The Sword of Welleran and Other Stories — John Shaqi
The Sword of Welleran and Other StoriesDunsany, Lord
Science
The Sword of Welleran and Other Stories
Dunsany, Lord
Fantasy fiction, English
But upon that traveller speaking night descended, solemn and cold, and
we wrapped ourselves in our blankets and lay down upon the sand in
the sight of the astral sisters of Babbulkund. And all that night the
desert said many things, softly and in a whisper, but I knew not what
he said. Only the sand knew and arose and was troubled and lay down
again, and the wind knew. Then, as the hours of the night went by,
these two discovered the foot-tracks wherewith we had disturbed the
holy desert, and they troubled over them and covered them up; and then
the wind lay down and the sand rested. Then the wind arose again and
the sand danced. This they did many times. And all the while the desert
whispered what I shall not know.
Then I slept awhile and awoke just before sunrise, very cold. Suddenly
the sun leapt up and flamed upon our faces; we all threw off our
blankets and stood up. Then we took food, and afterwards started
southwards, and in the heat of the day rested, and afterwards pushed
on again. And all the while the desert remained the same, like a dream
that will not cease to trouble a tired sleeper.
And often travellers passed us in the desert, coming from the City of
Marvel, and there was a light and a glory in their eyes from having
seen Babbulkund.
That evening, at sunset, another traveller neared us, and we hailed
him, saying:
‘Wilt thou eat and drink with us, seeing that all men are brothers in
the desert?’
And he descended from his camel and sat by us and said:
‘When morning shines on the colossus Neb and Neb speaks, at once the
musicians of King Nehemoth in Babbulkund awake.
‘At first their fingers wander over their golden harps, or they stroke
idly their violins. Clearer and clearer the note of each instrument
ascends like larks arising from the dew, till suddenly they all blend
together and a new melody is born. Thus, every morning, the musicians
of King Nehemoth make a new marvel in the City of Marvel; for these
are no common musicians, but masters of melody, raided by conquest
long since, and carried away in ships from the Isles of Song. And, at
the sound of the music, Nehemoth awakes in the eastern chamber of his
palace, which is carved in the form of a great crescent, four miles
long, on the northern side of the city. Full in the windows of its
eastern chamber the sun rises, and full in the windows of its western
chamber the sun sets.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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