“He grows tall.... When I return he must leave the seraglio.”
A spasm crossed Aryenis’s face. “Is he so tall, lord?... Leave him a little longer!”
“He is ripe to be taken from women, placed among men. What! Do you not see him where he shall grow to be the king palm of the grove?”
“Yes, yes! I see him climbing steps of thrones.... Alyattes!”
“Come back to the fountain.... Were your heart parted, would the larger piece fall to Alyattes? I think it would—I think it would!... Meranes, the lesser man, to have the lesser gift.”
“Lord, thou art the man. Alyattes is a young child.”
“If a spirit appeared and said, ‘Choose between his life and Meranes!’”
“Meranes, I do not have to choose.”
“If—if—”
Aryenis bent her knees, touched the palms of her out-spread hands, touched her forehead between, to the pavement. “Lord and master! How could I choose the child?”