Bakura stood alone by the window, lost in thought. Or rather, Bakura's body stood there, but it was the Spirit of the Ring that was using it just now. At least he didn't seem bent on murder and mayhem at the moment; he was simply compelling the boy's body to stand there placidly in this quiet place. The Spirit wanted to think, and he didn't want to do it where there would be a lot of distractions. He had given up on searching the castle a long time ago, and had instead taken to shadowing Pegasus from a safe distance - a risky undertaking, but it had turned out to be educational. He had been able to watch the fateful duel between Pegasus and Yugi, at least. After that, he had decided that it was time to back off and find someplace quiet to regroup his thoughts and consider the new situation. He had decided he liked it here, for the time being, and that was where he was going to stay.
This is not shaping up the way I had in mind, he mused. Pegasus already has the other six Items. If he can use even a fraction of their true power, he'll be too much for me. He'll come after me next, and he'll be desperate.
He frowned, gazing out at the pulsing ocean. The last thing he wanted was an angry and empowered Pegasus out for his blood, and willing to do anything to get his hands on the one remaining Millennium Item. No, that wasn't right - that was the next to last thing he wanted. The last thing he wanted was for Pegasus to actually succeed, for the Ring to fall into his hands, and the Spirit would be forced to spend the next however many years as a curio in a mad millionaire's collection. The worst-case scenario was that Bakura would die, leaving the Spirit without a proper host, perhaps for the next three thousand years until he could manage to get reincarnated again. There would be no going through that again, not if he could help it!
Think! This lunatic must have a weak point, even with the other Items at his disposal. They may bestow power to their holders, but they don't bestow intelligence. I must out-think him. So, if I am faced with a madman with a burning obsession, and I am the only thing in his path that is keeping him from attaining it, and he will hunt me all of his life with all of his resources until he has what he wants, how do I stop him?
He pondered a moment. Suddenly, his expression lifted. He laughed suddenly.
"Of course," he murmured. "It's so simple... I should have thought of it from the start."
He felt a stirring in his mind; it seemed his host was growing restless in his soul room. Well, let him. He'd have room to stretch before long.
You ought to thank me, my host, the Spirit told him.
The answer was wary. Why?
Because, you are going to be rid of me. That's what you wanted, isn't it? You see, I am still the wish-giver: I grant the desires of all who join forces with me. He chuckled, as if enjoying a private joke.
Yes. You give them everything they ask for, and nothing they want.
Believe what you like. The fact is, I am going to leave you soon. Look forward to it.
Before Bakura could answer, the Spirit slammed the mental door shut. It would be a while before Bakura could work out so much as a passing thought. That was how his tenant wanted it. He had business negotiations to make, and it amused him that his host would not know about them until it was too late to do anything about it.
He tensed suddenly as he heard footsteps. Old thief's instincts told him to flee, but he made himself stand his ground. He wanted to be found, tonight. He raised his eyes to stare into the shadows, watching a moving shadow form itself into a recognizable human form. Silver hair glittered dimly in the moonlight, as did something else partially hidden behind it. Bakura smiled.
"Pegasus. Just the man I wanted to see," he said.
Pegasus froze, and Bakura suppressed a snicker. Obviously his night-vision was better than the other man's, even with a magical Eye involved.
"You!" Pegasus exclaimed. He made a move towards him, but the thief held up a hand.
"Lovely night for gazing at the ocean," said Bakura casually. He held up the Ring, making good and sure Pegasus could see it. "Pity if this were to slip off. You'd never know whether it was swept away by the currents, sucked into the sand, or just swallowed by a fish. Wouldn't that be a tragedy?"
Pegasus's features contorted in anger. "You wouldn't dare!"
"I wouldn't like it, but if you come any closer, I might feel threatened enough to do it," Bakura answered. "Stay where you are... and if I catch you giving me that look, I'll put my other personality in charge, and you won't learn a thing from him."
The last bit caught Pegasus off-guard, and he frowned in confusion. "What do you mean, 'other personality'?"
"I am the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. The body I wear belongs to a boy named Ryou Bakura. We have an arrangement, he and I - I use his body when it suits me, and in return, I protect him from danger. He is not, however, privy to all my plans. If you are truly interested in the powers of the Millennium Items, I'm the one you want to talk to."
"I... see," said Pegasus slowly, taking this in.
"Yes. You do, sometimes." The Spirit chuckled. "And so do I. I know, for example, that the reason you want these Items is to resurrect someone very dear to you. Isn't that so? Yes, I see by the look on your face that it's true. Well, Pegasus, you're in luck. It just so happens that I'm a sympathetic soul. I like helping people in need, so I'm going to lend you a hand."
Pegasus' face lit up. "You're giving me the Ring?"
"I said lend," said Bakura. "I'll lend you the Ring long enough for you to bring back your precious Cyndia. Then you have to give it back to my friend, here." When Pegasus hesitated, he added, "You won't really need it after she's revived. The Ring is a very particular Item - it can only be truly wielded by one who is suited to it. One who is not suited to it would be killed or driven mad if they tried to harness its power without my consent. You will be able to use it for this one task because I am willing to help you, but after that..."
"I see," said Pegasus, frowning. "Well, let it not be said that I don't know a generous offer when I hear one. I accept! This boy of yours will have his Ring back when I'm done with it. Now, give it here."
Bakura grinned, knowing he'd won. "Say please."
"Oh, all right, all right. Please."
"Very well. Here."
Bakura slipped the necklace over his head and held out the Ring. Pegasus snatched it up with eager hands. Instantly, the boy began to sway on his feet, and he toppled over in a heap. Pegasus looked at him askance for a moment, wondering briefly what was wrong with him. Then he shrugged the feeling off. What did he care what happened to some shaggy-haired little boy, anyway? What did he care about anything, anymore? There was only one person he cared about, and he would be seeing her again very soon...
For the boy shut away in his soul room, the entire conversation was blotted out. The only thing he caught were the Spirit's final parting words.
Goodbye, my host. Have fun while I'm away.
Then there was fading laughter, and Bakura's consciousness slipped into darkness.
Pegasus raced up the halls at an undignified pace, and, though not knowing it, grinning like a madman. He had done it! He had collected the seven Millennium Items! Now, all that remained was to invoke their power in just the right way, and then...
He was too wrapped up in anticipating to look very closely where he was going, and he rounded a corner and smacked straight into Crocketts. The other gentleman recovered himself with his usual aplomb, which was more than could be said for Pegasus. The excitement of the evening had left him looking rather ruffled.
"Sir, I've been searching for you," he said. "The guards want instructions. The tournament is over; we need to know what to do with the rest of the players. They're getting restless."
"Never mind that now," said Pegasus. "Something urgent has come up, and it will require my full attention for some hours, at least. I am going into my room. Do not interrupt me for any reason until I come out. I mean it! If the building catches on fire, put out the fire and tell me about it when I get back, is that understood?"
"Perfectly clear," Crocketts replied, "but what do I do with the guests?"
Pegasus waved a hand impatiently. "Tell them there's been a delay. It'll heighten the suspense to make them wait. They've been here for days already; they can wait a few more hours."
"Yes, sir. I'll pass the word along."
Pegasus nodded in satisfaction as he watched his servant make his way swiftly back down the halls. He had a certain amount of regard for Crocketts's efficiency. He would take care of things. Now the night was safely cleared for Pegasus to do what he liked with it. With that pleasant thought in mind, he hurried to search for the Items.
It took a while to gather them all. He was fond of secret passages and hidden safes, and had included many such things in his castle. They had proven a sound investment when he had needed secret places for the Millennium Items. He gathered them all and began setting things up in his room. A diagram, carefully prepared and painted onto authentic Egyptian papyrus, was spread out on the floor, and the Items he'd acquired were set out at strategic points in and around it. With shaking hands, he lifted a heavy book from a shelf and opened it in front of him.
It took him a while to get to the correct page because he was trembling so badly; his heart hammered in his chest. After all these years of waiting, searching, preparing, it was finally happening, and he was not fully prepared for the reality of it. It felt like another dream, one just slightly more detailed and complicated than the myriad dreams he'd had of waking up and finding she had never really died at all, and everything was all right again. He took a deep breath, closed his eye, and tried to steady himself. Why shouldn't this feel like a dream? He was about to blur the lines between dreams and reality; what did it really matter which one this was now, as long as it achieved the desired result?
He opened his eye again and forced himself to concentrate on the book in front of him. Its pages held an intonation in Egyptian, which he had spent several months cobbling together from old manuscripts, carefully translated into something he would actually be able to read. Simply getting hold of the original papers had required hundreds of thousands of dollars and more dealings with the Egyptian black market than he ever would have imagined undertaking before all this became necessary. The people of Egypt were wary about parting with their ancient treasures - and, perhaps, rightly so, because these were the words that would, with any luck, force open the doors to the Paths of the Dead. He took a deep breath.
Give me strength, he asked whatever was out there. Don't let this go wrong!
He began to chant. Almost immediately, a change came over the room. The Items before him seemed to glow, and he sensed a warmth from his own Millennium Eye. As he continued to speak, the level of light in his room fell, even as the light of the Items increased, until it was as if Pegasus sat in a circle of firelight on a moonless night. At last, he finished the spell, and waited to see what would happen.
At first, there was nothing but silence. All the world seemed to have sunk into a waiting darkness, and Pegasus waited with it, wondering if he had done something wrong.
Then the pain hit. It was agony unlike anything he'd ever felt before, something that set every nerve in his body burning and freezing at the same time. He could feel every pore on his skin, even the roots of his hair ablaze with pain, and the Eye in its socket seemed to have turned to molten metal. He screamed with all his strength, ran out of air, and screamed again. He curled up on the floor, twitching and clutching at the carpet, wishing desperately that he could pass out or die, anything to make the pain stop.
