"A translation spell," Hermione said in an awed whisper to her friends. "That's very powerful magic. I don't know anyone outside the Ministry who performs it. Well, except for Dumbledore maybe."
"Speak!" commanded the pharaoh. His tone made it clear he would brook no more hesitation.
Quite by accident, Hermione found herself the spokesman…uh…woman…for the trio. She cleared her throat nervously.
"Um…" How do you address a pharaoh? "Great Pharaoh, my name is Hermione, and this is Ron and Harry." She pointed at each boy in turn. "And we were drawn here quite by accident."
"That and by the spears of your guards," Harry growled.
Hermione and Ron threw him frightened looks. The two kneeling priests stood with a single fluid motion, their eyes narrowing at this rudeness to their king. The guards took a step forward, their grips tightening on the aforementioned spears.
"What I mean is," Hermione continued desperately, "is that we aren't from Egypt at all."
"That is readily apparent," the pharaoh said, waving at his guards to stand down. "But where then are you from?"
Hermione gulped and glanced at the guards and courtiers. She was reluctant to speak of time travel in the presence of so many people. One of the guards prodded her in the back with the butt of his spear.
"Answer Pharaoh!"
She took a deep breath and met the king's eyes. "I would prefer to speak to his Majesty alone," she said bravely.
The blue-eyed priest opened his mouth to protest, but subsided at a gesture. The pharaoh looked at Hermione, and she felt suddenly like fingers were prodding at her soul. There was a moment of complete silence as he considered her and the trio held their breath.
"Out."
The effect was immediate. The courtiers bowed low and made for the door, though the murmuring was at a fever pitch now. The guards hesitated, but the pharaoh dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
"I am not defenseless," he rumbled, cutting off their protests. By unspoken agreement, the priests, however, remained where they were. The blue-eyed priest took up a position to the Pharaoh's right, while his companion flanked his king on the other side. Standing there, one gripping the golden rod tightly and the other touching his fingers to a round golden pendant around his neck, they looked tense and ready for action. And given their lack of weapons, surprisingly dangerous.
An image of the rod glowing and his hand rising up to jinx his friends rose up in Harry's mind. He shivered. Not without a weapon after all.
When the guards and courtiers had gone, the pharaoh returned his gaze to Hermione's face. "Speak," he commanded again in a softer tone.
"Well…" Hermione began. She told the pharaoh the story of the lecture Professor Binns had been giving and the bright light they had seen, Harry and Ron jumping in every so often to clarify. When she spoke about the voice they had heard, the pharaoh sat up a little straighter on his throne.
"A voice?" he said. "What exactly did it say?"
Between the three of them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to reproduce more or less the wording. The Pharaoh sat back and he closed his eyes for a moment. He actually sighed. Was that relief? His lips moved slightly, like he was praying. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled. The atmosphere lightened markedly.
"I apologize for your less than gentle treatment. This is Mahaad," he added, gesturing to the priest on his left, the one with the large golden pendant. "You've already met Seth."
Mahaad smiled at them, but Seth only nodded coolly.
It was then that Harry's temper finally frayed. "Is it your practice to capture all travelers?"
Pharaoh gazed at him a moment, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that the man was reading his soul. "In your case, a precaution," the king said at last. "Conditions are such that it is prudent to be careful."
"What conditions? What's wrong?" Ron blurted.
Pharaoh shook his head. "Now is not the time for such conversation. Seth," he said, turning his head back to the priest. "Have rooms prepared for our guests. Make sure they lack for nothing."
Seth bowed. "Yes, my Pharaoh." He strode to the doors at the end of the hall, flung them open, and spoke sharply to an unseen person waiting outside. A well-dressed servant entered the hall and stood waiting just inside the door.
"We shall speak further at a later time," Pharaoh added to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "For now, rest and recover from your journey."
"Thank you," Hermione said, echoed by Harry and Ron. All three bowed awkwardly and made their way to the door where the servant waited. He too bowed and led them from the hall.
"So what do you think?" Ron asked the other two as they surveyed their quarters. They were luxurious, paved with marble tiles colored a sea green. The massive bed in the center of the room was draped with cool linen, looking crisp and inviting despite the heat of the day. The room boasted a balcony; from its height, the trio could look down on the river Nile and watch the colorful ships moving up and down, the tiny figures of sailors working busily on their decks. There was water in a silver pitcher on a silver tray, and a bowl of fresh, ripe fruit. There was even a connecting bathroom with a huge marble tub and a full-length mirror. All in all, a room fit for a king.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione might have enjoyed it more if they hadn't been virtual prisoners within its walls. It was several hours now since they had arrived at the palace, and they were a little more rested and refreshed, but no less unsure.
"It was nice of Pharaoh to put us up in rooms like this," Hermione said, tentatively smoothing down the Egyptian clothing that the servant had provided for her. The fabric was a bit more sheer than she was used to, and it had the annoying tendency to cling to her body when she moved. But she had to admit, it was vastly more comfortable in the heat than jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.
Ron and Harry were looking equally strange, dressed in tunics, cloaks, and slippers. The cloth was fine linen, and slightly transparent. Each was decorated with intricately embroidered hieroglyphs. The boys moved around in them, testing out the feeling of wearing what were essentially sleeveless dresses.
Harry snorted. "Sure, the pharaoh was nice enough, but I get the feeling his priests aren't too happy to have us around."
