Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or any Yugioh character portrayed in this fic :)

Chapter 3

In palace, in the left wing, in the High Priest's chambers, two tall, imposing men, almost identical in appearance faced each other. The one dressed in blue and gold robes had an arm outstretched, a slim gold rod pointing stright into the face of the other. Between the two stood the slight figure of Mahad, arms spread wide to either side, creating a kind of human shield between the stranger and his own colleague. Mana took a step forward, but, seeing the expression on Seth's face, thought better of it.

"Seth, stop. This course of action will solve nothing."

Like the man behind Mahad, Seth seemed to have eyes for nothing but his strangely dressed counterpart. "Get away from him, Mahad."

"Seth, we have to question him . . . "

"Question him?"

Mahad flinched at the unbridled fury burning in the High Priest's eyes. Seth was not reknowned for his patience, but he was sure he had never seen him this enraged.

"He's an imposter!" Seth's eyes narrowed as he took in the strange man's appearance and he snarled. "How dare you, you . . . "

He was interrupted by the very cause of his anger in a way that made Mana cringe. Holy Ra . . .

The man had stepped past Mahad, pushing him out of the way unceremoniously and faced Seth head on, his expression equally dangerous.

"Imposter? I'm an imposter? My name is Seto Kaiba and I'll have you know that I'm the most powerful business man in Japan! Now, I don't know how you crackpots got hold of me or why you look like me, but let me tell you something. No amount of genetic engineering bullshit or play-acting is going to keep me here in your little costume party. I'm leaving. Try and stop me."

Seth looked as if he was slowly being filled with boiling water. "Japan? Ge . . genticular engineering? Costume party? WHO IN THE NAME OF RA DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

"What are you? Some kind of relic from the swinging sixties? Who the hell hasn't heard of genetic engineering? Or me for that matter?"

"I've never heard of you!" Seth snapped, "And neither has anyone else here! Now explain exactly how you ended up here and why, or so help me Isis, I will send your soul to the shadows. "

The man who had introduced himself as 'Kaiba' sneered in a way that almost made Mana's jaw drop. They're like twins . . .

"Shadows, huh? So you've bought into all that supernatural crap Yugi and his band of loyal mind-slaves waves about under my nose. Let's get one thing straight. I. DO. NOT. BELIEVE. IN. MAGIC. End of fairy tale. Yes, morons, this is the part where Tinkerbell drops dead."

So saying, Kaiba spun on his heel and headed for the door. And so he missed Seth's arm rise again and the gleam of smug satisfaction in his look-alike's eyes as the twisting tendrils of shadow magic wrapped around his long frame and sent him crashing to the floor. He also missed Mahad mouthing 'Tinkerbell' with a look of amazement on his face.

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Stepping out of the shade of the wagon was like being tossed into a furnace once more. Despite the drink she'd managed to have, Mai still felt slightly light-headed and stumbled as she exited. The soldier grasped her arm firmly, not tight enough to hurt, but with a 'reassuring' squeeze that told her he would not hesitate to do so if she tried to escape.

"Geez, old man, I'm not going anywhere."

He looked at her strangely. "You will address me as Khalid. What kind of country did you come from where you show such disrespect to men?"

Mai bristled immediately. "Look, buddy, where I come from, respect is not given out like doughnuts. You earn it. Same goes for any man. And believe me, there's many of those who don't deserve any kind of respecting."

He frowned. "Why do you say that?"

She let out a humourless bark of laughter. "I've had my ass squeezed by 'respectable' men wanting a little something under the table more times than I can count."

He grunted. "And do you provide such services?"

She stared back at him, annoyed. "What kind of girl do you take me for? And are you going to tell me what that noise is? It's really creeping me . . . "

Her words were abruptly cut off as they rounded the edge of the last caravan and Mai saw exactly where the maddened laughter and whipping sounds had been coming from.

"What the hell," she breathed.

There was a man, kneeling, chained to the rear of the caravan. A huge iron collar, carved with impossbly complex runes and symbols, curved over his heavily bowed neck and shoulders, amost shielding them completely from view and a similar pair of shackles held his wrists in place to the chain, which she could see, was as thick as one of her legs. One of the riders or soldiers (she found it hard to distinguish) was standing over him, a vicious looking dried animal-hide whip in his hand. The soldier in question had stripped down to the waist, sweat pouring from his shouders and back, and from his expression, Mai could see that he looked anything but pleased even though he was the one administering the punishment. Her glance traveled back to the battered, bloody man, who had stopped his hysterical laughing when they had made their appearance, and she gasped, before spinning on her heel and confronting her captor.

"What do you think you're doing, buster? Let go of this guy right now, you hear me! How could you . . . how could you do this?"

Khalid's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So . . . I was right. You are here for a rescue . . . " There was a collective noise of shock as Mai stepped forward, her finger stabbing him hard in the chest.

