"You want the money for a what?" The voice was dubious. It was a voice well-practiced in the art of subtle disapproval and gentle but insistent probing, as it belonged to Iris Huntingdale, solicitor, 46 and never married.

"A Key." This voice was calm, patient with a slightly exaggerated earnestness, as of one used to trying to convince others that whatever he was suggesting was a good plan, really. It belonged to Connor MacIntyre, 27, playstation addict and full-time nurse.

"A key to what?" Iris asked, tapping the papers on the table in front of her absently.

"Not a key, a Key, they're--" Connor abruptly closed his mouth and reconsidered, wisely deciding that some things were better left unexplained. "Well, it's more like an access pass, rather than an actual key. It gets you a room in the Palace."

"The Palace?"

"Not a real Palace," Connor assured, with a grin. "It's like... a five star hotel designed especially for R&R."

"A hotel?" If anything, the disapproval in Iris Huntingdale's tone was increasing. "What exactly do you expect him to do at a hotel?"

"It's not just an ordinary hotel. It's designed to... uh... rejuvenate and inspire those who have become world-weary! It's staffed by professionals."

Iris seemed to relax a little at that. "Professionals? Such as... physiotherapists? Psychologists?"

Connor scratched at the back of his neck. Somehow, he didn't think going into the qualifications of pleasure slaves was the brightest of ideas. "Well, not exactly. But they're definitely good at what they do."

The dubious expression returned in full force. "And how much money exactly will this 'hotel' cost?"

Connor hesitated, mentally braced himself, and then named the sum rather apologetically.

Iris' eyebrows shot up and disappeared somewhere beneath her hair. "You don't think that's a little exorbitant for a hotel?"

Connor shook his head, leaning forwards, trying to express his sincerity. "It's a lot of money, but I think it'd be worth it, if it works."

The eyebrows drew down again, in clear disapproval. "I am reluctant to authorise any withdrawal of funds, especially without Mr. Roswell's approval." Iris sighed, dropping the formal demeanour to appeal to the young man. "Connor, his inheritance may be large, but the money needs to be managed wisely. You know that it's unlikely that he'll be able to work, not in his condition. It has to last him the rest of his life--"

"And at this rate, that's not going to be long!" Connor interrupted loudly, and then cast a furtive glance to the doorway, lowering his voice. "C'mon Iris. You've seen how he is. You tell me how long he has left, if we sit around and do nothing. Think he'll make it to thirty? Twenty-five? Twenty?"

"He receives the best medical care--"

"It's not the disease that's gonna get him. He's going to will himself to death long before that. How often have you seen him just sit there and stare vacantly out the window? He just has no interest in living."

Iris sighed. Much as she didn't want to admit it, Connor's assessment was accurate. "I still don't see how this hotel is going to do anything to help him. In my opinion, he should be in psychiatric care."

Connor shook his head emphatically. They'd been over this ground before. "It wouldn't do him any good. He'd just fade away. The Palace is the only thing I can think of that might get him interested in life again. Give it a shot, please, Iris? Just a week or two. If he's no better, then we'll give it up, but at least we'll have tried something."

Iris tapped her pen on the pile of papers in front of her as she contemplated. While she doubted the wisdom of the nurse's plan, she had to admit, he was right about their young employer's condition. Conventional medicine had failed him. Maybe this hair-brained scheme could work. Of course, careful organisation would be required.

"Let's just say, for argument's sake, that I agree to go along with this. Exactly how are you planning on convincing him to go?"

Connor jumped from his seat and kissed the startled solicitor on the cheek. "You leave that part to me!"

"Connor! I didn't say I agreed to this! I said hypothetically..."

But the exuberant nurse had already left the room.

Iris Huntingdale sighed, and sincerely hoped that this wasn't a bad idea.

Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Click.

...

"Hi, this is Connor MacIntyre."

...

"Ohhhh don't tempt me! I'd love to, but the booking isn't for me this time, it's for a friend."

...

"A new customer."

...

"Well... I'm not really sure."

...

"Uh... I'm guessing sub, but it's not exactly something that's ever come up in casual conversation, y'know?"

...

"No kinks that I know of."

...

"Well, he's sort of fragile and withdrawn at the moment. He needs someone outgoing, someone who'll bring him out of his shell."

...

"Ok, go for it."

...

"Are you kidding!? I said 'outgoing', not 'eat him alive'!"

...

"Nah... I don't think he'd go for the beautiful but icy sort. Give him something more homely, but with a bit of zest."

...

"Zest... you know, energy, enthusiasm."

...

"Ahhh... now he sounds just perfect. Capricorn, huh? How long can I book him for?"

...

"Great! Now, there's something else you'll need to know about him..."

There was a tap of warning on the door, and then the sound of a key turning in the lock. Swiftly, Kiseki drew back into the shadows, crouching, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

The door swung slowly open, and a figure stepped cautiously through. It was a boy, perhaps mid-teens, rather ordinary-looking, with brown hair and brown eyes. The only unusual thing about him was the fact that a glossy black raven was perched upon his shoulder.

"Kiseki? It's the Page. Where on earth are you this time? I need to talk to you."

The silence continued as the Page peered about the room. When there was no sign of the errant Key, he sighed in a very resigned manner and took another step into the room.

"Kiseki, this is no time for games. I'm warning you--"

He had no chance to complete the sentence, as a dark, blurry shape launched itself from the corner, aimed directly at him.

There was an indignant squawk, followed by a loud thud and some muffled cursing.

"Kiseki... get off me..."

The Page managed to disentangle himself from the pile of limbs that all seemed to belong to the Key and clamber to his feet. He brushed the dust from his trousers with an exasperated noise.

Kiseki remained crouched upon the floor. His gaze was fixed over the Page's shoulder, on the raven that had taken perch on the edge of his monkey-bars. The bird was re-settling its feathers, staring back at the Key with baleful black eyes. It was clearly a long-running enmity.

"Kiseki, leave her alone. I'm trying to talk to you."

There was no response, save for the slightly hypnotic swaying of Kiseki's tail. His sapphire eyes remained staring, unblinking.

"Kiseki! You're to have a new Master. He's arriving tomorrow."

The Key's attention immediately snapped to the Page. His tail curled neatly around his waist, and his furry ears sprang to pointed attention, curiosity obvious.

"I thought you'd be interested in that." The Page grinned, and the raven cawed in apparent amusement. Kiseki's eyes flicked back up again.

"He's a very special Master, Kiseki," the Page continued hastily, before the Key's attention wandered too far.

The ears swivelled back in his direction, gaze following a fraction after.

"And this is a very important job I'm giving you. You're going to have to be extra clever this time. Do you think you're up for it?"

After a moment's consideration, Kiseki nodded, his chest puffing out slightly, as if he had taken the challenge as a commendation for his abilities. All attention was now focussed upon the Page.

"Excellent!" The Page liked nothing more than seeing both Master and Key satisfied, and the best way to keep Kiseki happy was to keep him occupied. As for his newest customer, only time would tell - but he had a feeling that the Capricorn Key would prove to be the best medicine of all.

"Now, here's what you need to do..."