The unfamiliar male voice seeped into Erinyes' consciousness and the young assassin struggled with why the voice disturbed him so. His body felt heavy and the warm cocoon of sleep kept him from delving into the reasons too deeply. Gentle fingers stroked through his hair, and Erinyes murmured his wordless approval.

"So his master is dead, then?" a second voice, as gentle as the fingers, asked.

Images assaulted Erinyes' brain.

Blood. Warm and thick, flowing freely over his gloved fingers.

The sharp sounds of booted feet on stone.

The feel of flesh giving way to the thrust of his knife.

The stunned and haunted look in familiar brown eyes as "the insane assassin" was brought before the King for sentencing after killing three more traitorous nobles.

"Unfortunate but true, my lord page," the first voice intoned in false sympathy. "Such a tragedy. Such a horrible tragedy."

He struggled against the lassitude that pulled at his limbs. Had he somehow failed, then? Had he not discovered and stopped all those close enough to easily kill his Kamaren? Panic overtook him.

Was *that* why he still lived, as a punishment for failing the Dragon Clan?

Grandfather Dragon had promised him a quick death for his sacrifice, so he could not be used against his beloved King. But he still lived, and the voice said that his master was dead. The master of his heart, Kamaren, was dead.

Tears burned at his eyes and he struggled to contain the breaking pain in his heart. The gentle hands carded though his hair once more.

"Easy, young one. You are safe."

Erinyes forced his eyes open.

Kind blue eyes looked down at him from a handsome, youthful face. The man smiled at him sympathetically. Erinyes took in the simple but elegant room around him, silently seeking the source of the other voice. So many questions. He had so *very* many questions, and perhaps the other man could provide him some answers.

"He was a favorite of his master, and the master indulged him quite liberally. The family swore the boy was inconsolable after the master's death."

Erinyes turned towards the other voice, relieved to find his uncharacteristic languor fading. The man was dark-skinned from the sun, 
his uneven teeth yellowed by time and, most likely, a charra root addiction. Work-roughened hands pulled at dust- and sweat-stained robes as dull brown eyes darted nervously between Erinyes and soft-spoken man. Erinyes didn't know the shifty, ill-dressed traveler, and began to question his earlier assumptions of Kamaren's death.

He sat up slowly, grateful for the support of strong, steady hands on his shoulders. His eyes never left the dark man's face and he was gratified to see the nervousness his awakening produced.

"Where is Kamaren?" he growled at the man.

Or at least that was what he *attempted* to growl. His throat seemed to close around the words, blocking them from escape.

He tried again. "Where am I?"

Again, only the barest of whimpers sounded from his constricting throat.

His very brain felt constricted, squeezed in unrelenting pain as he attempted again and again to force even the most basic of questions past his lips. Searing pain robbed thought and control and composure. Panic rose, threatening to engulf him. He turned pleading eyes to the gentle soul who held him close, uttering soothing sounds in his ear and telling him to calm himself. His breath caught as he fought to speak, to utter even his name into the frightening stillness.

"What afflicts him?" the soothing man demanded.

"I . . ." brown eyes pulled away from Erinyes' trembling body. "I'm not sure, my lord. The family said nothing of any. . . seizures. Perhaps it is simply his grief overcoming him?"

Erinyes could hear the falsehood in the man's words and wondered what the vile creature had done to him, and to Kamaren. A lifetime of killing and protective instincts came to the fore and he tensed to attack, only to be stilled by a surprisingly strong hand closing surreptitiously on his shoulder. He turned blazing eyes on the calm figure holding him still. The man's face betrayed nothing of the grip he was using to keep Erinyes still. Only the spark lurking in the depths of the man's blue eyes gave Erinyes any clue to the anger boiling within the placid façade.

"Perhaps. Grief can do many strange things." The voice betrayed nothing but sympathetic understanding. "His family valued him greatly then?"

"Oh yes, my lord Page," the lying man assured. "They wanted only the best for him. They wouldn't have even parted with him had they not been in such deep financial straits." Large, nearly guileless brown eyes studied the page's face. "I gave them the best price I could and promised them I would see the boy well placed."

The Page, as Erinyes assumed he was called, seemed to think on this a moment, but the grip holding Erinyes in place never wavered. Erinyes couldn't help but wonder at the slender man's strength. Knowing eyes flitted to his for the briefest of moments and the fingers on his shoulder squeezed reassuringly. Erinyes felt his body begin to relax.

