Moving the Pieces

"I think you're overreacting."

Pharaoh Thutmose looked up from the collection of histories unfolded across the table and raised an eyebrow at his son. The room was mostly empty, save himself, his son, a royal guard, and a trusted fan bearer. The rest of his retinue he dismissed for now, as he preferred to keep these kinds of conversations between father and son mostly private. It kept them both a little more honest and blunt with each other.

Amenhotep leaned against the wall in a very unprincely fashion, arms crossed as he gazed out the window at the beautiful white capitol of Egypt, painted gold as Ra descended back towards the underworld.

"Portents of the Serpent of Chaos' return to wreak vengeance upon my line is hardly something I think could ever be overreacted to," Thutmose said, voice flat.

"You've banished Apep from Egypt. It's not like you to think your own magic so weak."

Thutmose eyes darkened, mouth twisting, and Amenhotep realized his error and spoke again before the pharaoh could.

"Forgive me, that's...not what I meant." He pushed off the wall and approached his father. "What I mean is that the magic of a Pharaoh is not something so easily overcome, and the gods would have no interest in interfering on behalf of Apep. I don't see danger enough to bother invoking ancient rites that I can only presume were abandoned for a reason."

"These rites were created specifically for this kind of danger, and they have been invoked on occasion even since. They only fell out of common use at all due to the general upheaval and mortal dangers that occurred before my forefathers took the throne. Besides, I have already ordered the amulets removed from the sacred vault in the temple."

"The point is," Amenhotep leaned on the table, close to his father, "I am the prince, your heir, and nearly a man. How will it look to our people, our enemies, if at the first bit of doomsaying I fall back and cower behind...glorified nannies!"

With a sigh, Thutmose set down the scroll he'd been perusing and gave his son his full attention.

"Guardians are not only only for the protection of children," he said, slowly, "They mind the well-being of the heir, protect the throne and line, and the Pharaoh himself even beyond death. It is not a position or oath to be taken lightly."

"All the more reason, then!" Amenhotep near cried, opening his hands in supplication, "Please, I know I'm young, but hear me, listen to what I ask."

Thutmose nodded and stood to full height. "As you say, you are nearly a man, I will hear you."

Amenhotep sighed, gave a nod of thanks to his father, and recomposed himself. "You are the one always telling me of the importance of impressions, especially for us, and so I don't mean to wait until I am a man to gain the people's trust in me. More and more have I been by your side in your duties, and more have you granted me my own. We are already guarded by the best soldiers Egypt has to offer, and you are a magician of great renown and I hope to one day be the same."

"You were speaking of a point, my son?"

"As I said before, how would it then look if I start to surround myself in ceremonial guardians despite the ones we have now? Not only does it show weakness on my part, but also a lack of trust in those already guarding me. Forgive me father, I can't." He held up his hand to stay comment, took a breath, continued, "But, I will not make light of your wisdom, and I am trying to understand. Therefore, I suggest a compromise."

One eyebrow of Thutmose almost rose into his crown. "And what would that compromise be?"

"I will accept a Guardian. One."

Thutmose sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "There are four amulets for a reason."

"Yes, but that's not a necessity. I am no child in need of minding, but someone to watch my back under these circumstances would be...prudent. I have the benefit of a guardian, but not to the extent to incite worry in my abilities or insult my own men."

Thutmose regarded his son for a long moment and then shrugged. "Someday you will be Pharaoh, you must learn to make decisions and go through with them...and suffer the consequences. Very well. I have heard you, and I accept your compromise."

Amenhotep's expression betrayed his shock on the matter before he quickly schooled it. "Thank you, father."

"Don't thank me yet," the pharaoh muttered, "hopefully this will not end in folly for you." He waved his hand dismissively and returned to his scrolls. "Off with you now, I have to think on who I will choose for you."

"There's Ramose, he's one of our best warriors and has much patience for me."

"Gods bless him for that, but now shoo. You have studies."

"Yes, Father."

"And send in Meryamun on your way out," Thutmose added, not looking up.

Amenhotep gave a small bow and left the study. Meryamun was his father's chief sorcerer. Old, and talked to himself a lot and the occasional wall, but he was powerful and loyal, and Amenhotep had always liked the glint of mischief in his dark eyes, even as they were being swallowed by wrinkles. He found the old man down the hall in conversation with some priests of Osiris, and gave the sorcerer a short bow before passing on his father's message. Even a prince must give respect, or expect none in return.

And now to his studies. Amenhotep let out a long sigh. History, science, magic… a pharaoh must know many things, but by all the gods he wished learning them wasn't so dull.

Before the mound and the waters there was Heka, and Heka is all things. Heka is the word, and bound to word is intent. Intent is the gods' will, and the gods' will is Heka…

Hori mentally recited the creed as he watched Rath mouth them from a distance. Even after attaining sorcerer status, young ones were known to keep up their recitations, sometimes out of habit, or for fear of still being forced to say them at random by a senior, or merely for comfort. Rath was the latter; the creed was a constant in a life that kept ripping the ground out from under him.

And was about to again. Hori rubbed at his temple.

Since coming here, every morning before it grew too hot, Rath would go to the garden to practice his forms and recite creeds and philosophies to himself. Maintaining this physicality was not a necessity within their sect, and yet it was something that had kept Rath alive during his time running amok in the lower city, so Hori could hardly blame him for doing so.

