Here
once again I slept, or rather did not sleep.
On the following morning I went down into the ravine and found to my
surprise that the rapid torrent--shallow enough now--had been roughly
bridged, and that in preparation for my coming rude but sufficient
ladders were built on the face of the opposing precipice. At the foot of
these I bade farewell to Oros, who at our parting smiled benignantly as
on the day we met.
"We have seen strange things together," I said to him, not knowing what
else to say.
"Very strange," he answered.
"At least, friend Oros," I went on awkwardly enough, "events have shaped
themselves to your advantage, for you inherit a royal mantle."
"I wrap myself in a mantle of borrowed royalty," he answered with
precision, "of which doubtless one day I shall be stripped."
"You mean that the great Ayesha is not dead?"
"I mean that She never dies. She changes, that is all. As the wind blows
now hence, now hither, so she comes and goes, and who can tell at what
spot upon the earth, or beyond it, for a while that wind lies sleeping?
But at sunset or at dawn, at noon or at midnight, it will begin to blow
again, and then woe to those who stand across its path.
"Remember the dead heaped upon the plains of Kaloon. Remember the
departing of the Shaman Simbri with his message and the words that she
spoke then.
Pages:
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447