations. He was eighteen now, the age when a boy became a man. He shouldn't have had to put up with such things.

"What?" he asked, panting softly, leaning against the railing of the steps. He wouldn't go up if he didn't have to. Besides, it looked cool, leaning against the railing with his yellow-orange hair over one eye and arms crossed over his chest. Lao's mother was looking out of the first story window, glaring down at him like he was supposed to do something. He glared right back; he knew damned well he'd done all of the work she had set out for him that morning.

"Your father wants to talk to you. Get your tail in here, now."

Lao muttered a curse under his breath, taking hold of the railing and going up the steps. She'd used that voice, that motherly voice that made him cringe and do whatever was asked. Stupid obligations. The thought was going over and over in his head like a broken record. He stomped like an angry child until he noticed that he was doing it, at which point he simply sprinted up the rest of the steps and into the house. "What?" he yelled out, looking around. His father wasn't in the living room or dining room, both of which he could see clearly from the hallway, so he had to be upstairs. Cursing again, he sprinted up those steps as well.

"In your room." His father's voice was deep, powerful. Everything he'd ever feared as a child. Everything he now despised.

Both his mother and father were sitting on his bed when he walked in; both of them looked slightly determined and his mother's small, fox-like ears were tilted back. She was angry? Or maybe she was only set in what was going to happen. Her ears did that whenever she decided that something was going to be a certain way. Usually it was some way that he hated.

"What?"

"Your father's finally decided what to do with you," she began, looking over at him. "Because you refuse to work, you can't stay here anymore and it's impossible to give you to anyone else."

Give him? Like he was a possession or a fancy trinket? Lao growled under his breath, waiting for his father to say something.

"I've got a caravan going over to the deserts." His father owned a business in trading and often talked about sending things like that. The next words were no surprise, but he hated them anyway.

"You're going with them."

Lao stared at the ground. He wouldn't snarl; he wouldn't turn and walk away. Quiet was good. If he opened his mouth he'd end up saying things that would get him in more trouble than it was worth.

Was he supposed to like this? Supposed to enjoy it, and leap for joy? Because he didn't. He had friends here and he had a life here. He didn't want to leave, even if he would be coming back.

"Will I be coming back?" he asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

"No," his mother said softly. "You won't be coming back."

That did it. Without another word, Lao turned and began running down the hall toward the door. He would have made it if his father hadn't been larger and faster than he was, something that he thought was unfair. It was all unfair. Didn't he get a say in it? It was his life!

"Put me down!" he yelled as his father picked him up by the waist of his pants--a rather painful thing that was only possible because he was so small.

"No! You'll go in your room and pack or else your mother and I will pack. And you won't like what we pack for you." Without anything else said, his father all but tossed him into his room and slammed the door behind him, locking it.

Long ago, the doorknob had been turned around so that Lao could be locked in. Bars had gone on his window. It was like a prison. At least he had a bathroom connected to his room. Small favors. So much for them though, because he'd never see any of it again.

Snarling to himself, Lao turned and went to the closet. Stupid obligations. It was never so true as now. He pulled down his three sports bags and began to stuff clothes in them, not caring what went where or if he had enough of this or that. The time passed in a blur for the most part, and when Lao finished everything he fished the little tin of liquor out from under his mattress and drank a bit. He'd need it if he didn't want to end up ripping heads off. Not too much, though, or he really would end up hurting someone.

He was floating in a sort of dizzy, giggly oblivion when his father finally opened the door and told him that it was time to leave. Right, he thought. Time to go. Grabbing his bags, Lao went down both sets of stairs and into the waiting car, not once looking back at his parents to say goodbye. He didn't even think about it.

His parents cried.