“Are you indeed a mortal?” he asked. “Methought that I who am the head-priest of Isis saw in you the goddess come to earth, and indeed, Lady, I seem to see the holy blood of Isis coursing in your veins.”
“It is true, Priest, that of this goddess whom my mother worshipped I have dreams and memories and that sometimes she seems to speak with me in sleep, yet I tell you that I am but a mortal, the daughter of Yarab the far-famed,” I answered to him.
“Then you are that maiden whom I am commanded to seek, she who is named Ayesha. Know, Lady, that great is your destiny, greater than that of any king, and that it is revealed to me that you will become immortal.”
“All who believe on the gods trust to find the pearl, Immortality, beneath Death’s waters, O Priest.”
“Yes, Lady, but the immortality that is foretold for you is different and begins upon the earth, and I confess that I understand it not, though perhaps it may be an immortality of fame.”
“Nor I, Priest. But meanwhile, what would you of me?”
“Shelter and food, Lady.”
“And what can you offer for these, Priest?”
“Learning, Lady.”
“That I think I have already.”