Gradually, the sensation eased, going from unbearable to simply a dull ache. He attempted moving, cautiously, afraid to trigger another bout of whatever had hit him the first time around, but it seemed to be gone. He still seemed to be in one piece - shaking with adrenaline, yes, and his clothes and face were sodden with mingled sweat and tears, but he was more or less alive. He sat up and looked around.
His room was gone. In fact, just about everything seemed to be gone, including the ground and the sky. All that was left was an indeterminate black space marked only by drifting gray clouds - or were they black clouds on a gray sky? Impossible to tell, and he didn't care. At the moment, he didn't care much about anything; his most recent experience had left him with no other thoughts in his mind but to lie there and be grateful that he wasn't hurting anymore.
Gradually, it dawned on him that he was not alone, and he looked up again. There were two people standing over him that had not been there before. One was a slender man of regal bearing - a prince, by his raiment, though not one of this age. Obviously this was a pharaoh of some bygone year, with piercing eyes and a grave expression. Jewelry and gold hung from every part of him that could have conceivably supported such things, and a cloak flowed from his shoulders. He looked haughtily down on this invader in his realm. Pegasus was an American, and had an inbred disdain for royal families, but he suddenly felt the weight of power that came not from wealth or politics, but flowed in this man's very blood. He looked away.
The other figure lurked in the shadows, with nothing more ostentatious about him than his glittering eyes, which were every bit as proud as the prince's. He was cloaked and hooded, but Pegasus could see that his skin was tanned, and he wore a mop of pale hair. A scar crossed one side of his face. Something about him struck Pegasus as familiar. In fact, both of them were very familiar...
Memory came back to him. Of course, these two were almost the duplicates of the boys he had taken the Puzzle and Ring from. Were these the true forms of the Spirits of the Millennium Items? Were they here to aid him, or to block his passage? Or was all this some kind of hallucination?
"You are not yet dead," said the prince, in an accusatory tone. "What are you doing on the path to the afterlife?"
"I am looking for my fiancee. She died before her time. I've come to take her back."
"Who are you to decide when it is someone's time to die? That is for the gods to decide."
"And the holder of the seven Millennium Items," the shadowy figure chimed in. "He has earned the right to try. Why are you trying to stop him?"
"You stay out of this," the prince snapped. "What business is this of yours?"
The other spirit grinned ferally. "I am a thief and a stealer of souls. I understand there is one in particular that this man is interested in. I am prepared to offer my expertise."
"For a price, I'm sure," said the prince.
"Always."
The prince shook his head and turned to Pegasus. "Do not trust the Spirit of the Ring! He is dangerous, and duplicitous. I have an evil feeling about this quest of yours. If you attempt it, you may find your desire, but it can only end in suffering."
"Oh, shut up," said the thief. "You're always going on and on about standing by your friends. Isn't love even greater than friendship? All this man wants is to be reunited with the only woman he's ever loved. You can't say that's wrong."
Pegasus watched the two of them arguing, feeling a strange sense of bemusement - and amusement.
They're just like cartoons - the little angel and the devil that appear on your shoulder when you make a choice, he thought. But which is the demon and which is the saint?
"Excuse me, but isn't it possible that I should have a say in this?" he said. "As a matter of fact, I think that as the holder of the seven Items, I think the final decision is mine."
The prince's expression turned thunderous, but he lowered his gaze. "It is. My power alone is not great enough to stop you. However, I must warn you that this is not a good idea. Even if you resurrect her body, recalling her soul will be difficult even with the power of the Millennium Items behind you."
"I will help him," said the thief.
"You never help anyone without a selfish reason, Bakura."
"Very true." Bakura the thief turned to face Pegasus. "You remember what you said to me when I gave you my Ring - that I would help you if you would give it back to my host when you're done. I'm calling you on that promise now. I will guide you through the dangers ahead, but only if you swear that you will return the Millennium Ring to Ryou Bakura when your objective is completed."
"I won't go back on my word."
"Swear anyway."
"All right, all right! I swear that I'll return the Ring as soon as I'm done with it."
"As soon as this mission is over with."
"Yes, yes, whatever you say."
"Good," said Bakura. "Keep in mind, Pegasus, that this is sacred ground you're standing on. Promises made here can't be broken without dire consequences."
That idea did not appeal greatly to Pegasus. In his heart, he had been planning all along to keep the Ring. After all, what could the spirit do to stop him? He might need it again someday, if something else should befall his beloved further down the road. Then he shrugged the thought off. He had only sworn to return the Ring; he hadn't promised never to try to take it back again. Obviously this spirit was no match for him in wits.
"I understand," he said. "You have my word."
"I like this less than ever," said the Spirit of the Puzzle. "Anything you want can't be good. You aren't doing this out of the goodness of your heart, Bakura."
"I'm hurt by your lack of confidence," said Bakura. "Like it or not, the deal is made. Come, Pegasus. We're wasting time."
"You are going to regret this," said the Spirit of the Puzzle. "Go back to your own world, Pegasus. If you do this thing, it may begin in joy, but it will end in agony."
"There can be no greater agony than living without her!" Pegasus snapped back. He was tired of listening to these two bicker; obviously they had an axe to grind with each other, and they were using his plight to fuel their own argument. Well, they could argue later. Right now, he planned to follow the "thief of souls" - who had, after all, sworn on sacred ground to aid him, and he had willingly given up the Ring. He liked that much better than this copy of the Yugi who had fought tooth and nail to obstruct him.
The prince sighed. "If that is your decision, I must abide by it."
He shot a look at Bakura that would have sent a weaker man running for his life, and then faded out of sight. The thief grinned in satisfaction.
"I knew I did right in sharing my Ring with you," he said. "Let's get moving. I don't want this to take any longer than it has to."
Neither did Pegasus. He willingly followed the shrouded man into the darkness ahead, which gradually lifted until they found themselves walking along a stone highway through the desert. It was lined with columns, some fallen and cracked, but most still whole. On either side were endless waves of golden sand. The sky was pink around the edges, suggesting early morning or evening.
"Is all this real, or a dream?" he heard himself asking.
Bakura seemed to consider.
"It has elements of both," he answered at last. "What you are seeing is a glamour, but it has an underlying reality to it. If you see yourself being stabbed, it may not be a knife cutting you, but you will be cut all the same. Does that answer your question?"
"If I say no, do I get a better answer?"
"No."
"I didn't think so."
Bakura glared at him. "You really are helpless. This is a world of spirits you're entering, Peggy-boy. You can't do as you like here. Listen to me, do exactly as I say, and you may come out alive with your sanity intact."
Pegasus said nothing. That appeared to please the spirit, because he, too, became silent.
At the end of the path stood a crude doorway, formed of a lintel-stone perched between two large columns of such great size that three men together would be hard pressed to wrap their arms around them. Sitting in the very center of the passageway, blocking the way forward, was a stone sphinx.
Well, at least, it looked like stone. However, as the travelers approached, it stirred and opened surprisingly green eyes. It smiled, showing far too many teeth. Pegasus was reminded of Bakura's last remark, and felt wry amusement at the irony. Stabbed, but not by a knife...
"I take it I have to get past you," he said resignedly. "And given that you're a sphinx, I suppose I have to answer riddles."
"Oh, yes," the sphinx agreed, grinning more widely. "Don't worry your pretty little head, though. It's quite an easy riddle. Everyone here should be able to see the answer plainly... except you, of course." It gave a nasty grating chuckle.
"Well," said Pegasus impatiently, "go on. Ask away."
The sphinx said nothing. It just sat there smiling wickedly. Pegasus watched it, feeling impatience rising.
"How can I answer a riddle if you won't even ask me?" he demanded. "Say something already!"
The sphinx casually licked a paw and began grooming its face.
"Fine, then," Pegasus snapped. "If you won't play the game properly, neither will I."
He began walking, intent on passing around this ridiculous door into nowhere and going on beyond it. He had better things to do than waste time playing silly games with a sphinx! However, before he could take more than three steps, Bakura caught him and dragged him back.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," he said in a low voice. "You know as well as I do what becomes of someone who cheats in a Shadow Game."
"You didn't tell me this was a Shadow Game!"
"Idiot! What do you think you do with the Millennium Items? No, you are in this game now, and it's your soul at stake as well as hers, so play right!"
"He's right, you know," said the sphinx. "If you had taken one step beyond the path, I'd have gobbled up your soul right here. Hardly worth the effort, if you ask me. It would hardly make a mouthful. Now, this one here..." The sphinx turned its gaze on Bakura, and while stone couldn't drool, it could certainly give the vocal impression that it was.
"Back off," said Bakura. "This is his game."
Pegasus found this talk highly unsettling.
"Don't I even get a hint?" he asked, with a hint of pleading in his voice.
"Of course," said the sphinx. "Just one."
"Well?"
Again, that annoying silence.
"What happens if I give the wrong answer?" he asked.
"You know the answer to that already," said the sphinx. "Answer correctly, you pass. Do not answer at all, and you may safely go back where you came from. Answer wrongly, and you'll be my first snack in a few thousand years."
Pegasus closed his good eye - no help from the other one; he couldn't see inside this thing's mind any more than he could see into a block of stone, and anyway, he suspected that would count as cheating. He couldn't take that risk.
Think! There must be an answer... and if there must be an answer, there must also be a riddle. Perhaps all his boasting isn't just idle chitchat. What did he say? The answer is something obvious to everyone here but me... By inference, that means that the clue is 'just one'. What is it that I alone can't see - something there's only one of?
"My eye!" he exclaimed. "That's my answer! Something obvious to you but invisible to me is my own eye!"
The sphinx stopped grinning.
"Bah phooey," it said, and grudgingly stepped aside. "You would have made a tasty morsel."
"Better luck next time," said Pegasus.
"You had better think of some harder riddles," Bakura advised as they passed by. "If even he can get them, you're slipping."
The thief led the way through the doorway and into the space beyond. The scenery was different here - white sand instead of gold, and the sky was clouded over into a uniform pearly- gray dome. Just up ahead of the travelers, the road dove into a sand dune and ended. Instead, there was a vast expanse of dark gray obelisks, stretching as far as the eye could see.
