"He is doing a lot better, that is for sure."
Mahaado was rather content as he checked Shaadah's progress. The Priest was still sweating, his body working hard to get rid of the foreign substance. Shaadah wouldn't be the first one to survive a poisoning, but he'd been very close to succumbing. If I had not guessed it was mandrake root because it also had been on that dart, he probably would have died, Mahaado thought bitterly. Any moment of doubt on how to treat the poison would've cost Shaadah his life. Now the Priest was safe, and he was on his way to a full recovery. Mahaado moved the bowl to the nightstand, beckoning the servant to come closer.
"If he wants something to drink besides water, give him this. Do not heat it up too often, though, it will get bitter."
"Yes, Priest Mahaado," the servant bowed to him.
Mahaado rose from his stool and heaved a sigh. He hadn't been able to save Pharaoh Akunamukanon… but Shaadah was at least safe. He didn't want to bury another person he called his friend. Set had hinted enough at him being slow or not decisive enough to find the one behind all of this - the one responsible for the poison. Mahaado hadn't even bothered to try to explain the difficulties to the grumpy High Priest. Aishizu put her hand on his shoulder.
"You worked so hard," she said. "Thanks to you, Shaadah will live."
"I had the good fortune to know what ailed him," Mahaado said.
"You think of poison, right?"
"Yes I do… very much so." Despite not having shared his suspicions, he wasn't surprised that Aishizu had worked it out for herself.
"I don't know exactly what's going on. First the Pharaoh, now a Priest… we all have to be extremely careful." She looked pensively, then she gave him a soft smile. "You look tired."
"It is the strain of the last few days," Mahaado answered truthfully. "The attacks on our Pharaoh's life, Shaadah poisoned..."
"Come," Aishizu insisted. "We can go to my room and have some tea."
"Tea sounds wonderful," Mahaado said. Aishizu blushed faintly, lowering her eyes. Her golden headpiece caught a flickering light of a candle and stressed the delicacy of the jewelry that framed her face. She reached for his hand, her slender fingers entwining with his. Now it was Mahaado's time to blush, grateful that the light from the candles was faint. He was bad at picking up signals, he knew it. He was so focused on the Pharaoh... his Pharaoh... Atemu, that he never had time or opportunity to notice what was happening around him. Mahaado would die for the Pharaoh, ever since Atemu had been the young Prince. The urge to protect him, to be with him, to love him above anything or anyone else was deep-rooted in his entire body and soul. Nothing was as important as Atemu... and in the years, when the young Prince had matured, he had grown to become more beautiful than Mahaado could ever hold for possible. The Priest had caught himself thinking of his best friend as a lover, but he had always kept those thoughts to himself - he was a Priest and nothing more. Aishizu was a very beautiful and graceful woman, and long since he had wondered what... if... the Priestess actually felt for him. With her hand in his, she guided him to her quarters, close to his own and Akunadin's. He followed her as if he didn't know where to go.
Aishizu's quarters were a mirror of her exquisite taste. The furniture, made from delicate wood yet strong enough to support a man's weight, was arranged so that the sun would shine on it, the rays of light falling through the high arched window, adorned with veil-like curtains to keep out any sand. Soft pillows with golden embroidery were scattered on the seats and sofa, flanked by smaller, dark wooden tables that held intricately carved statues. Aishizu motioned for Mahaado to sit down as a servant girl traipsed behind her, carrying a tray with all the necessities for tea. He chose the sofa and accepted the tea from the girl, heaving a soft sigh when he sipped the hot liquid. Aishizu send the servant girl away and offered Mahaado a choice between figs, raisins or sweetened bread. After some careful consideration, he took a slice of the sweetened bread. Aishizu also took one of the slices, nibbling on it delicately.
"The tension has been high lately," she said.
"Yes, what with the Pharaoh's life being in danger and all," Mahaado answered. "I keep wondering about this Bakura person, this King of Thieves who is so determined to... succeed." He left out the 'to kill the Pharaoh' part, but she understood nonetheless.
"He's extremely elusive," Aishizu admitted. "His motives are unclear to me, he seems to be guided by a deep hatred and anger. I've been keeping an eye on the Syrian delegates, but they were just as upset as everyone else."
"Did you... manage to catch a glimpse of the future... with the Tauk?" Mahaado asked, tentatively. While every Priest of the Court had an Item, it was an unspoken rule that a Priest never asked directly about the other Priest's Item. It was a personal matter. However, the Priests knew about the workings of each Item - and the Tauk was able to shown its wielder glimpses and images of the future, albeit the interpretation of these glimpses was complicated. Aishizu briefly rested her fingers on the jewelry.
"I caught images of what would happen if the attacker would succeed," she said, voice strained. "Such darkness, such... despair. It didn't warn me for the second attack. It's so... fickle, so random."
