“Oh, well, I suppose the God-king will conquer them some day and make them all slaves. But I wish I could see the sea again. There used to be little octopuses in the tide pools, and if you shouted `Boo!' at them they turned all white. -There comes that old Manan, looking for you.”

Arha's guard and servant was coming slowly along the inner side of the wall. He would stoop to pull a wild onion, of which he held a large, limp bunch, then straighten up and look about him with his small, dull, brown eyes. He had grown fatter with the years, and his hairless yellow skin glistened in the sun.

“Slide down part way on the men's side,” Arha hissed, and both girls wriggled lithe as lizards down the far side of the wall until they could cling there just below the top, invisible from the inner side. They heard Manan's slow footsteps coming by.

“Hoo! Hoo! Potato face!” crooned Arha, a whispering jeer faint as the wind among the grasses.

The heavy tread halted. “Ho there,” said the uncertain voice. “Little one? Arha?”

Silence.

Manan went forward.

“Hoo-oo! Potato face!”

“Hoo, potato belly!” Penthe whispered in imitation, and then moaned, trying to suppress giggles.

“Somebody there?”

Silence.

“Oh well, well, well,” the eunuch sighed, and his slow feet went on. When he was gone over the shoulder of the slope, the girls scrambled back up onto the top of the wall. Penthe was pink with sweat and giggles, but Arha looked savage.

“The stupid old bellwether, following me around everywhere!”

“He has to,” Penthe said reasonably. “It's his job, looking after you.”

“Those I serve look after me. I please them; I need please nobody else. These old women and half-men, these people should leave me alone. I am the One Priestess!”

Penthe stared at the other girl. “Oh,” she said feebly, “oh, I know you are, Arha-”