Disclaimer: I don't own anything 'cept the story. the characters and the rest belong to Johnathan Stroud. I just do with them what I wish, muhahaha.

Authors note: ok, if you've got to this page because you're actually planning to finish my fic, well done :D...and remember to give me a review i would be very grateful, even if it's 'this is complete crap'. well, no, not really, a 'this is nice' would be better, but anything is great. ;p. anyway, even if you don't review, thanks for reading.

and if there's any departs from canon please tell me and I'll fix them. and give me critique on bart, i really tried not to make him too ooc but i dunno how well i did so i'd love if someone could tell me.

(ps: and thank you to the reviewer (who i couldn't reply to) that told me i'd spelt lion wrongly as loin. i'd done it for the whole of chp 4 *headdesk*. and the fact you put it in a footnote made me laugh :D)

Chapter 6

It took us fifteen minutes to get back outside. I was a little less worse for wear by then, being out of the numbing pain of that infernal place.

My master pulled the cloth down from round his mouth that had stopped him breathing in the dreaded dust. It had come from his tunic. The thing looked marginally better with one arm, not by much though.

"That couldn't have all been silver," he said slightly raspily, obviously he'd breathed some of it in. "There was far too much."

We were sitting on the dirt outside recovering a bit, leaning against the wall of the temple, next to the entrance we'd gone in through earlier that night and had just stumbled out of. A single wisp light floated above us. Ptolemy now had the wall hanging round him for warmth*, curled into a ball next to me, hunched over with his knees up to his chin.

(* He must have been freezing, it had the pleasant aroma of damp mould. There was probably a few dead bugs in it too. I'd go so far as to say it was worse than the glorified dress he was wearing underneath. That's how bad it was.)

"Some of it was iron." I said. The Summerian's eyes closed, leaning back on the cool stone behind him, toned legs splayed out in front carelessly, arms hanging limply either side.

"Do you think Ammet's dead?"

"Depends, he might've blasted himself through a wall, I suppose, in desperation, but even if he did I doubt he's in any fit state to come after us."*

(*I thought it likely he was alive. After our shenanigans in there, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd kept his essence together through sheer will power just so he could tear me apart at a later date.)

"So, Ammet and Faquarl came after us? What are the chances of that happ—-"

"Stop avoiding the argument, Ptolemy. It's not going to go away." It came out a bit more venomous than my usual pleasant tone. I was testy, ok, almost dying does that to you... Amongst other things.

I opened my eyes and saw the boy get up and move away from me, pulling the rancid thing tighter round himself. I swear, he hadn't got a sense of smell.

He was standing with his back to me, refusing to look me in the face when he replied in a quiet voice. "Rekhyt, I'm not leaving. My book-"

That was it! I hurled myself to my feet, stormed across to him, grabbed his arm through the material, and swung him round to face me with all the gentleness and caring of a murderous baboon.*

(Which, incidentally, was also probably a good description of my mood right then.)

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR BLOODY BOOK! I care about your life! If you stay here there's a good chance you'll die! Honestly, why can't you just be like a normal magician and have some sense of self-preservation!" I laughed coldly. ''Or maybe that's exactly what you are...''

He'd actually looked scared for two seconds, wide-eyed and leaning slightly away from me, then he regained his composure.

"Rekhyt, I'm not refusing to leave Alexandria just to finish my book." He replied, his expression annoyed. "If I do leave now I will never come back and that means I'll never lay foot in the library again. I'll never finish my work without those texts... Wait, what exactly do you mean by 'or maybe that's ex...?" He figured it out then. A silence descended that could've deafened anyone within a two mile radius*. I watched as the boys face went from looking like I'd just slapped him round the face, to something along the lines of murderous*. When he spoke next it was in a voice of very forced calm.

(*That's, of course, if anyone had been in a two mile radius.)

(*I swear, the kid could've made the worlds most hardened murderer-for-hire quail under his apparent wrath. Me? Not a chance. It takes more than that to subdue a great entity like me.)

''Rekyht, I've told you you could leave, didn't I? You're under no obligation to stay and should feel no qualms in going, I have other spirits to protect me. If you are not happy then I'll release you. I'm not keeping you here against your will.''

''Thats complete bull, you know I'm not just going to up sticks and leave you here!''

