conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'King's Man'?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: King's Man
  Her eyes narrowed. "We believe in fate. We believe that from the time we are born our lives are ruled by whatever decisions the gods have made regarding our every move. I think about this often." She grasped his arm. "But what if the resolutions the gods have made for us can be altered by our own choices? What if Atum can only show you what might be, because what might be depends on the large and small choices of your petitioners each day? Do your predictions always come true?"
  She was staring at him speculatively, her lips pursed, her expression cool. "My last question has not been answered," she said stiffly. "Moreover, one does not say 'must' to a Queen. Even if Atum owns this ship and tells you in which direction it should sail, yet my son and I remain at the helm and may steer towards its destination as we see fit." Huy had not seen her angry before. She had not raised her voice or made any gesture, nor had her cheeks flushed, but he sensed an icy rage beneath her calm exterior.
  Her narrow shoulders slumped. Pushing back her hair with both hands, she sighed. "I don't know. Everything you say is true. Everything. Perhaps I resent having the decision of a suitable wife for Amunhotep taken away from me. It is one of the few occasions when I may be a mother as well as a Regent. My mind fills with acrimony when I imagine him coupled with a commoner chosen by a commoner." She pointed ruefully at Huy. "You. Nor do I like humbling myself before the gods. If you see a fragile, dainty aristocrat in me, my friend, you are deceived. I admit that Amunhotep needs you, but I need you also, to remind me that even a Queen must face the judgment of Ma'at's feather. I have grown arrogant since my son mounted the Horus Throne." She grimaced. "Very well. Why did I bother to bring you here if I refuse to listen to you? Or to Atum? But promise me, Huy, promise me that you also will obey the god and do your utmost to make the second part of the vision a lie. We will say nothing of it to the King. It has nothing to do with him. As for Tiye, why should she imagine her husband dead before she's even been betrothed? You may approach Yuya when his father has been entombed, and then the King, who will protest the god's imperative very loudly, and then Tiye. She will have to be moved into the harem with her mother, and her education must change. Iaret will be furious."
  A silence fell. Mutemwia drew up her knees, hooked her heels over the edge of the chair, and folded her arms around her linenclad calves. Huy had seen her perform the same informal movements countless times in the office of his house outside Hut-herib during the long nights when the two of them talked closely and effortlessly together. Mutemwia, like her son, found sleep difficult and early morning risings even more onerous. The memory was sweet and Huy began to relax, expecting her to look up at any moment and dismiss him. Instead she said, "Vizier Ptahmose will be making his regular tour of all the sepats at the beginning of the month of Mesore. The harvest will be in by then and we will be waiting for the Inundation. He visits every Governor in order to assess the general well-being of the country. I want you to go north with him. Pay special attention to the state of the Delta and our borders with Rethennu and the tribes to the east that pay us tribute. There have been reports of pirates landing on our coast and complaints from the King of the island of Alashia that they have begun to plunder the towns on Alashia's coast. We import almost all of our copper from Alashia, and we have a very friendly relationship with the ruling family. Your nephew Amunhotep-Huy can go with you in his capacity as King's Scribe of Recruits. His mind has been overfull of his impending marriage. I suggest that you spend time in the Office of Foreign Correspondence. You need a better sense of Egypt's influence." She smiled. "The King and I agree that as his Personal Scribe you have had little to do. He wants you to continue taking down his future plans in private, as you have already done, but we are wasting your talents, Huy, especially as you will no longer See for anyone we do not send to you. Is that acceptable?"
  It was a warning, and the new task she had set him was a confirmation of her trust. Huy nodded. "The King has told me that he intends to move the court to Weset," he ventured. "Am I to keep an occasional eye on the progress of the new palace's design?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Two gates gave access to Huy's domain. One faced north into the poppy fields and the other spanned the canal leading from the river and running past the house to the luxuriant garden beyond. Now, in the middle of Mesore, the canal was dry. The guard on the northern gate admitted the litter, and soon Huy was alighting under the pillars that fronted his reception hall.
