Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or any characters described in this fic.
Author notes: Here's another update. All hail the long weekend!
The River of Thought
It was morning on the docks, the first rays of the sun burnishing the sails of the fast sea-going craft Seth had obtained for the voyage to Sumer. The crew had been commissioned from the royal fleet. Preparations for departure had been made some time before, with an impatient Seth stalking to and fro, refusing to rest and driving those he commanded at a frenetic pace. Shada and Akunadin had assisted him, obtaining the necessary travel permits in a fraction of the usual time and sending couriers ahead informing the Sumerian authorities of his imminent arrival such that appropriate quarters could be arranged. Seth's energy was at its peak on this morning, his blue eyes bright, alert and watchful, his clothing immaculate and his Millenium Rod gleaming at its place on his belt. He was ready to track the Thief, to bring him to justice, to oversee his execution once and for all. A call was heard from the deck and Seth strode up the planking, his well-equipped retinue of bodyguards following.
Shada, Akunadin and Isis had come to see him off, each wishing him success with the voyage and mission ahead. He had paused when he came to his father, the elderly man gripping his shoulder hard, not trusting himself to speak. "Be safe, High Priest," was all he managed before Seth nodded slowly, returned the gesture and moved to depart. He watched their figures dwindling in his vision as the vessel's sails were brought down and oars were extended from the ports below deck and the Nile's current carried him further and further away. Akunadin, old and proud, Shada, young and wise and Isis, slender and clear-eyed. His gaze drifted up to the Palace, the last words he had heard from his Pharoah echoing in his mind. Watch yourself, my old friend. You walk amongst strangers now.
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Ah, Sumer! Land of rolling pastures and rushing rivers, of paddy fields, gaily-dressed peasants and towering ziggurats. The roaring, tumbling, mighty Euphrates carried them from sea-shore to inland greenery, past the turning point of the Tigris, past Kalab and the wading peasants, past Mari and the colourful merchant trains, past the travelling minstrels and their high, clear song. Freedom had never tasted so sweet, life had never seemed so fresh and vibrant to the Thief King when he passed from the slave-ship to the teaming harbours of the coastal village a few miles away from the city of Ur. Sin-nasir had doubled the speed of their voyage, so eager was he to see Bakura off his ship. This provided additional amusement for the Thief. When they reached shore the strain lifted visibly from the merchant's shoulders as he watched Bakura stroll nonchalantly down the gangplank, sending a small, cocky salute in his direction. From this day forth, vowed the merchant silently, I will offer prayers and sacrifice everyday to Enlil, Father of Gods, so that I never have to see that man's cursed face again.
Bakura wended his way through the crowded streets, marvelling at the variety of people, the goods on offer, the mouth-watering smells of food from the various stalls and the raucous calls of Sumerian traders hawking their merchandise to passers-by. He understood enough Sumerian to converse by, and was soon directed to simple accomodation let out by an elderly woman, so deaf and wizened she did not even bother asking his name or occupation, merely tugging insistantly at his sleeve until he handed over the required amount of beaten copper pieces. Those he had obtained easily. It was a crowded street after all.
The small room itself was composed of layered oven-baked clay bricks reinforced with river mud. The conical roof sloped upwards and the right wall adjoined with another room inhabited by a paddy-field worker and his family of six. Noisy, but bearable. Fresh river rushes were strewn across the floor and a sleeping pallet padded with animal skins was wedged into a corner. The pallet was too small for his hefty form and a good portion of his legs dangled over the edge, but he'd slept through worse. There was a furnace for burning firewood, a small consolation for cold nights. Turning over, the Thief King's eyes gradually closed and he rested, his mind fleeing far from deception and revenge, from hatred and sorrow. For the first time in many days, he slept.
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Seth's reception by his official welcoming party could only be described as lukewarm. He really could not blame them. Trouble had etched visible lined of premature worry into all the faces that greeted him, and as the possible harbinger of even more misfortune, he had certainly expected this.
A man he recognised as the Sumerian foreign ambassador stepped forward, offering him a respectful bow. "Greetings, High Priest. I am Ibbin-adad, representative of our city-state. We welcome you to the City of Ur, our prosperous capital, and extend out sincerest hopes that this day finds you in good health."
Seth nodded politely in assent, returned the bows and exchanged various routine pleasantries. He could tell that they were anxious to know the reason for his urgent trip to their lands. "Shall we discuss the reason for my visit and other matters in private?" he suggested, receiving a slightly grateful glance from Ibbin-adad for his straightforward approach.
"Of course, my Lord. We shall escort you and your retinue to your lodgings at the royal court. This afternoon, after you have rested, there will be a conference of certain state officials. Your attendance would be most welcome."
"I will be present, Ambassador."
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Their quarters were nothing short of luxurious, not that Seth paid much attention to such things. His mind was restless and full of theories and questions. He sat, he paced, he stood still and frowned over the sparkling fountain flinging fluid crystals high enough to reflect on his balcony windows. He needed to be careful as to how he presented his suggestions to Ur's royal court.
