Kai Lung’s Golden Hours by Ernest Bramah (an ebook reader .TXT) 📕

the full round radiance of thy moon-like face? One thing only remains: remove the various sheaths from off thy hands, for they not only conceal the undoubted perfection of the nails within, but their massive angularity renders the affectionate ardour of your embrace almost intolerable.”

At this very ordinary request a sudden flatness overspread Ning’s manner and he began to describe the many much more profitable rewards that Hia might fittingly demand. As none of these appeared to entice her imagination, he went on to rebuke her want of foresight, and, still later, having unsuccessfully pointed out to her the inevitable penury and degradation in which her thriftless perversity would involve her later years, to kick the less substantial appointments across the tent.

“The night thickens, with every indication of a storm,” remarked Hia pleasantly. “Yet that same impending flash of promised lightning tarries somewhat.”

“Truly is it written: ‘A gracious woman will cause more strife than twelve armed men can quell,’ ” retorted Ning bitterly.

“Not, perchance, if one of them bares his nails?” Thus she lightly mocked him, but always with a set intent, as a poised dragonfly sips water yet does not wet his wings. Whereupon, finally, Ning tore the sheaths from off his fingers and cast them passionately about her feet, immediately afterwards sinking into a profound sleep, for both the measure and the potency of the wine he had consumed exceeded his usual custom. Otherwise he would scarcely have acted in this incapable manner, for each sheath was inscribed with one symbol of a magic charm and in the possession of the complete sentence resided the whole of the Being’s authority and power.

Then Hia, seeing that he could no longer control her movements, and that the end to which she had been bending was attained, gathered together the fruits of her conscientious strategy and fled.

When Ning returned to the condition of ordinary perceptions he was lying alone in the field by the riverside. The great sky-fire made no pretence of averting its rays from his uncovered head, and the lesser creatures of the ground did not hesitate to walk over his once sacred form. The tent and all the other circumstances of the quest of Hia had passed into a state of no-existence, for with a somewhat narrow-minded economy the deity had called them into being with the express provision that they need only be of such a quality as would last for a single night.

With this recollection, other details began to assail his mind. His irreplaceable nail-sheaths⁠—there was no trace of one of them. He looked again. Alas! his incomparable nails were also gone, shorn off to the level of his finger-ends. For all their evidence he might be one who had passed his days in discreditable industry. Each moment a fresh point of degradation met his benumbed vision. His profuse and ornamental locks were reduced to a single roughly-plaited coil; his sandals were inelegant and harsh; in place of his many-coloured flowing robes a scanty blue gown clothed his form. He who had been a god was undistinguishable from the labourers of the fields. Only in one thing did the resemblance fail: about his neck he found a weighty block of wood controlled by an iron ring: while they at least were free he was a captive slave.

A shadow on the grass caused him to turn. Sun Wei approached, a knotted thong in one hand, in the other a hoe. He pointed to an unweeded rice-field and with many ceremonious bows pressed the hoe upon Ning as one who confers high honours. As Ning hesitated, Sun Wei pressed the knotted thong upon him until it would have been obtuse to disregard his meaning. Then Ning definitely understood that he had become involved in the workings of very powerful forces, hostile to himself, and picking up the hoe he bent his submissive footsteps in the direction of the laborious rice-field.

III The Incoming of the Youth, Tian

It was dawn in the High Heaven and the illimitable N’guk, waking to his labours for the day, looked graciously around on the assembled myriads who were there to carry his word through boundless space. Not wanting are they who speak two-sided words of the Venerable One from behind fan-like hands, but when his voice takes upon it the authority of a brazen drum knees become flaccid.

“There is a void in the unanimity of our council,” remarked the Supreme, his eye resting like a flash of lightning on a vacant place. “Wherefore tarries Ning, the son of Shin, the Seed-sower?”

For a moment there was an edging of N’guk’s inquiring glance from each Being to his neighbour. Then Leou stood audaciously forth.

“He is reported to be engaged on a private family matter,” he replied gravely. “Haply his feet have become entangled in a mesh of hair.”

N’guk turned his benevolent gaze upon another⁠—one higher in authority.

“Perchance,” admitted the superior Being tolerantly. “Such things are. How comes it else that among the earth-creatures we find the faces of the deities⁠—both the good and the bad?”

“How long has he been absent from our paths?”

They pressed another forward⁠—keeper of the Outer Path of the West Expanses, he.

“He went, High Excellence, in the fifteenth of the earth-ruler Chun, whom your enlightened tolerance has allowed to occupy the lower dragon throne for twoscore years, as these earthlings count. Thus and thus⁠—”

“Enough!” exclaimed the Supreme. “Hear my iron word. When the buffoon-witted Ning rises from his congenial slough this shall be his lot: for sixty thousand ages he shall fail to find the path of his return, but shall, instead, thread an aimless flight among the frozen ambits of the outer stars, carrying a tormenting rain of fire at his tail. And Leou, the Whisperer,” added the Divining One, with the inscrutable wisdom that marked even his most opaque moments, “Leou shall meanwhile perform Ning’s neglected task.”

For five and twenty years Ning had laboured in the fields of Sun Wei with a wooden collar girt about his neck,