The bath was so warm and relaxing, that Atemu felt himself almost slipping away in blissful sleep. The water was enriched with luxury oils and the scents clung to his skin, the warmth of it all making him drowsy. His damp hair hung in strands around his head, curling slightly at the tips. Resting his neck on a towel, Atemu stared at the high ceiling. Not everyone disposed over a bath like this, not everyone had servants to do his or her bidding. He was very well aware of his position, he had everything he desired - he was a son of the Gods, not a farmer working on a field. Yet, he couldn't get the image of the thief out of his head. Had it been pure greed or despair, that the lure of gold had driven the man over the edge? How low could someone sink?
Maybe Set needs to broaden his investigation and inspect the farmers and craftsmen as well as the denizens in the city, he thought. We... no, I am losing touch with my people if my life can be bought with a handful of gold.
"Great Pharaoh," a soft female voice came from his left.
"Hm?"
"It is time for you to leave the bath now," the servant girl said, holding up a large towel. Atemu blushed faintly. He'd been soaking in the water for so long now, and he still didn't want to leave. He wished he had more time to relax... maybe he should issue a decree of at least one free evening per week. After all, he was the Pharaoh; if he ordered people to jump through a hoop five times a day, they would jump through a hoop five times a day.
Rising from the water, Atemu took the towel and wrapped it snugly around himself, while the servant girl discreetly lowered her eyes. All of his personal servants, men and women, had been selected by Set. Some of them had also served his father, Pharaoh Akunamukanon, and were loyal and trustworthy, just like the Priests. The girl handed him a bathrobe which was a little too large for him. Atemu put it on, reveling in the soft material enveloping his body. He shoved his feet in simple sandals and left the bathing room. Once inside his living quarters, Atemu sought out his most comfortable sofa, reminding himself that Mana would stop by later. Fondly, he awaited the girl's arrival while he read up on a few reports on the current stock of grains in the capital. When Mana knocked on his door, she was slightly annoyed because of the lecture of her teacher; Mahaado never cut his time short when dishing out a lecture.
"He's not my father!" she said angrily as she twirled her wand around.
"Careful with that!" Atemu was afraid she would set off some magical reaction when carelessly shaking or waving her wand, it had happened before. She giggled, cheeks flustered as she put the wand away, leaving it on a low table.
"I'm sorry!"
"It is all right." He patted next to him on the sofa. "Come sit next to me? You were going to show me a spell. I would like to see it."
"Atemu..." Mana hesitated. It still felt weird to call him by his first name, even though he had given her explicit permission.
He looked up, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, Mana?"
He was tired, she could see it. Why was she moping about a lecture, which she deserved in the first place, when her friend was burdened by all the responsibilities and duties of a Pharaoh?
"You need to rest," she said. "The bath has relaxed you, no more exertion for you tonight."
"But the spell," he pouted. "I really want to see it!"
She laughed. "You're too tired to keep your eyes open!"
"I want to see it," he repeated stubbornly, and his last words got lost in a huge yawn. Shocked, he clamped his hand over his mouth, but it was too late to cover it up.
Mana reached for him and patted his leg. "It's all right. I'll show you tomorrow."
"I am sorry," Atemu lowered his head. "I did not want to waste your time."
"Time with you is never wasted," Mana said. "And besides, I got to see for myself that you're all right. I wouldn't know what I'd do without you."
He smiled. "You are such a wonderful friend, Mana. Thank you…but don't worry about me. I am well protected by the guards."
"You're going to bed," Mana said cheerfully, albeit a little strained. She stood up from the sofa, grabbing his hand to pull him up.
"I can find the bedroom on my own, Mana."
"No protests, Pharaoh," she teased him, and led him to the bedroom. She had never been in his private quarters before. Mana was glad that Atemu hadn't chosen to move into his father's quarters. Not only were those the rooms of the late Pharaoh, heavy with memories and emotions, Atemu's quarters were much more... happier and cheerful, and more fitting. She pushed the door open, and stepped to the side to allow him to enter; he almost stumbled, too tired to raise his feet properly.
