"Welcome," the pharaoh said warmly, stepping down from his throne. "We thank the merciful gods that you have arrived in safety."

"Thank you, Great King." Atem studied the speaker intently from his place at his father's side. Ini-herit's partner Tumaini was probably no older than Pharaoh himself, but the dark circles under his eyes made him look older. The children did not look much better. Shipwreck, bandits, and a dust storm had killed several of their number, and what should have been a two-week journey had become a month-and-a-half long ordeal.

"I will have servants direct you to your quarters," Aknamkamon said. "The children will begin their training tomorrow, once they are a bit more rested."

The entire group bowed wearily, and servants appeared out of nowhere to lead them to their rooms.

Before Pharaoh could resume his seat, Atem asked, May I go with them, Father?

His father's mental voice sounded amused. Wait until they are rested. They have had a long journey.

But aren't they my future advisors? I should get to know them as soon as possible!

Perhaps they will be someday, Pharaoh's voice said cautiously, but Osiris willing, you will not need them for many years yet. Be patient, Atem. Like a king must be."

Atem instantly subsided, but his crimson eyes followed the group as they exited the throne room. His father sighed.

"Tomorrow," he said, and Atem could not restrain a mental cheer.

"The new apprentices are being formally tested in magic, my prince," Tumaini told Atem apologetically early the next morning. "Would it be possible for you to return later?"

Atem thought about protesting, but then remembered his father's reminder to be patient. Instead of insisting, he did his best regal nod. "Of course."

The priest smiled in relief. "I can also send them to you when the tests are finished, if you would prefer."

"Yes," Atem said, still trying to hide his disappointment. "I'll be...in the gardens." The location was impulsive, but Atem did not feel like being cooped up on a beautiful day like this. He nodded once more at Tumaini, then turned his steps towards the outside.

Walking through the last of many arches, Atem's spirits abruptly improved. If he had time to spare...

Raziya?

The servant started, as she always did, when the Shadows brushed her mind. For the first time, Atem wondered if the contact hurt her. Certainly she never seemed happy about it. Oh well, pointless to worry about it now.

Send Seth to the gardens.

He felt her move to do as he said, and disengaged.

A few minutes later, a familiar person appeared in the arches.

"My prince," Seth said, meeting Atem's eyes squarely as he did so.

Atem met his gaze just as fiercely. Dozens of games had thoroughly established Seth as his favorite opponent. Diffident as the boy might be normally, in the realm of competition, he never once backed down.

Without needing to say a word, the two boys took off towards the center of the gardens.

It wasn't an official race, but Seth could feel the magic curling into the air as he and the prince barreled down the shaded avenues towards the place where the darts and targets were kept. He didn't care - in this, Seth had the undeniable advantage with his longer legs. He reached the place well in the lead and turned just in time to see the prince stumble to a halt, pain crossing his face. It should have been satisfying, but winning a purely physical contest just didn't feel the same.

At least the prince didn't whine about his loss. When the Penalty's pain had subsided, he picked up a dart from the box where they were kept and went to stand next to the target on the ground.

"A body's length this time, Seth?" he asked.

"Whatever you'd like." Seth too selected a dart. This was a mostly physical game as well, involving hand-eye coordination, but he and the prince had added rules over time to make it a deal more interesting. You could now 'bet' on yourself or on another player for a certain amount of points; it let you advance more quickly, but punished over-confidence. You could also - and the prince had glanced furtively around before announcing this rule - accept a certain amount of pain from the Shadows in order to stand closer to the target.

The prince began, of course, standing the full body length away and tossing the dart at the circles on the ground. It was a good beginning: in the target, if not quite in the center. The prince grinned at Seth and his red eyes flashed.

"Beat that."

As it always did between them, the game grew more and more competitive as time went on. Seth had better raw hand-eye coordination; the prince seemed to have a knack of landing the dart in the target directly after making a bet on himself. Perhaps he really was favored of the gods.

Then...miraculously...the prince fumbled. The dart slipped a little as he tossed it, and landed outside the target entirely. Both boys just stared at it a moment.

Seth found his voice first. "Well, my prince," he said, and smirked, "continue to throw like that and this will be the easiest game I've ever won."

"You dare to speak to the prince like that?" a strange voice demanded loudly.

