Dorian paused with his hand on the splintering corner of a new hallway. He felt the breath leave his lungs. He swallowed. His fingers curled into a loose fist against the living wood, tightened once, released.

Agatha had begged him to leave. She had pleaded for a stable life, for a home, to look up at the same sky every morning, to see the same stars. He had thought her naive to want anything else when the universe was opened to her, when the opportunity of a lifetime was staring her in the face. He'd said as much, just before she'd gone. She hadn't even left a note.

He took a quick, deep breath, raised his head and and faced Zahi. Dorian respected this man too much to fake a smile. The desert prince's problems were a thousand times his own right now.

Dorian reached out and gently took the key from Zahi's shaking fingers. Concern for his new friend's condition sent a shudder down his spine, and he pressed the key to his heart. "Thank you," he said, breathless, in Zahi's own language, with a deep gratitude in his eyes.

With a quiet step back, he drew and released another breath, his expression turning thoughtful and determined. He flipped the key in his long hand, dropped it safely into his breast pocket, and spun to face another door beside them: cherry wood and plain, with an old iron handle. His fingers curled around it, but he stilled a moment in second thoughts. He couldn't simply thrust Zahi into what lay beyond that door -- he'd die of culture shock before any healer could attend to him. Dorian licked his lips, lifted his head, straightened his shirt.

"Now, Your Highness..." He faced Zahi, watching him in careful warning, and he looked meaningfully between the prince and the horse and made soothing gestures while he explained. "Behind this door is ..." He pointed to the door in question, and his finger made a few circles in the air while he tried to think of some simple yet plausible explanation. His face contorted a little with the effort. "Well. When I open this door, you will see ... [i]phenomenal[/i] things. Magic things. Things you never imagined could exist. I would like to encourage you -- [i]both[/i] of you," he glanced to the horse, which had been called Anat if he wasn't mistaken, "to remain calm." He showed them his palms and lowered them for emphasis of the stillness of the mind like water. Or something. "There is nothing to be afraid of. These wonderful things and these wonderful people will [i]help[/i] you. They are healers." Dorian couldn't help another glance at Zahi's wound again, and he swallowed. He could only imagine the festering and the pain. "I will ask you later, when you're well, what has happened to you." He was curious. Deathly curious. Curious enough to wish ill upon whatever had done this to such an honorable man. But one thing at a time.

He cleared his throat. "Okay. Well. If you're ready, Your Highness." With an air of stiff dignity (and slight fear that Zahi might cause a scene or run off or die on the spot) Dorian clicked the handle and gently pushed the door open.

Bright light penetrated first into the dim hall. When Dorian's eyes adjusted, he saw the familiar white floors and sterile curtains of a 26th century children's ward in a skyscraper hospital somewhere near Osaka; it beeped and buzzed and sighed in all manner of electronic life, bright with new flowers and crayon drawings, stuffed bears and cartoon posters.

A few of the dark-headed children sat up the moment an invisible door opened in the farthest wall, and they blinked and craned their necks, though some had tubes attached to their noses or were tethered to machines by wires. Dorian stepped out silently, tiptoeing, a finger to his lips to keep them quiet for his sneaking game.

One of the children, who had the best view of the other side of the door, grinned suddenly. "Horse!" she squealed in Japanese.

"Yes, yes, a horse," Dorian responded automatically in their own language, waving his hands, trying urgently to placate the excited children. "Listen carefully and stay very quiet: the horse's owner is very hurt and he needs a doctor --"

Immediately, four of the children, eager to help, jammed on their nurse-call buttons, causing an outright ruckus in the hallway. Dorian rubbed his face in his hand, and he looked back and gestured encouragingly to Zahi, giving him an apologetic smile.