"Has he told you why he wants us to stay in the city?"
A bitter laugh, barely audible even with Bakura's magic straining to catch it. "No, but do you expect it, Tou? From him?"
Bakura sat against the wall, eyes closed and arms resting loosely in his lap. To a casual observer - and to his men, apparently - the self-named "Thief King" appeared to be asleep. Fascinating things you could learn, being asleep. At least they weren't irredeemably stupid; their conversation would not have been distinguishable to a man of normal senses.
"Do you think he even has a plan?"
"Shh!" Harak hissed nervously. "You'll end up like Adofo if you're not careful!"
A tense silence followed, and Bakura sensed them looking in his direction. He let himself slump a little more and resisted the urge to snore.
"Effective recruitment strategy," Thabit said finally.
A soft derisive laugh. "He needed all the help he could get," Tou said, "That young and wanting to be in charge..."
"He won't be happy that we aren't out doing our jobs," Harak said anxiously.
Hard to think of a better cue. Bakura stretched lazily.
"Ah, Tou. Thabit. Harak. You have some news?" he asked, opening his eyes and meeting theirs one by one.
"No news yet, Your Majesty," Tou said smoothly.
Diabound tugged lightly on Bakura's Shadow sense. Someone coming. A moment later, an image formed in the Thief King's mind.
"Well," he said, smiling, "perhaps Akakios's guest will enlighten us."
On cue, the door opened. Akakios came in, leading a shrinking, dark-haired boy. The child's clothes were the typical rags of the street-urchin, and he looked as if he had not been fed properly in months.
Dead within the year, Bakura thought unsympathetically. But he gestured slightly at Harak. "Food for the boy," he said. Harak, eyes very wide, did as he was told. It didn't apparently matter how many times he saw Bakura's magic.
The boy tried to stay wary, but Bakura had seen the gleam in his eyes at the mention of food. A moment later, Harak returned with a bowl of dates. Still watching the boy, Bakura picked up a fruit from the bowl, bit into it, and then held out the other half. The boy hesitated. But as Bakura had expected, this proof it was not poisoned or drugged made the food too hard to resist.
"You know what I want?" he asked once the boy had finished the date and had begun hungrily eyeing the bowl again. Me killing children, Pharaoh? You hypocritical, self-righteous, son of a...
The boy gulped. "Y-yes."
"Speak."
The boy swallowed, hesitated, looked at the bowl again, and finally said. "I-it was about a week ago. Ryuk and the others…we saw a new boy in our territory, and Ryuk said we had to teach him a lesson...
What followed was depressingly mundane. Until...
"Do you know this 'rescuer's name?" Bakura said, striving to keep his voice even.
The boy grimaced. "S-seth. We've…we've seen him before. Umi didn't want to mess with him. Not after what happened to Odji."
The skin trader. Bakura smirked at the memory.
"So you had seen what this Seth could do, and you attacked him." He paused for effect. "With a knife." Six months.
"Ryuk…"
Ryuk, Bakura decided as the boy babbled, had been an idiot.
"You were unconscious," he interrupted again. "What could you possibly have seen?"
The boy described the bodies, the real fear in his voice doing more than anything else to inspire belief.
Still think you're not a murderer, Seth? His grin died, however, as he considered the implications. If Pharaoh discovered the boy had magic, he would offer a simple choice: serve or die. The third option, Bakura, had been planted in Seth's head, but Bakura did not fool himself into thinking himself the forerunner.
Damn. Seth's magic would solve a great many problems. "Anything else?"
The boy shook his head. "I...no."
Bakura reached into his robe and withdrew a small bag of coins, which he tossed idly to the boy. A paltry sum, stolen from a single merchant, but from the look in the boy's eyes, more than he had ever seen in one place at a time.
Not wary anymore? Three months.
"Thank you!" He scampered for the door, and Akakios, after a nod from Bakura, let him go.
"Seth," Thabit mused. "That must be the brat we heard of being taken to the palace a week ago."
"Get out," Bakura said, lacing the command with a trace of Shadow Magic. "I want to think."
After a moment of silence, the men filed out, Tou sending him a considering glance over his shoulder as he went. Bakura sank back in his chair.
This is an opportunity, I am certain, he thought as the door closed. But how to turn it to my advantage?
Seth tugged another piece of linen from the rack and carefully folded it into his basket. The basket was almost half full; taking it all inside would require several trips up and down the palace stairs. He sighed.
