“Will you not first marry me, Lady?” suggested Rames. “Afterwards, we can think.”
“Aye,” she answered, “I will marry you as I have promised, but in one place only, the temple of Amen in Egypt. First win me back my throne, then ask for my hand.”
“It shall be done,” he answered, “though how I know not, seeing that another sits upon that throne of yours, who, perhaps, will not be willing to bid it farewell.”
“We will send her a message, Son,” said Asti. “Now leave us, for we must sleep.”
“Where is your messenger, Mother?” asked Rames as he went.
“Have you known me all these years, my Son, and not learned that I have servants whom you cannot see?” answered Asti.
It was midnight, and in their chamber of the palace of Rames, Asti and Tua knelt side by side in prayer to Amen, Father of the Gods. Then, their petitions finished, Asti rose to her feet, and once again, as in the pylon tower at Memphis, uttered the awful words that in bygone days had been spoken to her by the spirit of Ahura the divine in Osiris.
There was a sound as of whispering, a sound as of beating wings. Lo! in the shadow beyond the lamplight a mist gathered that brightened by degrees and took shape, the shape of a royal woman clad in the robes and ornaments of Egypt’s Queen, whose face was as the face of Neter-Tua, only prouder and more unearthly. In silence it stood before them scanning them with its glittering eyes.
“Whence come you, O Double?” asked Asti.
“From that place where your command found me, O Mistress of Secret Things, from the house of Abi at Thebes, wherein he seems to rule as Pharaoh,” the Form answered in its cold voice.