Lion Head Mesa Voice of man

it was during moments such as these that senmut felt that fertile dirt beneath his claws, the earth of upper aswan in a nome so tiny that it was known only, and locally at that, by its eternal god: Wepwawet.

but the Sharp Eared One had not called to him, it had been Amun. and it had been the Life Spark which guided every step to this moment, where he sat in a wellspring with another man and they were both called royal.

yet, the truth of it kept the priest always humble.

the confidence shown by the Consort was so great that he could only bend to it.

fatherhood! an image of he and nazli, little children at their ankles, traveling that oasis beside the serpent where ramesses had journeyed with treva after their wedding.

"priests do not often yearn for a mortal life," senmut demurred. "i hope to be the worshipper who crowns your son as head of such a legion."

he hoped their talk would turn to things with fewer thorns for his heart.