"Well, this is cheerful," said Pegasus. "Remind me to have a talk with whoever did the decorating."
Bakura did not seem amused. "Hm. It seems we've lost our road. We'll have to take our bearings some other way."
"Which way do we want to go?"
"Supposedly, we're heading for the underworld," said Bakura. "Traditionally, that would mean we must follow the sun. That means we must go west. But which way is west?"
Pegasus looked around. It seemed neither of them had thought to bring a compass into the paths of the dead, and anyway, what good would that do? He doubted there were any magnetic poles in this world. No trees with moss growing on them, either. Pegasus had never been able to remember which side of a tree moss grew on, anyway. He did recall that the sun rose in the east and set in the west, but there was no sign of sunlight.
Or... was there?
"I think I see our answer," he said.
Bakura gave him a glare. "Enlighten me, then."
Instead of answering, Pegasus pointed at the ground. On the earth where the obelisks stood, the ground was crisscrossed with shadows. However, these shadows refused to behave as shadows should; each one pointed in a different direction, drawing a geometric pattern on the pale sand.
"Well," said Bakura, "I like this. A Shadow Game with genuine shadows."
"If we want to go towards the sun, we should walk away from the shadows," said Pegasus, pleased with his own ingenuity. "All we have to do is follow these."
"I doubt it will be so simple," said Bakura, "but lacking a better hypothesis, that will have to do. I'll lead the way - I'm an old hand at this sort of thing. You follow, and stay close."
As it turned out, the entrance was clearly marked; only one shadow jutted directly into their path, and they walked along this dark highway until they found they reached the obelisk at its end and chose their next turning. There were two available options, but Bakura seemed confident he knew which way to go, so Pegasus followed without question. For a while, he amused himself by thinking ahead to what would be waiting for him at the end of this infernal maze, paying very little attention to where he was going. However, as they walked on and on, his fantasies dimmed, and he became more and more aware of the paralyzing grayness and silence.
Still they plodded onwards, as the trail looped and doubled back on itself. It took a while for Pegasus to realize that his guide was running into dead ends and turning around, retracing his steps. However, after this had happened for the umpteenth time, he began to grow annoyed - and then despondent. They were lost, lost in a clouded world, and he would never find his way out of this wretched labyrinth. Not only would he never see his darling Cyndia again, he would never see anyone again but this surly thief.
"You don't know where you're going!" he accused.
"Not in any specific sense," answered the spirit, keeping his eyes on the ground, "and don't annoy me. You'll make me lose my sense of direction."
"How can you have a sense of direction if you don't know where you're going?"
"I don't need to know where we'll end up to know how to get there," said Bakura. He stopped walking so he could glare at his charge. "In case you haven't figured it out, we're in a maze. There is one entrance and one exit. If we don't find the proper exit by the proper route, we'll be lost forever. However, all mazes are solvable if you know how to deal with them. All you ever have to do to find your way out of a maze is to always turn the same direction every time. You might cover the length and breadth of the maze before you get out, but you'll always get out eventually. So trust me - I know what I'm doing."
Pegasus shut up. Privately, that made the Thief King a little happier with the situation. Helping people was not something he was good at, and it was wearing on his nerves trying to play the part of the helpful protector instead of just throttling this character and taking what he wanted from him. That would have been much more fun than trying to get this idiot to quit acting like a restive horse. All this fuss over a woman! Someone with Pegasus's charm and looks and money should have been able to acquire a new one without any trouble, but no, he had to go trying to drag one back from the dead. Bakura shook his head slightly at the folly of it all. Maybe, he thought, he'd have the chance to kill him after all this was over.
In the meantime, though, he had to be helpful. For one thing, while his bond to the Ring would pull him back to the waking world if he desired to leave this place, there was no one but Pegasus who could guarantee that the Ring would make it safely to the hands of his host. For another, he was now bound to help the man whether he liked it or not. That was the trouble with making deals on sacred ground - he was now magically bound to assist Pegasus through this to the best of his ability. Ah, well. At least this bit was easy. He was on firm ground now. This was just another tomb to rob, and there had never been anyone better at the job than Thief King Bakura.
At last, the maze came to an end, and a great pyramid loomed in their sights. As they approached, torches sprang to light on either side of a dark doorway. Stairs could be dimly glimpsed, leading downwards.
"Last stop," said Bakura.
"Beg pardon?"
"These things always come in threes. Whatever test is left for you is down there somewhere." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Pegasus felt a wave of relief. He had been starting to feel he'd never get out of here, and wondered just how long he'd actually been gone. What had been going on in his absence, anyway? Or would this be one of those things where he'd return and find that no time at all had passed? It didn't matter, he decided. No matter when or where he returned home, he'd be happy as long as Cyndia was safely by his side again.
"Let's go," he said.
They went down - slowly, with Bakura in the lead, his dark eyes ever on the lookout for traps. There were a few simple ones, of the sort that would have done nothing worse than send whoever triggered them sprawling on the hard floor, but he undid them anyway, just for practice. It felt good to be doing what he did best again. At last, they reached the bottom of the stairs and stood before a closed stone door. Bakura produced a slim metal tool and began levering it open. Slowly it opened, and a beam of pale blue light filtered out.
Beyond the door was a large room, about twice the size of what Pegasus would have considered a comfortable size for a bedroom, meaning that a high-school soccer team could have had a nice practice in there. At least, they could have, if it hadn't been filled with pedestals of varying heights. Each of these held a single sphere, about the size of a large hen's egg. It was from these that the blue glow emanated. While Pegasus stood staring, Bakura walked over to one and flicked it gently. It chimed.
"Interesting," he said. "These are souls."
"Hm?"
"Souls," Bakura repeated. "I've stolen enough to know them when I see them. How boring."
"What do you mean, boring?"
"Well, obviously, you're to pick out which one is the one you're looking for. Typical fairy- tale cliche. I suppose it must be serviceable, because the Powers That Be keep using it."
Pegasus looked around. "Which one is hers?"
"How should I know? I've never met the girl! Find her yourself," Bakura snapped.
Obviously, there was no choice but to do just that. Pegasus walked slowly into the forest of pedestals, eyeing each one carefully. Every one of the spheres looked exactly the same to him. How was he supposed to find the one soul he yearned for in all of this?
Inevitably, perhaps, his eye was drawn away from the spheres themselves and to the one thing that did vary - the pedestals. Each of them was made of the same granite-like material, and they all had the same designs carved into them, but the varied wildly where height was concerned. Many were so low that he had to be careful not to stumble on them. A few more were waist- height, and a very few reached to his shoulder. He picked up one of the souls that rested on one of these and studied it thoughtfully.
A soul on a pedestal...
Perhaps there was some symbolism here. He had to admit to himself that he didn't have a lot of respect for most people. Most he saw as hardly worth his notice. A few were worthy of his attention, and a tiny handful were very nearly his equal. Only one, though, he put above himself. He seized on this thought and scanned the room, seeking out the tallest pillar in the lot. It stood against one wall, partially obscured in shadow, where he might have missed it if he hadn't been actively looking for it. Now he stretched as high into the air as he could and snatched the prize from its top. The soul-sphere glowed softly in his hand, and it warmed at his touch. Something deep within him responded to it.
"This is it," he said. "This is the one I'm searching for."
"Good," said Bakura, who had been leaning boredly against a wall. "Let's get out of here."
They proceeded to the far end of the room, and Pegasus saw a door swing open ahead of them. He was fairly certain that it had not been there before. Just before they entered, Bakura stopped him.
"Keep a good tight hold on that," he said, pointing at the precious globe. "You don't want to lose it."
"What if I break it?"
Bakura rolled his eyes. "It's a soul. You can't break it, because it's not actually physical to begin with. It just is. Now, are you ready to go back?"
"Of course I am!"
"Not so fast, lover-boy. You know the mythology as well as I do. What's the rule for when you're leaving a magical place like this?"
Pegasus thought, dragging his mind through all the stories he knew. The legend of Orpheus surfaced in his mind. He, too, had gone to a place like this to reclaim his lover...
"Never look back," he said.
"Right. Move as fast as you can, don't stop, and don't turn back. Now, let's get moving."
They entered the door, and were instantly plunged into utter darkness. The only light came from the soul in Pegasus' hand, and he clutched that so tightly that only a few stray beams slipped through his fingers, only enough to reassure him that it was still there. Then...
"Pegasus!"
He froze. "Cyndia?"
"Pegasus, don't leave me here!"
"Get moving!" Bakura barked.
"But... I hear her... she's calling me..."
"It's all in your mind!"
"Pegasus, please, you're making a mistake. You've got the wrong soul. Please, don't leave me all alone again..."
"Cyndia!"
Pegasus moved to follow the voice, but Bakura was quicker. He grabbed a handful of Pegasus' long hair, jerking him forward again.
"Don't listen!" Bakura hissed. "It's a trick! If you turn back now, you'll lose her forever!"
"Don't listen to him, Pegasus! He's trying to fool you. I've been waiting for you so long, darling. Come back. Come back to me."
"It sounds so much like her," said Pegasus. "How can I leave?"
Bakura snarled. He was fed up with this man's weakness. He pulled him around so that they were nose to nose. They couldn't see each other in the pitch blackness, but Pegasus felt the spirit's icy breath on his face.
"Listen to me," he said. "Souls - can't - talk. If she could, she would have said something back there when you were looking for her. This is just an idiotic fairy-tale test to try to make you turn back, and damned if I'm going to let you fall for something that stupid. You are going to follow me, you are not going to go back, no matter what. I am not losing my only chance just because you're so utterly dependent on a woman that you can't disobey one word from an illusion of her."
Bakura took a deep breath as the urge to go on twisting Pegasus's head until his neck broke subsided somewhat. He eased carefully back into his role of helpful guide again.