Seth whirled around. A young man was storming towards them, dressed in the robes of an apprentice priest. He had the dark hair that only Seth and the prince seemed to lack, cut just below chin-length, and a pair of narrowed dark eyes that were currently filled with fury.

"Wh..." Seth began, but the stranger cut him off.

"You should be punished harshly for your insolence towards a descendent of the gods!"

Seth glanced towards the prince for help, but the prince had not reacted at all to the new boy's presence. That was just his way: he was drawn in entirely by whatever game he played. He was too busy judging how to make up for that last disastrous throw to pay any attention.

"The prince and I are just..." Seth started finally.

"My lord," the boy said to the prince, bowing low, "Give me permission to punish this brat for you." He looked a surprised when the prince did not even turn.

"Bet on the center target, one hundred points," the prince said, and loosed his dart. It hit exactly where he'd thrown it. Seth felt a wave of nausea sweep through him as the Shadows roiled, but as this was not the official ending to this game, there was no full-blown Penalty.

"Ha!" the prince said. "The easiest game you've ever won, you said?"

Finally, he turned to look at Seth and noticed the strange boy. Seth saw his shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly as he drew himself up in surprise. "Who are you?"

The boy knelt. "I am Chuma, my prince," he said unctuously. "Priest in training. This boy..."

The prince's expression cleared. "Ah, you came with Tumaini!" He made a gesture for Chuma to stand up, which the other boy did. "Join us."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Chuma said, collecting a dart, then shooting a glance at Seth. He clearly wanted to tell Seth that he was no longer needed, but perhaps he wasn't sure of his footing, because he simply went to stand by the prince and threw his dart.

It missed. Seth tried not to smirk.

But Chuma soon hit his stride, and the game grew closer. Then, as Seth stepped up to the line, he felt something catch his ankles. He stumbled hard.

Too close to the target.

The world came back to him in stages. Rough stone. Buzzing. Blurring. Pain.

"Seth?"

Warmth. Shoulder. Pain.

Seth?

Seth cried out at the Shadow-brush against his mind, and the world snapped into focus. The prince was crouched in front of him, hand on his shoulder, ready if need be to call again. Chuma stood several feet away, looking angry and afraid.

"That was foolish," the prince said severely. But the anger in his voice couldn't quite mask his relief. "Why in Ra's name would you go that close?"

He pushed me! Seth wanted to exclaim. But he didn't quite trust his ability to speak. Instead, his head lolled to one side, spotting the target right beside him. No wonder the Shadows had bitten him so harshly! A dart quivered in center of the center target.

If it hadn't hurt so much, he would have laughed in victory.

The prince followed his gaze. "Yes, you hit the target," he said. "But you nearly killed yourself to do it."

Like you wouldn't have done the same.

He must have said the words aloud, for the prince grinned. Seth smiled in return...

"Do you wish to continue the game, my prince?"

Chuma's voice, hesitant as it was, grated on Seth's ears. He glared at the other boy, and saw the apprentice's guilt turning to anger in return.

"Seth," the prince said harshly.

Atsu's voice: "It is death for a peasant to attack a merchant or a noble, even for giving one so much as a scratch."

An apprentice priest, no matter how lowly, was higher than a linens boy. Seth felt the anger build, but he dropped his eyes from Chuma and tried to force it back.

"You are ill," the prince said meaningfully. "You must rest."

Mechanically, Seth stood. Did the prince know that Seth would be expected back with Raziya the moment the prince was through with him? Or that Aknadin was expecting him after the evening meal? That it would take a lot more than dizziness to excuse a servant's absence?

"Yes my lord."

Had Chuma known what would happen if he pushed Seth so close to the target? Or had it been an accident?

All Seth knew is that he didn't want to spend an another minute in Chuma's company just now.

When the Penalty starts, Seth thought with unaccustomed savagery, I hope you faint.

But both the prince and Chuma were ignoring him now, Chuma deliberately and the prince because the game was drawing him back in. So Seth hesitated just a moment longer before turning back towards the palace.

"Focus, boy!"

Seth bit his lip and tried to bring the Shadows to bear. This was the hardest challenge yet. Not only were they Shadow-screaming in his ears, but he still felt nauseated from the garden.

Hand out, he looked at the the target hanging the wall.

"The thinest thread," Aknadin reminded him. The section of wall to the left of the target was still somewhat blackened. "Focus on control."

