"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. Over this he slung the water-bottle, which the priest had filled in the meantime, fixed the falchion at his side and put on the horse-hide sandals.
"When hast thou broken thy fast?" the priest asked next.
"At sunset yesterday."
The priest turned with a sign to the young man to follow him and, passing through the shrine, led the way out of the sanctuary into the house of the sorcerer. Here, shortly, Kenkenes was served by a slave, with a haunch of gazelle-meat, lettuce, white bread and wine.
While he ate, the priest informed him of the situation he might expect to find at the end of his journey.