A/N: Look, I updated! So many tests, so much homework, damn you plotbunny! I had to use one of those humane traps to catch it, where you put the carrot in and a string snaps and it's stuck in a cage hopping restlessly around. Anyway, I have it, and while it's here I won't let it go. Bam: Chapter Eight!
"Well...?"
We'd been riding across the sand for a good twenty minutes before Bakura spoke.
"What?"
"Are you nervous or something? You're awfully quiet."
"No..." I let the word trail off, nearly biting a hole in my lip when the horse gave a shudder and halted.
"Why are we stopping?"
"Water," was the short, almost impatient answer. We had reached the massive dune in front of the Nile, and Bakura quickly dismounted, tied the horses to the wooden stake in the sand we'd previously used, and helped me off my own mount.
"Uh, thanks...?" I wasn't used to seeing this gentlemanly side of him. Once he had become accustomed to my presence, he had fallen into treating me like a boy; making me keep my hair fairly short and roughhousing with me the same he would with any of the others. When we bathed in the river, I was expected to strip entirely like the rest of them, which was admittedly beginning to get awkward because I had recently discovered that I wasn't exactly flat-chested anymore.
Bakura had also kept his apparent mind-reading powers from years ago. Another example came up just now as I mulled this over: he spoke once more. "By the way, you should wear a shirt when we wash off from now on."
"Why?!" A note of rage crept into my tone, because what did he expect? And if he thought this, did it mean he noticed? Oh Ra, was he staring, did he care, why was I in paranoia mode? Damn.
"'Cuz you're older now." The typically clipped sentence, as if he was trying to cut down on the number of words he used.
"Oh." I won't deny that there wasn't a feeling of relief inside me at the ease of answering his statement.
The jug Bakura had brought was filled quickly, and we were soon on our way across the dunes again, the sun high over my right shoulder. This time, neither of us spoke until Bakura called the horses to a stop again.
"See that?" He was pointing to the subtle indentation of a square in the ground, right where our horses had been about to step.
"Yeah."
"What kind of tomb is it?"
Ever the teacher, that man was. I sighed.
"A mastaba* tomb."
"And what's wrong with it?"
"The three stone slabs on top are missing."
This type of tomb usually had an aboveground component made up of three or four decorated wood or rock squares that clearly marked it as a burial place. However, the gravediggers had evidently gotten wise and decided not to make it so obvious, and so the tomb's contents were all underground. This forethought and hiding might be an indication that this tomb had lots of treasure in it. I voiced this opinion excitedly to Bakura.
"Meh," he said, but I could tell by his face he appreciated my examinations, and found them to be things he had not yet thought of. (Or, he was admiring the sun's pretty, arched rays across the sky, or he was just thinking of food. Either way, he looked impressed.)
"Okay, so what do we do," he said flatly, boredly.
"Look around, nobody's there. Then sit there casually, then look around again, nobody's there, then get out something heavy and drop it on the square. If the thing you dropped breaks-"
"-then the entrance is stone. Good." Bakura pulled a clay pot out of his endless bag and slammed it hard against the tomb's entryway. Instead of breaking, a splitting noise was heard.
"What does that mean?" Bakura's eyes lit up as he tapped around the newly broken area with a small tool.
"It's made of wood."
"So what?"
"We can punch through it with the heavy thing."
"But?"
"We can't stand on it."
"Why not?" He loved playing devil's advocate; a little smirk crossed his lips.
"We'll fall through if it breaks and damage the treasure and us."
"Acceptable." Gingerly, Bakura poked little holes in the edges of the door, then applied sudden pressure with the clay pot. The wood broke in two, revealing a pit that I guessed to be eight or nine feet deep.
"Okay. Me first," the master thief tossed over his shoulder at me as he jumped expertly into the cavern. "Watch out there for people. After a bit, I'll yell."
I handed him one end of the rope, and, taking it, he began walking into the entryway. After a few agonizing minutes...
"Muhfouzeewah!"
"What?" I yelled into the yawning cavern, dark as the inside of a cave- which it practically was.
