Before us lay a pleasure trip during which we should travel many thousands of miles. We proceeded slowly when we came above the base of the huge bulk of Pitach Rhok, the mighty mountain, and ascended somewhat, so that we should be on a level with its high point. When at the place, nothing would suit the company except a stop on the summit, and together we all placed foot in the snows on the pitach, which thing was done chiefly to please Anzimee, who said that the place was very interesting on account of what had there happened to me.
Ahead of us stretched an exciting journey spanning thousands of miles. As we approached the massive Pitach Rhok mountain, we slowed our pace and gradually climbed to match its peak's elevation. Upon reaching it, the group unanimously decided to stop at the summit. We all stepped into the snow-covered pitach, mainly to humor Anzimee, who found the location fascinating due to my previous experiences there.
Then, again, we were under way, descending from the higher altitudes in order to better view the thickly inhabited, though mountainous, country beneath us, between Pitach Rhok and east Poseid.
We resumed our journey, descending from the higher elevations to get a clearer view of the densely populated, mountainous region below us, stretching between Pitach Rhok and eastern Poseid.
At the approach of sunset a dull roar arose to the ear, and soon the long white shore of old ocean flashed beneath a moment, and in a little time was fax behind, with the waters, lead color in the twilight, beneath, behind, before and on both sides, no land in sight, and over one thousand miles east the country of Necropan. Without going at a full rate of speed, we could not expect to be above that land in less than two or three hours. But as it would be dark ere reaching it, we slackened speed to an hundred and fifty miles per hour, closed the deck and went into the salon, where incandescent lamps lit up the darkening night-glooms.
As sunset neared, a low rumble grew louder. Soon, the long white coastline flashed briefly below us before quickly fading into the distance. The ocean stretched in all directions, its waters a dull gray in the fading light. No land was visible, and our destination, Necropan, lay over a thousand miles to the east. We could have reached it in just a few hours at top speed, but since it would be dark when we arrived, we slowed to 150 miles per hour. We sealed the deck and retreated to the salon, where bright electric lights pushed back the encroaching darkness.
A trip by vailx could never prove so monotonous as a journey in even the fastest of ocean steamships so often is to-day. The variety of scenery, the wide views possible, for altitude was dependent wholly on pleasure, the external cold being unheeded by people who sat in a parlor warmed by means from Navaz and furnished with air of the proper density by the same Night-Side forces--all this tended to prevent ennui. Then too, the rapid transit changed the aspect of things beneath so fast that the spectator looking back-wards gazed upon a dissolving view. As an aside, the currents derived from the Night-Side of Nature permitted the attainment of the same speed as that of the diurnal rotation of the earth, e. g.: supposing we were at an altitude of ten miles, and the time the instant of the sun's meridian; at that moment we could remain indefinitely, bows on, while the earth revolved beneath, at approximately seventeen miles every minute. Or, the reverse direction keys could be set, and our vailx would speed away from where it was meridian on the surface beneath, at the same almost frightful rate, frightful to one unused to it, as my reader is now, but one day will not be, if, as I hope, he or she will live to see vailxi rediscovered. Nor need the life be a very long one ere then.
A journey by vailx was far more engaging than even the fastest ocean liner today. The variety of scenery and expansive views, with altitude adjustable at will, made for a captivating experience. Passengers sat comfortably in a warm parlor, unaffected by external cold, breathing air of perfect density—all thanks to Night-Side forces. This environment effectively prevented boredom. The rapid transit transformed the landscape below so quickly that looking back offered a constantly changing panorama. Remarkably, currents from the Night-Side of Nature allowed the vailx to match the Earth's rotational speed. For instance, at a height of ten miles, precisely at solar noon, we could hover indefinitely while the Earth turned beneath us at roughly seventeen miles per minute. Alternatively, we could reverse direction, racing away from the surface's meridian at the same astonishing speed—a rate that might seem alarming to the uninitiated but will one day be commonplace. I hope my reader will live to see the rediscovery of vailxi, and I suspect it won't be long before that day arrives.
While we had such preventives of ennui, we lacked not commoner means of enjoyment. We had our naima, in the mirrors and vibrators of which our friends, however distant, could appear in image of form and of voice, lifesized and with undiminished vocal volume. The salons of the great passenger vailxa had libraries, musical instruments, and potted plants, amongst the flowers of which birds similar to the modern domestic canary darted about.
We had plenty of ways to stave off boredom, including some high-tech options. Our naima devices, with their mirrors and vibrators, allowed us to see and hear distant friends as if they were right there with us, life-sized and crystal clear. The lounges on the large passenger vailxa were well-equipped, boasting libraries, musical instruments, and an array of potted plants. Among these plants, birds resembling today's pet canaries flitted about, adding life to the space.
At about the tenth hour it was reported that Necropan was beneath, and at this surprising information, because at the speed I had ordered, we should have been at least six hours longer in coming to that country, I enquired of the vailxman his reason for increasing speed without orders. No good reason being given, I severely reprimanded the conductor, and ordered that a descent be made to terra firma, in order that we might travel by day over the Wasted Land, as our word Sattamund may be translated, which is the Sahara desert of to-day. This great wade some of our party had never seen, and to allow them the privilege we settled down to spend the night on an elevated ridge, high enough to be above malarious influences, for we were near where modern Liberia lies.
Around four in the afternoon, we received word that Necropan was below us. This news was surprising, as we should have been at least six hours away at the speed I had ordered. I questioned the airship pilot about why he had increased speed without authorization. Receiving no satisfactory answer, I sternly reprimanded the conductor and ordered us to land. I wanted us to travel by day over the Wasted Land (our term "Sattamund," which translates to today's Sahara Desert). Some of our group had never seen this vast expanse, so to grant them this opportunity, we settled on a high ridge for the night. The elevation was sufficient to keep us above unhealthy air, as we were near the location of modern-day Liberia.
"The proud bird--The Condor of the Andes, That can sail thro' heaven's unfathomable depths, Or brave the fury of the northern hurricane And bathe his plumage in the Thunder's home, Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks down To rest upon his mountain crag.
The majestic Andean condor, Soaring through heaven's boundless skies, Defying the northern storm's wrath And bathing in lightning's fierce glow, Folds its vast wings as night falls, To roost upon its mountain peak.
Though we called it Sattamund, or the Wasted Land, yet it was not such an and region then as it is now. Water, if not as abundant as it was in Poseid, was abundant enough to give a wealth of tropical trees of the hardier sorts, sufficient at least to hide the nakedness of the slopes and hills of that old seabed. There were even a few saline lakes there, broad and blue, and it was around these that the population was centered. But the same dread catastrophe that overtook fair Poseid laid its terrible hand upon Necropan, and its beauty of verdure went out from the land, because the geological changes withdrew all the water from the surface, and hid it so that only artesian augers could find it. The same mighty throe rent the rocks through and through in Southwest Incalia, and to-day there is in that arid region scenery most fantastic, weird past the power of my pen to describe, where flows the Rio Gila, the Colorado, and Colorado Chiquita. But I will reserve the description, and when it is given it shall be in other words than mine, so that thou and I, my friend, shall together have the pleasure of enjoying a fine word-painting.