The Pharaohnic bedroom was... disappointing. Somehow, Mana had envisioned herself a room filled with gold, a huge bed, and lots of fancy furniture and beautiful objects. It came as a surprise to her that the room didn't hold much more than a modest-sized bed, a few rugs on the floor and a dresser against the east wall. It was just a place to sleep and nothing more. She felt her cheeks heat up and turned around, hoping that Atemu would take her movement as a token of decency. She heard the rustle of the bathrobe falling on the floor, and after that, the rustling of sheets as Atemu slipped between them.
Mana picked up the bathrobe and folded the garment. She wasn't really a servant in the technical sense of the word, she didn't do household chores or labor, but she acted as an errand girl, mostly for Mahaado, of course. The other Priests could command her to their bidding, but everyone knew she was Mahaado's apprentice and she had more than enough on her plate already. Studying heka was hard, and though she slacked off sometimes, she never slacked off in her duties or obligations towards her friends and family.
Atemu had taken off his slippers and settled between the sheets, combined with a heaby blanket. The nights could be fairly cold, and this cover would keep him warm enough. Mana busied herself with the pillows and covers until Atemu leaned back.
"Your earrings," she said amusedly, amazed that he wasn't bothered by their weight or size.
"Ah, you are right..." He took out the large earrings and handed them to her, and she put them away on the dresser.
"Rest now," Mana said. She sat on the bed, at his foot end. He looked vulnerable, boyish, his hands above the covers and the dark tan of his skin contrasting with the soft, beige colors of the bed linen. Atemu had already closed his eyes, and she didn't have to wait long before his breathing evened out as well. He was so close by, yet so far away.
"Rest now," she repeated, though he couldn't hear her anymore. "Rest, my love."
"Just as I thought."
"What is it, Master?"
Mana hopped from her stool, and closed the distance between her and her Master. Mahaado had been working day and night, frantically researching the dart that had been retrieved after the attempt on Atemu's life.
"Mandrake root," he hissed. "The smallest touch would have caused our Pharaoh's death. The Gods have been favoring us to allow us to save him."
Mana shivered. "Who could've done this?"
"I do not know." Mahaado heaved a sigh. He looked in abhor at the dart, a tiny, innocent-looking piece of wood, if it hadn't been for the venomous tip. He allowed himself to sit down, after he'd been standing for hours on end. His heka had been fundamental to determine the poison, but it still had taken a lot out of him. "Whoever crafted this poison…it is horrible. We have to tell this to our Pharaoh. Someone with this kind of knowledge on poison is extremely dangerous. We do not want another murder attempt to happen..."
"No, absolutely not!" Mana shivered. Mahaado looked at her quizzically. His Apprentice had been unusually silent this morning, and though most of the times he welcomed the silence, if Mana of all people was silent…then something was going on. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the murder attempt, whether she was still upset about it, or about something else…and he, the greatest sorcerer of Khemet, didn't know how to bring it up to his Apprentice. A little sullen, Mana looked at the dart, knowing better than to try to touch it. Mahaado had used towels and linen to avoid touching the object directly, and now that he had determined the poison, didn't make it any less dangerous. "I just can't imagine someone doing this to him."
"People have different reasons," Mahaado said. "The assassin had been offered money, and the lure of it was greater than the importance of our Pharaoh's life. People are jealous of his position and power…"
"It's not fair! I don't want him to die!"
"He is not going to." Mahaado's voice was soothing. She still was upset from yesterday's events, the poor girl. "We are there to protect him, we-"
"We're not!" She bristled. "We're here, in your study! Who's with him now?"
"Priest Set and Priest Akunadin," Mahaado said, taken aback by her vehemence. "They will make sure nothing happens to him."
"He's not safe...I want him to be safe, always!"
"He will be, Mana, he will be. Have faith in the Gods...what do you say, let us go and visit him to bring him the news?"
That caught her attention and she perked up. "Yes!"