''You can't make decisions for me, Rekhyt! I don't make them for you. It's my decision whether I want to stay here, not yours.''

''Thats not the point! You haven't even taken what I've said into account! You've just completely ignored everything I've ever said and just gone ahead and done whatever you wanted! Hows that equality?! You can't even come up with a valid argument to stay! You're just digging your heels in and refusing to budge like a spoiled child! You don't give a damn what I say, all you care about is your bloody boo-!''

Ptolemy lost what was left of his fraying patience. "SHUT UP A MINUTE! I'm not doing this because I want to complete my book, I'm doing it because I want your freedom, you safe!'' He went on. ''If I leave now you shall never be free. I'm doing this to keep you alive and if that's at the cost of my own life, so be it. I want you safe, I don't care about my own safety.'' The fight went out of him about halfway through his speech. He looked at me exasperated.

There was a pause in which I just stood there, probably with my mouth open. I think he expected me to reply.

'' And I have thought about this, I haven't just ignored you! I haven't not listened! It makes more sense for me to stay! If I stay here I only risk death whereas if I go you'll never get your freedom, you'll always be a slave and will die a slave. You know it makes sense."*

(*Well, it wasn't exactly Shakespeare, but he'd made his point.)

I was pretty sure I was meant to say something right now.

"Say something! You knew all this, Rekhyt."

"No. No, I knew you wanted to free the spirits from their slavery. I thought you were staying here because of your stubborn attitude and your zealot's obsession with your work. I didn't know you were staying for me."

"Don't you come in with the former part? Surely it was obvious, 'free all spirits' includes you." He replied. "And I'm not a zealot."

Pause.

"Oh for the gods' sake! You've not been quiet once in the two years I've known you, and now you refuse to speak. Honestly, I think I must have made you hit some sort of record of silence!"

"Was that meant to be a joke?"

"Oh, now you speak!"

Ptolemy had, apparently, had enough. He looked away and walked past me up the street. I turned and watched him kick a rock at the nearest derelict house in a very un-Ptolemy-like way. He actually had 'moody teenager' down pat for a second.

But a thought had occurred to me then, recovering from the shock of Ptolemy's words.

This was all well and good, but what if I died saving him anyway?* My anger came back in full force. I wanted to scream it at him, it was the weak spot in his foolproof reasoning. It had almost happened tonight!

(* And I would, if one of us had to die it would be me, not him.)

"Ptolemy…!" I called up the street after him. Then stopped, the fire in me dwindling. He'd given me the choice, I could go if I wanted. Staying was my choice. Like him staying was his, annoyingly.

And that's what scared me; if I was willing to die for him, what would he do for me? I decided I didn't want to know.

He was about two or three houses down now.

"What?" He stopped, turned to look at me. He sounded defeated. He didn't want to do this anymore. He looked knackered.

"Nothing…" I sighed. I probably sounded just as fed up as he did.

We looked at each other. There was a pause. I didn't quite know what to say.

"Look, can we just go home already, Rekhyt. I'm tired and I just want to sleep, we can continue this in the morning."

I laughed, a smirk on the Summerians face. "Technically, it is morning," I pointed at the horizon beyond the houses and into the desert, where the sky was turning a nice shade of pale pink.*

(*Yes, in the next five minutes we will be ending this tale by walking into a sunrise. Brilliant.)

Ptolemy shook his head at me, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well," I said, sounding my usual cheery and ever-optimistic self again. I walked up to where he was hunched over, looking dead on his feet and stood in front of him, arms crossed, slouching casually. "Since this argument is over for the time being…"

He rolled his heavy eyes, still smiling tiredly.

"…and I don't really fancy dragging you back in this thing." I tugged at the thing calling itself a wall hanging. "I suggest we go."

"Finally." He said turning back round and carrying on walking.

I put my hands in my sword belt and followed him, up the street we'd been running down only a couple of hours earlier. Going back to the place I wanted to drag him by his ear from.

Of course, I now know what it would've been, his answer. I was never going to die for him. It was never going to come to that, because he was going to release me. He was going to set me free whilst he left himself to die…

…but that's history now, isn't it? It doesn't need to be thought about.

Two thousand one hundred and thirty six years of it.