Though we called it Sattamund, or the Wasted Land, it wasn't as barren then as it is now. Water, while not as plentiful as in Poseid, was sufficient to support hardy tropical trees that covered the slopes and hills of the old seabed. Several large, blue saline lakes dotted the landscape, with settlements clustered around them. However, the same catastrophe that devastated Poseid also struck Necropan, stripping away its lush vegetation. Geological changes forced the surface water underground, leaving it accessible only through artesian wells. This cataclysm also split the rocks in Southwest Incalia, creating the fantastically weird scenery we see today along the Rio Gila, Colorado, and Colorado Chiquita rivers. I'll save that description for later, using someone else's words so we can both enjoy a vivid portrayal.
In Poseid and Suern, and wherever civilization extended its scepter, it was the universal law, and mankind's pleasure to obey the heavenly mandate which the general accordance with the solar life spirit taught us required the planting, instead of careless rejection, of O seeds of goodly flower or fruit, for shade, for beauty, for utility, wherever it chanced that a favorable spot offered, either in the habitats of man or in the untrodden wilderness. Indeed, in such trips as our party was then taking, it was a matter of religious significance to take great quantities of seeds and to scatter them from the vailx-decks at nightfall, both as an offering to Incal, as His sublime symbol set in the west, and also that the dews of night might insure germination, and this ceremony was also held to be an acknowledgment of the Goddess of Increase, Zania. Thus the wilds came to bloom as the rose; and to-day the world is heritor of that sowing of seed; the indigenous cereals, the wheat, for the origin of which many ingenious but insufficient theories have been put forth, and the varieties of palms that make the tropics famed for the grace of their cocoas and dates, and every genera of the Chamaerops. And these things are because man, woman and child found pleasure in that olden time in "planting seed by the wayside." Go thou and do likewise, that the waste places may become full of beauty and be a joy forever. All hail to Arbor Days, which fulfill the injunction of Christ; they will surely make a return, and some an hundred fold. A small pocket now and then will hold many a seed for planting, and though thou heedest not its sort, so that it be goodly, yet the Father hath said, "It shall bring forth after its kind."
In ancient civilizations like Poseid and Suern, people embraced a universal law to plant seeds of beautiful flowers, fruit trees, and shade-giving plants wherever favorable spots were found, whether in populated areas or untouched wilderness. This practice was seen as both a pleasure and a duty to obey a heavenly mandate, believed to be in harmony with the solar life spirit. During expeditions like the one our group was taking, we considered it religiously significant to carry large quantities of seeds. At nightfall, we would scatter them from our airships as an offering to Incal, symbolized by the setting sun, and to ensure germination through the night's dew. This ceremony also honored Zania, the Goddess of Increase. Thanks to this custom, wild areas blossomed like roses. Today's world inherits the results of that ancient seed-sowing: indigenous grains, wheat (whose origins have sparked many theories), and the various palm species that make tropical regions famous for their graceful coconut and date trees, along with all types of fan palms. These natural wonders exist because people long ago found joy in "planting seeds by the wayside." We should follow their example, beautifying barren areas to create lasting joy. Arbor Days, which fulfill Christ's teachings, are praiseworthy and will surely yield abundant returns. Even a small pocket can hold many seeds for planting. Though you may not know the exact type, as long as it's good, remember the Father's words: "It shall bring forth after its kind."
THE STORM
THE STORM
The morning dawned clear and cloudless and was altogether so delightful that we essayed scarcely any forward progress, moving slowly in order that the deck might be uncovered and the company allowed to sit out in the fresh air and warm sunshine.
The day began with a clear, cloudless sky, so perfect that we barely made any progress. We moved slowly to allow the deck to be uncovered, letting everyone enjoy the fresh air and warm sunshine.
Down below, a couple of thousand feet at most, we saw, through good glasses, various forms of . human, animal, bird and plant life; and sounds came up to us in drowsy, musical monotone, as our vailx hovered above. Towards evening the winds began to blow, rendering it unpleasant to remain so near the ground. The repulse-keys were set, and presently we were so high in the air that all about our now closed ship were cirrus clouds, clouds of hail held aloft by the uprushing of the winds, severe enough to have been dangerous had our vessel been propelled by wings or fans or gas reservoirs. But as we derived from Nature's Night-Side or, in Poseid phrase, from Navaz, our forces for propulsion as well m for repulsion, or levitation, therefore our long, white, aerial spindles feared no storm, however severe.
Below us, no more than two thousand feet down, we observed various forms of human, animal, bird, and plant life through our powerful binoculars. A drowsy, musical hum of sounds drifted up to us as our airship hovered above. As evening approached, the winds picked up, making it uncomfortable to stay so close to the ground. We activated the repulsion mechanisms, and soon we were soaring high above, surrounded by cirrus clouds and suspended hailstones. The fierce updrafts could have been dangerous for aircraft propelled by wings, fans, or gas chambers. However, our vessel drew its propulsion and levitation forces from Nature's Night-Side, or as we called it in Poseid, Navaz. This meant our long, white, aerial craft had nothing to fear from even the most severe storms.
As the windows, being frosted over, obscured our view, and as the night promised furious weather, we had recourse to books, music and to conversation with one another, and, through the naim, with our friends at home in faraway Poseid. No authority had Murus (Boreas) over the currents from Navaz. The evening had not far advanced when it was suggested that the storm would most likely be heavier, and the wind wilder nearer the earth, and so the repulse-keys were set to a fixed degree, making nearer approach to the ground than was desirable impossible as an accidental occurrence. We might, if it were generally agreeable, take advantage of our privilege and enjoy the sensation of being in the midst of the storm, ourselves safe and under full speed,
With the windows frosted over, our view was obscured. As the night promised fierce weather, we turned to books, music, and conversation with each other and, through the naim, with our distant friends in Poseid. Murus (Boreas) had no power over the currents from Navaz. Early in the evening, someone suggested that the storm would likely be more intense closer to the ground. We set the repulse-keys to a fixed degree, preventing any accidental descent. If everyone agreed, we could take advantage of our unique position and experience the thrill of being in the heart of the storm, safe and at full speed.
"And brave the fury of the Northern hurricane."
"And boldly face the raging Arctic storm."
The partial novelty might make us sleep better, when, the evening passed, we should have gone to our staterooms. I, therefore, approved the plan, and gave orders to the conductor to descend to a height of about twenty-five hundred feet. Down we dropped. Our lights were made low in order to produce a partial gloom, the better to enjoy the full fierceness of the tempest, and we sat near the windows where we could hear, if not see. To the eye, naught would have appeared outside save entire blackness; to the ear, the loud beating of the rain upon the metal shutters was plainly, delightfully apparent. Against the sharp points of prow and stem the wind howled and shrieked like an army of demons. At times when the vailx was struck, broadside by some counterblast, it would careen and tremble, but it kept on its way, determined as a thing of life. The experience was enjoyable, if not entirely novel, for it spoke to us of the power of man over matter, and taught us of the things of God, Incal to us, Master of all things and of ourselves, who by Him had this authority over the elements. When the sensation had become monotonous the lights were increased to proper brightness; again we turned to books and games and music, as we once more sought the upper regions of the atmosphere, which were quieter compared with those of the half-mile plane.