"What say you, my pet?" the Page inquired over one leather-clad shoulder.

Erinyes turned to see what other presence he had missed in his own anger and confusion. A deep black raven preened on a perch in a shadowed corner of the room. Intelligent black eyes flitted over Erinyes before fixing on the Page. The large bird elegantly swooped from its perch to land on the age's shoulder, its ebony feathers shimmering blue-black in the flickering candlelight. The sharp yellow beak nipped at the Page's ear and tugged on the man's short brown hair. The Page chuckled.

"Very well, my Raven," the Page crooned to the bird, his free hand smoothing ruffled feathers. He turned his sharp eyes towards the expectant man before him. "We will take the boy. There is an unused room within the Zodiac wing and it is quite fitting that he have it, considering he comes to us under the very sign he will represent." The Page met Erinyes' glare easily. "You will be well protected and provided for here at the Palace. I assure you, your master would approve." Again, the knowing eyes turned to the seller. "Does the boy have a name? I'll need it for the Palace records. The Chatelaine was very explicit about that requirement."

The man paled. "UmÖ The family. . ." the man paused. "The family did not say."

The Page smiled benignly. "Surely one so well loved had a name? I cannot see a loving master referring to his favorite as simply, 'You' for as many years as they had together."

"I. . ."

"Or perhaps," the Page purred seductively at the floundering man, "you'd care to drop your foolish pretence and tell me the *truth* about how you acquired this beautiful young man."

The seller fell to his knees before the Page, abasing himself before the coldly angry figure. "Please, my lord. I meant no harm. They told me to take the boy. To see him provided for somewhere safe and distant."

"Distant from where?" the Page asked coolly.

"I don't know where he originated, my lord. The man who sold him to me trades up and down the coast and across several inland routes." The dark man's voice shook as he groveled before the unmoving Page. "He said the boy had been gifted to him."

The man trembled, apparently terrified of the gentle Page. Erinyes filed this knowledge away as he listened to the story of his betrayal.

"I. . . I was told simply that he had been spelled to silence but that he was well trained. The tradesman made me swear to see the boy treated well." Panic stricken eyes finally rose to gaze pleadingly at the impassive Page. "He threatened to kill me, my lord. He swore he'd kill me if he found that I'd mistreated the boy."

The Page was unmoved.

"I *knew* he would be well served here, my lord Page," the man whined.

"And that he would bring you a tidy profit," the Page concluded wryly. The man crumpled, unable to meet the too-knowing glare. "Very well," the Page sighed, "we shall keep the boy." The man on the floor beamed. "But I would speak with this tradesman you bought him from. I will not have a Key that is a danger to his Masters." The gentle fingers once more moved through Erinyes' curls. "Regardless of his beauty. You will receive payment once your story is confirmed. Until then, the boy will remain here."

The trembling man rose. "Of course, my lord," he babbled. "I shall bring him here directly."

Ebony wings stirred the air as the Page's raven fixed its gleaming black eyes on the frightened man's face.

The dark skin paled under the unblinking gaze.

The Page's amused voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. "Of course you shall, Dargin, for you know better than to cross the servants of the Palace."

"Yes, my lord Page," came the whispered response.

"You know the way out."

The little man left as quickly as he could.

Erinyes had watched the exchange with interest, noting the quiet and complete authority the Page wielded. He'd filed away the seller's name so that in time, he could find Dargin and perhaps learn why he had been spared. He was still unsure of where he was or what palace he had been brought to or why, but he would find out. He *would*.

The Page looked down into Erinyes' troubled green eyes and smiled softly. "Don't be afraid, my Scorpio Key, you will be well treated and 
cared for here. You have my promise."

Erinyes nodded to the Page, surprised to find himself believing the quiet promise. He felt the heavy weight of fatigue tugging at his limbs and fought to keep his eyes open. The Page's fingers carded at Erinyes' curls in a soothing gesture that further lulled the exhausted assassin towards sleep.

Strong hands drew him upwards. "Come, young one, I've a soft bed awaiting you and a warm meal for when you awaken. Rest for now. We will reach your truth later."

Erinyes followed the Page docilely into his new life as the Scorpio Key.