There they were ferried over to the wharves of Luxor.
At the temple the porter conducted them into the chamber in which the
ancient prelate spent his shortening hours of labor. He was there now,
at his table, and greeted the young men with a nod. But taking a second
look at Hotep, he beckoned him with a shaking finger.
"Didst bring me aught, my son?" he asked as the scribe bent over him.
"Aye, holy Father; this message to the taskmaster over Pa-Ramesu."
"Ah," the old man said. "Is that not yet gone?"
"Nay, the Pharaoh asks that thou insert the name of him whom thou didst
recommend for Atsu's place. The Son of Ptah had forgotten him."
The old man pushed several scrolls aside and prepared to make the
addition..
"But thou art weary, holy Father; let me do it," Hotep protested gently.
"Nay, nay, I can do it," the old man insisted. "See!" drawing forth a
scroll unaddressed, "I have written all this in an hour. O aye, I can
write with the young men yet." He made the interlineation, rolled the
scroll and sealed it. "I am sturdy, still." At that moment, he dropped
his pen on the floor and bent to pick it up, but was forestalled by
Hotep. Then he addressed the scrolls, carefully dried the ink with a
sprinkling of sand and delivered one to Hotep, the other to Kenkenes.
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