"Aye," said Panthor slowly.
"And thou knowest some worker of stones?"
"Aye, Priestess of Adita." A tremor of understanding crept into Panthor's tones.
Kalamita drew back and regarded him out of narrowed lids. "Were it not possible to have him make what we need?"
"By Bel—" Panthor began, and stiffened under her glance. "Aye—so it could be done. Yet time would be required."
"Time?" The woman shrugged. "Is Panthor so anxious then, to mount the throne? Helmor plays into our hands in this in entering into parley with the southern nation. Once we have the child he will seek to regain him—to take from Bel what has been declared his own. Then—Bandhor—is not brother of Kalamita, and captain of Zollaria's men for nothing—Bel's own priest shall declare Panthor emperor in Helmor's place and Bandhor shall support him. How say you—is it not well planned?"
"Aye," said Panthor thickly. "Aye, Priestess of Adita."
"Then let Panthor see Helmor's sign cut on a stone." Kalamita rose. "And let him place it in Bandhor's hand when it is done. Ptah, build you the fires—let them be ready for the torch at the appointed time. Kalamita's oath to the Strong One shall be redeemed. How long, Panthor, before thy part shall be done?"
"Ten suns, perchance twelve," said Panthor, he and Bandhor also rising.
"See to it." Kalamita turned to leave the room. Ptah moved his heavy body to set the door open before her, and Bandhor joined her. They passed out and were gone.