Knives and Scimitars By West Wind Chapter 3
Summary: (AU) Catherine and Trowa are part of a traveling interplanetary circus that visit the desert planet Afton, but before they can leave disaster strikes. Catherine is kidnapped and Trowa is out to save her with a bit of help from his new friends.
Rating: PG
Category: Adventure, Romance
Pairing: 4xC
They spent the entire day following Gra's lead. As they traveled, Gra would momentarily pause sampling the air before continuing. Other times Gra would let out a howl that rolled across the sand. It paused, every muscle taunt but unmoving except its ears that swiveled in search of a reply. A faint cry came in response, and Gra led them on.
Once Gra had them all stay as it scouted ahead. Trowa watch as Gra climbed the dune and vanished before his eyes.
"I always am amazed by them," Quatre said.
"Did it just disappear?" Trowa asked pointing to the slope.
"He is still there," Quatre assured. "Natural camouflage."
They waited for Gra to report it was only a passing caravan and continued only taking a small break for lunch.
Once they learned that those they pursued had stopped, they finally set up camp and ate dinner. This evening Trowa sat beside Quatre and his men around the cooking fire.
"What are Ru and Gra?" Trowa asked, curiosity getting the best of him, as the alien took off after reporting to Quatre. "There was no mention of such a being in the information on the planet?"
Those around Trowa chuckled.
Quatre momentarily pondered how best to explain his unusual friends.
"They are from a group we call Te'mel. They are something like the Bigfoot on earth – a being on the borderline between myth and reality."
Trowa knew of the old legends. To this day, the existence of Bigfoot was debated.
"Most people have never seen a Te'mel, and the Te'mel prefer it that way. They roam the desert and avoid human cities. They occasionally interact with the Itinerant and other desert nomads, but only occasionally."
"Itinerant?" Trowa questioned rolling the new word over.
Quatre gave Trowa a quick apologetic look.
"They are one of the more well-accepted groups of nomads. They are healers, spiritual leaders, musicians, keepers of history, and people of sound judgment and counsel. In the smaller towns and settlements, they act like a circuit judge."
"If they avoid humans, why do they call you master?" Trowa asked.
Quatre flushed almost unnoticeably as he stared into the fire.
"It started several years ago," he began. "My father and I had a disagreement over politics and I decided to move out. Well, maybe it was more like running away from home," he admitted sheepishly. "I ended up at Thyme's. She lived the farthest away from father. I was unsure what I was going to do other than not go back.
"I started helping Sage. The number of bandit attacks in this area and the outlying villages had increased in recent years, and he welcomed my help.
"I headed to one of the villages to check on a report when I came across a small group of ruffians torturing some 'creature.' I chased them off.
"When I was sure the men were gone, I turned my attention to what they had been harassing. At first I was shocked to see a Te'mel before me. They had always been legends to me and at that moment a small battered one was trying to stand defensively between me and a second Te'mel. I told him that I was going to help and tended to his wounds the best I could. His companion appeared to be sick.
"We made her as comfortable as we could before finding Itinerants to help. Once Ru and Gra were well, we set out to find their people. That did not take long. Within a day a small group had found us. They took in the two orphans I had rescued once they got over their suspicion of me. I left with the honor of being called friend.
"Time passed and I set out on a crusade to fight the growing groups of bandits. That is when I met the Maguanac. They help me in my self-appointed task.
"One day two Te'mel entered our camp. It was Ru and Gra grown up. They wanted to help in dealing with the bandit who not only attacked villages, but their people as well. Their people had been watching me and my crusade. Since I had aided them once, they believed, correctly, I would once more."
"Why do they call you master?" Trowa asked once more.
"Since I head up the group, they call me master as a term of respect," Quatre explained.
Trowa thought there was more to it, but it was obvious that Quatre would say no more about it.
"You keep talking about bandits. How bad are they?"
"Over the past two years they have gotten really bad," Quatre sighed. "There have always been bandits, but usually it was a group here or there that pestered the lone traveler or small caravans."
"It's not so any more. What changed?" asked Trowa.
