Character: Bartemius

- Well, Yes, of course! - snapped kitty. - You feel good!
- You think? The boy gave himself a glance.
He was sitting up straight, neatly cross-legged, in the manner of an Egyptian scribe.
- Since died, Ptolemy, had two thousand one hundred twenty-nine years, he said. - He was fourteen. Eight world empires have risen and fallen since then, and I still wear his image. Who do you think is the better?