"That has to be frustrating." Mahaado was the wielder of the Ring; none of the other Items had powers containing to future-telling or predicting.
Aishizu nodded. "It is, it is. I have come to learn that the Tauk will never show me the immediate future, just glimpses of a possible future... but it was quite clear in showing me those horrible images of our Pharaoh, dead, killed by that poisonous dart... I don't know why it chose to do that."
"Let us all hope the Gods will protect him." Mahaado sipped the tea again. "This is a particular good blend, Aishizu."
"Thank you," she said, enjoying the compliment. "It's one of my own. I like to try out different combinations to create a new blend."
"It is wonderful," Mahaado said. "It does not have a harsh, bitter taste, and it is not too sweet either."
She smiled. "I learned a lot from my mother, though I really can't remember how much she taught me... I was still so young."
"We retain many things from our youth, subconsciously or not," Mahaado said. "We have to have our traits from someone, do we not?"
Aishizu agreed, her smile turning wistful. She put her empty teacup on the tray and finished the piece of bread. "We haven't been able to talk much lately," she said. "I know you have a lot on your mind right now, Mahaado." The Priestess rose from her chair and walked over to one of the large wooden cabinets. She lit the oil lamp on top of it, the sesame seed based oil giving off an earthy, pleasant scent. Aishizu went to another cabinet to light a similar oil lamp, taking off her headpiece and, exposing her long, black hair. Mahaado put his teacup away and rose from his seat, closing the distance between him and the Priestess as she was about to lit a third lamp. He enveloped her hands with his.
"Aishizu."
She didn't move. She just looked at him. Mahaado wasn't sure what she had in mind, though he could take a guess at it. He didn't want to destroy their friendship and their kinship as Priests. Now that they were so close, he could smell her, a delicious, intoxicating scent of flowers, sandalwood and myrrh. Her beauty was undeniable, her kindness unmistakable… She moved their hands up, hesitantly, until she pressed them against his chest, exactly where the Ring rested.
"Is it heavy?" she asked.
"Rather," he answered, lowering his head.
"The Ring... or its burden?"
"Both." He knew what she was talking about. Wielding an Item came at a cost, and the life of a Priest was already loaded with duties and obligations. However, neither Mahaado nor Aishizu would want to give up their life because of that burden. They were raised and trained to take this position, and backing out wasn't in their job description. She disentangled her right hand to trace the cord of the Ring up to his neck, gently reaching for his skin and touching it.
"What makes your heart light?"
"What do you mean?"
"What makes your heart light... what makes it lift up and soar through the sky, singing with happiness?"
Mahaado closed his eyes briefly. He knew what she was aiming at and if he needed any more obvious pointers now, it all became clear when her fingers gently touched his lips and Aishizu leaned into him, pressing herself closer and tilting her head. He didn't deny her the kiss. He tasted the honey balm she had put on her soft, luscious lips, and her presence was overwhelming. The fragrant oils, her intoxicating scent, the beauty she presented, it could've swayed him, convinced him... but there was only one his heart completely belonged to. It wasn't fair, not to Aishizu… and not to Atemu. He didn't push her away, but he also didn't put his arms around her. They kissed, without the passion of lovers, but with a certain longing to fill up a void, of something missing, something that hadn't been attained yet. Aishizu pulled away, but not brusquely. She kept her eyes low, as if embarrassed.
"It's... it's not me, is it..?" she asked softly.
"What... what do you mean, Aishizu?"
"It's not me who's on your mind," she said. Her voice held a resigning tone. Feeling bad, Mahaado pressed a butterfly kiss on her forehead.
"Aishizu, I..."
"You don't have to tell me who it is," she said, and a soft smile appeared around her lips. "I already know."
He put his hands on her shoulders. "If you truly know, than you know why."
"Yes, I know," she said, not meeting his gaze. "It's admirable, Mahaado. I've always known how deep your loyalty ran. Maybe I was just telling myself that I had some kind of chance, a little opening..."
"I care for you," Mahaado said, touching the black strands of hair.
"I care for you too," Aishizu repeated, leaning with her head on his chest. He continued stroking her hair, trying to comfort her. She didn't cry, taking the rejection with her usual calmness. He didn't know how much it hurt her, and he didn't dare to ask, not wanting to add to her pain, and the intensity of the moment. Instead, they remained standing in front of the cabinet, in a strange, yet not uncomfortable embrace. "But it's not enough, is it?" She suddenly broke the silence. "Does he know?"
"No," he whispered. "And it is perhaps for the best if he does not. He is a son of the Gods."
"Mahaado... you're condemning yourself to a life of pain if you don't speak up."
"I will take whatever pain necessary to stay with him and serve him."
"I know." She pressed a hand to her face, and this time he could hear the hitch in her voice. "I should get back to work. I need to check up on Shaadah."