  Amunmose emerged from the shadows and bowed. "Paneb has gone to his afternoon sleep but wants you to be prepared to deal with the seven scrolls on your desk this evening, Master," he said, following Huy as he entered the coolness of the great room. "Kenofer is also asleep on his mat before your door but begs to be woken if you need him. The Lady Nasha has not returned from the house of the Lady Thuyu. Captain Perti—"
  Huy hushed him with a wave of his hand. "Everything can wait until I've rested. Get to your own couch, Amunmose. For once I'll be eating the evening meal here at home, so tell Rakhaka, will you?"
  Removing his sandals, he set off across the long expanse of the hall, glad to feel the slight chill of the white and blue tiles against the naked soles of his feet. It took him some time to reach the hot breeze of the open passage beyond and the guarded stairs leading up at right angles to the chambers above. Amunhotep had insisted that the imperial colours be apparent in the house. "You are the extension of my arm and the chosen companion of the gods," he had said flatly. "My brother, my uncle, my beloved Seer, the only man I trust completely. If anyone is privileged to live amid the blue and the white besides myself, it's you, mer kat." So Huy's staff were kilted in blue and white, the flags flying from his skiffs and barges also sported the colours of a royal house, and Huy himself wore striped blue and white linen ribbons plaited into his long braids. The palace servants, the common folk he encountered coming and going, would kneel and prostrate themselves when he passed, and long ago Huy had given up trying to prevent their extreme homage. "The people know who rules Egypt," Amunhotep had casually stated in dismissal of Huy's protest. "They're expressing their gratitude for the lives of peace and plenty you've given them, that's all. You're concerned that you're appropriating my prerogative, Huy, but I'm not troubled in the least. This matter is of no importance." Thankfully, Huy's personal staff did no more than bow to him occasionally as they pursued their duties.
  His under steward, Paroi, passing the foot of the stairs, nodded as he disappeared into the lower labyrinth of the great house. Huy nodded back, mounted the stairs, and at last stepped over a snoring Kenofer and turned into his own door.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about conducted, designed, appeared.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Two gates gave access to Huy's domain. One faced north into the poppy fields and the other spanned the canal leading from the river and running past the house to the luxuriant garden beyond. Now, in the middle of Mesore, the canal was dry. The guard on the northern gate admitted the litter, and soon Huy was alighting under the pillars that fronted his reception hall. 
  Amunmose emerged from the shadows and bowed. "Paneb has gone to his afternoon sleep but wants you to be prepared to deal with the seven scrolls on your desk this evening, Master," he said, following Huy as he entered the coolness of the great room. "Kenofer is also asleep on his mat before your door but begs to be woken if you need him. The Lady Nasha has not returned from the house of the Lady Thuyu. Captain Perti—"
  Huy hushed him with a wave of his hand. "Everything can wait until I've rested. Get to your own couch, Amunmose. For once I'll be eating the evening meal here at home, so tell Rakhaka, will you?"
  Removing his sandals, he set off across the long expanse of the hall, glad to feel the slight chill of the white and blue tiles against the naked soles of his feet. It took him some time to reach the hot breeze of the open passage beyond and the guarded stairs leading up at right angles to the chambers above. Most of the administrative business inherent in his position as mer kat was conducted in the many offices adjacent to the palace, but sometimes matters of a delicate nature were dealt with here, in his home, where his reception area was deliberately designed to create a diffidence in the officials who appeared before him at the foot of his dais. Amunhotep had insisted that the imperial colours be apparent in the house. "You are the extension of my arm and the chosen companion of the gods," he had said flatly. "My brother, my uncle, my beloved Seer, the only man I trust completely. If anyone is privileged to live amid the blue and the white besides myself, it's you, mer kat. " So Huy's staff were kilted in blue and white, the flags flying from his skiffs and barges also sported the colours of a royal house, and Huy himself wore striped blue and white linen ribbons plaited into his long braids. The palace servants, the common folk he encountered coming and going, would kneel and prostrate themselves when he passed, and long ago Huy had given up trying to prevent their extreme homage. "The people know who rules Egypt," Amunhotep had casually stated in dismissal of Huy's protest. "They're expressing their gratitude for the lives of peace and plenty you've given them, that's all. You're concerned that you're appropriating my prerogative, Huy, but I'm not troubled in the least. This matter is of no importance. " Thankfully, Huy's personal staff did no more than bow to him occasionally as they pursued their duties. 
