"Nay, then," Kenkenes said, "there is no need of the writing. I shall
warn the king by word of mouth." He turned away and walked swiftly
toward the portals of the shrine. Jambres beheld him recede into the
dusk and wavered.
"Stay!" he called.
Kenkenes stopped.
"Wilt thou swear fidelity by the holy Name?"
"Aye, and by that holier Name of Jehovah, also."
He returned and faced the priest. "Thou art mystic, Father Jambres,"
he said persuasively; "what does thy heart tell thee of me?"
"The supplication of the need indorses thee, as it indorses any
desperate chance. If thou art false, thou art the instrument of Set,
whom the Hathors have given to overthrow Egypt. If thou art true, the
Pharaoh shall return safe to his capital in Memphis. The gratitude of
Egypt will be sufficient reward."
"And I take the message?"
Jambres nodded. "Art thou armed?" he asked, bending again to look into
the compartment he had opened.
"Except for my dagger, nay."
The sorcerer brought forth a falchion of that wondrous metal that could
carve syenite granite and bite into porphyry; also, a pair of
horse-hide sandals and a flat water-bottle.
"Put on these."
Kenkenes undid his cloak and untying his broidered sandals, wrapped
them in his mantle and bound the roll, crosswise, on his back.
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