Taking in a tense breath, Seth willed his magic out. He felt a brief surge of triumph as it leapt out towards the target and the target disappeared...along with the surrounding area. He flinched, thinking of how his mentor would react. But Aknadin merely waved a hand. Shadows, perfectly controlled, spun themselves across the opening, then gradually took on the texture of the surrounding wall. Within minutes, it was impossible to see anything wrong.

Aknadin turned back towards Seth. Seth felt a wisp of magic in the air. "How long have you felt nauseated?" the High Priest asked.

Why had Seth thought that he could hide it? "Since this morning, Lord Aknadin."

Aknadin eyed him narrowly for a moment, and Seth again got the disconcerting feeling that the older man knew more than Seth had told him. Then the High Priest shook his head. "Go and rest. I will see you again tomorrow."

"I'm fine," Seth protested.

"Go."

Knowing it would be futile to protest further, Seth reluctantly did as he was told.

He didn't go to bed, however. Instead, he found himself pacing restlessly on an upper balcony - the prince still had not returned - and then trying to send out the faintest tendril of magic towards a spot just above the balcony rail. No matter how often he tried, however, Seth could not manage to add precision. At least his magic wasn't lunging out to kill anyone now...

"It's really more of a flicking motion."

Seth yelped and stumbled backward, tripping on his own sandals and falling on his butt.

In a liquid-smooth movement, a figure pulled itself into a crouch on the balcony rail. The hood it wore concealed the hair, but even in the darkness, Seth could see the familiar smirk.

"Of your mind, that is," Bakura continued as though nothing had happened. "The motion isn't really necessary, except for the weak-willed." He regarded Seth, who still sat frozen on the floor of the balcony. "So in your case..."

Seth felt a surge of anger. He stood, focused on the Thief King's hand where it gripped the balcony, and flicked. The magic shot out in a crisp, straight line, easily three times the precision of the earlier attempts. Laughing, Bakura jerked his fingers out of harm's way.

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

Seth narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, readying himself for a harder strike...then stopped. His eyes widened. He took a few deep, experimental breaths, willing his anger to subside. As it did, he felt part of his power go with it.

"Ah," Bakura breathed from the balcony rail. "That's a 'yes' then."

"You're baiting me. You're showing me that anger makes a spell work better."

Bakura snorted softly. "Strong anger does. Focused anger. Not the weak-minded malice most people are capable of." A pause, then: "Your magic would be even stronger against those you truly hate."

A shiver ran down Seth's spine. "I don't hate anyone."

"Of course you don't," Bakura said. "Young thing like you." He grinned and dropped from his crouch to lazily resting on one hip. "I'm glad to see the rumors are wrong, at least. I'd heard you'd only been given a servant's position after saving the prince's life. Even an idiot knows you deserve more."

Seth said nothing, but he felt a flush rising to his cheeks.

Bakura's smile faded. He leaned forward, searching Seth's face. "The rumors are wrong, aren't they, Seth?"

Seth looked away. "You should go," he said harshly. "The guards will catch you if you stay here."

The Thief King stared at him a second longer, though finally he laughed. "Please. Give me some credit." He rolled off the balcony.

Seth rushed to the edge. He saw a dark shape flying through the air - a Shadow Monster, and a strong one to slip past Pharaoh's wards - with Bakura perched lightly on its back. The Thief King's white hair billowed behind him as the hood came free.

Seth watched them until they were out of sight.

Blasted souls, that had almost been too easy. Bakura resisted the urge to laugh until he was absolutely sure he was out of ear and eyeshot. Then he did laugh, loud and long, so much so that it shook his balance and nearly sent him plummeting off of Diabound's back.

He could have sworn that Diabound gave him an exasperated look.

"Well," he murmured to it. "What would you have done?"

Predictably, Diabound didn't respond.

Bakura laughed at that as well. They were well out over the desert now, but at a mental command, his soul monster turned and began to curve back in a wide arc towards the city. Best to let any watchers think Bakura had come from the desert.

I wonder what your reaction will be, Pharaoh, the Thief King thought, when I steal your strongest caster right out from under your nose.

Author's Note: So there you have it. Is it bad that Bakura is so much fun to write? A little excerpt from next time:

"Chuma?" a new voice interrupted. "What's going on?" Then it became alarmed. "Stop! You'll kill him."