Mahaado cupped her face and tilted her head to make her look up at him. The tears flowed freely now, and he felt incredibly bad. He started to look for a handkerchief, but she put her hand on his wrist, stopping him.
"It's all right," she said.
"No." He shook his head. "I am so sorry, Aishizu. I should not..."
"Your love for him is going to get you killed," she blurted out, not caring that the tears drew black streaks all over her cheeks, the kohl around her eyes running from the moisture. "I'm not crying for myself, Mahaado. I'm crying for you. The Tauk showed me more than just our Pharaoh, dead. It also showed me... you, dead. I care for you. I don't want you to die!"
"Aishizu, I..."
"I want you to love me, as much as I love you," she whispered, "I want to be as devoted to you as you are to him. How can I be so selfish? But I saw... I saw..."
It was impossible for her to keep talking, as she all but flung herself into his arms. Mahaado didn't hesitate to provide her with the comfort she needed, allowing her to cry against his chest. What kind of man would he be to push her away in a state like this? Her words had shocked him, though. Not only what she had said about her own feelings, but also about her visions. Someone was after the Pharaoh and now, after the Priests. Was it Bakura, or were other forces at work? Gently, he held Aishizu in his arms. Right now, she deserved his attention more than anything else.
The life of an Apprentice was never boring. Quite so, Mana's life was busy, filled to the brim with her Master's one thousand and one odd jobs and errands. On top of that, she needed to study (lots and lots of spell books) and she had a natural urge to help everyone out. She had sometimes dropped her assignment in favor to help someone, aggravating Mahaado in the process - but she knew he appreciated her willingness to help someone in the first place. Mana was very energetic due to her young age, but her bounciness also came natural to her – and helped her a lot when running from one wing in the Palace to another. Now, she was on her way to Shimon to bring him an armload of scrolls, courtesy of both Mahaado and Set. She wondered why the tall High Priest pretended to be some kind of social. He wasn't very good at it. Mana raced through the hallways, dodging guards and servants, not about to be deterred from her assignment.
Shimon's quarters were located in the west wing, along with the Priest's quarters. Mana wondered why the elderly man needed so much room, but on the other hand, he was very important to the country and it wasn't her place to question things like that. It wasn't like the Palace was running out of room anytime soon. Mana adjusted her headpiece before knocking on the door; her Master had taught her the value of looking appropriate before barging in. After all, she was his Apprentice, and also his representative, as he liked to remind her. Mana took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The young servant answering smiled at her; everyone knew who Mana was. She went inside, carefully balancing the scrolls in her arms.
"Who's there?"
"It's Mana!" She left the antechamber behind her, entering the living room. The layout of these quarters was similar to Atemu's, and she moved around freely, turning her head from left to right, noticing the man standing close to a book cabinet.
"There you are," Shimon said, a little impatiently. He gestured dismissingly, pointing at the large, round table in the center of the room for her to put the scrolls on. Silently, Mana put the scrolls on the table, making sure they wouldn't roll off the smooth surface.
"That's fine, Mana," the vizier said and turned around at the same moment his servant wanted to offer him another cup of tea. A collision was inevitable, but the servant managed to keep the damage to a minimum, only spilling a few drops of liquid on the man's robes. Mana already thought of a spell to clean the fabric, when Shimon calmly backhanded the servant. She gasped in shock and horror. No one lifted a hand against a servant in the Palace, ever. If there was dissatisfaction about the work of a servant, it was dealt with in a discreet manner, never with violence. It astounded her that Shimon did this in her presence, uncaring that she was a witness to this behavior. To make it worse, the young servant barely flinched, as if he was used to it! She took a step forward.
"It was just an accident," she said. Shimon snapped his head towards her and she stepped back again, frightened by the look in his eyes. His kind and warm look was gone, replaced by the darkest hatred and disdain she had ever seen. It only lasted for a second and then it was gone again, leaving Mana in doubt. Had she really seen what she thought she'd seen?
"An accident that shouldn't have happened," the vizier said. "The servants in my quarters know that I don't tolerate mistakes like that. It's nothing to get worked up about, Mana."
"Shimon, I know a spell to get clothes clean..."
"No thank you... you would only burn them, Mana."
It used to be a joke around the Palace that Mana and her heka often had the opposite effect and that she was more prone to destroying things than fixing them, but she had improved a lot lately, and she was on her way to become a powerful magician, just like Mahaado. Shimon's rude remark hurt her. She barely recognized the man. Shimon never behaved like this; he was always so grandfather-like, compassionate, wise and calm. Mana pursed her lips into a thin line and turned around brusquely. Without saying a proper goodbye, she left his quarters. She knew it was incredibly impolite, but if he had a problem with it, he could take it up with her Master, and then she would give him an earful!