There were many women beside.
The beaded rooms and courts of the seraglio had likewise their order of importance, raying from the highly so to the less highly so, and thence to the hardly so at all. Golden cells in the comb, stood the quarters of Aryenis. Nitetis, the swarthy Egyptian, had the silver cells. These two only counted in seraglio politics, each drawing with her her faction. Next, in fair light, were clustered other women from the east and the west, the north and the south. Around these, in paler light and paler light, were gathered others.... Chamber on chamber, the palace was as a whispering shell. Ray on ray, range of rooms on range of rooms, it stretched and tapered through degrees of favour and nearness, into the cool murk of obscurity, faint clinging for support.
Aryenis had at her hand her son Alyattes, and Nitetis had at her hand her son Smerdis. The children numbered five and six years. Aryenis being first with Meranes, the palace, the city and the province called Alyattes the satrap’s heir—called him so with emphasis since last year when Meranes, taking the lad with him into the presence of the king of the whole land who was making progress, prostrated himself with his son, and besought continuance of favour toward Alyattes after Meranes had returned to the fire whence he came. Surely Alyattes was heir! The magi, tutors of the children, taught the young Smerdis to give up to, to follow the lead of his brother. Also Aryenis taught Alyattes that he was first, as she taught Nitetis that she, Aryenis, was first. The Egyptian woman, dark-skinned, black-browed, and rose-lipped, somewhat younger than the other, drew up her shoulders, slid by....
Meranes, fatigued from hunting, came to the bath, was refreshed and clad in silk and gems. In the round room of the silver palms he sat before food, and when he had eaten, and drank somewhat sparingly of wine, he gave orders to admit to him the magus Artaxias. Waiting for him, he took in his hands a curiously shaped box filled with fine sand, in a cup beside it golden balls the size of pearls. The balls were for casting upon the smoothed sand, and the figures they made a sign-writing, vouchsafed by destiny. Meranes, seated on rich cushions, gathered the balls in his hand and cast them, then strove to read. The satrap was dark and bright of eye, well made, bearing power in his look. He cast the balls and brooded over the plain of sand. If expanded beneath his imagination into desert width.
Artaxias approached, stood in flowing robes. “Here is a strange figure,” said Meranes. “I cannot read it!”
The magus stooped beside him. “O Meranes, that is the scorpion of Egypt.—Look for trouble from Egypt!”
“As you know, that is come,” said Meranes. “They attack the southern borders. I go against them with ten thousand men.”
“I know, O Satrap! Perhaps it is all the woe.”
“Last night I watched the stars from the edge of the jungle. Sadyattes and I who had hunted together, watched them together.”
“If the lion will make Sadyattes his brother, who, O Meranes, will say the lion nay?”