"Advice is cheap. What is going on out there?" Nemu related to his mother shortly, clearly, and without reserve, what was plotting in his mistress's house, and the frightful disgrace with which she was threatened through her son.
The old woman shook her grey head thoughtfully several times: but she let the little man go on to the end of his story without interrupting him. Then she asked, and her eyes flashed as she spoke: "And you really believe that you will succeed in putting the sparrow on the eagle's perch--Ani on the throne of Rameses?"
"The troops fighting in Ethiopia are for us," cried Nemu. "The priests declare themselves against the king, and recognize in Ani the genuine blood of Ra."
"That is much," said the old woman.
"And many dogs are the death of the gazelle," said Nemu laughing.
"But Rameses is not a gazelle to run, but a lion," said the old woman gravely. "You are playing a high game."
"We know it," answered Nemu. "But it is for high stakes--there is much to win."
"And all to lose," muttered the old woman, passing her fingers round her scraggy neck. "Well, do as you please--it is all the same to me who it is sends the young to be killed, and drives the old folks' cattle from the field. What do they want with me?"
"No one has sent me," answered the dwarf. "I come of my own free fancy to ask you what Katuti must do to save her son and her house from dishonor."
"Hm!" hummed the witch, looking at Nemu while she raised herself on her stick. "What has come to you that you take the fate of these great people to heart as if it were your own?"
The dwarf reddened, and answered hesitatingly, "Katuti is a good mistress, and, if things go well with her, there may be windfalls for you and me."
Hekt shook her head doubtfully.
"A loaf for you perhaps, and a crumb for me!" she said. "There is more than that in your mind, and I can read your heart as if you were a ripped up raven. You are one of those who can never keep their fingers at rest, and must knead everybody's dough; must push, and drive and stir something. Every jacket is too tight for you. If you were three feet taller, and the son of a priest, you might have gone far. High you will go, and high you will end; as the friend of a king--or on the gallows."