  His under steward, Paroi, passing the foot of the stairs, nodded as he disappeared into the lower labyrinth of the great house. Huy nodded back, mounted the stairs, and at last stepped over a snoring Kenofer and turned into his own door.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Amunhotep the Third has rightly been called "The Magnificent." Under him, Egypt became an empire. Gold poured into the country from Kush, far to the south, and trade with conquered and satellite nations was brisk. Egypt basked in over thirty years of increasing wealth and power. More statues were erected throughout that time than at any other period in Egypt's history. The art of embalming reached its highest degree of skill. Indeed, the mummy of Yuya, Tiye's father, who died in Amunhotep's twentieth year on the throne, is regarded as the most expertly preserved. Thuyu, Tiye's mother, died soon after her husband. Her mummy is also proof of the embalmers' skill. Yet representations of the King in later life show him as overweight beneath the drape of the loose female linens he began to prefer. There is an air of listlessness about him, a jaded boredom, as though being the most significant ruler in the world and able to have everything he desired had left him empty. He died in Year 38 of his reign at an age somewhere in his early fifties.
  Queen Mutemwia was in her sixties when she died in her son's thirty-second year on the throne. He had loaded her with titles, and tells us that "Everything she commanded was done."
  As for Huy, he died rich and highly respected in the King's Year 34. The previous year, the King had ordered two statues of Huy to be placed along the processional route through Ipet-isut, near the ninth pylon, thus inviting Amun himself to regard Huy as a god. On the statues, Huy made Amun's worshippers aware that they could bring their prayers and libations to him and he would take their petitions directly to Amun. He had been named by the King to do so. Amunhotep must have grieved deeply for the loss of the friend he had loved and trusted. Over the following centuries Huy gradually attained true godhead by healing the sick, and particularly the blind, who came to pray to him. He may have lost his own sight before he died.
  Tiye's younger brother Anen died in the same year. Anen's great friend Ramose, Huy's younger nephew, finished Anen's tomb at his own expense. Ramose became Mayor of Weset at this time. Huy's other nephew, the harsh Amunhotep-Huy, did not long survive his uncle. He was in his fifties when he died in the year following Huy's death. The Empress Tiye lived on well into the reign of her second son.
  MANY THANKS to my researcher Bernard Ramanauskas, whose diligence and insight into what remains of both the Book of Thoth and the heb sed festival have been invaluable in the creating of this trilogy.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book? Start with the sentence 'King's Man
  Thothhotep did not laugh'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: King's Man
  Thothhotep did not laugh. Slaking her thirst, she replaced the cup on the desk and pulled a stool near to Huy. "The King has already turned his attention to you, Master, if only briefly," she reminded him as she sank onto the stool. "He must have instructed Royal Treasurer Sobekhotep to continue the grant of gold that his father began. Merenra told me yesterday that the regular amount due at the start of the spring months had arrived."
  Huy did not know whether to feel glad or threatened by the news. "Will he go to war, I wonder? All the signs point to a rapid advance on Rethennu. Will he take the army further? Is Prince Amunhotep safe from him in Mitanni? Or does Thothmes feel so secure now that the Double Crown is on his head that he will leave his older brother alone?" Bemused, he ran a hand through his unbound hair. Heby's letter had arrived very early in the day and as yet Huy had not been to the bathhouse.
