LightandShadow - Look carefully at what Seth implied when he told his story, and what exactly Aknadin confirmed. As a result, Pharaoh does not know about Seth's magic, and neither does anyone but Aknadin. Then there's Aknadin's decision to continue to keep it hidden in the last chapter, and this is what will have ramifications.

CHAPTER 7 - An Open Door

The boy's thoughts heralded his arrival: Lord Aknadin is a High Priest. Deep breath. Focus on your task. Focus. Surprisingly distinct thoughts for a child.

"Come in," Aknadain said.

There was a startled pause, and then the door opened. The boy entered and bowed as low as he could over the basket of clean linen. At Aknadin's nod, he stripped the bed and pulled fresh linen from his basket to remake it. Aknadin had expected a clamor of thought, but the boy kept to his resolution and kept his mind firmly on his work.

Time to shake that loose. "How long since you first used your magic?"

The boy stiffened. For just a second, his fingers stilled on the sheets. "Magic? I don't..."

"Lie to me, boy, and I will have you caned."

The boy lifted his eyes to Aknadin. Even without the Millennium Eye, Aknadin could see the mingled fear and hunger. The power of the latter stunned him. 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.

"A month, Lord Aknadin."

'You lie!' Aknadin wanted to say. But no; it was there at the forefront of the boy's mind. A month. It shouldn't have surprised him, as the boy had detected the probing of the Millennium Eye, but...Gods, if the boy was this strong after only a month...

"What is your name?" he demanded. "Who are your parents?"

He saw the answers before Seth said them aloud, and his mind whited out for a moment. Hatred blazed through him, Seth's hatred for an absent father whose name he did not know...Love for the woman he had called mother, that Aknadin had called wife...When he became aware of himself again, Seth stood in front of him, calling his name, thoughts a whirl of fear and confusion.

"Silence!"

Seth's mouth snapped closed. The thoughts continued to spin, however. What is wrong? Should I call Raziya? Why...

"Not your mouth, boy. Your thoughts!" Aknadin snarled. "Control them. Hide them behind a wall of magic. Don't spew them out at random for anyone half-powerful to hear."

Seth's eyes widened. Once more, fear and hunger warred in them. Hunger won. Uncertainly, he pictured a wall.

"Don't stand there dreaming. Will it!"

Seth clenched his fists at his side, and the magic surged. Far too much power for such a simple task, but there it was: a mental wall, twice Aknadin's height. Imperfect, true, but it was enough to let Aknadin disentangle his mind from the boy's and to take a deep breath.

"You require training," he said finally. "You have strength, but you lack control."

A flicker of recognition was briefly visible through Seth's walls, though the boy's face remained impassive. Aknadin did not stop to puzzle this. "You will come to me each day after the evening meal. Until I decide what else to do with you, you will continue your normal daytime duties.

"I'm not going to train as a priest?" Seth asked, startled. The walls flickered and fell. "But I thought that all the boys with magic go to..."

"Priests study many things," Aknadin interrupted, then tried to gentle his tone somewhat. "Your focus must be on your magic. It is a great gift, but it will overwhelm you if you let it. As it did with Ryuk," he added, and Seth's eyes dropped to the ground. "For the time being, tell no one that you have it."

"Yes, Lord Aknadin."

"Go now. I will see you after the evening meal."

When Seth was gone, Aknadin leaned back against his unmade bed and allowed the tears to trickle down his face.

"My prince!"

Atem froze in place and looked for an escape route, but there was none. Shimon was too close by, and judging by his face, he did not appreciate having to chase down an errant student. Behind him was the High Priestess Ramla, the necklace around her neck glowing brightly.

"Magic is cheating, Ramla," Atem protested without hope.

Ramla simply arched an eyebrow. "And your studies are not a game. They are your responsibility to the gods and to your kingdom."

The prince winced. The wording transported him back into the throne room with his father, and he remembered the icy stare he had received.

If you meant to demonstrate your readiness to be king, you have failed utterly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, tears stinging his eyes. "I...I'm sorry."

Behind Ramla, Shimon's face softened. "To be fair to His Highness, Ramla," he said, "This is the first time this week that he has attempted to elude his lessons." He looked at Atem. "Come along now, and I'll say no more about it."

Gratefully, Atem sidestepped Ramla and did as he was told, but as they passed the corridor leading to the High Priests' quarters, he caught sight of a familiar face.

"Seth!"

The servant boy started and bowed deeply. Atem thought he looked even more preoccupied than he had earlier; there was a funny crease across his forehead that reminded the prince of Pharaoh. "Prince. Lord Shimon," he mumbled.

Shimon squinted at him, then smiled kindly as recognition dawned. "You are the linens boy from earlier. Are you new to the palace?"

"He's the one who saved me in the city," Atem told Shimon before Seth could answer, surprised that the old man did not remember.

"Ah yes," Shimon said. "On behalf of the kingdom, I thank you for that." He gave a half-bow, and Seth's eyes widened.

"It was nothing, Lord Shimon," he said, voice clearer than before.

Atem was struck with inspiration. "Seth, I believe my linens need to be changed," he said with as much authority as he could muster.

To his surprise, Seth looked vaguely exasperated. "They were changed yesterday, Your Highness."

Atem opened his mouth, but Shimon beat him to it. "It will not hurt them to be changed again," he said mildly, giving Seth a level look.

Instantly, the look of exasperation on Seth's face changed to one of chagrin. "Of course, Lord Shimon. I didn't mean..."

"Come along then, you two," Shimon said, and headed off down the hall. As the two boys followed, Atem sidled closer to Seth. "New servants aren't usually allowed to do that kind of thing for royalty," he whispered smugly. "But you deserve a reward for helping me earlier."

He missed Seth's incredulous look.

