The Dying Earth 1 Mazirian the Magician by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-05-14T20:32:38+00:00

manfully to the world. I have resolved to impose a bitter experience upon

you, which I hope will be salutary."

" 'He called the rival priests of Pansiu and Cazdal, and handed to each

a tablet of transparent metal.

" These tablets singly are useless; laid together a message may be

read. He who reads the message will have the key to the ancient

knowledge, and will wield the power I had planned for my own use. Now

go, and I will die."

" 'The priests, glaring at each other, departed, called their followers,

and so began a great war.

" 'The body of Rogol Domedonfors was never found, and some say his

skeleton still lies in the passages below the city. The tablets are housed

in the rival temples. By night there is murder, by day there is starvation

in the streets. Many have fled to the mainland, and now I follow, leaving

Ampridatvir, the last home of the race. I will build a wooden hut on the

slope of Mount Liu and live out my days in the valley of Mel-Palusas.'"

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 of indices

make further mention of Rogol Domedonfors, and herefore 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 goated 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 oatyellow 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.

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