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friendship.”
    “If you want my friendship, you have it already,” said Ramose.
    The old woman shook her head. “But you will leave and I will only have the memory of friendship.”
    “Are you saying you want me to stay?” asked Ramose.
    “Not you. You have a journey to finish. You have friends. I have no one.”
    Ramose looked at Karoya and Hapu in alarm, finally understanding what the old woman wanted.
    They were staring back at him wide-eyed.
    “I can’t give you my friends,” said Ramose. “They aren’t mine to give.”
    “The slave girl is yours to give, if you choose.”
    “No,” Ramose cried, his voice rising in fear and anger. “I don’t own her. She’s free to go wherever she wishes.”
    “Is she?”
    Ramose knew that Karoya was actually the pharaoh’s property.
    “She is useful to you now,” continued Jenu. “But if you find what you are seeking, then what will become of her?”
    “I’ll take care of her.” Ramose snatched his hand away. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know my future.”
    “The choice is yours,” said Jenu.
    “Why can’t you just tell him?” asked Hapu.
    “It is the way of the oracle. She will not see clearly unless Ramose gives me something of his that I need.”
    Mery stirred in the old woman’s lap. The cat stood up, turned around twice then settled down again.
    “What about Mery?” asked Karoya.
    “No, Karoya,” said Ramose. “Mery is yours. Jenu wants something of mine.”
    Karoya turned to the old woman. “Would the cat be a suitable gift?” she asked. “She is a good friend.”
    The old woman thought for a moment and then nodded.
    “I don’t want to hear about my future,” said Ramose angrily. “I don’t believe in oracles. I know what I have to do. I don’t need an oracle to tell me.”
    “The oracle’s knowledge is important,” said the old woman. “Without it you might fail.”
    “I give Mery to you, Ramose,” said Karoya. Mery slept in the old woman’s lap, unaware that she was the centre of attention. “She is yours now.”
    “No!”
    “The gods have brought us here, Ramose,” said Hapu. “Perhaps it was for a reason. Listen to what Jenu has to say.”
    “Let her tell your future instead,” Ramose said. “Or yours, Karoya.”
    “No, Ramose,” said Karoya. “My future has been bound with yours since I chose to follow you and not go where the pharaoh sent me. Take Mery. I give her to you.”
    Ramose looked from Karoya to the old woman.
    “Are you sure, Karoya?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “Will you give the cat to me, Ramose?” asked the old woman.
    Ramose nodded. “Yes.”
    “The oracle accepts your gift,” said Jenu. She spoke as if the oracle was another person.
    The old woman reached out for Ramose’s hand again. Ramose glared at the old woman, but placed his hand in hers.
    “Ask the oracle what you want to know.”
    There was so much he wanted to know, Ramose hardly knew where to begin. “Will I see my father again before he dies?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will I achieve my goal?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will I—”
    “You can ask only one more question of the oracle.”
    “Why didn’t you say that before?” snapped Ramose. “This isn’t a game.”
    “The oracle doesn’t like to give up her knowledge.”
    Ramose had so many questions. If he were to become the pharaoh, would he be happy? Would he be a good pharaoh? Would Vizier Wersu still want him dead? Ramose thought for a moment. He had to word his last question carefully.
    “Does the oracle see anything in my future that I need to know?”
    The old woman smiled a small, grim smile. “The oracle has a warning for you.”
    “What is it?”
    “The blue lotus can hide a bee in its petals.”
    Ramose opened his mouth to say something. The old woman held up her hand to stop him.
    “A perfect jewel will stay buried in the earth, yet the maid at the millstone holds it out in her hand.”
    Jenu still held her hand in the air.
    “Trust the crocodile and bow