"You know in your heart that the soul you carry is hers. Concentrate on that. Nothing else. And move."
He gave Pegasus' hair and added yank, just to make sure that he got the message. Pegasus moved. Onward and upward they went through the darkened tunnel, as Cyndia's voice begged and cried behind them.
"Come back! You can't abandon me like this! I can't exist without you... I will never forgive you for this! I can't forgive this! I hate you! I HATE YOU!
"I'm sorry, darling," he murmured. "I have to do this."
With staggering footsteps, he reached the exit, and stumbled through the door with her desolate cries still ringing in his ears. He thought he heard a voice whisper, "If you do this thing, it may begin in joy, but it will end in agony..." Then he was walking through a doorway, and everything was blotted out in a rush of wind and golden light. He fell for a long time...
His face itched from being pressed into the rug. It was not a very nice feeling. He thought he had better get up.
He moved slightly. Something bumped against his hand, something cold and smooth, something that jingled slightly like metal. He opened one eye and saw gold. Lots of golden shiny things were lying around in front of him. It occurred to him that they had names. Millennium Items, that was it - they were called the Millennium Items. He had wanted them, so he could...
Pegasus woke up with a jerk. He was back in his bedroom, lying in an ungainly sprawl on the floor, and the Items were scattered around him in no particular order. The papyrus he'd been using seemed to have burned to ash, judging by the smell and a faint gray haze on his expensive carpet. The room was dim, but not completely dark. A sheen of moonlight lay over everything, and by its light, he could see a sight that he had not seen in a long time: someone was sleeping in his bed.
He leaped to his feet, stumbled, and made the rest of the trip on his hands and knees. Without really knowing how, he found himself sitting next to her on the bed, gazing intently into her face. There could be no question: this truly was his Cyndia, come back to him at last. He was painfully aware of his heartbeat, which was racing fast enough to make him feel sick and dizzy, and his hands were numb from adrenaline. Trembling, he reached out a hand to touch her face. She was just lying there, dressed all in white - Like a wedding dress, he thought dimly - with one hand draped across her chest as if she had just dropped off for a nap. He cupped her hand in both of his. It was cold.
I failed, he thought, with an icy shock of despair. I brought back her body, not her soul. I failed...
Then, amazingly, her chest rose slightly, and her lips parted as she exhaled. Pegasus caught his breath. A few seconds later, she inhaled again. Then again. Her breathing fell into a regular pattern, and slowly, the color began to come back into her face. Her hand warmed in his, and he pressed it to his heart as relief flooded over him. No, he had not failed. Not at all.
"Cyndia! Darling, can you hear me? It's your Pegasus! Say something!"
The sound seemed to disturb her, and her eyes flickered behind their lids. Slowly, she let them blink open, looking around the room in a dazed sort of way.
"Pegasus?" she murmured. "I feel strange."
He made a valiant effort to collect himself. It wasn't easy, but deeper than the desire to throw himself at her and let all awkward questions go until some other day was an iron-strong determination that nothing must hurt her ever again.
"You've been ill, my love," he said gently. "Do you remember?"
"No," she answered. "Well... yes, but it seems so distant."
He gave a mental sigh of relief. She didn't remember dying, then. Well and good. That would make things a little easier to explain.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you've been in a coma for quite some time, now," he said. "This is the first time..." He choked, and forced himself to go on with some semblance of calmness. "This is the first time in years I've been able to speak to you."
"Oh, no... That can't be." Her blue eyes - how could he have forgotten how very blue they were? - widened in shock. She reached out a hand and touched his face, and he shivered with pent-up longing. "No, it is true, isn't it? I can see it on your face. Oh, Pegasus, I'm so sorry..."
"It's not your fault. Don't you dare think it," he said. "I've been... occupied, anyway. I searched the whole world over to find a cure for your condition. Others... they said you would never awaken again, but I knew they were wrong. I knew I would find a way to get you back."
She gave him a smile that made it all worth it. "You were right, too, weren't you? You should know - I'd never leave you, not if Death himself came calling."
He shivered again.
"You know I'd never give up on you," he whispered. "Not though Death himself stood in my way."
Her hand continued to caress his face. It brushed back his curtain of silver hair, and for an instant, the moonlight glinted on something golden. Cyndia's face creased in puzzlement.
"What happened to your eye?" she asked.
"Oh, that? It's nothing. I had a little accident while I was traveling in Egypt. Encountered a striking young fellow who happened to catch my eye, and he wouldn't give it back, the naughty boy."
She laughed. "You haven't lost your sense of humor. I'm glad."
"Does it bother you?" he asked. "The missing eye, I mean."
"No," she said. "No, it really doesn't. I don't know how, but it seems to suit you, somehow. But I still like your real one better. You always had the most lovely eyes."
That was his Cyndia - always so ready to accept him, even with his faults. The emotion he'd been fighting back since he'd first caught sight of her broke loose, and he broke down and cried.
"I've been... so miserable without you..."
"Shh, it's all right," she murmured. "Everything is going to be all right now, my love..."
He put up no resistance as she drew him to her, letting him bury his face against her shoulder and sob freely. Even when his tears had dried, he had no desire to leave. In fact, all he ever wanted to do for the rest of his life, just then, was to lie there and stroke her hair and listen to her heartbeat and let her comfort him.
He wasn't sure how long he had lain there in that glorious daze before she brought his attention back to real life.
"I just thought of something," she said.
"Hm?"
"If I've been in a coma all this time... when was the last time I've actually eaten anything?"
He took the hint.
"Say no more," he said. "I will find something for you, and I will return! Don't wander off."
He reluctantly left her side and slipped out of the room. He lingered by the doorway, trying to gather himself again. It was still hard to believe this wasn't all just some kind of wild dream... but no, it wasn't. He could still feel her warmth; her scent still clung to his clothing. No dream or fantasy could be so real.
"She's alive," he whispered. "Alive..."
Crocketts met his master coming down the hallway and was momentarily nonplused. Only momentarily, however; he was used to Pegasus doing odd things. Right now, the esteemed head of Industrial Illusions was marching briskly down the passageways with a manic grin stretched across his face, humming snatches of pop music that had been popular in America six or seven years ago. It took him a few moments to realize he was being watched, but then he stopped walking and pointed at Crocketts.
"You," he said, "are getting a raise. And a bonus. A promotion. Whichever. All three."
Crocketts made an indeterminate noise. He didn't believe it any more than he had believed it the last sixty-seven times he'd been told he was fired, but this at least made a nice change.
"Are you quite all right, sir?" he asked carefully. "You seem a bit ... flustered."
"Am I all right? Of course I'm all right! I've never been better! I could fly like the winged steed himself!" He paused, apparently struck by some stray thought. "I was looking for something. What was I looking for? Oh, yes. Crocketts, send for a bowl of soup and have it sent up to my room. No, better yet, have it waiting in the kitchen. I'll pick it up myself later. But I need the latest edition of whatever they print ladies' fashion in these days. Catalogues. Yes. Oh, and while I'm thinking of it, I think I am going to want some vitamin pills, and some generic painkillers - not the name brand stuff, mind you. Something that doesn't have fancy labels printed all over them. Can you take care of that for me?"
None of this was making any sense to Crocketts - from the sound of things, it only barely made sense to Pegasus. He fell back on his old standby: "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."
"Good. Get it done quickly, do you understand? There are things that must be done tonight. I want a party - a grand celebration! Tonight, if possible. Raid the pantries. Break open the wine cellar. This should be a gala occasion!"
"A party? Who are we supposed to invite?"
"Anyone. Everyone! Invite everyone. Enemies, perfect strangers, employees, whoever's around."
Who else is there? Crocketts thought, but he knew better than to say that aloud. "I'll see that it's done," he said.
"Excellent, excellent." Pegasus patted him on the shoulder. "Good man, Crocketts. I knew I can count on you. Don't forget the soup, now, as quickly as possible. And the vitamins - that's very important!"
Crocketts watched his master wander off, lost in his own world where, presumably, all of this made perfect sense. It certainly made no sense to him, but Pegasus had always been a little eccentric, and there were times when his most nonsensical notions turned out to be the ones that held the most merit once they'd played out. It was always better to do what he said, no matter how ridiculous his orders sounded, just in case there was some delicate plan in the works that would be thrown off by noncompliance. Then again, there was always the chance that he'd just drunk a bit too much while he'd been hiding in his room all this time, but at least he didn't want anything hard to come by this time. Still, the things he was asking for...
Hmm. I do wonder...
Ah, well. It wasn't his place to question. If there was anything of importance going on, Pegasus would tell him about it, sooner or later. In the meantime, he had a job to do. Not just the acquisition of various odd and seemingly quite random items. No, that was simple. What was difficult was throwing a party. Crocketts had never been told to do so before, and was not entirely sure he knew how. He did not, as a rule, go to parties, unless his presence was required as a bodyguard, but even then he did not mingle with the crowds and celebrate. All impulses to have fun had long been trained out of him. After prolonged consideration, he decided that as long as large numbers of people were gathered on the island, the best thing to do would be to bring out some food and some music into a large open area and let the participants make the party happen themselves. If Pegasus wanted a party, he would probably ensure that one happened somehow.
Meanwhile, Pegasus had sequestered himself in a closet. It was quite a nice closet, of course, since he did not own anything that didn't display his wealth and aesthetic sense somehow. This particular closet was better even than the one he kept his own clothing in, and though it was seldom used, it was scrupulously clean. Actually, calling it a closet was a bit of a misnomer, as it appeared to be more of a room that was simply devoted to the holding of clothing. He had not been in there since the day it had been finished and filled with the items it had been meant to hold, and he entered it now the way a pious man would enter a church.
