“Does the Kherheb, the greatest magician in Egypt, ask an unlearned woman to teach him of marvels? Well, Ki, I cannot, because I neither do it nor know how it is done.”
Bakenkhonsu laughed, and Ki’s painted smile grew as it were brighter than before.
“That is not what they say in the land of Goshen, Lady,” he answered, “and not what the Hebrew women say here in Memphis. Nor is it what the priests of Amon say. These declare that you have more magic than all the sorcerers of the Nile. Here is the proof of it,” and he pointed to the ruin without and the peace within, adding, “Lady, if you can protect your own home, why cannot you protect the innocent people of Egypt?”
“Because I cannot,” she answered angrily. “If ever I had such power it is gone from me, who am now the mother of an Egyptian’s child. But I have none. There in the temple of Amon some Strength worked through me, that is all, which never will visit me again because of my sin.”
“What sin, Lady?”
“The sin of taking the Prince Seti to lord. Now, if any god spoke through me it would be one of those of the Egyptians, since He of Israel has cast me out.”
Ki started as though some new thought had come to him, and at this moment she turned and went away.
“Would that she were high-priestess of Isis that she might work for us and not against us,” he said.
Bakenkhonsu shook his head.
“Let that be,” he answered. “Be sure that never will an Israelitish woman offer sacrifice to what she would call the abomination of the Egyptians.”