She was seated alone at the far end of this hall, beneath the
window-plate, clad in her white robes of office, richly broidered
with emblems of the moon. Her women, most of whom were employed in
needle-work, though some whispered idly to each other, were gathered at
the lower end of the hall near to its door.
Metem saluted them as he entered, and they detained him, answering his
greeting by requests for news and with jests, not too refined, or by
demands for presents of jewels, in return for which they promised him
the blessings of the goddess. To each he made some apt reply, for even
the priestesses of Baaltis could not abash Metem. But while he bandied
words, his quick eyes noted one of their number who did not join in
this play. She was a spare, thin-lipped woman whom he knew for Mesa,
the daughter of the dead Baaltis, who had been a rival candidate for the
throne of the high-priestess when Elissa was chosen in her place.
When he entered the hall Mesa was seated upon a canvas stool, a little
apart from the others, her chin resting upon her hand, staring with an
evil look towards the place where Elissa was enthroned. Nor did her face
grow more gentle at the sight of the cunning merchant, for she knew well
it was through his plots and bribery that she had been ousted from her
mother's place.
"A woman to be feared," thought Metem to himself as, shaking off the
priestesses, he passed her upon his way up the long chamber.
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