And there the shadows fear lest ever again they be
lured by specious promises to suffer usury at the
hands of Yahn, who is overskilled in Law. Only
Yahn sits and smiles, watching his hoard increase in
preciousness, and hath no pity for the poor shadows
whom he hath lured from their quiet to toil in the
form of men.
And ever Yahn lures more shadows and sends them to
brighten his Lives, sending the old Lives out again
to make them brighter still; and sometimes he gives
to a shadow a Life that was once a king’s and
sendeth him with it down to the earth to play the part
of a beggar, or sometimes he sendeth a beggar’s
Life to play the part of a king. What careth
Yahn?
The men of Zonu have been promised by those that claim
to be wise in the Law that their Lives which they
have toiled at shall be theirs to possess for ever,
yet the men of Zonu fear that Yahn is greater and
overskilled in the Law. Moreover it hath been
said that Time will bring the hour when the wealth
of Yahn shall be such as his dreams have lusted for.
Then shall Yahn leave the earth at rest and trouble
the shadows no more, but sit and gloat with his unseemly
face over his hoard of Lives, for his soul is a usurer’s
soul. But others say, and they swear that this
is true, that there are gods of Old, who be far greater
than Yahn, who made the Law wherein Yahn is overskilled,
and who will one day drive a bargain with him that
shall be too hard for Yahn. Then Yahn shall wander
away, a mean forgotten god, and perchance in some
forsaken land shall haggle with the rain for a drop
of water to drink, for his soul is a usurer’s
soul. And the Lives—who knoweth the
gods of Old or what Their will shall be?
Upon an evening of the forgotten years the gods were
seated upon Mowrah Nawut above Mlideen holding the
avalanche in leash.
All in the Middle City stood the Temples of the city’s
priests, and hither came all the people of Mlideen
to bring them gifts, and there it was the wont of
the City’s priests to carve them gods for Mlideen.
For in a room apart in the Temple of Eld in the midst
of the temples that stood in the Middle City of Mlideen
there lay a book called the Book of Beautiful Devices,
writ in a language that no man may read and writ long
ago, telling how a man may make for himself gods that
shall neither rage nor seek revenge against a little
people. And ever the priests came forth from
reading in the Book of Beautiful Devices and ever
they sought to make benignant gods, and all the gods
that they made were different from each other, only
their eyes turned all upon Mlideen.
But upon Mowrah Nawut for all of the forgotten years
the gods had waited and forborne until the people
of Mlideen should have carven one hundred gods.
Never came lightnings from Mowrah Nawut crashing upon
Mlideen, nor blight on harvests nor pestilence in the
city, only upon Mowrah Nawut the gods sat and smiled.
The people of Mlideen had said: “Yoma is
god.” And the gods sat and smiled.
And after the forgetting of Yoma and the passing of
years the people had said: “Zungari is god.”
And the gods sat and smiled.