Quatre had a sorrowful look on his face.
"We settled down into cities. The smaller towns are easy targets for desert rouges. They had been easily dealt with in the past, but now their numbers have increased, they have become bolder, and I believe more organized."
"Organized?" Trowa questioned.
"Bandits are increasing across the planet, not just this little area. They are attacking all but the Itinerant, yet the Itinerant know it is only a matter of time.
"The small villages are the hardest hit. They take the town's food, water, and anything of value. With nothing left the villagers move into a larger town for safety," Quatre's concern for the people on his planet was obvious.
"There is a pattern to what they do. I just know it, but I can't see it or who is behind it," Quatre agitatedly said as he pounded his fist into his thigh.
"Surely the sultan would send troupes…" started Trowa.
"No, he refused to see there is a problem!" Quatre said through gritted teeth and a glint of anger in his eye. "I have tried to make him see, but he will not head the warnings. He does not see beyond his own city!"
This was the most adamant he had seen his easygoing host.
"I'm sorry; I should not trouble you with our problems."
Trowa assured that it was alright.
"What do you and your men do to help?" Trowa cautiously asked.
"We track down those we can and haul them in to Sage. We help the victims to rebuild. We provide protection for those traveling."
"You help foreigners to find their missing sisters," added Trowa.
That brought a smile to Quatre's face.
"I guess we do."
"It's getting late, and we should get to bed," said Quatre standing. "We will have another long day of riding ahead of us."
They had been on Catherine's trail for several days. Quatre wanted to find out who was behind the abduction. It took a bit of reasoning and restraint to keep Trowa from going after Catherine when they got close to her and the abductors.
Morning came, but the small camp below them did not pack up like it had the previous mornings. Gra and Ru moved closer to glean what information they could. While Quatre and his small group of men settled down for their afternoon meal, Ru entered their camp to report.
Quatre gave Ru his immediate attention.
"What have you found?" Quatre asked.
"Illness in camp," Ru said. "Men good. Girl ill. In tent."
Quatre nodded, and Trowa stiffened at the news.
"Desert sickness," Quatre pondered.
"What men say," Ru added.
"What else did they say?"
"They stay till she better. Argue over calling for doctor."
"Hmmm," mused Quatre stroking his chin.
A sparkle twinkled in his eyes as he looked first at Trowa and then at Rashid.
"What are you planning, Master Quatre?" Rashid warily asked.
"We have a supply of callillium on hand, don't we?" Quatre asked as if he did not hear Rashid.
"Yes," Rashid answered.
"Good, get it and other medical supplies," said Quatre with a feral grin. "Meet me and Trowa in my tent when you get the supplies together. Come on, Trowa."
Quatre grabbed Trowa's sleeve and pulled him into the tent. Quatre glanced around the room searching for something.
"That one, I think," he announced as he headed for one of the trunks.
Quatre threw open the lid and started riffling through the stacks of clothing. He pulled out several items and threw them in a pile beside him. When he was satisfied that he had everything, he closed the lid. He sorted the items into two piles and handed one to Trowa.
Trowa looked down at the pile of cloth questioningly.
Rashid entered with his supplies as Quatre pulled a box from another trunk. Rashid took a look at the pile of clothing in Trowa's arms.
"Master Quatre, why are you dressing Trowa as an Itinerant woman?" Rashid calmly asked.
"Trowa and I are both going to be dressed like girls," Quatre answered grinning. "It is part of my plan, and you are going to play our father."
Rashid shook his head in a gesture of surrender to understanding his young master's plan.
"Why?" he asked.
Quatre motioned for them to sit down. He started unfolding his plan to them and explained why Trowa and he would be dressed like girls.
The hover-sled pulled by a team of six legged Z'lee, who looked like giant pill bugs with the heads of a camel, slowly crested a dune. The tall broad shouldered man called encouragingly to the team as he gave the reins a shake. Seated behind the man were two women who appeared to be working on needlework as they traveled. They adjusted course to travel across the dune top.
"Hail, travelers!" called a man on a bike. "Can you help a group of fellow traveler's in need?"