  Huy met his scribe's steady gaze. "No, he won't. He will never offer me his hand. He's afraid that if he does, I'll know the truth of his dream for certain. He might send one of his generals, though, or even Wesersatet. Would that be safe for him?" Thothhotep did not respond. Her hand went to her palette, and Huy shook his head. "No, I won't dictate an answer to Heby today. Seshemnefer arrived last night. He wants to discuss with me what crops to sow on the arouras at Ta-she and those I own west of Hut-herib, and Anab is already nagging me about our garden here." He got up.
  By the second week of Tybi, the flood water had drained into the soil and back into the confines of the river's banks. The peasants could be seen standing in the naked, silt-clogged fields. The maze of canals used to feed water to the coming crops had been sealed against any outflow as over the coming months the level of the river would gradually begin to drop. Rumours of a projected military campaign were at last confirmed. His Majesty would take his troops east at the beginning of the following month, Mekhir. But by then Huy no longer cared whether or not Thothmes went to war. On the twenty-eighth day of Tybi a letter from Amunnefer arrived. Huy, enjoying the cool breeze, was in the garden talking to Anab over baskets of bedding plants when Thothhotep brought him the scroll. Seeing Amunnefer's seal impression in the wax, Huy handed it back to her. "It will be his estimates for the cost of tending the poppy arouras this year," he said. "Make a note of them yourself, Thothhotep, and file them. You can give me the amount of gold later."
  She fumbled to unroll the scroll, her throat working again, her tongue moving briefly over dry lips. "There is no greeting," she began, her voice uneven. She cleared her throat, shot him an agonized glance, and went on:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As the years passed, Huy and all the members of his household began to look forward to the months of the Inundation, when Prince Amunhotep would arrive with his retinue, settle into the guest room, and bring the estate to life. Huy, loving him, seeing the changes both physical and intellectual in him each year, missed him when he was gone. The letters from his mother continued to arrive, always giving Huy a vivid account of everything occurring at court, but Mutemwia herself no longer accompanied her son to the Seer's house. Huy admired her wisdom. It was certain that the King knew of his child's yearly stay near Hut-herib, and equally clear that he did not care, probably because Amunhotep was not his heir. Amunemhat, son of Chief Wife Neferatiri, held that honour, and as long as Second Wife Mutemwia was not living at Huy's estate with her little boy, she was not plotting sedition. The King's gold continued to arrive punctually at Huy's watersteps, but no word ever came from the One himself.
  It was a time of prosperity and satisfaction for Huy's family also. In year five of the King, Huy's nephew Ramose turned six and was enrolled at the temple school in Mennofer, and the following year his other nephew, Amunhotep-Huy, finished his education and was appointed as a scribe at court to Tjanuni, the King's Overseer of Soldiers. Huy had no doubt that the boy would do well among the men he liked and did his best to emulate. He had wanted to enter the army itself, but Heby, his father, had protested against his desire so vehemently that Amunhotep-Huy had sulkily acquiesced to both Heby's urging and that of his military tutor Officer Irem, and had accepted the position of army scribe instead. Heby's own position as Mayor of Mennofer had given him a reputation to uphold. Only the sons of peasants volunteered to march with the infantry. The sons of nobles and highly placed administrators entered officer training, but even that route was denied to Amunhotep-Huy by his father and Irem, a man with his own ambitions, who was happy to be allied to the family of both the Mayor of Mennofer and Egypt's famous Seer and who had no wish to see the country reminded of the family's lowly origins by one of its members. Huy heard nothing from his older nephew, but Ramose began to send him letters as soon as he graduated from pieces of clay to papyrus. Huy enjoyed them. Ramose wrote increasingly ably of his life at school, his warm, unaffected words returning Huy to his own years with Thothmes at Iunu's temple school in a past long gone.
