“Aye, Lady, I hear and see. But say, where are we now?”
“In the Under-world, I think, Asti. Oh! that fire was death, and now we journey to the Place of Souls.”
“If so, Lady, it is strange that we should still have eyes and flesh and voices as mortal women have. Let us sit up and look.”
So they sat up, their arms about each other, and peered through the open curtains. Behold! they were on a ship more beautiful than any they had ever seen, for it seemed to be covered with gold and silver, while sweet odours floated from its hold. Their pavilion was set in the centre of the ship and looking aft, they perceived lines of white-clad rowers seated at their oars in the shadow of the bulwarks, and on the high stern—also robed in white—a tall steersman whose face was veiled, behind whom in the dim glimpses of the moon, they caught sight of a wide and silvery river, and on its distant banks palms and temple towers.
“It is the Boat of Ra,” murmured Tua, “which bears us down the River of Death to the Kingdom behind the Sun.”
Then she sank back upon her cushions, and once more fell into swoon or sleep.
Tua woke again, and lo! the sun was shining brightly, and at her side sat Asti watching her. Moreover, in front of them was set a table spread with delicate food.
“Tell me what has chanced, Nurse,” she said faintly, “for I am bewildered, and know not in what world we wander.”
“Our own, Queen, I think,” answered Asti, “but in charge of those who are not of it, for surely this is no mortal boat, nor do mortals guide her to her port. Come, we need food. Let us eat while we may.”
So they ate and drank heartily enough, and when they had finished even dared to go out of the pavilion. Looking around them they saw that they stood upon a high deck in the midst of a great ship, but that this ship was enclosed with a net of silver cords in which they could find no opening. Looking through its meshes they noted that the oars were inboard, and the great purple sails set upon the mast, also that the rowers were gone, perchance to rest beneath the deck, while on the forecastle of the ship stood the captain, white-robed and masked, and aft the steersman, also still masked, so that they could see nothing of their faces. Now, too, they were no longer sailing on a river, but down a canal bordered by banks of sand on either side, beyond which stretched desert farther than the eye could reach.