Lion Head Mesa govind bolo hari, gopal bolo

"if you stay even for a time, i shall help you with a messenger," pharaoh offered grandly. 
the wellspring was rather frigid this time of year, but aditya might notice the absence of snow upon sand, how the mesa seemed protected by a minute warmth even in the pale blight.
down below, servants and guards crossing paths with bows and murmurs of respect, winding scarlet hallways until they came to his throne room, where pharaoh ordered delicate haunches of rabbit, the breast of a sparrow, tubers dug from beneath the earth, and the pine liquor treated with a gentle hint of opium, to warm the veins.
all laid upon the eating mats, jawahir arching their hips beneath the eyes of the aged prophet as they departed with the others. "you may have anyone you like sent to your rooms," pharaoh revealed, sitting to their meal and ignoring the fact of aditya's presumed wife!