The change of scenery might help us sleep better once we retire to our rooms for the night. I approved the plan and instructed the conductor to descend to about twenty-five hundred feet. As we dropped, we dimmed our lights to create a moody atmosphere, allowing us to fully appreciate the storm's intensity. We sat by the windows, straining to hear and see. Outside, all was pitch black to the eye, but our ears were filled with the satisfying sound of rain pounding against the metal shutters. The wind howled and shrieked against the sharp points of the craft's bow and stern like a horde of demons. Occasionally, when a gust hit us broadside, the vailx would shudder and tilt, but it pressed on relentlessly, as if alive. The experience was thrilling, if not entirely new. It reminded us of humanity's mastery over nature and taught us about Incal, our God and Master of all things, who granted us this power over the elements. Once the novelty wore off, we increased the lighting and returned to our books, games, and music as we ascended back to the calmer upper atmosphere.
Anzimee and a girl companion sat apart from the rest of the company in a retreat formed of flowering vines draped across one corner of the main salon. In a short time she came from her nook to where I sat, wrapped in meditative obliviousness. Touching my shoulder as she came close, she said:
Anzimee and her female friend sat secluded from the others in a corner of the main salon, hidden behind a screen of flowering vines. After a while, she emerged from her hideaway and approached me as I sat lost in thought. She touched my shoulder and said:
"Zailm, thou dost sing; it would please me if thou wouldst take thy lute and come to where Thirtil and myself have chosen seats, and sing to us."
"Zailm, you're a singer. I'd love it if you'd grab your lute and join Thirtil and me where we're sitting. Come sing for us."
She bent over my shoulder, blushing slightly, looking so altogether lovely that I simply sat and gazed in silent appreciation of her beauty.
She leaned in close, a faint blush on her cheeks. Her beauty was so captivating that I found myself speechless, simply admiring her loveliness.
"Come, Zailm, wilt thou?"
"Let's go, Zailm. Are you coming?"
I arose promptly enough when I saw a shade of disappointment cross her face, as she interpreted my silence to mean unwillingness, and I said:
I quickly stood up when I noticed her face fall, realizing she took my silence as reluctance. I then said:
"Lo, Anzimee, I am but too pleased to comply, but how could I move?"
"Oh, Anzimee, I'd be more than happy to do as you ask, but how could I possibly move?"
Unsuspiciously, she asked:
Innocently, she asked:
"Move? and why not?"
"Relocate? Why shouldn't we?"
"Hast thou ever seen a bright bumming bird," I replied, "which, poised at a flower beside thee, kept thee still, almost afraid to breathe, lest it be alarmed to flight? Even so I could not move, lest--"
"Have you ever seen a vibrant hummingbird," I replied, "hovering by a flower next to you, keeping you motionless, barely daring to breathe for fear of startling it away? That's exactly how I felt, unable to move, worried that—"
"There, there now! If I were not used to reading one's earnestness or other emotions in the eyes, I would say thou art a sad flatterer. But, come."
"Now, now! If I weren't so good at reading people's sincerity and emotions in their eyes, I'd say you're quite the smooth talker. But anyway, let's go."
"What shall I sing, little friend?" I asked of Thirtil, a demure, sweet little maiden, an art student, half-serious, half-frivolous in temperament.
"What would you like me to sing?" I asked Thirtil, a shy but charming young woman. As an art student, she balanced a serious dedication to her craft with a playful spirit.
"Oh, dost ask me? Well, something, something," with a mischievous glance at Anzimee, "from thy heart!" she laughingly replied.
"Oh, you're asking me? Well, it's something..." she replied with a playful glance at Anzimee, "something from your heart!" She laughed as she spoke.
Anzimee blushed, but made no other sign, merely dropping her long lashes as I looked at her, while I said, "Truly! Then from my heart-this" (a popular favorite, by the way):
Anzimee's cheeks flushed pink, but she showed no other reaction. She simply lowered her long eyelashes as I gazed at her. I then said, "Indeed! Well, from the bottom of my heart, here's this"—and I began to recite a well-known poem that was a crowd favorite at the time.
"Ere the heart can know its own, Ere the doubts of life are o'er, Love in our hearts must have grown To the heights of heaven's shore. Truly, love is sought in vain In other place than in the heart; True love always hath its pain, When from purity we part. May we cease from every strife, While in lovely verse enshrining Incal's blessing in our life; With His peace it e'er entwining. So is melody divine, When the music of the soul; 'Tis betrothing thine and mine, While the centuries unroll. Yet our hearts are young and gay, Seeking ever fairest bowers Where shall bloom from day to day, All the beauty of the flowers. There is one of all the rest, That alone for me is blooming; Deep the tendrils in my breast, Find forever their entombing. Shall I pluck it while in bloom, Ready for the gardener's gleaning? Could I take forever home What, unto me, is no dreaming? Yea, beloved, we shall rejoice In His blessing evermore; List'ning to the gentle voice, That as One--we do adore."
Before our hearts truly know themselves, Before life's uncertainties fade away, Love must grow within us To reach the heights of heaven. Indeed, love is sought in vain Anywhere but in the heart; True love always brings its share of pain When we stray from purity. May we end all conflict, While in beautiful verse we enshrine Incal's blessing in our lives, Forever intertwining with His peace. Such is divine melody, When it's the music of the soul; It unites yours and mine, As centuries pass by. Our hearts remain young and joyful, Always seeking the most beautiful places Where, day after day, All the beauty of flowers will bloom. Among them all, there is one That blooms for me alone; Its tendrils deeply rooted Forever buried in my heart. Should I pluck it while it flourishes, Ready for the gardener's harvest? Could I bring home forever What to me is no mere dream? Yes, beloved, we shall rejoice In His endless blessing; Listening to the gentle voice That, as one, we adore.
Thus it was within the vailx, song and pleasure; without was the storm, risen up after us. Into the teeth of the furious gale plunged our long spindle, giving no sign exteriorly, even had any one been there to see, of the light and warmth, laughter and song, of the human freight and songbirds within its staunch shell, amidst the flowers, a drifting bit of the tropics, safe from boreal blasts. No sign, save only the gleam of the crimson fore and aft lights.
Inside the airship, music and merriment reigned, while outside, a storm raged in our wake. Our sleek vessel plunged into the fierce gale, betraying no outward sign of the warmth and joy within its sturdy hull. Had anyone been there to witness, they would have seen only a capsule of tropical splendor—filled with people, songbirds, and flowers—drifting safely through the northern tempest. The sole indication of our presence: the glow of our red lights fore and aft.
While the others retired for the night to their various state rooms, I remained in the vacated salon until the announcement was made to me that we were above Suernis. No landing could be made, however, in the face of a gale blowing eighty miles an hour, such an attempt would have resulted in being dashed to pieces the instant we reached the ground.
As the others retreated to their private quarters for the night, I lingered in the empty lounge. Eventually, I was informed that we had reached Suernis. However, with fierce winds raging at 80 miles per hour, attempting to land would have been disastrous. We would have been smashed to pieces the moment we touched down.