Then started as a tousled blur sped through the archway leading to the courtyard. The blur stopped in front of Seth, panting but trying to look regal.
"Hide me," Prince Atem ordered.
It wasn't as though Seth could refuse. With both arms, he scooped up the pile of clean laundry, clearing the floor of the basket. "In here."
The prince's eyes narrowed. "In a basket? You must be..."
Footsteps were heard on the stairs leading down into the courtyard. In a flash, the prince dived into the basket and curled up to fit inside. Seth piled the fresh linen on top, hoping the layers would cover all signs of tri-colored hair, and leapt back towards the rack. By the time Atem's pursuit arrived in the courtyard, Seth was carefully folding another sheet.
When he saw who that pursuit was, however, he felt his stomach drop into his toes.
Shimon, the second most powerful man in Khemet, scanned the courtyard and caught sight of Seth. Seth instantly bowed low.
"Boy," the vizier panted, holding his belly. "Has the prince come through here?"
"Through here? No, my lord."
"He must have gone the other way then," Shimon said, and turned to hurry resolutely back up the stairs.
The laundry basket stayed still for several more seconds. Then the edge of the linen pile inched up slightly.
"Is he gone?"
"I hope so," Seth said fervently. "Or I'm dead."
The pile shifted further, exposing the prince's head and shoulders. He cocked his head. "Why?"
Seth couldn't help it. He stared at the other boy. "Are you not aware that he could have me executed?"
"Why would he?" The prince stood. "You didn't lieto him."
"Not technically..." Seth sighed and rubbed his temples with his hands. "The point, Your Highness, is that I don't think Lord Shimon would make that distinction."
The prince contemplated this. Perhaps he hadn't thought about the idea of real consequences before. Seth wanted to turn back to the laundry but thought the prince would take that as an insult. So he just waited, headache getting worse.
Finally, the prince inclined his head graciously. "Well, thank you. If he comes back, will you keep saying you didn't see me?"
"See whom?" Seth asked.
He was rewarded with a brilliant smile.
Aknadin stood in the shadow of a pillar near the courtyard and watched the prince disappear through one of the arches. The linens boy remained by the laundry. He had the same look on his face Aknadin had witnessed on some of the priests-in-training when exposed to Atem. A familiar enough reaction, but for some reason, this time, Aknadin felt...disappointed?
Why in Ra's name would he feel disappointed if a new servant reacted to the prince's undeniable charisma?
He studied the boy again. The hair and eye color were unusual for a child of Khemet. Unbidden, the image of a young boy with similar coloring rose up in his mind, clinging solemnly to the fingers of a much taller, dark-haired woman. Aknadin had not thought of his son in so long. In the courtyard, the servant boy picked up the basket filled with linens and walked towards the steps back to the palace.
Who are you? he thought, not for the first time, reaching out lightly with his power to probe the boy's mind. Your magic is strong; I saw what you did to those boys in the alley. Why are you hiding it?
In the courtyard, the boy suddenly stiffened and looked around. Aknadin held perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The child could not have detected the brush of Shadow Magic; the Millennium Eye was more subtle than any tool Aknadin had ever used.
He could not have detected it.
Who are you? he sent more strongly, half-expecting a response. There was none. Eventually, the servant boy continued up the stairs, leaving Aknadin dizzy and reeling in his hiding place.
It seemed like an eternity later when he staggered into the palace. He hesitated outside the throne room. This was more than just concealing that the boy had magic - a decision he still didn't fully understand. Whoever this child was, he was strong, strong enough to detect Aknadin's Shadow brush without an ounce of training. The other priests should know of it, Pharaoh should take steps to ensure his loyalty immediately...
His decision then changed the course of history. He turned away.
Instead, he sent out his magic, ignoring the minds he did not want with the ease of practice, searching for the woman in charge of ensuring that beds were made. Raziya gasped as he spoke directly to her; he was dimly aware that the basket she held dropped to the ground.
Send a boy to change the linens in my room immediately, he told her harshly.
He felt her scurry to obey.
At the same time, he reached out for the new servant's mind. "Boy!" he said in Raziya's voice. "Come here!"
Author's Note: Well, there you have it. I expect the next chapter to be longer; I just couldn't in good conscience try to force the next chunk into this one. An excerpt from next chapter:
If the boy was frightened of his own power, he was just as much if not more desperate to learn how to use it. Riding in the boy's head, Aknadin saw the moment when the child decided to gamble.