"Rescue? You bet I am, you damned hypocrite! Look at you, going on about showing respect to men when you can chain an old man to the back of a caravan, drag him through the desert and whip him senseless!"

A profound silence greeted this statement. Khalid gazed at her, his look completely uncomprehending. "Old . . . man?"

Mai gestured wildly at the kneeling figure, her voice rising in frustration at this man's stupidity. "Yeah, since we're speaking the same language, I don't think it's too hard to understand. Look at him! His hair is completely white, he must be at least eighty! And you think it's okay to treat him like this? This is completely . . . inhumane!"

The silence that expanded around them seemed to grow even deeper and Mai turned to the rest of the assembled soldiers, her face red and crumpled with rage. "You're MONSTERS! All of you! Burn in hell, motherfu . . . hey!"

Her arm was jerked abruptly as Khalid seized her and dragged her without another word to the other side of the wagon, out of sight of the others. He slammed her up against the side, ignoring her growl and her fierce struggling. Catching hold of her face, he forced her to stay still, meeting her furious gaze with one of incredulity.

"Old man?"

She spat in his face in reply. He wiped away the saliva, unaffected. To her utter disbelief, he began to laugh. And laughed. Then paused to wipe away the tears that had collected at the corners of his eyes. And laughed some more. Despite the fact that her outrage had not died down in the slightest, Mai was beginning to have the strange feeling that she was missing something important.

"What . . . what the hell are you laughing at? You think this is funny?"

"But of course. And you should too, now that you've proven your innocence," he chuckled, releasing her.

Mai stared at him, bewildered. "Huh? What's going on? What did I just prove?"

"That you are not one of that man's subordinates. Very lucky for you."

Mai scoffed. "Yeah, whatever. So you're letting me go? Just like that?"

He regarded her through half-closed lids and she was highly discomforted by the calculating gleam that had returned. "No . . . not immediately."

She took a deep breath. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"Where would you go, in that state? You have no food, no water. This desert continues for miles. Unless you know in which direction to travel, you could go for weeks without encountering a soul. Assuming you survive that long."

"So . . . you're going to help me?" she asked, hesitantly.

"After a fashion." His smile remained, but his eyes grew harder. "You are a very lovely young woman, that's plain to see. Even though you look rather . . . unusual, there are many traders that pay good prices for unique goods."

Something inside her froze in sudden uncertainty and fear. "Traders? What the heck are you talking about?"

"Slave traders, my dear," he enunciated slowly and carefully. "I think I shall supplement my income very nicely with you."

The sound of the slap resounded all through the caravan and one or two of the soldiers looked out to check the situation before reassuring themselves that all was well. Khalid turned his face slowly back to the heavily breathing woman. She was shaking like a leaf, giving away her true fright despite her jutting chin and fierce look. Her voice was low and thick with emotion.

"There is no way, no way in heaven or hell, that I am going to be bartered like an animal. I'd rather die."

"Then keep resisting, woman. It will ensure your death, one way or another. I am only offering you the easy way out." He swept coldly past her, drawing his cape around him once again. When he was out of sight she sank against the side of the caravan, burying her face between her knees. One fist thumped the ground. Great. Wonderful, Valentine. Why? Why me? She looked up, a sudden thought striking her. And Kaiba? Where was he? She had been certain that he had come through when . . . that had happened.

She'd seen his face, his cool facade cracking completely as he was pulled backwards into darkness. Unless . . . unless he had been sent somewhere different? But where? And how was she to get back?

When the soldier assigned to guard her came to take her away, she did not resist. To any outsider it would look as if all the fight had gone out of her. But they couldn't be more mistaken. If there was something Mai Valentine did not lack, it was survival skill. Her habit of living for the present had allowed her to get out of some pretty tight situations. And she'd be damned if a couple of sweaty man riding camels and wielding swords were going to get the better of her.

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"Shut up! I'm trying to think!"

"You shut it, moron! And undo this . . . this hocus-pocus . . . "

"SHADOW MAGIC!" Seth looked about ready to rip the hair off his skull, "It. is. called. shadow magic."

"Seth," Mahad cut in, sighing in exasperation, "don't you think we should bring him . . ."

"He's not going anywhere," said the High Priest sharply, "I will question him myself, with yourself and your apprentice serving as witnesses, and then present our case to the Pharaoh."

"Pharaoh?" Kaiba looked up, annoyance crossing his face briefly, "What Pharaoh?"

"The divinely appointed monarch of Upper Egypt and its lands and people, you scum. So show some respect."

"Seth, maybe I should question him," Mahad cut in again. Seth looked as if he were about to protest, but his meticulous logic told him that this was probably the correct decision to make. He glanced at Kaiba with disgust only to have the look returned full force. It irked the High Priest far more than he would ever admit that the man could still manage to retain that air of supercilliousness and command even though he was trussed up like a swine on the floor.

