Somewhere between the market and the palace, Manu felt the weight of a full money bag settle into his belt. He turned around instantly, but there was no one within arm's length. Knowing what he'd find, he slowly scanned the houses along the street. Perhaps ten spear lengths away, a young man in a red cloak leaned against a wall, arms folded casually against his chest. The hood could not quite conceal the shock of bone-white hair.
Well done, Manu… he heard the man whisper inside his head. As always, the voice held a note of vicious glee. A stirring performance.
Manu shuddered and quickened his steps.
Celebrate it with a drink?
Manu stopped, stunned. Ahead of him, the young man pushed away from the wall. He smiled, an almost friendly smile, and gestured with one hand to the door of the building he had been leaning on. Manu knew it well; the den served some of the best beer in the city. He was suddenly very aware of the heat of the afternoon and his own dry throat.
"Come," the man said aloud, and it was clearly not a request.
Very thirsty now, and seeing no alternative, Manu followed the other man inside.
"Two beers," the other man snapped briskly at a serving girl as they entered. She nodded distractedly, somewhat overwhelmed by the noise and sheer number of customers around her. The beer here had a reputation after all. For a moment, daring a glance at his companion, Manu saw a flash of frightening rage cross the young man's face before it was replaced by equally frightening stillness. Stiffly, he led Manu to the wall and sat down with his back to it. Manu followed suit.
The beer was some minutes in coming, and in all that time, the young man never spoke a word. He didn't even look at Manu, only watched the crowd intently. Manu felt a flash of irritation. Then he felt irritated with himself for being afraid. He outweighed the other man, and he was still carrying his spear. Then he remembered the coolness of the knife against his throat.
"What do you want?" he demanded before he could lose his nerve.
The young man's eyes ticked back to him, but before he could say a word, the serving girl arrived back with the mugs of beer. Manu took a swig of his, and felt the beverage settle comfortably in his stomach. The young man just sipped.
"I have good news, Manu," he said after a moment. "After tonight, your gambling debts will be entirely cleared."
Manu's first thought was relief: his debt to Runihara had been like a lead stone around his neck. Then the rest of the sentence sank in. "Tonight?"
His companion smirked, a knife's edge. "It's a small thing. I just need you to slip this powder into your companions' beer tonight before they go on duty at the Southern Gate." A twist of his fingers, and a small packet landed on the floor between them.
"A small thing?!" Manu cried, shooting to his feet. "You call that a small thing? I would never…"
"Sit down, fool. People will stare."
People were indeed staring, but Manu couldn't look away from that terrifying silver gaze. Trembling, he sank back down against the wall.
His companion's voice, when he spoke again, was a silky, dangerous hiss. "Runihara has been very patient at my…request. He won't be for long. So either accept my bargain — this for the money you owe — or not. Perhaps Runihara could find a position you could fill."
In the weeks ahead, Manu would wish he could say he had weighed his options carefully. That he had at least wrestled with betraying the pharaoh by making it easier for an unknown thief and murderer to slip into the palace. But in all honesty, he didn't. The last man who had not paid Runihara what he was owed had been blinded. His hands had been cut off and his tongue cut out. Other…parts had been removed as well, and he'd been left begging in a distant corner of the marketplace.
Taking a deep breath, Manu picked up the little packet.
An hour into his search, and Chuma was about ready to scream with frustration. No one had been waiting for him at the usual rendezvous point, and he'd lingered there for several minutes. Stupid, cowardly thieves, making threats and underfoot until the moment when they were actually wanted! His anger surged, feeding his Shadows, and the passerby nervously gave him a wider berth. Not one of them could actually see the Shadows, but you didn't need to be a mage to feel the aura of cold decay hanging in the air.
Chuma was already angry, too angry to notice how the Shadows whispering in his ears guided his footsteps steadily down into the bowels of the city. Here, even the sunlight seemed strained. Tattered cloths hung in doorways. Thieves and drunks leaned against walls and the air was thick with the stench of dung and cheap beer.
Chuma caught sight of a man in the doorway, wiping his hands with a reddened cloth, and for the first time, he felt a trickle of fear. The Shadows rose up eagerly; fear from the master sometimes meant a good meal.
"Boo."
Chuma screamed and whirled around, bringing up his hands automatically to defend himself. Bakura only raised an eyebrow and a smirk played around his mouth.
"Jumpy, aren't you, boy?"
As always, Chuma's eyes were drawn to the awful scar on the other man's face, and the shock of bone-white hair. Some of the usual fear bubbled up, but only some. Chuma was too angry thinking of how he had been wronged to be properly afraid. "I know who you are," he said boldly.
"Good for you," Bakura said. "I know who I am too." He folded his arms, and Chuma was suddenly very aware of the knives at Bakura's belt, and how close the Thief King stood. "Why are you here?"
"I, I came to talk to you about an opportunity."
The Thief King said nothing, just eyed Bakura with a flat disinterest utterly unnerving.
"There's a boy," Chuma continued at last, "a palace brat who has Shadow Magic. It's strong, and if the Pharaoh gets hold of it, it could be very dangerous to you."
Bakura's eyes narrowed. "And you suddenly are concerned for my well-being." Before Chuma could come up with a suitable reply, the Thief King barked a laugh. "Don't look so pale. I don't really care why you want this "palace brat" dead. I'm willing enough to remove him for you…for a price."
Chuma swallowed. "What price?" This was proceeding faster than he had expected; he had expected to need more persuasion to get the thief to do what he wanted.
As it happens," Bakura said lazily. "I have a message that needs to be delivered up at the palace." A scrap of papyrus marked with surprisingly neat hieratic materialized in his hand with a suddenness that made Chuma start. "You'll do."
"And the boy?" Chuma pressed, staring at the papyrus, a cold feeling growing in his gut.
The Thief King grinned. "You're learning," he purred. "Very well. Message in trade for one dead servant brat. Name?"
"Seth." Even growling the name brought the image of the hateful little slave to Chuma's mind. He clenched his fists. "They're letting him learn with the scribes. As though a filthy peasant deserves immortality!"
"Of course not," Bakura said flatly. "What an idea." He thrust the message at Chuma. "Goes to a guard at the south gate named Manu, the one with the gambling debts. See it delivered or I'll carve out your eyes."
The threat was delivered with equal flatness, and Chuma was aware for the first time of how far from the palace he was, how far from any help. And though he did not truly believe a mere thief and commoner could possess any real magic, there were enough rumors to the contrary to send a sliver of fear down his spine and a weight to settle in his stomach. He took the papyrus hurriedly and began backing down the alley.
"Guard at the south gate. When will you kill the boy?"
Bakura's eyes narrowed, and he did not favor this with a response.
Once he was out of sight, Chuma ran. Fear wrestled with delight. Finally these thieves were making some return for the information he'd been feeding them! Had he been thinking more clearly, he might have been warned by the fact that Bakura hadn't needed to ask for a description.
Once the boy was gone, Bakura waved an imperious hand.
"Diabound."
His monster rose at once from the ground at his feet and turned its expressionless gaze upon him.
Bakura gestured. "See to it that he returns to the palace safely," he said. A vicious smirk crossed his face. "After all, it wouldn't do for him to be mugged in an alley and spoil our plans."
A/N: This is a short chapter, but I wanted to get something published because it's been so long since I updated. Any feedback is welcome!