"I said "false entryway." You can come down. Follow the rope. Is it tied to something?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
Step by slow step, I slid against the wall down into the entrance chamber. "Brrr," I said aloud, clutching my arms as the chill hit me. "It's cold down here."
"You wouldn't believe," came the sarcastic, dry tone from somewhere below me. "Hurry up."
"I'm coming!"
A methodical silence fell as I progressed deeper into the passageway, on my hands and knees now, noting the fake tunnel Bakura had spotted. I was mildly in awe at the beautiful artwork painstakingly done to make it look real- how had he known?
"Stop."
I shrieked as his arms seized me and pulled me back. I had almost fallen into a pit filled with water and mud, which would have been, I guessed by the large drop, impossible to get out of.
We were on a small landing inside the tomb, and the walls had a narrow ledge around them. I noted with relief that I could stand and shuffle instead of crawling.
"Come on." Bakura's hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed. His eyes gleamed, and his tone was excited. Wordlessly, I followed him as he began to scale the ledge. When we reached the other side, he creaked open the trapdoor in the ground and shiny things glinted back at us.
"Yes." Euphoria was the primary emotion in his whisper, but also sheer contentment and the thrill of the chase.
"You got a sack?"
"Yeah." I patted my brown robe, suddenly realizing what it was really for. (Xarius was getting a punch in the jaw for lying to me.) I pulled it off my shoulders, presenting it to Bakura.
"'Kay."
Bakura hopped into the chamber, and I began to hear clinking and rustling. A loud thud resonated around the small space all of a sudden, and Bakura's laugh.
"He's dead, all right."
Bored for the time being, I rifled through the small bag Xarius had given me. It contained small knives, a little horse-hair brush, and a clay jar. I frowned over these mysterious gifts until Bakura's head popped up.
"Help me, willya?"
"All right."
I leapt down somewhat less gracefully than Bakura had, then froze.
Behind Bakura, sitting amongst the gleaming heaps of treasure that we had not yet stolen, there was a man. He was dressed in the fancy robes of a priest, and he was very much alive.
"Bakura!" I squeaked, gesturing. He turned and cursed, as the man raised his sword.
"Invaders!"
"Go, go, GO!" He shoved the bag at me and I raced in a panic along the ledge, scooting across into the tunnel. My hands and knees desperately scraped against the hard stone as my heart pounded. I couldn't go fast enough, the bag was heavy behind me, but I couldn't let go! Bakura was on my heels, barking at me to move faster, I finally made it to the entryway and grappled with the rope, beginning the suddenly miles-long climb to the top. My hands were made of lead, shaking and tense, and I would've fallen and broken my legs if not for Bakura's last-minute push. I had never been so happy to feel sand beneath my feet, but the chase wasn't over yet. We ran furiously to the horses, my fingers freezing up again momentarily as I untied the knots, and we galloped away at lightning speed, the treasure bag clenched securely in my fingers.
I didn't relax completely until the sun had almost gone down and we had been riding for a good hour and a half.
"Stop." Bakura sounded calm, and the horses huffed to a halt, panting almost furiously at us both. He gave each a pat on the nose, then tied them to a wooden post. Why was there a wooden post all of a sudden...?
"Bakuraareyoucrazywe'reinTOWN!" I shrieked as I recognized my surroundings as not just any village, but the one closest to the palace, one of the richest villages in Egypt.
"Shut up!" He yanked me harshly behind the mud-brick shed nearby and slapped my face- hard. "Don't call me Bakura! Do you want to get us killed?! Be quiet!"
Stunned by his violent outburst, I let my voice trail away.
"Okay," I whimpered pathetically.
"Call me Bes if you have to call me anything. And you're... Cleo."
"Okay," I repeated, sucking at the blood dotting my lips.
"Oh, grow up, it was nothing." He swiped the fluid off anyway with his sleeve, then began tying his long hair up with a piece of twine. When he was done, he was a common laborer in a plain white tunic, barely recognizable. He helped me with my disguise as well, putting a wrap of brown cloth around my hair in a cover of sorts. He whispered, "We're cousins on a trip to see the Pharaoh's priests. That's our story, now stick with it."
"Mmn," I nodded and we walked together into the busy marketplace...
A/N: Suspense! Suspense! xD
