“Yes, yes. Fate wills it. Isis must be obeyed. Ra”—god of the sun—“ordains it. And Girzilla’s heart must be rent in twain.”
“Why so? Art thou not my guide? Shall I not restore thy family to the powerful throne?”
“I am not deceived. You of the great storehouses care not for my people.”
“But——”
“Nay, thou silly boy; the sun does not mate with darkness. Girzilla will take thee from thine enemies and will return to the tomb.”
“You are sad.”
“Did I not look upon thy face when it was sad?”
Max sat down on a broken sarcophagus, and hot, scalding tears poured from his eyes.
She had recalled to him the death of his father, nearly a week ago.
A veil of oblivion had been over his senses, and he had not been able to weep.