In order that we might be wholly out of the range of the influence of the storm, I gave directions to rise above the level of the disturbance, if such a region of calm existed within reach, and there set the keys so as to stop all propulsion. Receiving this order, the conductor augmented the repulsion force by means of the levers of degree, and we rose steadily up, up, up--above the clouds, above the rush of the hurricane, into a clear, calm atmosphere, intensely cold, almost thirteen miles from the earth's surface. Could we have had a view unobstructed by stormclouds, we were just about high enough to afford us a horizon of three hundred and fifty miles. Soon after this order I went to my room to bed. With the morning the storm had not decreased in fury; and occasional flurries in the air above us proved that the storm-area on the surface must be of vast extent. The cold outside was too intense to consider, even for an instant, the opening of the deck; the sky was almost black in the depth of its blueness; the sun, shorn of much of its dazzling brightness, appeared strangely dim, and the stars were visible. The steady motion of the air-dispensers as their wheels and pistons worked to maintain the interior air at a normal pressure was painfully apparent in the awful stillness, while the fizz of the air escaping through the fine crevices around the windows and edges of the deck made such a noise that I ordered the setscrews tightened and the ventilator pipes opened. Had the frost not hindered vision through the windows and, with the clouds, prevented a view of the earth's surface, a sight most peculiar would have been presented. The view toward the extended horizon would have made the apparent union of earth and sky seem almost on a level with us; but directly beneath, the fun separation from the solid globe would have seemed, not like a ball but like a huge bowl, ornamented with landscape scenes in its interior. As, however, we could not see, our songs, our reading, and our conversation went on, whilst the very faint beams of Incal, coming through the frosted glass, were supplemented by the some knowledge which gave us heat and air and position, to defy the cold and the rarefaction and gravitation--knowledge of Navaz.
To escape the storm's influence, I ordered an ascent to a calm region above the disturbance, if one existed within reach. I instructed the conductor to stop all propulsion once we reached that level. The conductor increased the repulsion force, and we steadily rose above the clouds and hurricane, into a clear, cold atmosphere nearly thirteen miles above Earth's surface. At this height, we could have seen a horizon of 350 miles if not for the storm clouds below. I retired to my room for the night. By morning, the storm hadn't weakened; occasional air disturbances above us suggested the storm covered a vast area. The extreme cold outside made opening the deck impossible. The sky was an incredibly deep blue, almost black. The sun appeared dimmer than usual, and stars were visible. In the eerie silence, the air dispensers' steady hum was unsettling as they maintained normal interior pressure. The hissing of air escaping through small gaps around windows and deck edges became so noticeable that I ordered the setscrews tightened and ventilator pipes opened. Had frost and clouds not obscured our view of Earth's surface, we would have witnessed a peculiar sight. The horizon would have appeared almost level with us, while directly below, the Earth would have looked like a massive bowl decorated with landscapes. Unable to see outside, we occupied ourselves with songs, reading, and conversation. The faint sunlight filtering through frosted glass was supplemented by our advanced technology, which provided heat, air, and stability, allowing us to defy the cold, thin atmosphere, and gravity—all thanks to our knowledge of Navaz.
At home in Poseid there was no storm, but Menax, at the naim, told us that the weather office anticipated one, the one of which we at that moment awaited the abatement. We waited until the sun set in the west and came in sight in the east twice.
Back in Poseidon, the weather was calm. However, Menax informed us at the naim that the weather office predicted a storm—the very one we were currently waiting to pass. We remained there for two full days, watching the sun set in the west and rise in the east twice.
Several times the Saldu appeared at the end of the salon, seeming in the mirror of the naim as real and present as if, in verity, a third of the globe did not separate us. Once, only, she spoke, and then in a whisper to me, as, I stood near the naim:
Several times Saldu appeared at the end of the room, looking as real and present in the naim's mirror as if we weren't actually separated by a third of the planet. Only once did she speak, whispering to me as I stood near the naim:
"When, my lord, wilt thou be at home? A month? 'Tis long, 'tis long!"
"When will you be home, my lord? A month? That's so long!"
A report of even the smallest events of our trip was furnished the news office, and was printed upon the discs of the public vocaligraphs, to use a word of modem sound, and long before any landing was effected by us on the soil of Suernis our fellow countrymen were acquainted with the story of our enforced suspension between heaven and earth while biding the abatement of the storm. Speaking of the vocaligraph leads me to remark that the social superstructure of Poseid was maintained upon the broad basis of equitable laws laid down by the great Rai of the Maxin-time through the influence of free speech as made and molded by church and school, and expressed through the millions of vocaligraphs the three rendering secure the integral homes which, aggregated, formed the nation.
A detailed account of even the smallest events of our journey was sent to the news office and broadcast on public audio devices—to use a more modern term. Long before we set foot on Suernis soil, our fellow citizens were aware of our forced mid-air suspension while waiting out the storm. Mentioning these audio devices reminds me that Poseid's social structure was built on fair laws established by the great Rai of the Maxin era. These laws were shaped by free speech, cultivated through education and religion, and disseminated via millions of audio devices. Together, these three elements ensured the stability of individual households, which collectively formed the nation.
At last the storm king withdrew his forces and the time had come for our descent. Down we swept from the vault of heaven, into Ganje, capital city of Suern.
Finally, the tempest subsided, signaling our time to descend. We swooped down from the heavens into Ganje, Suern's capital city.
Hast thou ever been in the ancient and long-deserted city of Petra of Seir? That very peculiar city at the foot of Mount Hor, a city hollowed from the living rock? Quite likely not, for the followers of Mahomet make it hard to visit the place. But if thou hast read thereof, then thou hast some idea of Ganje, in old Suerna, built in the cliffs of the river banks.
Have you ever visited the ancient, long-abandoned city of Petra in Seir? That unique city at the base of Mount Hor, carved from solid rock? Probably not, as Muslim inhabitants make it difficult for outsiders to access. But if you've read about it, you'll have some notion of Ganje in old Suerna, built into the cliffs along the riverbanks.
Such details as embrace the manner of our reception are too trivial to fill this record. Suffice it that it was suited to the friendly international relations of Suern and Poseid, and to my station and rank as a high deputy. Rai Ernon was far less interested in the vase and in the other gifts of gold and gems, than in the captive Saldani whom the tokens commemorated, particularly in the Saldu, Lolix the Rainu. I was startled at the monarch's close knowledge of the whole affair in all its details, and of my sickness and other incidents which were not matters of public note; but I betrayed no such feeling, since it was but momentary and passed as soon as recollection of Ernon's wonderful occult powers came to me.
The details of our reception are too minor to dwell on here. It's enough to say that it befitted the friendly relations between Suern and Poseid, as well as my position as a high-ranking official. King Ernon showed far more interest in the captive Saldani, especially Lolix the Rainu, than in the vase and other gold and jeweled gifts that commemorated them. I was briefly taken aback by the monarch's intimate knowledge of the entire affair, including my illness and other private matters. However, this surprise quickly faded as I remembered Ernon's remarkable psychic abilities.