He moved, this way and that, coiling and spinning, hand thrusting out that small wooden rod he refused to let go, the charms on the ward on his arm ringing slightly as they struck each other. His skin beyond the wrappings remained clear, his newest ward was holding very well.

Since coming here… It was a thought that made Hori smile, though he couldn't keep the sadness from it. After Thutmose had given the boy his new name and life, Hori hadn't thrown him to the temple right away. Rath had needed some care, both in his arm and his attitude, and his ability to read and write was behind for one his age. It had been a crash course at best, but Rath had done well enough that Hori felt confident in leaving him to his fate and returned to his own duties. He received reports on the boy's progress here and there, and felt it satisfactory, aside from a few hitches to which every child was prone.

His initial education completed, Hori returned to claim him as his student. It was common among those of their sect to train in a one-on-one fashion, though how this situation worked varied per teacher and student. Some maintained a professional relation, a tutor and a pupil who otherwise remained apart, and others kept their students with them. Rath had nowhere to go, declined the priestly route, and did not bother to form good relations with his fellows, so Hori took him home to his estate.

A choice he did not regret. The boy needed someone he could trust, someone to lean back on when a past that could not truly be decreed away rose up to swallow him. A quiet place to study without fear or distraction.

For Hori, having someone to once again use rooms long abandoned, to walk the halls aside from servants, to sit and talk with over meals, made the estate less haunted. Perhaps it was not just Rath that had needed it.

It was brief, far too brief.

"Rath."

The boy...young man now, in truth...paused mid-jab and turned to face him, the sun behind accenting his recently shaved head. "Good morning, Master Hori," he said politely and snapped his fingers. A servant standing near approached and handed him a cloth and a cup of water. He wiped his face and head and downed the cup before handing both back to the servant with a nod, releasing him to perform the rest of his duties. With that he faced his teacher and gave a short bow.

"We have to talk. Walk with me," Hori said, voice heavy.

Rath frowned at that, but said nothing and stepped in beside him. Hori always enjoyed a walk around his garden, and his student indulged him. Sometimes they would walk, round and around, and say nothing at all, though Hori learned Rath did not actually enjoy it much. He'd kept his mouth shut too often when they'd first met, keeping to himself, but now the young man just couldn't seem to stop talking sometimes.

But here, in the tranquility of the garden, he tried. So they walked, steps slow, Hori's sandals grinding into the crushed marble, and Rath's bare feet making no noise at all. The student wait for his teacher to speak first.

"I have received a missive from the Pharaoh himself."

"Ah...so we'll be going away? How long this time? Are we going to Memphis?"

"No, the missive was for you. We are going nowhere."

Rath stopped walking and faced his teacher. Hori had to pause and wonder when he'd gained height on him.

"What do you mean?"

"To start, the truth is there is not much more I can teach you. You are an acknowledged member of our sect now, though a novice, and much as I wish it weren't so, it is…"

"What? But there is so much more to learn! What do you mean there's not much more to teach?"

"You know my views on this. There is always more to learn, but at this point it is for you to discover. To keep teaching you would be detrimental. And..it's out of my hands anyway." He held out the rolled papyrus to his now-former student. It had been tightly wound when handed to him by the runner, but now was loose and bore the cracks of unhappy fingers.

Rath took it and unrolled it between his hands, eyes narrowed as he read, only to widen in surprise...maybe a bit of horror.

"Pharaoh wants me...to protect his son…?"

"It is a great honor being given to you."

"But why me? I'm a novice! And I know nothing of...of…"

"Oh, now you're not good at something?"

Rath glared at him...respectfully...and rerolled the papyrus. "I am no guard, and I'm not even twenty…"

"Well you must have done something to impress him."

"I haven't even seen the great Pharaoh since he gave me my name!"

Hori regarded him, opened his mouth as though to berate, but could only sigh. "He is Pharaoh, he is privy to things we'll never know. And so we obey him."

Rath stared at the papyrus in his hand, fingers tightening around it, much as Hori's had. "I'm not ready…" he said, and Hori could only ignore the slight tremor in it.

"I told you, there's no more for me to teach you and…"

"No, not the magic. You," he looked at Hori, face twisted slightly as if he couldn't, for once, get his thoughts to align, "saved my life...took me in. You're like a father to me and I…"

Hori's eyes widened, then shut. This had become so much harder now. "I knew when I first met you what a hassle you'd be...but I regret none of it. Now now, why are we getting so upset? My home is open to you always, for it is yours as well, that will never change."

The boy nodded in understanding, apparently stricken dumb, and Hori put a hand on his shoulder, noted with pride, both in his student and himself, that Rath no longer flinched or moved away when he did. "If your true father were here, I'm sure he'd be very proud of you."

"Maybe," Rath murmured, and his eyes slid away. He opened the missive again and looked it over. "I am to go to court right away."

"Then we'd best get you packed and ready. But first...my study."

Rath glanced over, eyes wide, "Hm?"

"You've left another monstrosity in there." He loved the boy dearly but every time he looked away from him for more than five minutes he was building some scaffolding up the wall or reinventing the shaduf or some other nonsense. He did have to admit though, the magical and mechanical devices that closed then opened the window slats throughout the day based on the sun's location were quite useful. When they worked.

"Oh! I've come up with an idea and I'm still working through some kinks. Wind powered linen washers! Imagine how much time we'll free up for the servants so they can do other things! ...Like learn how to cook fish properly…"

"Yes, wonderful, thank you, Rath, but get it out of my study!"