No one had ever really questioned exactly why, when Pegasus had pulled up stakes and moved himself to a castle on a remote island, he would bring all his dead sweetheart's clothing with him. Most people who knew anything about Pegasus suspected that he was a little insane, and those who knew him well knew that he was a little insane. If that was how he wanted to cope with his grief, that was fine by everyone - if he wanted to build a room to enshrine a dead woman's clothing, well, he had the money to spend on it. Only Crocketts knew exactly what Pegasus's plans were, and saw the sense in it. As for Pegasus, he had not been born a practical man, but living in the business world for a while had instilled some of that virtue in him, and he had worked out that in the event that he accomplished his goals, Cyndia was going to need something to wear when she arrived, and he had made sure he was ready when she did.
Pegasus walked slowly through the room, satisfying himself that everything was still exactly where it should be, and refreshing his memory. They were all still here - all the lovely, lacy, romantic, impractical clothing she had always loved, and had worn despite what changing fashions would have dictated. He had indulged her in this practice, as he'd indulged her in everything else. There had been a time when he'd known her measurements as well as he knew his own phone number, and had lavished her with elaborate creations of silk, satin, velvet, furs, and lace - as well as jewelry and perfumes and anything else he thought would please her, as if his whole life's goal had been to spend his family fortune on her. He ran his hands over the lovely gowns, searching out her particular favorites. The scent of her perfume still clung to them, and his touch stirred it up, conjuring up a powerful feeling of her presence.
I remember the last time she wore this... he thought, trailing his fingers over a silken sleeve, and was suddenly surprised to find tears building in his eye. He jerked his hand away.
Stop that! What's the matter with you? It's all changed now...
Inexorably, he was drawn to the end of the room, and the showpiece of the collection. It was a single dress on its own stand, carefully preserved: a sensational conglomerate of silk and satin and gauze, laced generously with precious and semi-precious stones: a wedding dress. It had been made exclusively for her by a Parisian fashion designer whose works most people could only dream of owning, and no expense had been spared on it. It had never fulfilled its intended purpose, and she had only even seen it once...
"Do you like it?
"Oh, Pegasus, it's lovely! It's fit for a princess..."
"I know, and you deserve so much better, but it's the best I could do on such short notice.
She laughed. "I never should have agreed to this, you know. You're going to make a frightfully indulgent husband, and I'm going to be completely spoiled.
"I know, but it's so much fun! You don't really regret this, do you?"
"Of course not! I can't wait. You're just lucky I'm not superstitious."
"Superstitious? What do you mean?"
"The pearls. You're not supposed to put pearls on a wedding dress. It's bad luck. They say for every pearl you wear on your wedding dress, your husband will give you a reason to cry."
"Well, then, so I shall! Tears of joy. I can think of no more rewarding occupation than spending my life finding ways to make you happy."
"And you'll do a wonderful job, I know. I'm going to be so happy with you...
He shook his head, banishing the memory. What bitter irony! It hadn't been long after that she'd fallen ill with the disease that would ultimately take her life. She had been hopeful and optimistic to the last, and it had been he who was left to weep inconsolably.
"But that's in the past," he told himself sternly. "It doesn't matter anymore. I've undone it. It might just as well have never happened. And this time I will have my wedding, and keep my promise..."
First, though, he'd have to finish his errand. He collected the makings of a few outfits and prepared to deliver them to his room. On the way, he dropped by the kitchen to see if the soup he'd ordered was ready, and found it resting neatly on a tray, next to a stack of catalogues and three bottles of pills with the labels fastidiously removed. Good old Crocketts! You could always count on him to get things done quickly and efficiently. Granted, the catalogues showed some signs of use, but they were still current. Probably they had been taken from one or more of the female servants, possibly against their will. Pegasus chuckled, finding the image of the straitlaced Crocketts forcing the maids to hand over books of women's clothing to be fraught with humor. He really was going to have to see about giving him that raise. He tucked the catalogues under his arm with the clothing, put everything else on the tray, and went to see how his beloved was doing.
He found her where he had left her, still dozing in his bed, but she was half-sitting instead of lying down, and she opened her eyes as soon as he walked into the room.
"I brought you something to eat," he said, "and something to wear, and something to amuse yourself with."
"I was wondering what was taking you so long," she said.
"Most of your good things were in storage," he said. "I'll have them reinstated at once. Here."
He set the tray down on the bedside table, put the clothing on a handy chair, and offered her the stack of catalogues.
"I'm afraid most of your things have become frightfully outmoded," he said, "so I thought you might like the opportunity to catch up with the latest fashions. Pick yourself out a new wardrobe. Just circle anything you like, and I can have it here as early as tomorrow. I'll pull strings."
She laughed. "That's very generous, but it's really not necessary..."
"I insist! You should have the best of everything. No fiancee of mine is going to go about seven years behind the times, not while I can afford to see her properly dressed."
"Well, can you?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know. You did say I'd been sick a long time, and medical bills are expensive..."
He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Trust me. My finances are the only thing that has prospered since you've been... away. I started a little business to give myself something to do, and it's taken off rather nicely. Really, I've become quite the businessman. Your father would be amazed. I believe it was he who said I was an idle dreamer who would never amount to anything?"
She laughed. "And I believe it was I who told him what I thought of that idea. So I really shouldn't worry?"
"You really shouldn't. If I catch you worrying, I'll track down a copy of my latest estimated net worth and show it to you. If that doesn't lay all your fears to rest, nothing will."
"What is it?" she asked curiously.
He told her. She blinked.
"My goodness," she said. "You really have been busy!"
"I had nothing better to do," he said. "To be honest... I did it all for you. I did it all so I would have the resources to have you alive and well, so you could have the life you deserve. All of it is worthless without you to share it with."
"I don't know what to say..."
"You don't have to say a thing." He sat down next to her so he could cup her face in his hands and look into her eyes. "Darling, I know this must be a bit overwhelming for you, but try to trust me. The world may have changed around us, but my feelings for you haven't changed. There is still nothing I wouldn't do for you, no lengths I would not go to for your sake. You are my world."
"I know, darling, I know... and I love you, too."
He closed his eye and sighed blissfully. "How sweet that sounds."
Someone knocked on the door.
"Sir?" said Crocketts's voice. "Are you in there? All the preparations have been made, and everyone is looking for you. You had better come out and say something before the guests riot."
"They are not going to riot," said Pegasus. "It's your job to keep them from rioting... but I suppose I must keep up appearances. I'll go down and mingle if it will keep things quiet around here."
"Excellent. I'll tell them you're on your way."
Pegasus heard a note of annoyance in the man's voice, and he sighed. Obviously Crocketts wasn't going to let him out of this one, and he could be remarkably persistent when he put his mind to it.
"Ah, the world presses in," he said glumly. "I suppose I had better go cater to the whims of the masses for a bit, but frankly, they aren't nearly as interesting as you are."
"Who is here?" she asked. "And where is here, anyway? I don't recognize it."
"A castle on a small island. It's called Duelist Kingdom."
"What a romantic name!" she said. "Almost Arthurian."
"I'm glad you approve," he answered, with a slight bow. "And to answer your first question, you've chosen to awaken at a rather awkward moment. I'm in the middle of a promotional affair, and there are a number of guests about who wouldn't ordinarily be here otherwise. They'll all be gone in a day or two, depending on how long it takes to get things dealt with. Once they're gone, we can have some time together without interruptions."
She smiled playfully. "Then you had better hurry up! You wouldn't want to upset poor Mr. Crocketts, would you?"
"No, indeed," he said. He rose from where he'd been sitting, then bent to gently kiss her forehead. "Be a good girl and eat your soup before it gets cold. I'll be back as soon as I possibly can."
"All right. I'll be waiting."
The look she gave him was sufficient to make him wish, if only fleetingly, that he could just call this whole contest off and send everyone home, but if he tried that, the guests really would riot, and he didn't want to do anything that would upset Cyndia. He contented himself with blowing her one last kiss as he walked away, and telling himself that he would have plenty of time alone with her when things calmed down a bit. The idea of being alone with her on his little paradise island was a thrilling prospect.
Oh, well. It would happen very soon. All he had to do was get all these stray duelists out of his kingdom. It couldn't be that hard. There was not one among them, now, who could stand up to him.
As he left the room, it occurred to him that he still had a jumble of Millennium Items lying on his carpet. Granted, he didn't think anyone was going to break into his room and bother them, but he didn't want Cyndia touching them and possibly getting into trouble with them. He'd read nasty stories about what happened to people who claimed Items that weren't theirs, which were graphic enough to make him certain to follow the correct route in acquiring them. Anyway, it seemed disrespectful to just leave them on the floor. He picked them all up and decided to see what he could do about putting them somewhere safe and out of the way. It didn't seem prudent to keep them all in the same place - even if they would drive the thief who stole them insane, it might not happen until they were too far away to do Pegasus any good. He resolved to hide them all... except one. After all, he'd promised.
A few minutes later, one of his security personnel was approached by Pegasus, who handed him a box wrapped gaily in some of last year's Christmas paper. It had a big red bow on it with a sprig of tinsel and a bell that jingled.
"Here," said Pegasus. "I need you to find someone and give this to him."
"Oh," said the guard, bemusedly accepting the package. "Did you... want me to give it to someone in particular, or just whoever I can find?"
"It belongs to a boy," Pegasus replied. "Effeminate looking creature with a mop of white hair. Oh, what was his name? Hmm... Bakana? No, that's ridiculous. Bakura! That's it. Ryou Bakura. Hand it over to him, would you? I promised I'd give it back, and I am a man of my word." He chuckled, as if enjoying a private joke.
"Yes, sir. As you wish."
Pegasus walked off, still laughing softly. From his brief chat with the Spirit of the Ring, he had inferred that the Spirit and the boy were not particularly close friends, and he could only imagine what the boy's reaction would be like when he got his "gift". He almost wished he could hang around to watch, but it wasn't at the top of his priority list. His priority right now was to get everyone calmed down for a while so he could get back to what really mattered. Nothing in the world mattered as much as Cyndia did. As long as she was with him, nothing else could possibly go wrong.