"Great Pharaoh, news on the streets is...daunting."
Atemu looked up from his desk, an impressive stack of papyri to his left side. The tips of his fingers were blackened by the ink, and a red mark between to his thumb and index finger indicated where he'd been holding a reed since the early morning.
"Tell me, Priest Akunadin." he said. Atemu tried to keep a neutral demeanor towards his Priests, as to not give anyone the impression that he favored or disfavored one of them. Something about Akunadin gave him the creeps though; he was convinced of the man's loyalty, since he had been working for his father, the former Pharaoh, without any complaint or fail. Atemu's other hand drummed impatiently on the desk. For some reason, the elderly Priest called upon his every shred of patience. Set was standing next to Akunadin, upright and straight as a ruler, Sennen Rod tucked into the crook of his elbow.
"My men have been able to gather news about that King," Akunadin answered. "Supposedly, this is a man proclaiming himself to be the King of Thieves. His name is Bakura, and he's described as quite tall, with hair as white as a bone and wearing a red cloak."
"Bakura." Atemu repeated the strange sounding name. "Did your men learn more about him?"
"The funny thing is, Great Pharaoh, when they asked around, no one can recall any of his achievements. For calling himself the King of Thieves, he has surprisingly little thefts or robberies to his name. It's some kind of fear he manages to strike into the hearts of the people. They talk about him with awe and respect, lowering their voices as if he can hear them, but when pressured just a little, everyone has to admit that they don't know much about him, and that they can't remember what he stole or did..."
"I do not like the idea that someone is causing a rift between me and my people, let alone having someone attempting to kill me," Atemu said, frowning. "This man is creating chaos and disorder. I want him apprehended and brought to my Court."
"As you wish," Akunadin said. "However, I'm afraid it's going to take some time, Great Pharaoh. For all that the people talked about him, one thing they did know for sure: no one knows where he is."
"I do not expect someone who calls himself the King of Thieves to be found anytime soon, even though I want to," Atemu answered. "I want him to appear for me, one way or the other. I will not stand for anyone trying to single-handedly start a revolt, not when we are still in negotiations with the Syrians and Nubians."
"About those Syrians..." Set interrupted dryly. "They still do not see why they should meet us halfway. We just can not fulfill their demands, and they refuse to alter any of what they are asking for."
"Great Pharaoh, this will turn into a war if we don't reach some kind of compromise," Akunadin reminded him.
"I know, but they are forcing us into a corner with their outrageous 'wishes'," Atemu said. "We respect our trading partners, but if we allow them to walk all over us, we can kiss our trade routes goodbye. Khemet will not become a doormat for people to wipe their feet on."
"I understand, great Pharaoh," Akunadin replied. "These delegates are more stubborn than I've ever met before. I don't know why they don't even want to collaborate."
"Maybe they have orders to not give in into anything we suggest?" Set wondered. "We have made several offers, we made several attempts to reach a satisfactory compromise, but they reject everything. Maybe they are just here to find an excuse to instigate a war?"
"What would they achieve with a war? This is about a trade route, not expanding our borders. A war would take the lives of many, and drain their nation of its resources."
"But it would gain them our people as slaves, our knowledge to usurp, our national treasure to confiscate and use as they see fit," Set commented. "Khemet is a very tempting target for other nations."
"If we have to fend off war, we will fend off a war." Atemu looked at Akunadin. "I want the delegates to be treated with utmost respect and care. Nothing will be denied to them as long as they are here, and they can use any facility they want to. I will continue to negotiate with them. No one else but I or the other Priests can or will negotiate with them. Understood?"
"As our Pharaoh wishes," Akunadin said. "I'll make sure they're comfortable and well cared for."
Both Akunadin and Set bowed, as the audience was over. "Great Pharaoh, we will keep you informed," the High Priest said. "I still have to investigate the other commoners who have been accommodated here since the capture of the perpetrator."
"Very well." Atemu was about to raise his hand as a sign to dismiss them, when a firm knock on the door resonated through his study.