  Mutemwia's scrolls spoke to Huy of a King who was governing well and who had begun to build at Ipet-isut, the great temple complex dedicated to Amun at Weset in the south. Amun had become Amun-Ra some time before, a fact Huy had lightly dismissed from his mind until the King and his father the Osiris-one Amunhotep the Second began to quarrel with Amun's priests and to openly prefer the Aten and other hypostases of Ra. Every King set out to enlarge and beautify Ipet-isut in homage to the country's most powerful god, and Thothmes was no exception, though Huy, reading between the lines of Mutemwia's perpetual scrawl, surmised that if Amun had not begun to be linked with the power of the sun, his Incarnation on earth would not have bothered to so honour him. Thothmes had a sandstone court built and decorated within the temple precinct, and also a shrine for the god's barque, the precious stone being taken from the alabaster quarries on the east bank of the river opposite Khmun. He raised an obelisk that had been commissioned but not finished by his grandfather the Osiris-one Thothmes the Third. He had new copper and turquoise mines opened in the eastern desert where Hathor, goddess of love and beauty, and patroness of the area, had a temple. He was proceeding along the path of every ruler before him, and Huy, knowing how little time the King had left to leave any stamp upon his reign, felt a fleeting pity for him. So far he had done nothing to make his people anxious or afraid. He had not anathematized Amun publicly. He had not demanded a position of superiority for the Aten. Yet Huy, remembering the man's great lie, was sure that among his courtiers and in the scant privacy of his own quarters the Aten alone received his prayers.
  Carefully, Huy questioned Prince Amunhotep regarding the spread of Aten worship in the harem where the boy often stayed, but Amunhotep had no interest in the rivalries of the gods. "I carry Amun's great name," he said to Huy once, "and that is enough for me. My father hates the south anyway. He always has. You'd think he'd love it because Ra's heat burns so strongly there and his light dazzles the eyes. What are you worrying about, Uncle Huy?"
  Huy quickly turned the conversation into safer avenues, jolted by his adopted nephew's perception, and tried to ignore his fears; for this was year six of the King, when the flood was high and the days were long, and the somnolence of peace and good order lay over the land.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last three paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He did not apologize, and Huy did not push him for a more definite answer. He and Thothhotep had at last signed a marriage contract in Huy's presence. Huy had given them a feast and many gifts, but an atmosphere of sadness had pervaded Huy's pretty reception room in spite of musicians, a troupe of local dancers, plenty of wine, and the noise of Anhur's men and the rest of Huy's servants, guests for the occasion. Now, in his attempt to remain calm, Huy enfolded both of them in a fierce embrace and dared not speak for fear of breaking down.
  Huy cradled her thin cheeks and kissed her, then he watched them walk along the ramp and up onto the deck of the boat he had bought for them, two of Anhur's guards following. He had wanted to send them with a blessing—"May the soles of your feet always be firm, my dear ones"—but his throat was too dry. The oars were run out, the helmsman put both hands to the tiller, and the barge began its long journey.
  The vessel bearing away so many of his memories was at last lost to view. Turning, he walked slowly back towards his house.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He and Thothhotep had at last signed a marriage contract in Huy's presence. Huy had given them a feast and many gifts, but an atmosphere of sadness had pervaded Huy's pretty reception room in spite of musicians, a troupe of local dancers, plenty of wine, and the noise of Anhur's men and the rest of Huy's servants, guests for the occasion. Now, in his attempt to remain calm, Huy enfolded both of them in a fierce embrace and dared not speak for fear of breaking down.
  Huy cradled her thin cheeks and kissed her, then he watched them walk along the ramp and up onto the deck of the boat he had bought for them, two of Anhur's guards following. He had wanted to send them with a blessing—"May the soles of your feet always be firm, my dear ones"—but his throat was too dry. The oars were run out, the helmsman put both hands to the tiller, and the barge began its long journey.
  The vessel bearing away so many of his memories was at last lost to view. Turning, he walked slowly back towards his house.