"Hey, that one guy was nice," Ron protested. "Mahaad, or whatever his name was."
"Seth was nice too!" Hermione objected. "He was only trying to help me back in the desert."
The boys looked at her like she was from a different planet. "Nice?" they said simultaneously, wearing twin looks of disbelief. "Hermione," Harry said. "He's about as friendly as Snape!"
"Plus, the guy's got a stick up his butt the size of…the size of…" Ron trailed off, clearly unable to think of something big enough.
"The Nile?" a familiar voice suggested from the doorway. They looked up so fast that it gave them whiplash. Seth himself was standing in the door, the rod clenched in his hand and eyes narrowed. Was it Harry's imagination, or did he also see a glimpse of wicked humor? "Or maybe a Pyramid?"
The three jumped to their feet. "I'm so sorry," Hermione babbled, "It was just a joke, you know, we didn't mean…"
Seth cut through the babble with a curt gesture. "Pharaoh wishes to see you all in the library immediately."
Hermione gulped. "Thank you," she squeaked. Seth turned on his heel and was about to depart when she spoke up again. "Um…where is the library?"
Seth sighed irritably, as though he had plenty of things that would be a better use of his time than escorting a bunch of foreign teenagers around the palace, especially ones who had just insulted him. (Even if it was true.)
"Follow," he said shortly, then swept off down the hall. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged a guilty look before running down the hallway to catch up.
"I have brought them, my king," Seth said, shoving the heavy door of the library open. The Pharaoh was seated at a table near the center of the room, a number of scrolls lying open before him.
"Ah yes," he said to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Welcome. Take a seat. I trust you are refreshed?" Without a word, Seth took up a position against the wall, his hand gripping the golden rod. Hesitantly, the trio took seats at the other end of the table.
"Yes, thank you," Hermione muttered timidly. The three of them waited; Pharaoh was in charge of this conversation; it would be up to him to make the first move.
"First, I wish to return these to you," Pharaoh said, drawing three slender sticks of wood from beneath his chair and sliding them across the table. "I hope you understand that they were taken from you as a matter of caution." Ron, Harry, and Hermione grabbed the wands, only then realizing that they now lacked belts on which to store them. They compensated by laying the wands in their laps.
Pharaoh watched the movement with an amused smile. "I will send servants to remedy that," he said, nodding towards their wands. "I must confess I am curious as to how they work. Are they the source of your power, or do they simply channel it?"
"You can't cast spells without wands," Ron blurted out. He paused. "But witches and wizards are different than Muggles, so..." Harry and Hermione stared at him. They didn't know yet if they could trust this man, and here Ron was spilling wizard secrets.
Pharaoh raised an eyebrow. "Muggles?" The word did not translate into any word that the Egyptian king was familiar with.
"Non-magic users," Harry said.
"Pharaoh," Hermione interrupted. "If you don't mind me asking…why is it that you are so interested in us?"
The pharaoh sighed. "Perhaps now would be a good time to explain my situation." In his quiet, magnificent baritone, he proceeded to explain about the Thief King Bakura. His eyes narrowed as he described the atrocities that the man had committed, and at one point in the narrative, he glanced at Seth, a look of pity flashing briefly across his face. For his part, Seth stood stock-still, his free hand clenched into a fist. But when Harry stared at him, he lifted his gaze challengingly, and the brief flash of emotion disappeared. The Pharaoh did not explain the incident, but continued on smoothly as though there had been no interruption.
"If I could face Bakura in direct confrontation, I could destroy him," he finished grimly. "But I am unable to track him down, and every day his power grows." He stared into their faces, holding them spellbound. "I prayed for the gods for aid, and I believe they sent me you." He leaned forward slightly. "Your description of the three beings that brought you here coincide with the appearances of Obelisk the Tormenter, Slifer the Sky Dragon, and the Winged Dragon of Ra. Three of the Egyptian gods."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in silence for a while, trying to absorb this new piece of information. Finally, Harry spoke. "Are you saying your gods summoned us to ancient Egypt in answer to a prayer?"
"But what can we do to help?" Hermione interrupted anxiously. "We're just students, back in our own time. I mean…we want to help..."
Pharaoh shook his head. "I don't know. All I know is that the gods will reveal all in their own time." He smiled slightly. "Until then, we will just have to muddle our way through. I am seeking an answer from these ancient texts, but such a search will take time." He sighed. "For now, return to your quarters. In time, I will introduce you to the other members of my court. We shall all concentrate our efforts on discovering the reason that you are here. You may be the key to winning this war."
No pressure, Harry thought grimly. It seemed he was to be drawn into another magical conflict, where failure could mean death, or worse. Speaking of…
"And if we lose?" he asked. "What is at stake?"
The pharaoh gazed at him solemnly. "The world," he said simply. "If we lose, it will be the end of the world as we know it."
Harry felt his stomach lurch. Why did stuff like this always have to happen to him?
When the trio had gone, Seth stepped forward to stand at his king's side. "Do you really think that was wise, revealing so much of our power and position to those three?"
Pharaoh sighed. "We don't have a choice, Seth. It is as I have said: "those three," as you call them, may be the only hope we have of defeating Bakura and saving Egypt."
Or they will be the means of destroying it, Seth thought. The gods are fickle, my king. May you never learn that to your sorrow.