"Fine. Go ahead. But be careful what you say to him."

Kaiba snorted. "Bring on the next clown, then. And make it snappy, my brother will be waiting for me and I refuse to worry him on any account."

"You have a brother?" Mahad asked curiously, "Is he here, too?"

"I hope to God he isn't."

With a quelling glance at Seth, Mahad continued his line of questioning calmly.

"So, to cover what we know thus far, your name is Seto Kaiba, you are a man of business and you have a brother, whereabouts unknown. Where are you from, exactly?"

"I cannot answer your question without knowing where I am at the present moment. It logically follows that I can only tell you where I'm from in relation to this place, since you obviously know nothing about Japan."

"Japan? That is true, I've never heard of such a place. You are currently in the Royal palace at Thebes, residence of his Majesty, Atem, current successor to the throne and Pharaoh of Egypt. Perhaps you are not familiar with our customs? He is our King and most benevolent ruler . . . "

"Yeah, yeah, I know what a King is."

Mahad's eyes widened slightly and Seth hissed in fury behind him.

"Seto Kaiba, if you are to stay within these walls, you will refer to our Pharaoh with utmost respect, are we clear?" chided Mahado gently. When no reply was forthcoming, he decided to take that as an affirmative and continued. "Now, you appeared to myself and my apprentice under very unusual circumstances . . . "

"What circumstances?" asked Kaiba, suddenly very alert.

"You fell out of the sky," chirped Mana, a trifle bluntly.

"What nonsense," he snapped, "That's physically impossible."

"But certainly possible through those forces you seem . . . so opposed to," sneered Seth.

Kaiba gritted his teeth. No matter what his mind told him, there was no denying the presence of the swirling bands of dark energy holding him firmly in place. "Look," he said, "I don't know why I ended up here, or how. All I know is that one minute I'm holding that stupid Rod, and the next, I'm falling through into . . . somewhere. And then I woke up here. That's it."

"Wait a minute, what Rod?" Seth came forward, frowning deeply.

"The same one in your hand, apparently," was the dry reply.

Mana gasped and Mahad looked between them in consternation. Seth had turned very pale, making him resemble the restrained man even more. "That's impossible."

"No, it isn't. Because here I am," said Kaiba, in the tone of someone addressing a two year old. "And Valentine was sent here with me. I saw her. So I have to find her and then you'll just have to use the Rod to send us back."

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Later, when the caravan stopped for the night and a few campfires had been lit, she asked the guard if she could relieve herself. He nodded and stood aside, shadowing her closely. She noted that the security assigned to her own 'cell' was rather lax, in comparison to the timed patrols and regular checks performed in other areas of the wagon. As far as she had been able to ascertain, they were transporting prisoners. The man chained to the back was the only one she had seen, though. According to her observations and sharp hearing, he was removed from the centre caravan and tortured or flogged every few hours. Always accompanied by his hysterical, defiant laughter.

Something within her stirred when she heard that. She had no idea how such an elderly man could possibly survive such treatment, but to be laughing in the face of it . . . he had either lost his mind completely or had more courage in his little finger than she had in her entire body. And despite the horror of it, despite the tears that pricked at her eyes every time she heard his screams, it lent her a little more determination.

When they passed the rear of the caravan, she saw that the prisoner had been chained outside once again, probably being forced to bear the biting cold of the desert night in nothing but what appeared to be the tattered loin cloth she had seen him kneeling in earlier. Her guard stopped a few paces from the edge of the caravan, to give her some privacy, and warned her not to go further than he could see. It was not as if she had anywhere to run to anyway.

Making sure that none of the other sentries were anywhere near her, she hiked up her skirt and did her business, thanking heaven for the wad of tissues she always carried in her handbag. They had let her have it back after a thorough search, having found no dangerous items. They had taken her small cellphone, though, probably because it had been deemed an unknown item and thus, risky.

On her way back she saw that the sentries for the rear of the caravan were still out of sight, probably just over the sand dunes ahead, and her own guard was distracted, standing beyond the edge of the caravan, conversing with one of his comrades. Carefully, she navigated her way back, making sure to pass close to the still, dark hump that was the prisoner at the back. She saw him stir slightly and looked at him through the corner of her eye, keeping her face trained forward.

"I'll get you out of here, I swear it," she hissed in a fierce whisper, "Those bitches won't break you. Or me."

And she rounded the corner of the cart, frowning slightly as she thought about that dark, huddled figure. Shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling, she climbed up into the wagon, past her sentry, and curled into herself. For the merest second, she could have sworn she had caught a flash of moonlight on dark, burning, watchful eyes. Eyes too sharp and bright to be those of an old man.

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A/N: A quick update, hehe. I'm on a roll with this one . . .