The driver of the hover-sled slowed and suspiciously watched the other man. It was custom to always help a fellow traveler in the desert, but common courtesies were being taken advantage by bandits more and more often these days.
The two girls watched anxiously for any sign of deception.
"The female traveling with us has come down with desert sickness, and we have no medicine to treat her with. Would you happen to have some with you?"
"Where is your camp?" the driver stiffly asked.
"It is below," the man pointed out.
A small tent was barely identifiable against the sand and could be easily overlooked if not for the bike setting in front of it. The driver weighed his options carefully.
"What kind of fool do you take me for," he growled placing his hand on his holstered weapon. "What kind of travelers would venture across the desert without the proper medical supplies?" he spit before setting the sled in motion once more.
"Please, sir, I beg of you to aid us. We were hired to take this girl to her future husband, but she is not from Afton and my friend and I did not consider her susceptibility to our childhood ailments. If you have a bit of callillium to spare, we would buy it off of you," pleaded Awk.
"Are you sure it is desert sickness?" came the soft voice of the blue eyed girl.
Awk faltered.
"What else would it be?" he asked confused.
"Well, it could be Stellious or Staph," she answered. "Their symptoms are similar to desert sickness."
"Will callillium help with them?" Awk asked.
"Unfortunately, no," the girl answered.
"How do I know which she has?" he inquired with panic beginning to show.
"Let me look at her. I can tell," said the girl.
"We should be moving on, Benzoin" the driver gruffly said.
"Father, we must help the girl," she tenderly pointed out as she placed a hand on her father's shoulder.
The driver acted like he would continue until he felt his daughter's hand on his arm.
"Alright," he growled, "but at the first sign of trouble, we get out."
The talkative daughter agreed, and a relieved Awk lead them down to their small camp.
V'lac stood by the tent as they approached.
They parked their sled and the two women disembarked. They adjusted their long skirts and sleeves so they would not hinder movement. They made sure their face veils properly covered to uphold their standard of modesty.
The veiled blue eyed girl rummaged among their possessions till she found the medical bag.
"She is in the tent?" she asked.
"Yes," said V'lac and held back the flap for them to enter.
Before allowing them to enter, their father examined the tent interior. With his nod of approval, the two girls entered followed by the men.
Before them, on a pallet lay a feverish Catherine. Her sweat damp hair curled and clung to her face. She tossed and murmured with her fever induced dreams.
"I need water! The cooler the better," ordered Benzoin, "a rag, and a bowl."
"I'll get it," volunteered Awk and dashed off to get the items.
"Trowa…," murmured Catherine as she started to thrash about.
The two girls went to Catherine's bedside trying to restrain the sick woman..
"Don't worry, sister. We will get her well," assured Benzoin. "First we need to get her cooled off and examine her so we will know how to treat her."
Awk returned with the requested items.
"Thank you," said Benzoin. "If you men will leave, Ro and I will start tending this girl. Shoo!"
The men were ran out of the tent and settled around what had been the night's fire to wait.
Benzoin handed the bowl, rag and water to Ro.
"Put some of the water in the bowl, soak the rag in it, and lay the damp cloth on her forehead."
Ro did as instructed. Anxiety showed in her green eyes.
Benzoin checked Catherine's pulse before pulling out medical examining devices from her bag.
"It's desert sickness," diagnosed Benzoin when she had finished her exam. "Hand me the water flask, please.
Ro handed her sister the item. Benzoin carefully measured a chalky white powder into a cup followed by a pail yellow one. She added water and made sure Catherine swallowed every drop.
"That will help bring down her fever and fight the illness. Other than making sure she is comfortable and cooled off, there is not much more we can do but wait," Benzoin said. "I am going to tell the others."
Ro nodded, and Benzoin exited the tent. Ro rung out the rag and placed it once more on Catherine's forehead. She took Catherine's hand in hers and watched the sick woman with the deepest concern.
Catherine let out a sigh before settling into a sound sleep.
Benzoin stepped out into the scorching afternoon sun. The two men immediately halted their conversation and looked up expectantly at her.