Cyndia was growing restless. When she had first awakened, it had been with a strong disinclination to move around very much, but the feeling of weakness had faded quickly once she'd eaten something. Within a few minutes, she felt well enough to get up and walk around a bit. She had tried to amuse herself for a while by looking at the catalogues Pegasus had brought her, but her mind wasn't focused on it. It was just too overwhelming to look at how much things had changed in what felt to her like the span of a night's sleep. Instead, she got out of bed, slipped out of the plain white shift she had been wearing, and into her old familiar clothes. It made her feel a little more like herself. She smoothed her hair as best she could without benefit of a mirror or a brush, and then crept over to the door. She looked out. There was a plushly appointed hallway, suitable for someone whose annual income amounted to tens of millions. She wondered what else was out there, out of her sight. She also wondered where Pegasus had gone.
I don't suppose I can get too lost, she decided. She wanted to stretch her legs a little, and was curious about her new surroundings, besides not feeling comfortable alone in a strange place. I'm sure someone can tell me where Pegasus is.
Sure enough, she hadn't gone very far when she ran into one of the ubiquitous guards.
"Can I help you, miss?" the man asked. "You look like you've gotten a bit lost. The party is in the other direction."
"I was trying to find Pegasus," Cyndia answered. "Can you tell me where he is?"
"You must have just missed him. Last I heard, he was on his way there to give a speech. Go back to the main courtyard. He's probably still there."
"I'm afraid I don't know how to get there from here," she said.
"It's simple. Just go back the way you came until you reach the stairwell. Go down the stairs, turn right, and keep walking down the biggest hallway. You can't miss it."
"Thank you so much."
"My pleasure, ma'am."
She nodded politely to the security man before turning to follow his directions. The staircase turned out to be an elaborate swooping thing that twisted around in dizzy spirals before finally depositing her in a small passage lined with portraits. Several of them were her own, and she smiled at them, touched by this show of devotion. There was also one more that puzzled her, showing a strange, dark-skinned man dressed in white robes. He had peculiar blue eyes that did not seem to match his deeply tanned complexion. She was not sure she liked the expression on his face. He did not look like the kind of man who would help someone out of the goodness of his heart.
Who is he? Did Pegasus paint this? I wonder why.
Well, she would ask him when she found him. She hurried down the passage and found herself in a grand entry hall. There were several small hallways leading away from this one, but only one that occupied any kind of central space. She could dimly hear music and voices coming from that direction. That had to be the party she was looking for, and she picked up her pace as she moved towards it.
Meanwhile, the party was indeed going at full blast. Crocketts had been right when he had assumed that a large number of fairly bored young persons could easily get a party going if they were provided with the right ingredients. All it had taken was an order to set up some stereo equipment outside, and some tables of food and drinks, and everything else had taken care of itself. It didn't hurt that Pegasus had given permission to raid the wine cellars, which seemed to make many of the participants willing to forgive him for the delays. He had appeared and given a brief speech, congratulating them all on many well-played duels, and assuring them that tomorrow the results of the contest would be announced, but for now they should all enjoy themselves and feel proud of a job well done. Then he had come down from his podium to mingle with the guests, and everyone had set about taking advantage of their host's hospitality.
Everyone except Yugi. Despite his friends' best efforts, he still hadn't gotten over his pain at losing the Puzzle - and at losing his other self. No one could do anything to comfort him, so at last, he had asked them to simply leave him alone and let him try to think of a way to get the Puzzle back. Unfortunately, no ideas were coming to mind, and all he was managing to do was sink deeper and deeper into despondence.
"Hey, kid," said someone. "Don't look so down. We can't all win! Here, this will make you feel better." He pressed a drinking cup into Yugi's hands.
Yugi inspected it curiously. Some kind of fruit punch, he guessed. He didn't know how such a thing would make him feel better at a time like this, but he appreciated the attempt at kindness, so he murmured a thank-you to the stranger and took a sip of the stuff. It wasn't bad, whatever it was. Different, but not bad. He supposed you had to expect something a little different from someone like Pegasus.
Pegasus... I'll get you for this if it's the last thing I ever do! The Spirit was my protector... my friend. He was only trying to help me... I should have listened to him. If I had let the Spirit have his way, this wouldn't be happening. This is all my fault. I have to find him again and tell him I'm sorry...
"Is something wrong?"
Yugi looked up. The friendly stranger had walked off, and had been replaced by the most beautiful woman Yugi had ever seen. He boggled at her, which was what he usually did when confronted with extraordinarily beautiful females.
"I'm sorry. Did I startle you?" she said. "I didn't mean to. Let's try this again. My name is Cyndia Truesdale. What's yours?"
"Yugi Mutou."
"It's nice to meet you, Yugi Mutou. I couldn't help but notice you looked unhappy. Can I ask what's wrong?"
"Ah, well..." he stammered. He thought quickly. He couldn't possibly begin to explain the full depths of his problem to a complete stranger, but she seemed so genuinely kind and concerned that it was hard to turn her away. "I kind of got into a fight with a friend. See, he gave me something really special, and I let someone steal it. Now I'm afraid he'll be angry at me, and he'll never speak to me again... but the person who took it from me is someone a lot stronger than me, and I don't know how to get it back."
"That's not right," she said. "We can't let him get away with that! Are they still here?"
"They're still on the island," he admitted, "but-"
"I'll talk to my fiancee about it," she said. "He's an influential man, and he's very kind. I'm sure he can do something to help."
Yugi wanted to say it was a little more complicated than that, but he didn't think he could find the words to explain exactly what it was. He felt tired and dull-witted and too laden down with gloom to really care what she did or not do. Besides, if there was any chance, even the smallest of chances, that this woman could do something to help him, he didn't want to turn her down.
"Thank you," he said. "That's nice of you."
"Can you tell me what it is that was stolen?"
"It was a puzzle, made of gold. It's shaped like a pyramid, kind of like this." He held up his hands with the tips of his forefingers and thumbs touching to show the Puzzle's approximate size and shape.
"I see. I'll remember," she said. "I must be going now. I hope things improve for you."
"Thank you," he said again.
She waved to him as she vanished into the crowd, leaving him feeling as if he'd seen some kind of a ghost. There was something a little odd about her, he decided. It might have had something to do with her rather old-fashioned dress and mannerisms, and then again perhaps it didn't. Either way, he decided that her kindness was genuinely intended, and there was no real harm in telling her a little about his problems. Probably no harm could come of it.
From Pegasus's perspective, the celebration was going swimmingly. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, anyway, which was what he'd had in mind when he'd ordered the idea. This was a day to celebrate, and someone had better celebrate it! He had made his speech to them, extended a few felicitations and shaken a few hands, and swung by the refreshment table just long enough to make sure no one was serving his best wine to the hoi-polloi. Fortunately his servants seemed to know better than to take him too literally where matters of such importance were concerned. He felt like being generous tonight, but not to ridiculous extremes. He probably couldn't have admitted to himself exactly why it was so vitally important that there be a party tonight. There just had to be one to make everything right. Right now, though, he was getting a bit tired of mixing with the masses, and was eager to return to his beloved's side. He was just about to do so when the crowd in front of him parted a little, and he looked, and he saw... her.
For a moment, it was as if time had been turned backwards, and he was seeing her for the first time all over again. She was wearing a blue dress with pink ribbons, and the moonlight sparkled on her hair and in her eyes. For a split second, he was marginally concerned about what might happen if someone else here were to see her and recognize her, but he let his worries be washed away under a wave of joy at seeing her up and about again. There was probably no one here who would have any idea who she was, anyway.
She didn't seem to see him, just yet. Her expression was thoughtful, and he found himself wondering just was going through her mind that was making her look so pensive. Out of sheer habit, he started to have a look for himself.
Wait a minute! What am I doing? he thought in horror. I can't treat her that way! The thought of violating her that way made him feel slightly sickened. It was a disturbing reminder of how much he had come to depend on the Eye, that he should so naturally reach for its power at the slightest whim. He was going to have to break himself of that habit. It made him feel uneasy, to think how much he had changed in the last few years. What if it had been too much? What if she disliked those changes - disliked them enough that she didn't want to be with him anymore? The thought sent a momentary chill through him. It was awful to live when she was dead, but a thousand times worse to live while she cared nothing for him.
Ah, well. I can change. For her, I can change. It isn't as if I really need to use the Eye anymore...
She looked up, then, and her eyes met his. She smiled and ran towards him.
"There you are!" she said. "I've been looking all over for you."
He laughed a little. "Just couldn't keep away, could you?"
"I got lonely. I hope you don't mind me inviting myself to your party. I hardly feel groomed for one."
"Nonsense, my dear. You look ravishing."
"And you're a flatterer."
"It's not flattery when it's the truth!" He meant it. He was finding himself wishing he hadn't managed to lose his other eye, so he could stare at her properly.
"You always say that," she said. She sighed dreamily. "This is just like old times, isn't it? It's just like when we first met..."
"Yes," he said. "That's exactly what it's like."
That's exactly what I wanted, he realized. To start over. A new beginning. This time, the bad things won't happen. I won't let anything happen, this time around.
"Heh, would you look at that!" said Honda.
Yugi, who had been staring moodily into his nearly empty tumbler, managed to rouse himself enough to see what his friend was pointing at. He blinked as waves of surprise began running slowly through his brain.
"What the heck?" said Jonouchi, going slightly pale.
"Looks like Pegasus has a girlfriend, now," said Honda. He made a wry face. "What did he do to deserve that? I still can't get a decent girlfriend, yet!"
Jonouchi shook his head. "For a second there, I thought it was Mai. She is a looker, though, isn't she?"
Yugi nodded silently. She was very pretty, as pretty as the woman who had been talking to him earlier, because she was the same woman. Right now, she was busy talking to Pegasus, if "talking" was the right word. Somewhere along the line, the sinister, slightly insane man who had made his last few hours a misery had undergone some kind of strange metamorphosis. He was now the embodiment of a knight in shining armor, minus the armor, hanging on to every word the woman said with a fatuous expression, his gaze never straying from her for an instant. The two of them were deeply involved in flirting and laughing, stealing kisses, and in general behaving like a pair of honeymooners.