Speaking of the Saldui, but especially of Lolix, he said:
Regarding the Saldui, and Lolix in particular, he remarked:
"I did not send the Chaldeans unto Gwauxln as objects of lust, neither as a retributive punishment, that by exile from their native Chaldea they might atone to Suern for their fathers, sons, brothers, or husbands who worked harm to Suernis. No, doubtless they were not more blameable than is a tiger which hath a similarly destructive nature, but by the laws of Yeovah we find that ignorance of the law never exempts a wrongdoer from penalty. Law says in regard to sin: 'Thou shalt not.' And the penalty lies alongside, inexorably, and is dealt out unsparingly for disobedience. Law, therefore, appears not to be retributive, but educational. Having felt the punishment, no one, either man or animal, is apt to try the error twice out of curiosity. Nature makes no penalty easy, saying: 'When thou hast learned, then the punishment shall be more severe.' If a babe fell over a cliff, its death would be the result, though its innocence knew nothing of sin, just as surely as a knowing man might meet the same fate deliberately. Now the Chaldean women needed to learn that conquest, bloodshed and pillage is a sin. The Chaldean nation needed a lesson also. It received it, in the death of its prize soldiery. But such examples need finish; a diamond in the rough is surely a diamond, but how much doth the lapidary increase its beauty and value! Not to release unto them those women was to that nation what the faceting is to a gem. Thinkest thou not that I am right?"
I did not send the Chaldeans to Gwauxln as objects of desire, nor as punishment to atone for the harm their relatives caused Suernis. They were likely no more blameworthy than a tiger acting on its destructive nature. However, ignorance of the law doesn't exempt wrongdoers from consequences. The law states, "You shall not," and penalties follow disobedience without exception. Thus, law seems educational rather than punitive. Once punished, neither humans nor animals tend to repeat their mistakes out of curiosity. Nature doesn't make penalties easier, saying, "When you've learned, the punishment will be harsher." A baby falling off a cliff would die as surely as an adult deliberately doing so. The Chaldean women needed to learn that conquest, bloodshed, and pillage are wrong. Their nation also needed a lesson, which it received through the death of its best soldiers. But such examples need refinement; a rough diamond is still a diamond, but how much does the jeweler enhance its beauty and value! Withholding those women from Chaldea was like faceting a gem for that nation. Don't you think I'm right?
"Even so, Rai," I responded.
"Fair enough, Rai," I replied.
For several days we remained in the capital, and during this time were escorted over it by no less a person than Rai Ernon himself.
For a few days, we stayed in the capital city. During our visit, we were given a personal tour by none other than Rai Ernon himself.
It was a strange people, the Suerni. The elder people seemed never to smile, not because they were engaged in occult study, but because they were filled with wrath.
The Suerni were an odd bunch. The older generation rarely cracked a smile, not due to any mystic pursuits, but because they were consumed by anger.
On every countenance seemed to rest a perpetual expression of anger. Why, I pondered, should this thing be? Is it a result of the magical abilities they possess? By what seems to us of Poseid mere fiat of will these people appear to transcend human powers and set at naught the immutable laws of nature, though it can not be said that Incal has not limited them as surely as He has limited our chemists and physicists. The Suerni never lift their hands in manual labor, they sit at the breakfast or the supper table without having previously put upon it anything to eat, or elsewhere prepared a repast; they bow their heads in apparent prayer, and then, lifting up their eyes, begin to eat of what has mysteriously come before them--of wholesome viands, of nuts, of all manner of fruits, and of tender, succulent vegetables! But meat they eat not, nor much that is not the finished product of its source, containing in itself the germ for future life. Hath Incal exempted them from His fiat as Creator of the world, which all men suffer, "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread?" It is less onerous, certainly, on those who walk His paths, or even those who partly do so, and whose rule of life is continence. Such are more powerful, have occult powers that no eater of meats can ever hope to attain, but surely they are not wholly exempt; it must be somewhat toilsome to perform such magic feats as these. None ever got something for nothing. These people gaze upon the foes who come to menace them in their homes--and they are not!
On every face seemed to rest a constant expression of anger. I wondered why this should be. Is it a result of their magical abilities? Through what appears to us from Poseid to be sheer willpower, these people seem to transcend human limits and defy nature's laws. Yet, Incal has surely restricted them, just as He has limited our scientists. The Suerni never engage in manual labor. They sit at meals without having prepared anything beforehand. They bow their heads in apparent prayer, then look up and begin eating food that has mysteriously appeared—wholesome dishes, nuts, fruits, and tender vegetables. But they don't eat meat, nor much that isn't the finished product of its source, containing the potential for future life. Has Incal exempted them from His decree as Creator, which all men endure: "By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food"? It's certainly easier for those who follow His paths, or even partly do so, and who practice self-restraint. Such people are more powerful, possessing occult abilities that no meat-eater could hope to achieve. But surely they're not completely exempt; performing such magical feats must require some effort. Nothing comes for free. These people gaze upon enemies who threaten their homes—and suddenly, those foes vanish!
"It passed o'er The battle plain, where sword and spear and shield Flashed in the light of midday--and the strength Of serried hosts is shivered, and the grass, Green from the soil of carnage, waves above The crushed and moldering skeleton."
It swept across The battlefield, where weapons gleamed In the noon sun—and the might Of massed armies crumbled, and now grass, Nourished by bloodshed, sways above The broken, decaying bones.
What Poseida could do these things? Rai Gwauxln, Incaliz Mainin, but no more, at least none known to the public even by repute. But no man of all Atl had ever witnessed much display of such power on the part of either, and with the masses it was mere repute. I was favored beyond most Atlanteans in this respect.
Who could possess such abilities? Rai Gwauxln and Incaliz Mainin were known to, but no others, at least not to public knowledge. Even then, few had ever seen either of them demonstrate such power, and for most people, it was merely hearsay. In this regard, I was more privileged than most Atlanteans.
I noticed in our visits in and about the capital a thing which cast a shadow over me,, that his people did not love Ernon, however much they respected him and feared his power. That the Rai was aware of my knowledge of this dislike was obvious from his conversation.
During our visits around the capital, I noticed something troubling: Ernon's people didn't love him, despite respecting and fearing his power. The Rai clearly knew I had picked up on this dislike, as evidenced by our conversations.
"Ours is a peculiar people, prince," he said to me. "During many years, centuries even, it hath had to reign over it rulers come from the Sons of the Solitude. Each and every one hath striven to train his subjects so as to fit some future generation for initiation, as an entire people, into the mysteries of the Night-Side of Nature, deeper than thy people of Poseid have ever dreamed of going. To this end moral codes have been insisted upon as a coefficient of tuition in operative magic. But the endeavor hath never produced the end sought; only here and there hath an individual arisen and progressed; soon every one of these hath fled away from the less energetic people and gone to the solitudes, to become one of the 'Sons' of whom thou mayst have heard; generically we term these students' 'sons; specifically we would have to refer to them as 'sons' or 'daughters,' for sex is no bar to occult study."
"Our people are unique, prince," he told me. "For centuries, we've been ruled by leaders from the Sons of Solitude. Each has tried to prepare their subjects for a future where the entire population could be initiated into the mysteries of Nature's darker side, deeper than your Poseid people have ever imagined. They've enforced moral codes alongside teaching practical magic. But this effort has never succeeded completely; only a few individuals have progressed. These few quickly left our less motivated people and retreated to solitude, becoming 'Sons' you may have heard of. We generally call these students 'sons,' but specifically, we'd say 'sons' or 'daughters,' as gender doesn't limit occult study."