A bell sounded, signifying the gathering in the private audience chambers. Seth gathered up his reports, the Sumerian script engraved in his own hand, and swept out of the room. He was escorted by his own guard to the exquisitely emblazoned brass doors which stood open as a small, steady stream of Sumerian council members, priests and high officials entered, each giving a respectful bow to acknowledge his presence. There were twenty in all, seated around the conference table, the heavy scent of incense pervading the room from a gilt censer suspended from the ornamented ceiling at the centre. Seth frowned in irritation. He hated incense. It clouded the senses, and, at a meeting like the one at present, he liked to be at his most lucid, monitoring reactions to the things said. Carefully seating himself as far from the fumes as possible, he set his tablets on the table and observed the others present. Ibbin-adad was seated nearby. He caught Seth's eye and inclined his head slightly.
The meeting began with certain trivialities addressing land claims and debates. There was a restlessness in the room and it was contagious. After what seemed to be hours, Seth was given his cue to proceed with his report. He stood, as the others had done, his considerable height and grave demeanour causing instant silence in the hall as all eyes turned on him. "My Lords, I have travelled a considerable distance at great speed to bring you the tidings I now present. Many of you may be aware of the threat posed to the people of Upper Egypt by the outlaw, Thief King Bakura." At the mention of this infamous name, a murmur passed through the room. "Recently, this Thief attempted a direct assault on the royal house of Egypt, our blessed Pharoah Atem. A shadow duel ensued in which Bakura was defeated and much weakened. He was subsequently imprisoned, but, I regret to inform you, the outlaw has escaped our dungeons and is presently, we believe, in or on course for Sumer."
A rumbling was heard throughout the hall as heads were shaken, chairs were scraped across tiles and a lone voice rose above the turbulence. "Why was he allowed to escape? How could your security have allowed this man to break free?"
"My Lord, the best security was provided. Bakura made use of a previously unheard of dark ability to escape confinement."
"Dark ability?" questioned a young priest to his right. "You mean some form of sorcery?"
Seth ground his teeth. "I would not use that particular term, but yes, it was a form of shadow magic."
Another interval of whispered consultation passed around the members of the council.
A pompous voice sounded from the head of the table. "What do you propose to do about this . . . problem? We cannot spare many men in a fruitless search of the entire river valley. I'm sure you are aware, High Priest, of the current threat our city-states face from the Akkadians in the North?"
"I am well aware of that, Lord Susuli," said Seth, recalling the man from a previous encounter, "That is the main reason I attended this council. To inform you that I am here not only in my capacity as Upper Egypt's ambassador, but as a law official to track, capture and imprison this Thief. If I am successful, I will return with him to Egypt where the execution will be carried out immediately."
A thoughtful silence followed this statement. "My Lord Seth," said Susuli after a pause, "I appreciate your enthusiasm for recapture and punishment of this thief, but how can we be assured that you will be successful in your attempts? This bandit has slipped through your fingers more than once, has he not?"
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It had taken much debate, back and forth, and a great show of committment on Seth's part to convince the Council of Ur to agree to his proposition. Seth required every bit of his self control not to threaten them into giving him the right to seek out Bakura. Wait until he starts here, he thought bitterly, I suppose they'll be running to me to find out why I didn't stop him in time. What a bunch of indescisive dawdlers.
"High Priest!" a call interrupted his thoughts. He turned, and seeing Ibbin-adad whom he considered to be the brightest amongst the others, he stopped with a sigh.
Ibbin-adad seemed almost amused at Seth's impatience. "Do not be concerned, my Lord. Most meetings proceed that way."
Seth mouth curved into a small smile. Bright indeed. "No matter, Ambassador. I am a diplomat. Stalling is something even I am skilled at."
They began a slow stroll in the direction of Seth's chambers. The High Priest could sense that there was something on Ibbin-adad's mind. His idea was confirmed when the Ambassador turned to him suddenly. "I am not naive, High Priest. I know that you are aware of the problems our city-states are experiencing."
Seth raised an eyebrow. "You refer to the invasion?"
He received a meaningful look in return.
"Ah. I was wondering when one of you would bring it up."
Ibbin-adad glanced at the floor and lowered his voice. "My Lord, I think it only fair that you are warned. No doubt, you have heard of the "madness" that has befallen certain people in our land?"
Seth nodded, watching the man intently. "I have."
"Then I should tell you something which has not been publically proclaimed. The men who have been . . . affected are all landowners, all of the priest class. I have seen these men. I have attempted to help with treatment, with finding a cure, but to no avail." He raised his eyes to Seth's, and there was a shadow behind his impassive expression, one that could only stem from someone who has witnessed something dark and terrible. He was afraid.
They stopped outside Seth's door and Ibbin-adad laid a hand on his arm to retain him. "High Priest, this search for the outlaw is all well and good. But never neglect your own safety. Not for a second. Those men were once thinking, functioning humans, just like yourself. Nobody knows what happened to them or to what awful place their sanity has fled. And it is spreading. We hear new reports every day. Be careful, my Lord. There is something at work here beyond any of our knowledge. That is my belief."
Seth watched the man disappear down the corridor. His words echoed in the High Priest's mind, his veiled fear. It is spreading. For the first time in many years, a shiver passed down Seth's spine.