The Dying Earth (aka Mazirian the Magician) by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781466821941
Publisher: Orb Books; Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 1950-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

Kandive twisted the scroll and replaced it in the box. “Your task,” he told Ulan Dhor, “is to journey to Ampridatvir and recover the magic of Rogol Domedonfors.”

Ulan Dhor said thoughtfully, “It was a long time ago … Thousands of years …”

“Correct,” said Kandive. “However, none of the histories or indices make further mention of Rogol Domedonfors, and therefore I believe that the wisdom of Rogol Domedonfors still remains to be found in ancient Ampridatvir.”

Three weeks Ulan Dhor sailed the nerveless ocean. The sun rose bright as blood from the horizon and belled across the sky, and the water was calm, save for the ruffle of the breeze and the twin widening marks of Ulan Dhor’s wake.

Then came the setting, the last sad glance across the world; then purple twilight and the night. The old stars spanned the sky and the wake behind Ulan Dhor shone ghastly white. Then did he watch for heavings of the surface, for he felt greatly alone on the dark face of the ocean.

Three weeks Ulan Dhor sailed the Melantine Gulf, to the north and west, and one morning he saw to the right the dark shadow of coastland and to the left the loom of an island, almost lost in the haze.

Close off his bow floated an ungainly barge, moving sluggishly under a square sail of plaited reeds.

Ulan Dhor laid a course so as to draw alongside, and saw on the barge two men in coarse green smocks trolling for fish. They had oat-yellow hair and blue eyes, and they wore expressions of stupefaction.

Ulan Dhor dropped his sail and laid hold of the barge. The fishermen neither moved nor spoke.

Ulan Dhor said, “You seem unfamiliar with the sight of man.”

The older man broke into a nervous chant which Ulan Dhor understood to be an invocation against demons and frits.

Ulan Dhor laughed. “Why do you inveigh against me? I am a man like yourself.”

The younger man said in a broad dialect: “We reason you to be a demon. First, there are none of our race with night-black hair and eyes. Second, the Word of Pansiu denies the existence of all other men. Therefore you can be no man, and must be a demon.”

The older man said under his hand, “Hold your tongue; speak no word. He will curse the tones of your voice …”

“You are wrong, I assure you,” replied Ulan Dhor politely. “Have either of you ever seen a demon?”

“None but the Gauns.”

“Do I resemble the Gauns?”

“Not at all,” admitted the older man. His companion indicated Ulan Dhor’s dull scarlet coat and green trousers. “He is evidently a Raider; note the color of his garb.”

Ulan Dhor said, “No, I am neither Raider nor demon. I am merely a man …”

“No men exist except the Greens — so says Pansiu.”

Ulan Dhor threw back his head and laughed. “Earth is but wilderness and ruins, true enough, but many men yet walk abroad … Tell me, is the city Ampridatvir to be found on that island ahead?”

The younger man nodded.

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