It had long been a matter of interest to me to learn all I could of this band of Nature students, Incalenes, as they were sometimes called, from Incal, God, and "ene," to study. Thousands of years later, in the time of Jesus of Nazareth, these were called "Essenes." But Atla, which possessed such a wealth of literature, had, with a single exception, no books on the subject. In that exception, a little volume printed in ancient Poseidonic, the details were very meager; yet its perusal had been of great interest to me. As I now listened to Rai Ernon, my interest was reawakened, and I thought I might one day become a candidate for admission to the order, if--but that "if" was of a large size. If the study renders the student so wrathful in soul as I see the Suerni are, then I will have nothing to do with it. The seed was planted, however, and grew a little when I learned that the angry gloom was not due to occult study, except in the sense that the lower nature was rebellious against the purity of the study and cast up the mud of anger, rendering turbid the clear waters of the soul. It grew still more when the Rai remarked later on that "the girl Anzimee would one day be an Incalenu." But the growth was not great in that olden time; it was reserved for a life to come, when: decades upon decades of centuries had flown, till now!
For years, I was intrigued by the Incalenes, a group of nature scholars whose name derived from "Incal" (God) and "ene" (to study). These were the precursors to the Essenes of Jesus' time. Despite Atla's vast literature, only one book touched on this subject—a slim volume in ancient Poseidonic that offered scant details but fascinated me nonetheless. As I listened to Rai Ernon, my interest rekindled. I considered joining the order, but hesitated. If their studies led to such anger as I saw in the Suerni, I wanted no part of it. Yet, I learned that this gloom wasn't from the occult studies themselves, but from the lower nature rebelling against the study's purity, muddying the soul's clear waters. My interest grew when Rai mentioned that "the girl Anzimee would one day be an Incalenu." Still, in those days, my curiosity remained modest. It would take centuries for this seed to fully bloom in a future life.
The Rai continued: "Ye of Poseid dip a little into the Night-Side, and behold! out of it ye gather forces which open the penetralia of the sea, and of the air, and subject the earth. 'Tis well. But ye require physical apparatus; without it ye are nothing powerful. Those, versed in occult wisdom need no apparatus. That is the difference between Poseid and Suernis. The human mind is a link between the soul and the physical. Every higher force controls all those lower. The mind operates through odic force, which is higher than any speed of physical nature; hence controls all nature, nor needeth apparatus.
The leader went on: "You Poseidons dabble in the mysterious, and look what you've achieved! You've unlocked the secrets of the sea, air, and earth. That's impressive. But you rely on machines; without them, you're powerless. Those who master occult wisdom need no such tools. That's the key difference between Poseid and Suernis. The human mind bridges the gap between soul and body. Each higher force governs all beneath it. The mind works through psychic energy, which surpasses any physical speed. Thus, it controls all of nature without needing equipment."
"Now I, and my brother 'Sons' before me, have striven to teach the Suerni the laws which govern the operation of this force. Through this knowledge Yeovah leadeth His children, strength. Hand in hand with this knowledge are physical acts, powers that come early in the study. So far have they gone, hut will no farther go.
"My predecessors and I have worked to educate the Suerni about the laws governing this force. Through this knowledge, Yeovah guides His children to strength. Alongside this understanding come physical abilities, powers that emerge early in one's studies. The Suerni have progressed this far, but refuse to go any further."
"Morality aids serenity of soul; hence it is profitable to the Incalene, above all things, to be moral. But man is an animal in his corporeal self, and the passions thereof are pleasant. Love is of twofold nature: love of God and of the Spirit, pure and undefiled, and love of sex, which may likewise be pure, though if the dominion of the animal in man be over it, and so not so that of the human, it shall cause the man to sin, for then it is lust. I have sought that the Suerni may know the law,, that they maybe the masters, not the creatures, of circumstance. But because they know a few things of magic, and in the greater feats were aided by the 'Sons' dwelling amongst them, lo, they are content. And behold! they rebel against punishment on account of the lustful nature they do indulge, and curse me mightily because I exact obedience to the law, and penalty for the infraction thereof; and they curse my brother 'Sons' who do aid me, therefore is their wrath which it hath so troubled thee to witness. My people do things strange in thy sight, O Poseida, yet have no -wisdom why it is so, and work their wonders heedless of Yeovah. Wherefore they are a brood of sorcerers, and do not work white magic, which is beneficent, but black magic, which is sorcery. It shall work them exceeding woe. I would, O Zailm of Poseid, have taught these my people faith, hope, knowledge and charity, which same make pure religion undefiled. Have I not done well? Gwauxln, my brother, have I not done well?"
Morality promotes inner peace, making it invaluable for the Incalene to be moral. However, humans have animal instincts, and physical passions can be pleasurable. Love has two aspects: pure love for God and Spirit, and sexual love, which can also be pure. But if animal instincts dominate, it becomes lust and leads to sin. I've tried to teach the Suerni the law so they can control their circumstances, not be controlled by them. Yet they're content with their limited magical knowledge and the help they receive from the 'Sons' living among them. They rebel against punishment for their lustful behavior, cursing me and my fellow 'Sons' for enforcing the law. This is the source of the anger that has troubled you. My people perform acts that seem strange to you, Poseida, without understanding why. They work wonders without regard for Yeovah. As a result, they practice sorcery rather than beneficial white magic. This will cause them great suffering. I wanted to teach my people faith, hope, knowledge, and charity—the foundations of pure religion. Have I not done well, Zailm of Poseid? Brother Gwauxln, have I not done well?
Rai Ernon was sitting in the salon of the vailx, and now addressed Gwauxln of Poseid, whom I saw in the naim as I looked around.
Ernon sat in the lounge of the airship, addressing Gwauxln of Poseid, whom I noticed in the mirror as I glanced around.
"Verily thou hast even so, my brother," said Gwauxln.
"Indeed, you have it right, my brother," said Gwauxln.
For some moments the noble ruler was silent, and I could see teardrops falling occasionally from beneath his closed eyelids. Then he opened his eyes and began a most touching apostrophe to, and in some sort against, his people.
The great leader remained quiet for a while, and I noticed tears occasionally falling from his closed eyes. Then, he opened them and began a deeply moving speech, both addressing and gently criticizing his people.
"Oh, Suernis, Suernis! I have given up my life for thee! I have striven to lead thee into Espeid (Eden) to teach thee of its beauties, and thou wouldst not! I have tried to make thee van of all nations and thy name synonym with justice and mercy and love of God, and how hast thou requited me? I would be as a father to thee, and thou didst curse me in thy heart! Keener than knives is ingratitude! I would have led thee to the heights of glory, but thou wouldst rather lie in wallow of ignorance, like swine, content to do what are marvels to other people, but thyself all ignorant of their import. Thou art an infidel, ingrate race, believing not in Yeovah, content to live by the little thou knowest, too slothful to learn, more ungrateful to Yeovah than to thy Rai! O, Suernis, Suernis, thou hast cast me off and made my heart to bleed! I go. From thy midst the 'Sons' go also, a mournful band of disappointed men. And thou shalt become few where thou art many, a derision before men and a prey to the Chaldeans; yea, thou shalt dwindle and shalt wait until the centuries--even ninety centuries, are fled into eternity. And in that day thou shalt suffer until the time of him who shall be called Moses. And of them it shall be said, 'They are the seed of Abraham.' And behold, even as now the Spirit of God is abroad in the land, immanent in the Sons of the Solitude, and ye do mock It, so in a remote day shall His spirit become manifest and shall incarnate as the Christ, and so shall the perfect human glow with the Spirit, and become First of the Sons of God. Yet shalt thou even then know Him not, but shalt crucify Him; and thy punishment shall go down the ages until that Spirit comes again in the hearts of those who do follow Him, and finds thee scattered to the four winds! Thus shalt thou be punished! From now until then shalt thou earn thy bread by the sweat of thy face. Thou shalt no more have the regal power of defense, lest thou use it for offense. I will no more restrain thee. My people, oh, my people! Ungrateful! I forgive thee, for thou canst not know how I love thee! I go. Oh! Suernis, Suernis, Suernis!"