"Enter!" Set bellowed.
The door opened, revealing Mana and Mahaado. The young girl immediately rushed towards Atemu's side, while Mahaado walked at a calmer pace, fitting for a Priest.
"Oh, it's you," Set said.
"A good morning to you, Priest Set, Priest Akunadin," Mahaado greeted him, ignoring Set's less-than-enthusiastic comment.
"Good morning to you too, Mahaado, Mana," Atemu said, pleased to see them. Akunadin mumbled a greeting, but Set refused to return the greeting at all. Mahaado wasn't surprised; Set barely deemed anyone worth of his attention in the first place.
"Great Pharaoh, I have news about the dart," he stated. Set and Akunadin both turned their heads toward him, unable to hide the curiosity on their faces.
"What is it, Mahaado?" Atemu asked, sharing the curiosity. He motioned for his Priest to sit down, but Mahaado remained standing upright.
He cleared his throat. "I have been able to verify that the tip of the dart was poisoned."
"Unbelievable," Set muttered under his breath. Akunadin shook his head in disgust. "Our nation has fallen deep if one deems the use of poison necessary," he said, his voice grave. "We have to find the man behind this all, Great Pharaoh."
"We will," Atemu said. "I am sure you will find more on this King of Thieves, and one day he will be here to face me; as I will bring justice to this world, not war."
Akunadin bowed once more and turned around to leave the room. Set simply nodded at Atemu. As soon as the two Priests had left, Mahaado described the poison and its properties to Atemu, all but shocked in his seat.
"I can not believe that someone is capable of doing this! How easy is it to obtain mandrake root and process it into a poison?"
"It is not that easy, Great Pharaoh," Mahaado explained. "One would have to have great knowledge of alchemy and heka. Mandrake root and poisons are not common knowledge, as far as I know. Even if there was some kind of recipe, it still would be tremendously difficult to process."
"Then we better inquire the local alchemists and healers, or anyone else with access to plants, roots or any other resources to make potions or concoctions," Atemu suggested. "Also, if heka is involved, we have to investigate magic users as well."
"What do you mean, Great Pharaoh?" Mahaado asked.
"I do not have to tell you that heka can be used for several purposes," Atemu said. "What if someone applied their heka, even in its weakest form, to separate the elements of the mandrake root, thus creating the poison and adding it to the dart? You never know…"
"Great Pharaoh, it would mean that…almost anyone could have done it." Mahaado gasped. Lots of people had, though not always aware of it, some heka at their disposal. Mahaado and Mana had great heka, and the talent to use it, but it took years of skillful studying and practicing. Mana had fallen silent. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that someone willingly had tried to kill Atemu. She shivered.
"I am aware of this, Mahaado. Set and Akunadin are going to interrogate the rest of the people here at the Palace, in the hope to find another witness or an acquaintance of the assassin. There has to be someone else but that farmer, who knows him. Akunadin will also investigate the King of Thieves, with the assistance of Karim and Shaadah, or they can help you with eliminating the other..."
"Eliminating?" Mana repeated, voice shrill.
"Eliminating the other possibilities," Mahaado finished Atemu's sentence. "We will work systematically towards our goal by eliminating one possibility after another. We have to narrow our possibilities down, so we can concentrate on..."
"...finding the man behind this all," Mana said, understanding what her Master was talking about.
"Great Pharaoh, what did you say about a King of Thieves..?"
"According to Akunadin, there's word on the streets about someone proclaiming himself to be the King of Thieves. His name is Bakura, and he has struck quite the fear in the locals. I will have Akunadin send out his description through the entire Palace."
"Very well, Great Pharaoh. He sounds like a dangerous man, and we have only seen a little of what he is capable of."
"Agreed. Was that all?"
Mahaado nodded, and he discreetly motioned at Mana to step away from Atemu. He knew that his Apprentice wanted to spend time with her friend, but today wasn't the day. "We will leave now, Apprentice. We will abide our Great Pharaoh's orders and leave him to his work."