"It is desert sickness," she informed them. "She has a bad case of it too. She needs plenty of rest, appropriate care, and kept out of the sun," Benzoin instructed the two men.
The men whispered argumentatively among themselves.
"How long until she can travel?" asked V'lac.
"On your bikes, it could take anywhere from five days to two weeks for her to be well enough to travel across the desert on one of those without risking a relapse," Benzoin scoldingly informed the men.
The men looked distressed at the news and continued their conference.
Benzoin walked over to her father who was extending the sun shade from their sled into a canopy overhang so they could take refuge from the sun. He completed the task, and the two settled in folding chairs under the awning in the drastically cooler climate the shade provided. The two watched the men animatedly discus their current problem.
"How long until they realize we have a shaded transport?" the father asked.
Benzoin smirked, "Once they finish blaming each other and worrying if letting us see her was the right thing to do, they will be open to other options before them.
"Have they done anything but bicker?" she asked.
"Mostly they set there in silence," he informed.
Benzoin glanced up at the sky.
"I guess I should be preparing our afternoon meal before the afternoon progressed too much further," she sighed.
Benzoin accessed their food supplies and started setting up a meal of fruit, cheese and bread.
"It does us no good arguing about who should have brought a med kit," V'lac sternly said. "We have a time limit we have to meet and have to find a way around our problem."
"But she can't be moved. The girl said so," squeaked Awk.
"She said on bike. Did you look at their transport?" V'lac asked.
Awk glanced over at the sled and the girl setting up lunch.
"It looks like a normal transport to me," Awk observed.
V'lac slugged Awk.
"You ninny hammer! It has a shade. If we could travel with the girl resting in it, we would not loose as much time."
"So we steel their transport."
"We could," V'lac said through grit teeth, "but we need someone to tend to the girl."
"Then we take Benzoin with us!" Awk said excitedly.
"Awk, sometimes you amaze me with the lack of thought you put into a plan," V'lac shook his head. "Here is what we do. We convince them of our need to get her to her future spouse and have them carry her in their craft where the daughters can tend to her."
"If she wakes and tells them she is kidnapped?"
"We tell them she had recently been kidnapped and is still confused from the fever," V'lac explained. "If they get too suspicious, then we can steal their sled, but why get the Itinerants mad at us."
Awk agreed with V'lac on that point. The Itinerants might be a spread out group of nomads, but what ill or wrong occurred to one of their members was always learned of by the others and the offender dealt with. People never double crossed an Itinerant more than once.
Benzoin finished setting up the meal and went to retrieve Ro.
"Ro, time to eat. She will be fine while we eat," she assured.
Ro exited the tent and followed her sister.
"Would you like to join us?" Benzoin asked V'lac and Awk.
They agreed and the five settled down to enjoy the meal.
"Sir," V'lac addressed the father.
"My name is Iggel," the man said, "and these are my daughters Benzoin and Ro."
The girls nodded as they were introduced.
"I'm V'lac and this is Awk," V'lac introduced. "Thank you for your assistance. We have been through so much on our trip. At one point, a small group of bandits abducted our charge. Luckily we were able to recover her before they harmed her. Right Awk?"
V'lac nudged Awk.
"Oh… yeah, she was abducted," Awk sputtered.
Benzoin let out a small gasp.
"How horrible," she commented.
"That is when we lost the rest of our group. They stayed to fight while we escaped to take her to her fiancé. Then she came down ill, and if not for you, I fear she would be dead."
"Glad we can help," Iggel said.
Awk stared at Ro for several minutes.
"Is she shy?" Awk asked interrupting the conversation.
Ro eyed Awk, but said nothing.
"She has no voice. She has been mute from birth," Iggel answered.
"Oh," Awk murmured and looked down at his food.
"You must excuse my companion," V'lac said. "His manors are not the best."
"No offence taken," Iggel assured.
"I was wondering if you would be willing to aid us once more," V'lac asked. "We are traveling to Belmar and must get our charge there by a specific date. If we wait for her to be well, we will not make it."