"Oh, Suernis, Suernis! I've sacrificed my life for you! I've tried to guide you to Eden, to show you its beauty, but you refused! I wanted to make you the greatest of nations, your name synonymous with justice, mercy, and love of God. How have you repaid me? I aimed to be a father to you, but you cursed me in your heart! Ingratitude cuts deeper than knives! I would have led you to glorious heights, but you prefer to wallow in ignorance like swine, content with parlor tricks, blind to their true significance. You're an ungrateful, faithless race, rejecting Yeovah, satisfied with your limited knowledge, too lazy to learn, more ungrateful to Yeovah than to your Rai! Oh, Suernis, you've rejected me and broken my heart! I leave now. The 'Sons' depart too, a sad group of disappointed men. You'll dwindle in number, become a mockery among men, and fall prey to the Chaldeans. You'll decline and wait for ninety centuries. Then you'll suffer until the time of Moses, and it will be said of you, 'They are Abraham's seed.' Just as you now mock the Spirit of God in the Sons of the Solitude, one day that Spirit will manifest as the Christ, the perfect human embodiment of the Spirit, the First of God's Sons. Yet even then, you won't recognize Him, but crucify Him instead. Your punishment will endure until that Spirit returns in the hearts of His followers, finding you scattered across the earth. From now on, you'll earn your bread by the sweat of your brow. You'll lose your power of defense, lest you use it for aggression. I'll no longer restrain you. My people, oh my ungrateful people! I forgive you, for you can't comprehend my love! I go. Oh! Suernis, Suernis, Suernis!"
At the last word the noble ruler's voice lowered to a murmur, and he buried his tearful face in his hands and sat bowed in silent grief, except for a sigh of sorrow which once or twice he uttered. Several Suerni had heard his words, and these now left the vailx very quietly and went to the city.
As the ruler finished speaking, his voice dropped to a whisper. He covered his face with his hands, overcome with emotion. Bowing his head, he sat in silence, his grief palpable. Only an occasional sigh escaped his lips, betraying the depth of his sorrow. A few of the Suerni, having heard his words, quietly slipped out of the vailx and made their way back to the city.
"Rai ni Incal."
"Praise to Incal."
I turned to the naim as these words were uttered, and noted that a great shade of sadness rested upon the face of our own Rai, Gwauxln, as he looked upon Ernon--like himself, an Adept Son.
I looked at the dwarf as these words were spoken, and noticed a deep sorrow on the face of our own leader, Gwauxln. He gazed at Ernon with a mixture of empathy and concern, recognizing in him a fellow Adept Son.
"Rai ni Incal, mo navazzamindi su," which being translated, is, "To Incal the Rai; to the country of departed spirits he is gone!"
"To Incal the Rai, to the realm of the dead he has journeyed!" This is a translation of "Rai ni Incal, mo navazzamindi su."
Startled I looked around at the Suern Rai, who still sat silent as before, in the same position. I spoke to him, yet he gave no sign. Then I bent and gazed through his fingers into his fine gray eyes. They were set, indeed, and the breath of life was fled. Yea, verily, he had gone, even when he said "I go."
Shocked, I glanced at the Suern Rai, who remained motionless in his previous position. I addressed him, but he didn't respond. Leaning in, I peered through his fingers into his striking gray eyes. They were fixed and lifeless. Indeed, he had passed away at the very moment he said, "I go."
"Come unto me, Zailm," commanded Gwauxln.
"Come to me, Zailm," Gwauxln ordered.
I went to the naim and stood waiting.
I went to the naim and waited.
"Are thy friends all within the vailx?"
"Are all your friends inside the airship?"
"Even so, Zo Rai."
"Alright then, Zo Rai."
"Take then thy guards and seek the palace of Rai Ernon. Call upon his ministers to come before thee and tell them that their Rai is deceased. Tell them that thou wilt take his body in charge and carry it unto Poseid. Amongst the ministers are two elderly men and sedate; these are Sons. They are of that body of disappointed men who go forth from Suernis according to the words of Ernon. These two will know that thou speakest truth when thou sayest that Ernon of Suern hath left his Raina in my hands to govern as I shall decide is most wise. But the others will not know and the Sons will leave to thee the telling of the facts. Great shall be the anger of them that are not Sons, so that they shall try to destroy thee by their terrible power, disliking to be told that they are deposed from authority. Nevertheless, this do and fear not; be of good cheer, for how shall a serpent bite if it hath lost its fangs?"
Take your guards and go to Rai Ernon's palace. Summon his ministers and inform them of their Rai's death. Tell them you'll take charge of his body and transport it to Poseid. Among the ministers are two elderly, serious men who are Sons. They belong to a group of disillusioned men who left Suernis as Ernon instructed. These two will believe you when you say Ernon has entrusted me with governing his Raina. The others won't know this, and the Sons will let you explain. The non-Sons will be furious and may try to destroy you with their formidable power, resenting their loss of authority. Do this without fear; be confident, for how can a snake bite if it has no fangs?
When, according to these orders, I had the court before me, I spoke as directed by the Rai. It was received with a courteous smile by the two who by their demeanor I recognized as the Sons of the Solitude. But by the others great anger was shown.
As instructed, I addressed the gathered court. The Rai's message was met with polite smiles from the two individuals I identified as Sons of the Solitude based on their behavior. However, the rest of the assembly reacted with intense displeasure.
"What! and thou, Poseida, offerest us such indignity? Our Rai is dead? We are pleased! But we, not thou, will attend to the funeral rites. As to the government of Suern, we laugh with scorn! Begone! We are our own masters. Leave us our ruler, and thou, dog, leave this country!"
"What? You, Poseida, dare to insult us like this? Our Rai is dead? Good riddance! But we, not you, will handle the funeral. As for governing Suern, we scoff at the idea! Get out! We rule ourselves. Leave us our leader, and you, you cur, get out of this country!"
For reply I repeated with emphasis the assertion of my authority. I confess to having felt an inward fear when the brow of one of these never-smiling men clouded with intense anger, as he pointed his finger at me, and said:
In response, I firmly reasserted my authority. I must admit, I felt a twinge of fear when one of these grim-faced men glared at me with fury, pointing his finger and declaring:
"Then die!"
"Then die!"