The girl all but pouted. Maybe he should put his own reservations aside and ask the girl what was going on. For now, he bowed to his Pharaoh and left his study, Mana silently traipsing behind him.
Silence. It wasn't lunch time yet, but Atemu was longing for something to eat; a fig or a date, preferably doused with honey. He promised himself to ask a servant to get him some figs as soon as he finished reading this report; it was Set's preliminary report about his earlier interrogations. Atemu blinked a few times. He had difficulties focusing on the papyri, the hieroglyphs turning into blurs. It wasn't that hot in his study yet, and there was a carafe of fresh, cool water on the low table close to his desk. He preferred working in his own study, feeling relaxed and comfortable here, and a perfect place to receive his Priests. This way, he could keep in touch with his trusted advisors, and hear about everything that was going on. Atemu continued this tradition started by his father, who valued personal contact with his Priests above everything; after all, he depended on them a great deal.
He made a mental note to talk to Shimon later today. He hadn't seen the vizier since the attack, yesterday morning. The elderly man had excused himself from the daily meeting, claiming he wasn't feeling very well. Shimon had always been in good health, but his age could be catching up with him... Atemu shivered slightly, as a breeze went through the room. He loved to have the balcony doors open, so he could hear the noises from the city outside. The hustle and bustle of life on the streets in the background was somehow soothing, and didn't interrupt his concentration at all. With renewed vigor, Atemu went back to reading, carefully studying the report. Set had been thorough as usual, but he had the habit of saying more between the lines then appeared at first sight. Atemu reached with his other hand for the carafe of water, his eyes still on the papyrus to figure out what was more behind the High Priest's words.
The shadow falling over his desk went unnoticed until it was too late. Atemu had no time to wonder, as a painful tug at the cord from which his Puzzle was dangling from, made it impossible to speak. Atemu grabbed the cord, trying to wedge his fingers between his skin and the rope, almost choking. Gasping for air, he called for his guards, but his voice was nothing but a mere squeak. Air..! The rope cut into his skin, chafing above the golden bands around his neck, the Puzzle close to his face, one of its sharp triangular points poking against his jaw. Atemu was pulled back and dragged out of his chair, and with an unceremoniously thud, he landed on the floor. He kicked wildly with his legs, hitting his desk so hard that the ink pot, reeds and papyri scrolls rolled off the surface, also landing on the floor.
Laughter hit his ears. Joyous laughter as the cord was pulled even tighter. Clawing and tugging, every attempt to free himself proved to be futile. The person tugging at the cord was much stronger than him. His lungs burned, his chest heaving to grasp at the littlest bit of air, and black spots swam in front of his eyes. Atemu didn't notice he had lost one of his earrings as he struggled, and his cries for help got lost as he wheezed and panted, unable to draw in air. Slowly, he was losing his energy, his legs refusing to cooperate, his kicks growing weaker. All of his force was concentrated on removing the cord, but he wasn't able to break the tight grip, and he couldn't speak anymore, only pitiful gasps and pants as his vision started to blur.
The attacker dragged him away from his chair. Atemu didn't fight his attacker, he was fighting for air, and his attacker had strength enough to simply drag him all over the floor, holding him in this tight grip, the cord all choking him. Where is he taking me to? What is he doing? Air, he couldn't get any air, his lungs failed to draw a new breath, and his vision went black. Mahaado...Mana...Karim...Set...His nation, his people...how could this be happening? In a last ditch effort, he managed to work his fingers between the rope and his skin, but it was too late. His attacker yanked at the cord, not budging an inch, and snagged it tighter. Atemu gasped out loud, his body shaking and convulsing. He couldn't abandon his people. His nation, proud Khemet...he couldn't...leave... he suddenly heard a loud, irritated growl, and the pressure was lifted. He would've reveled in the joy of breathing again, if his body would've cooperated. Lifelessly, his fingers uncurled from its grasp at the now loose cord and his arms slumped next to his sides, on the floor, and he surrendered to the darkness.