"You would like us carry her in our wagon," supplied Iggel.
"That is what we had in mind, if it is not an imposition," V'lac said.
"We are headed to Fe-so, and Belmar would be on our way. We will help you," Iggel agreed.
"Thank you," V'lac said relieved.
Catherine groggily opened her eyes to darkness. She worked her mouth trying to rid it of the dry feeling. She felt sweaty and warm like she was breaking a fever. She had not been feeling well, she remembered. Snatches of fever inspired dreams waltzed around like spirits through her mind.
"You're awake," whispered a soft voice.
"Yes," she whispered back.
She wondered why she was whispering, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
A small light barely illuminated the tent they were in. Beside her was a person covered in veils and skirts.
"I'm a friend," whispered the woman anticipating Catherine's question. "There is some one who will be glad to see you are up."
The "friend" poked with her foot at a form sleeping on the floor. The form began to stir and pulled back the blankets.
"Trowa!" gasped Catherine and was quickly hushed by the two other occupants in the wagon.
The reunited siblings hugged.
"Trowa, you did find me," she said happily with tears moistening her face, "and rescued me."
"Well, we have not exactly done the rescuing part yet," the woman informed her.
Catherine confusingly looked at the woman.
"I'll explain it all to her," Trowa said. "Why don't you get some sleep?"
The woman nodded and started to remove her veils reveling she was really a he.
"I assume that will be part of the explanation?" Catherine asked.
Trowa nodded. He started to recount what had happened since their parting while Quatre pulled the light weight blanket around him.
"So that is how we ended up here," Trowa finished in the hushed voice he used through the entire story. "If you are not up to this, we can pull out now, but Quatre would like to get who is behind it."
Catherine glanced down at the hansom sleeping blond.
"I am," Catherine assured. "If we don't get him, what else might he do? We have to help Quatre," she said and placed a hand on top of Trowa's.
The next morning, Catherine feigned sleep while the camp rose and readied to head out.
"How is she?" asked the gruff voice of one of her captors.
"Her fever is receding. She should come around soon," assured Benzoin.
Catherine forced herself to keep her eyes closed as something blocked the morning light. A hand touched her face.
"She is cooler and gaining color back," V'lac noted. "Alert me as soon as she wakes. She has been through much and may be disoriented on waking. I want to calm her fears."
"It shall be done as you say," Benzoin responded.
The shadow retreated with the reassurance.
"Wake before we move out," whispered Benzoin as she attended Catherine.
Catherine mouthed an OK signaling her understanding. Then she was alone.
Catherine deemed it time to wake. She sat up and was amazed at how frail she felt.
Benzoin noticed the movement and informed V'lac.
V'lac entered the tent. His huge form blocking the entrance.
"It is good you are back among us," he said.
She only glared at him.
"I have a proposition for you," he smiled.
He stalked toward her and crouched beside her pallet. She shifted and tried to look strong yet the weariness she felt quickly showed behind her mask.
"You are in no condition to escape. You would not get far before we retrieved you, so don't think about it," he cautioned.
Catherine knew he was right. She was having trouble sitting up for ten minuets without tiring. There was no way she could cross a desert and survive in her weakened condition. He seemed to see her understanding in her eyes and nodded.
"The Itinerants have warned me that you could easily relapse and insist on continuing with us and watching over with you. Because we need you well, we have agreed to their offer, but their safety is up to you."
"How?" she asked.
"By keeping your mouth shut. You are bound to see your future husband and we are your escort. If you breathe a word that you have been abducted, you risk their lives. Awk and me can come up with interesting ways to get rid of those that stand in our way."
From the way he smiled, Catherine did not doubt it one bit.
"So we understand each other?" he asked.
Catherine nodded.
"Good," he said as he stood. As an afterthought he turned back toward her and said, "And even if you were to escape, there is no where for you to go. Your circus headed out weeks ago and is long gone, and you would probably end up in a much worse fate than we take you to."
Catherine knew he lied. Last night, Trowa told her the circus had left only four days ago, but she showed the appropriate loss of hope that her captor was wanting before he exited the tent.