I did not outwardly shrink, though half expecting to perish on the spot. Neither did I feel any death tremor, though the menace, ever before fatal, was not withdrawn. Gradually the minister's fury gave place to surprise, and he dropped his arm, gazing at me in amazement. I ordered my guards to manacle and take him to the vailx. Then I said:
I stood my ground, though I half expected to die right there. While I didn't tremble in fear, the deadly threat still loomed. Slowly, the minister's rage turned to shock. He lowered his arm and stared at me, dumbfounded. I commanded my guards to handcuff him and escort him to the vailx. Then I spoke:
"Suern, thy power is fled. Thus said Ernon. He hath said that henceforth thou shalt earn thy bread by the sweat of thy face. Over this country Poseid shall rule. I, special envoy of Gwauxln VII, Rai of Poseid, do depose all ye that are here from rulership, except those two who offered not scorn but courtesy. While they remain, which will not be long, I will make them governors over Suern. I have spoken."
"Suern, your power is gone," Ernon declared. "He has decreed that from now on, you'll have to work hard for your living. Poseid will rule this land. As the special envoy of Gwauxln VII, King of Poseid, I strip all of you here of your authority, except for those two who showed respect instead of contempt. While they remain, which won't be for long, I'll appoint them as governors of Suern. My decision is final."
Indeed, I had spoken, and that, to so great an extent, unauthorizedly. I was in an agony of doubt lest Rai Gwauxln should rebuke me. But I would not reveal my real weakness to these ingrates. Instead, I took a roll of parchment and wrote from memory the form of commission of governors of provinces in Atla, appointing one of the Incaleni to the office. This I sealed with my name as envoy extraordinary, following that of Gwauxln as Rai, using red ink, for which I sent a messenger to Anzimee at the vailx. My reason for appointing one of the Sons as Governor was that only one would serve. The other chose to ask passage to Caiphul in my vailx. Then, giving the Governor his commission, a document which he received with the remark, "Thou art a man, indeed, not longer a boy;"--words which, though so kindly meant, fell on heedless ears at the time, for as I made my return to the vailx I felt actually heartsick at what I feared had been the acme of indiscretion on my part. I called for Rai Gwauxln, and when he responded I told him what I had done. He looked grave, and said merely the words:
Indeed, I had spoken without proper authorization, to a considerable extent. I was filled with anxiety, fearing Rai Gwauxln's reprimand. However, I refused to show weakness to these ungrateful people. Instead, I took a parchment roll and wrote from memory the standard commission for provincial governors in Atla, appointing one of the Incaleni to the position. I sealed it with my name as special envoy, followed by Gwauxln's as Rai, using red ink for which I sent a messenger to Anzimee at the vailx. I chose one of the Sons as Governor because only one would accept the role. The other requested passage to Caiphul in my vailx. Upon receiving his commission, the new Governor remarked, "You are indeed a man now, no longer a boy." Though meant kindly, these words fell on deaf ears as I returned to the vailx, feeling utterly dejected by what I feared was the height of my indiscretion. I called for Rai Gwauxln, and when he responded, I confessed my actions. He looked serious and said only:
"Come home."
"Come home."
Imagine now my distress. Not reprimanded, nor commended, but without any explanatory clue whatever, I was ordered home. Then it was that I sought Anzimee, and having found her in her stateroom I told her all the story. Our Rai was known to be one who could be severe in his punishments, although these took the form of disgrace meted out, as public dismissal from office for being unworthy of trust. Anzimee was very pale, but said hopeful words:
Picture my anguish. Without praise or rebuke, and with no explanation, I was sent home. At that moment, I sought out Anzimee, finding her in her quarters. I shared the entire story with her. Our Rai was known for his harsh punishments, typically in the form of public disgrace, such as dismissal from office for betraying trust. Though visibly shaken, Anzimee offered words of encouragement:
"Zailm, I see not but that thou didst right well. And yet, why was our uncle so gravely reticent? Let me give thee a potion; lie here on this couch, and take what I give thee."
"Zailm, I believe you did the right thing. But I wonder, why was our uncle so seriously tight-lipped? Here, let me give you something to drink. Lie down on this couch and take what I offer you."
She poured a few drops of some bitter drug, put in a little water, and handed the cup to me to drink from. Ten minutes later I was asleep.
She added a few drops of a bitter medicine to some water and gave me the cup to drink. Within ten minutes, I was fast asleep.
Then she left the room and, as I afterwards learned, called her royal uncle to the instrument, where she laid the case before him. He was troubled at the effect of his words upon me, an effect. not intended, as he told her, and one which would never have occurred if he had not at that time been engaged in solving the very abstruse political problem presented by the new aspect of affairs through the decease of Rai Ernon. What further he said was: "Be not worried because Zailm is called home for no purpose of punishment, since I am well satisfied and called him for quite another reason."
She then left the room and, as I later discovered, contacted her royal uncle. She explained the situation to him, expressing her concerns about my reaction. He was troubled by how his words had affected me, an outcome he hadn't intended. He explained that this wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been preoccupied with solving the complex political issues arising from Rai Ernon's death. To reassure her, he added, "Don't worry about Zailm being summoned home. It's not for punishment—I'm quite satisfied with him. I called him back for an entirely different reason."
I slept for hours, and when I at last awakened, Anzimee, sitting beside me, told me all that Gwauxln had said. As it was then nearly night, I concluded to go to my own room and prepare for the evening repast. On the way I met the Son who was going to Caiphul with us. To this person it seemed a great novelty to travel as he was then doing, although his remarks on the subject were few.
I slept for a long time, and when I finally woke up, Anzimee was sitting beside me. She filled me in on everything Gwauxln had said. Since it was nearly nighttime, I decided to head to my room and get ready for dinner. On the way, I ran into the Son who was joining us on our trip to Caiphul. He seemed to find our mode of travel quite unusual, though he didn't say much about it.
It was, as I reflected upon it, something of a novelty to be piercing the air at the rate of seventeen miles each minute, a mile above the earth. I tried to fancy how it would seem to one like my passenger to be doing this thing; but after five years of familiarity with it as a means of travel, I had poor success in attaining a sense of his feelings concerning the experience.
As I thought about it, traveling at over a thousand miles an hour, a mile above the ground, still felt remarkable. I tried to imagine how my passenger might perceive this experience, but after five years of using it as a routine mode of transport, I struggled to truly grasp his perspective on the journey.
As we traveled westward the sun seemed to remain as it was when we left Ganje, for its speed, or that of the earth, rather, was the same as our own. We had been on the way for five hours and had covered considerably over half of the distance home, the whole journey being something like seven thousand miles. The remaining two thousand miles would occupy some three hours for transit, a length of time which seemed to my impatient desire so long, that I paced the floor of the salon in very fretfulness. I have seen, since the days of Poseid, a time when a vastly slower progress would have seemed swift, but then the past had a veil obscuring it so that comparison was impossible--
As we journeyed west, the sun appeared stationary, its position unchanged since our departure from Ganje. This illusion occurred because our speed matched that of Earth's rotation. We had been traveling for five hours, covering more than half of our 7,000-mile journey home. The remaining 2,000 miles would take about three hours, a duration that felt unbearably long in my impatient state, causing me to pace restlessly around the salon. In later eras, I would experience far slower travel speeds that seemed swift by comparison. However, during those times, the past was veiled, making such comparisons impossible.
"Man never is, but always to be blest."
"People are never satisfied, but always chasing happiness."