He's... he can't be... her fiancee? Yugi thought. But she seemed so kind. Can she really know what kind of person he is? She said he was a kind man...
"I guess even Pegasus can have hormones," said Anzu with a half-shrug.
"He must, with the way he's acting," Honda said. "You'd think they could at least get a room or something. Americans are shameless."
Jonouchi nudged Honda with an elbow. "Hey, remember the time when that girl Miho was in the swimsuit competition at school, and you got so worked up you fell in the pool?"
"Yeah, well, at least I wasn't making out with her in public," Honda retorted.
"I don't like it," said a cold, authoritative voice.
Everyone turned to look. Kaiba had crept up on them from behind, and was standing there looking around as if he was disapproving of the world in general.
"Just because you don't have a romantic bone in your body doesn't mean everyone has to be like that," said Anzu.
"Humph. I couldn't care less about that," said Kaiba. "If he wants to act like a lovestruck puppy in his own home, that's his business. What bothers me is that the girl in question is supposed to be dead."
Jonouchi looked from the girl - Cyndia, Yugi belatedly remembered her name was - and back again.
"She doesn't look very dead to me," he said.
"I know," Kaiba replied. "That's what bothers me."
"Either make some sense or go away," said Honda.
"Fine, then. Allow me to show you something."
Kaiba flicked a portable computer out of his pocket and began pulling up files.
"I always research my rivals, and my enemies, and my allies," he said. "You'd be amazed what I know about you all."
"Which of those are we?" asked Jonouchi.
Kaiba rolled his eyes and didn't bother to answer. Instead, he clicked on a folder and produced what appeared to be scans of assorted newspaper clippings.
"Here," he said. "You can alleviate some of your ignorance by reading these."
Everyone gathered around to look. The newspaper clippings weren't all that enlightening, as they were all in English and therefore mostly unreadable, but there were a series of pictures that proved more interesting. Overall, they seemed to follow the life and times of Pegasus's youth, showing him as an honor roll student in school and later, winning prizes in youth art competitions. They scrolled past these until they came to a color photograph showing him as a teenager, standing with his arms around the same young woman he was with now. They were smiling in the photo - not at the camera, but at each other. He looked very different, much younger and more innocent. She looked exactly as she did now.
"She hasn't changed," said Anzu, in a slightly mystified tone. "How old are these pictures?"
"That one was taken about eight years ago," said Kaiba. "It's an engagement announcement. Keep looking."
Scrolling down some more, they found another photograph. This one's tone was completely different. There was a funeral going on. Young Pegasus stood next to a fresh grave, gazing at it with a look of incomprehension. There was no sign of tears, only the desperate, lost look of someone whose life has just come crashing down around him, and who has no idea where to turn or what to do.
"I had a hard time getting that one," said Kaiba. "It was never in the papers, but there's always some paparazzi person who has to take pictures of everything."
"He looks so sad," said Anzu. "It's hard to believe he's the same person..."
"It's probably all faked," Jonouchi opined.
Privately, Yugi didn't think so. The pain on the young man's face was too stark to be feigned. Aloud, he said, "I don't understand. What has this got to do with anything?"
"Let me spell it out," said Kaiba. "Eight years ago, Pegasus was engaged to a girl named Cyndia Truesdale, but she died before they were married. After that, he dropped out of sight, and when he came back, he started all this. And now she's back."
"It can't be possible," said Honda. "People just don't come back from the dead. This has got to be some girl who just looks like her."
"She looks exactly like the girl in the photo," said Anzu, sounding a little frightened now. "Exactly. It's like she hasn't aged in all this time."
"What do you think, Yugi?" Jonouchi asked. "You know more about this magical stuff than any of us."
Yugi started to say something, and realized he didn't know what to say. His head was spinning. He decided to say something, after all.
"I don't feel so good," he said, and quietly passed out.
There was a general panic as Yugi's friends rushed to aid him. Kaiba snorted, took his computer back, and wandered off, muttering to himself about idiots. Jonouchi picked up the tumbler Yugi had been drinking out of and dipped his finger cautiously into the liquid that remained at the bottom. He licked a drop off, and then spat it out.
"Is it poisoned?" asked Anzu.
Jonouchi spluttered, almost incoherent with rage.
"Who thought it would be a good idea," he shouted, "to give wine to a kid like Yugi?"
Bakura roamed around the courtyard, reveling in his newfound freedom. He was not quite sure what to do with himself, now that the voice in his head seemed to have abandoned him. The reason for exactly why this should be so eluded him; all he had was a memory of the voice whispering into his mental ear that he was finally going away, and that Bakura should be happy now. Then there had been darkness, and when he had awakened, he was alone, completely alone, and the Ring was gone. He wanted to go and find his friends, to shout the good news to him, but he restrained himself. After all, he knew Yugi had lost his Puzzle, too, in a much more traumatic fashion, and Yugi had liked his other self. He couldn't bring himself to intensify a friend's grief by bragging about his own good fortune.
I wonder what made him decide to leave? he mused, idly running a hand over the place where the Ring used to be. I hope he hasn't gone off to make someone else's life miserable...
He shook that thought off; he didn't want to even consider that possibility. It was safer just to imagine that the voice was gone and would never bother anyone again.
I almost hope Pegasus got him... or he got Pegasus. Two thieves deserve each other. Is it too much to hope that they'll destroy each other, and we won't have to worry about either of them anymore? It probably was, but it was an interesting idea. Bakura wouldn't wish slavery to an evil spirit to another innocent person, even if it meant Bakura himself would be free of him, but the idea of a thief getting his comeuppance wouldn't prick his conscience too much.
In the meantime, he could actually do as he wished, and talk to people without fear of danger. He smiled to himself as he circulated through the crowd, sampled some party snacks, and exchanged a few cards with one of the partygoers just because he could. A lot of his cards had appeared in his deck without him ever consciously buying them or putting them there, and he could guess how they had come to be there. He expected the Voice would have been annoyed if he could see what Bakura was exchanging the cards he had chosen for better ones - not stronger ones, but more wholesome. The people he was swapping with must have felt they were getting the better end of the deal, but Bakura was very pleased with his acquisitions. He almost laughed as he inserted the new cards into his deck.
"Excuse me, young man. Is your name Bakura? Ryou Bakura?"
"Yes, that's me," he replied. He blinked bemusedly at a man in a suit and dark glasses. He looked like the kind of man who wouldn't ask someone's name unless the owner of that name was in deep trouble, or about to be.
"Package for you, sir." He thrust a gift-wrapped box into Bakura's hands.
"Oh," said Bakura. Automatically, he added, "Thank you."
The suited man wandered off, leaving Bakura to wonder who would give him a package, and why. He chalked it up to one of the many odd things that had happened on this island, and was grateful that he'd be leaving soon, before things could get even stranger. It looked like a harmless thing, in its jingle bells and ribbons and Santa Claus wrapping paper, yet he found himself strangely disinclined to open it. Scolding himself for paranoia, he undid the ribbons and opened the box. There was a fluff of green tissue paper inside. He reached a hand into it, and he felt his fingers brush something hard and cold. A voice in his mind said, Hello, my host. Did you miss me?
Bakura responded by reeling off every foul word he knew, which was considerably more than his friends would have ever guessed from his proper demeanor. He seldom if ever said them aloud, but you couldn't live in gang-riddled Domino without picking up a thing or two.
Ah, I see you did, the voice replied. Poor boy. You must have thought I'd abandoned you forever. There, there, my host. I would never do such a vile and hurtful thing as to leave you all alone and unprotected in the cold, cruel world. I know better than anyone how very cruel it is. You need someone like me to look after you.
I thought you said you were leaving me, thought Bakura angrily.
And so I was. I had a little errand to run, in a place where it wouldn't have been safe to bring you. You would have been killed or driven mad if I had tried to bring you along. I watch out for your best interests, you see. Now I'm finished, so I've come back.
I didn't want you to come back. You aren't wanted.
Admit it - you didn't know what to do with yourself while I was away. You're too used to having me to guide and protect you to think for yourself anymore.
I could have worked it out.
Nonsense. I've been looking after you for too long for you to remember how. You'd be dead within a week without me to defend you. Now, be a good boy and put the Ring back on.
Bakura hesitated. He knew he didn't have to obey. He could take the Ring off and throw it away, break it apart, give it away to someone stronger and wiser than he was. He could stuff it in his backpack and lock it away in some place where he would never have to look at it again. He knew he could do it, but...
He took the Ring out of the box and slipped its cord around his neck, letting it settle heavily back into place.
Very good! the voice mocked. You see, you have no will of your own anymore. I have stolen it, just as I steal everything I want. You can never really get rid of me, because there will always be a part of you that wants me back. I make life too easy for you to cope without me. He laughed, wildly. I always grant your wishes, host. I grant the dark wishes that you are ashamed to even admit you have. I let you do things you never would have the courage to do without me... like take vengeance on the ones who hurt you. Let me guess - not long ago, you were wishing that something bad would befall the one who hurt your little friend Yugi's feelings by taking his precious Puzzle. You wished I'd do something nasty to him, didn't you?
Bakura didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The voice knew.
Yes, that's exactly what you wanted, said the Spirit. Never fear. I know exactly what to do. If he wants to take things, we'll just make him give them back.
How are you going to make him do that? He has most of the Items now, doesn't he? He's more powerful than you are, Bakura pointed out.
To his surprise, the Spirit laughed. There's more than one kind of power, host! No, he may have six of the Millennium Items, but I know how to use mine. Knowledge is power. Just you wait and see.
Cyndia was watching the party go by, marveling at the variety of people who were there. She thought she'd picked out people speaking at least three different languages, as well as identifying male and female, young and old, glamorous and plain. Despite their differences, there was a sense of camaraderie about all of them. Something united them in a way that was not visible on the surface, and Cyndia was intrigued.