Catherine watched as V'lac approached Benzoin. His words were faint, but she could make them out.
"She did not recognize me at first," he sounded concerned. "By the end, she knew what was happening, but I fear she might slip back into her delusions."
"My sister and I will keep a close eye on her," Benzoin assured and placed an understanding hand on his shoulder.
V'lac muttered his appreciation before moving on.
Catherine could not help but smirk at the blonde's deftness at being a girl.
Benzoin and Ro entered the tent to help move her to the wagon. Catherine could see V'lac watching her carefully while he packed up. The wagon provided some shelter from her captors' eyes.
As Quatre leaned in front of her to settle her in she asked, "Where did you learn to be such a convincing girl?"
"I have several older sisters," he whispered back before dropping back into character. "Are you comfortable?"
Catherine nodded, and everyone prepared to leave.
Not long before noon, Iggel lead them into an oasis.
"It's best if we stop here," his voice boomed to those in the group.
The tall palms and dense vegetation offered appreciated shelter from the oppressive heat.
Benzoin was the first out of the cart. Ro followed helping Catherine out. Catherine found her legs uneasy to stand on and tenderly took each step to where Benzoin had laid out a blanket in the shade. Catherine sat down. She scanned the area and thought she saw movement in the brush. She was about to say something when Benzoin motioned for silence. Catherine complied.
Ro sat beside Catherine and leaned toward her sister.
"Gra and Ru?" Ro softly asked.
Benzoin gave the slightest affirmation.
Catherine watched them perplexed but was unable to ask as her captors joined them.
"How are you feeling?" V'lac asked Catherine.
"Better," she answered.
They ate a light meal and took an afternoon nap through the hottest part of the day. Catherine did not sleep well, but watched those around her from her stretched out position. She found this whole thing absurd. Why would someone want to kidnap her? The only person who had made any kind of advance toward her was the sultan. Could he be behind it? If he was, what could Trowa's friend do? Maybe she should ask them tonight. As she started to drift off, she remembered the roses she had received that wished her luck on her performance. There was no name, but she had assumed they were from one of the members of the troupe because she had been having a bad day.
She was not going to get any answers now. She would have to wait until tonight.
That night, when they were sure V'lac and Awk were asleep, Catherine explained to her unveiled companions her earlier suspicions.
Quatre laughed.
The siblings looked at him curiously.
"My sultan might be a lecherous womanizer, but he would not stoop to kidnapping. Not his style. He would rather wine and dine the lady and impress her with his position and achievements. Anyway, he had been band from taking any more wives or concubines," Quatre said.
"How do you know all this?" asked Catherine.
"I once lived in the sultan's household. My father works there," Quatre shrugged and suddenly appeared uneasy.
Trowa eyed his friend as he tried to put pieces together. There was something Quatre was not telling them, and Trowa was sure he could figure it out once he got a few more bits connected.
"Trowa, do you know who sent me the roses?" Catherine asked pulling him from his puzzle.
Trowa paused trying to remember the flowers.
"I believe they were delivered by a local," Trowa answered. "That is what the manager said when he dropped them off."
"I thought they were from one of the other performers," Catherine said wrinkling her brow in quandary.
"They might have been," Trowa shrugged.
"Roses?" questioned Quatre. "It couldn't be," he murmured to himself. "But, I would not put it past him. Which city was that in?" Quatre asked fastening intense blue eyes on Catherine.
Catherine found herself drawn to his eyes and admired their beauty.
"Um… I think it was… Kail," she answered never looking away.
Trowa agreed with her.
Quatre become lost to his companions as he started murmuring to himself.
"You know who it is just by roses?" asked Catherine.
"Huh…" he looked up bewildered and Catherine asked again.
"Roses are rare. Only nobility and wealthy merchants have the resources to grow the temperamental plants, and most of them think it is a waist of money and land.
"There is one man in Kail that puts forth the effort to cultivate them. He is the one that probably sent you the roses, but I wonder if he is the one behind this," Quatre trailed off. "If he is, it should prove to be very interesting. Only time will tell."