"An augury—an augury!" Kalamita panted. "What says the Strong One? Speak, Ptah, that I as well may know his pleasure."
Ptah lowered his back-tilted head. "Naught but the child may prevail to save Zollaria in this matter," he made somewhat cryptic answer after the manner of his calling.
But Kalamita sprang up, her red lips parted, her nostrils flaring—a light of unholy satisfaction in her eyes. "Then," she began, her tone tensely vibrant—
"Nay." Ptah raised a hand. "It lies with Helmor. Him must you persuade to give ear to Bel's decision."
"Or"—she bent toward him, laying her blood-dabbled hands against his mighty torso—"were the child brought into the temple—"
"Hah!" Ptah's eyes fired. "Bel himself has spoken to thee also, Priestess of Adita. Were the child within this temple none, not even Helmor, would have the power to regain him, and were Helmor to know a third defeat, one more bidable to the gods might mount the throne."
For a moment there was silence, and then Kalamita said slowly, "An' he listens not to Bel's message, perchance the Strong One will show me a way to gain our ends."
Ptah nodded. "Perchance, Priestess."
A glance of understanding passed between them, and Kalamita moved toward the door.
"Be prepared to act quickly should such time arrive," she prompted, and was gone.