"What are they all here for?" she asked.
Pegasus gave her a faintly disappointed look, as if a bit jealous she wasn't spending all her attention on him.
"They are here for a competition," he said. "A promotion, as I said. That's what I do, these days - I own an entertainment industry, specializing in games."
She laughed. "And here I thought you had finally taken up something serious."
"Oh, I am serious about it," he said. "You just have no idea how serious I am about it all."
Something in his voice suggested a joke, though not one she understood. She was quite used to that, however, and didn't bother trying to unravel what exactly he meant by it.
"It takes a lot of research, you know, to make something like this work," he continued more seriously. "I actually based all of this on an ancient ceremony performed in Egypt, in the time of the Pharaohs."
"Yes. You mentioned Egypt before, when I woke up."
"I've taken a bit of an interest in Egyptology. Egypt was where I found the first hint that led to the cure for your condition, and I've developed a certain attachment to the place. If you were to search my library, you'd find any number of books and artifacts originating from there. It's good to have a constructive hobby, don't you agree?"
"What's become of your painting?"
Pegasus sighed. "I'm afraid that without you for inspiration, it's fallen somewhat by the wayside. It's been a long time since I've painted anything for my own enjoyment... However, I see that changing dramatically in the near future."
"I do hope so. I hate to think of you being unhappy."
"I can't possibly be unhappy when you're with me."
The moment was shattered by a sudden outcry, and both of them turned to see a pair of young boys getting into a scuffle, flailing ineffectually at each other. A number of cards were scattered on the ground in front of them, being trampled in the melee.
"Here, stop that!" said Pegasus, striding over to them and pulling them apart. They struggled a moment before realizing who they were dealing with, and then instantly became models of propriety.
"That's better," Pegasus said. "Now, what in the name of all wonder do you think you're doing? You're supposed to be world-class duelists, and here I find you in my own home, brawling like a pair of street fighters. What do you have to say for yourselves?"
"Sorry," said one of the boys, hanging his head. "We just thought we'd have a quick game, that's all."
"He was cheating!" said the other boy. "He peeked at my cards!"
"Oh, for... Haven't you two played enough already?" Pegasus scolded. "I don't care who was doing what - that is absolutely no excuse to spoil the party by fighting with each other. Now, pick up your cards and either agree to be civil to each other, or go work it out somewhere else."
"Sorry," said the other boy. Both of them looked contritely at the ground. The cards they had been playing with were still scattered across the walkway, many of them showing signs of having been trodden on. Pegasus looked at them both thoughtfully a moment, and then seemed to take pity on them.
"Here," he said, drawing a few cards out of his pocket and handing them to the boys. "This will make up for the ones that were trampled."
"Wow, thanks!" said the boys, looking eagerly at their new cards. They scampered off, their argument quite forgotten, and Pegasus walked away with a smile.
"There, all straight," he said to Cyndia.
"All that commotion over a card game?" she replied.
"Everyone here is quite serious about it," Pegasus answered seriously. "These people here are some of the best players in the world. It's quite a popular pastime, these days - Duel Monsters! I made it myself," he added, preening a bit. She laughed.
"Are they going to compete, then?" she asked.
"I'm afraid not. The contest is over. You came in a bit late - but don't worry. If you really want to see the game in progress, there will be plenty of other opportunities. As I said, the game is very popular. This is actually quite a small tournament. Of course, if you're really interested, you have the very good luck to have exclusive access to an undefeated champion who would be willing to tutor you."
"Who is that?"
"Me!"
She laughed again. Pegasus composed a look of mock-affront.
"You aren't taking me seriously," he said.
"I am, I am!" said Cyndia, stifling her giggles. "So how do you play this game, then? Is it hard to learn?"
"Oh, the concept is simple enough. Players act as wizards who summon monsters and use traps and spells against each other. Monsters deal damage to each other and the players; traps and spells affect how the battle goes. In the end, someone runs out of life points and they lose, and the other wins. Simple! Here, have a look for yourself."
He passed her a handful of cards for her inspection. She flicked through them curiously, studying the pictures on the front. She was faintly dismayed to see that most of them looked to be well qualified for the title of monster - bugs and walking corpses and other slimy things.
"Are all of them so... so alarming?" she asked.
"You shouldn't call my monsters names," said Pegasus, though with more amusement than rebuke in his tone. "They're what made Pegasus J. Crawford a household name, and it behooves us to treat them with respect. But to answer your question seriously, no. There are as many different monsters as there are people who play the game. Some of them are really quite cute. Have a look!"
He took out a different set of cards - Cyndia got the feeling that this was his own personal deck - and carefully selected one, which he passed along to her. She studied it, and discovered it to be a round-eyed, winged pink creature with a disarming smile.
"Oh, it's adorable!" she said.
Pegasus smiled slyly. "That one is called the Happy Lover."
She gave Pegasus a tolerant smile.
"Flirt," she accused, and turned her attention back to the... well, she didn't want to call it a monster, even if that was technically what it was. It was just too cute to call a monster!
"You really are going to have to teach me to play this game," she said.
"I have no doubt you'll be a champion," Pegasus replied. "I will be more than happy to teach you the rules and help you choose a deck that suits you. It's very important to have cards that you feel comfortable with. They're highly symbolic, you know."
She looked at him to see if he was kidding. She was probably the only person on the planet who could have told the difference. He wasn't. Once again an unsettling wave of emotion washed over her, something that made her feel as if she were very far from home. So much had happened that she had missed. There was so much going on around her that she didn't understand, and every explanation seemed to lead to something new and equally bewildering. She had a sudden stark realization that she was in a building she had never been to before, on an island she had never heard of, surrounded by people she didn't know, who had come to play a game she didn't understand. She didn't know what to call the feeling, except that it made homesickness look like a trifle in comparison.
Some of her emotion must have shown on her face, because instantly Pegasus had a protective arm around her.
"Are you all right?" he asked. "Has something upset you?"
"I'm just a little overwhelmed," she said. She smiled apologetically. "This is all a bit much to take in, all at once, and it hit me all of a sudden..."
"Let's go somewhere quieter," he said.
They left the party together, abandoning the noise and the crowd for the serenity of the castle walls. There was a walkway where one might take an evening constitutional, and the pair strolled together until they came to a small balcony where they could look out over the churning ocean together. The light from a quarter-moon silvered the waves. Without any city lights to dim them, the stars seemed brighter than Cyndia had ever seen them, so that the night sky seemed to have more light than darkness in it, and she gazed up at them in awe.
"I've never seen a sky like this," she said. "So many stars... Look! There's the Pegasus."
"I prefer the moon," he replied, but he was looking at her.
She laughed. "I'm not a moon goddess, even if I am named after one."
"Of course you are! You are the light in my darkness, as far above all other women as the moon is above the ocean."
"How did I know you were going to say something like that?" she answered. "I'm glad to know you haven't changed that much."
She turned to face him, studying his face for... she didn't know what. Some hint, some clue to help her sort out everything that was happening. He was still so much the way she remembered him, and yet he was different. Despite everything she had seen tonight, the one thing that had truly convinced her that seven years had passed was looking at his face. It had lost some of its youthful softness, and there were the faintest traces of lines around his mouth and across his brow that had not been there before... and there was, too, that enigmatic metal eye. It wasn't that he was unattractive to her now. On the contrary, there was something finished about him, as if she were seeing the final copy of something she had only seen before in the planning stages. He had been through pain and suffering, and it had revealed things in him that had been buried before. She still found him the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He had just... changed. She groped for words to explain herself.
"So many things have happened," she said at last. "Things I don't even know about yet. It will be a long time... I may never catch up on everything I've missed. Things are different now. You've become a very important person. Are you sure you still want to marry a girl whose only claim to fame is that her father was mayor of a small town when she was ten years old?"
"Of course I still want to marry you!" he said. He took both her hands and gazed at her solemnly. "All I've dreamed about these past seven years is having you with me so that I can do exactly that. You must not doubt that. No matter what has changed, no matter what may happen, you must never forget that there is nothing I want more than to be with you."
He paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully out at the night.
"Perhaps," he said at length, "we should go away somewhere... somewhere far away where no one has heard of either of us, and no one expects anything of us. You can catch up to the rest of the world at your own pace, and we can get reacquainted."
"That would be nice," she said.
"So, where will it be, hmm? You choose. The lights of Paris, perhaps? A cozy cabin in the Alps? The world is your oyster!"
"Somewhere tropical, I think," she said.
"An excellent choice! I am partial to islands," he said.
"We could make it a honeymoon," she added slyly.
"I would like that," Pegasus replied. "I would like that very, very much."
She became aware that his hands, still clasping hers, were trembling ever-so-slightly.
"Pegasus, is something wrong? You're shaking," she said.
"It is nothing," he said. He withdrew his hands and turned away. "Nothing, only... well, it's nothing. Just... I have been faithful to you, these years."
She was struck for a moment by the non sequitur, and then worked out what he was delicately expressing and realized it was no such thing. She had a sudden sense of what it must have been like for this passionate man to be condemned to seven years of cold chastity, and found herself trying to stifle a giggle.
Oh, dear... No wonder he's tense!
She wondered if she ought to do something about it, or whether it would be better to wait, and whether it would hurt anything if she didn't, and what she actually wanted to do about it.
"It's a bit chilly out here," she declared. "The breeze off the ocean..."
It was a warm, balmy night, without even enough wind to stir their long hair.
"You're absolutely right. How frightfully inconsiderate of me to bring you out here in this weather," he said. "Perhaps we should take this conversation inside?"
"I think that would be best," she said. "Though I'm afraid I don't know where my room is in this castle of yours. Would you be so kind as to escort me?"
"My dear lady, I would be delighted."
He took her hand and led her inside, and guided her back to her room. She went inside. So did he. They closed and locked the door behind them and did not come out for a very long time.