Shimon could not remain angry at Atem for long. Being the prince of a great kingdom like Khemet was a heavy burden for such young shoulders; secretly, Shimon dreaded the day when Atem would have to accept the heavier one of king. Not because he truly feared the child's incompetence or truancy, but because he would have to watch some of that high spiritedness be cast aside. The vizier glanced at Seth, quietly changing the linens in the background. Servant the boy might be, but at least the life he led would be relatively simple.

He glanced back at his charge. Atem was showing unmistakable signs of fatigue. Wrinkles had formed between his brows, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn't complained though, and Shimon was proud of him for that.

As reward, he said gently, "Would you like to play a game, my prince?"

Instantly, Atem's eyes lit up. "Yes!" Then the light dimmed a little. "But I hadn't finished the lesson."

"Sometimes, a change of pace can return you to your duties more refreshed," Shimon said, heart twisting inexplicably, and was rewarded with the prince's dazzling smile.

"Senet?"

"As you wish."

Atem leapt to his feet to fetch the board, princely dignity forgotten. Halfway across the room, he gestured with his hand and the game soared from its place into his arms. Shimon was half tempted to scold such a casual use of magic, particularly in front of servants, but it did release a little of Atem's energy, and summoning senet boards from their places was hardly dangerous.

Atem arranged the gorgeously carved figures in their alternating patterns. Shimon let him claim cones without comment, and had just gestured for the prince to take the first turn when Pharaoh's voice echoed in his head: Shimon, I require your presence in the throne room.

Shimon froze. Is something wrong, my king?

I mean to scry once more for the children which Ini-herit sent us from the south.

Shimon nodded. I will come at once. Across from him, Atem's face fell. He likely couldn't hear the words themselves, but he was a prince and could recognize when duty called. Shimon smiled at him reassuringly.

"Hopefully, I will not be long, my prince," he said. "Walk about a bit. We will play when I return."

Atem's disappointment was all but tangible, but he bit his lip and nodded.

Seth was barely aware when Shimon left; his mind was too full of everything that had happened today. Lord Aknadin acknowledging his magic, promising to teach him, the strange insistence that he not tell anyone about his powers. To tell the truth, Seth wasn't reluctant to keep that secret; he didn't want to risk that Bakura had been telling the truth about the pharaoh.

And if Pharaoh learned about his magic, Seth would have to admit that he had killed those boys, and that was another thing he wasn't ready to face.

His skin tingled, and he started back to full awareness to find the prince eying him speculatively.

"Do you know how to play senet?" the prince asked.

"Yes," Seth said. Another thing his mother had taught him, although he'd never played on a set as fine as this one.

A pause. "Are you good?"

"Yes."

The prince's eyes glinted. "Good enough to beat me?"

The rational, sensible part of Seth told him to demur. The competitive part of him, however, was goaded by that glint, and the word came out of his mouth before the sensible part could stop him: "Yes."

The glint transitioned to a predatory grin, and the prince gestured at the board. Before he could think about how stunningly bad a move this was, Seth sat down across from him.

The game began.

Seth soon forgot who he was playing as the game gripped him. The prince was quite a challenge, and he exchanged pieces with merciless precision. But Seth was clever, and familiar with the game, and a string of luck and strategy soon narrowed the prince's lead to almost nothing. The energy built between them as they played, and soon enough, Seth felt a familiar cold crawling down his spine. He was too engrossed in the game to care, and simply handed the sticks to his opponent.

The prince leaned forward, intent. There were two of his pieces remaining on the board, and only one of Seth's. Seth struggled to bite back his excitement. The prince would need incredible luck to win. Picking up the sticks, the prince tossed them onto the table...

A one, a four, and six in quick succession, a perfect string of incredible luck. The prince smirked as he marched his last piece off the board. As he did so, agonizing pain tightened in Seth's stomach. He fought the urge to double up, clinging to the edges of the table, trying to keep the prince's gaze. The pain swelled to include his chest and limbs; his heart pounded furiously. Terror rose up too. What if he could not breathe? The pounding grew louder and louder and louder, overriding his conscious thought...

Then abruptly, it was gone. Seth sat hunched at the table, drawing in shuddering breaths. The prince was watching him, still flushed with victory, but beneath that, there was a hint of real concern. It was the last thing Seth had expected to see from a prince.

"What...what happened?" he managed.

"That's what happens when you lose a Shadow Game," the prince said. "I would thought it would hit you worse, actually." He smiled. "You were good."

This compliment produced a completely irrational feeling of warmth. But before Seth could reply, the door opened and Shimon reentered.

"Are you ready, my prince?" he asked.

"Did Father find the children?" the prince asked, resetting the game.

"They will arrive in perhaps a week," the vizier said, smiling, tossing the sticks. "We will need to pray to the gods that they arrive in safety. They've suffered a great deal already."

Seth watched the game, but none of the same magic built up around either participant. The prince seemed almost bored, though he still had an almost supernatural ability to roll exactly what he needed and still smiled when he won.

"Good game, my prince," Shimon said.

"Good game," the prince repeated dutifully, then immediately his eyes sought Seth's.

"Good game, Seth," he said. "Will you play with me again?"

It should have meant more to Seth that he was a servant and this was the prince, and that he had duties to Raziya and Lord Aknadin. But all that he was able to think about was the thrill of the game, the feeling of magic in the air...he'd been so close...

So he smiled. "Of course."

Author's Note: I reworked the plot of this story at least three times in the last few months, which accounts for the long delay. I'm fairly happy with this rendition though, so I hope I will be able to post a bit more frequently. An excerpt from next chapter:

Laughing, Bakura jerked his fingers out of harm's way.

"Tolerable," he said. "Think you're smart enough for lesson number two?"