“Nothing, nothing at all,” I answered earnestly. “But what of my friend?”
“He also is better. The Khania Atene nurses him.”
“Atene?” I said. “That is an old Egyptian name. It means the Disk of the Sun, and a woman who bore it thousands of years ago was famous for her beauty.”
“Well, and is not my niece Atene beautiful?”
“How can I tell, O uncle of the Khania,” I answered wearily, “who have scarcely seen her?”
Then he departed, and presently his yellow-faced, silent servants brought me my food.
Later in the morning the door opened again, and through it, unattended, came the Khania Atene, who shut and bolted it behind her. This action did not reassure me, still, rising in my bed, I saluted her as best I could, although at heart I was afraid. She seemed to read my doubts for she said—“Lie down, and have no fear. At present you will come by no harm from me. Now, tell me what is the man called Leo to you? Your son? Nay, it cannot be, since—forgive me—light is not born of darkness.”
“I have always thought that it was so born, Khania. Yet you are right; he is but my adopted son, and a man whom I love.”
“Say, what seek you here?” she asked.
“We seek, Khania, whatsoever Fate shall bring us on yonder Mountain, that which is crowned with flame.”