Mahu went to make arrangements for the night: the king wished to sleep in the desert.
Close by there was a mountain gorge, dark and narrow like a coffin, where tombs had been cut in the rock for the princesses. Hard by an old fig-tree made an unfading patch of green against the dead sand, and a sweetbrier flowered, fragrant with the scent of honey and roses: the secret water of an underground spring kept them fresh.
The king, accompanied by Dio and Merira, went down into the gorge to see the tombs.
When they had finished they walked up the slope of the hill by a narrow jackals' path, talking.
"Is the decree concerning the gods ready, Merira?" the king asked.
Dio understood that he meant the decree prohibiting the worship of all the old gods.
"It is ready," Merira answered, "but do think before you proclaim it, sire."
"Think of what?"
"Of not losing your kingdom."
The king looked at him intently, without speaking, and then asked again: