Ah, Thangobrind knew. And had
he not been out on business he had almost allowed himself one or two
little laughs. But business was business, and the diamond that he
sought still lay on the lap of Hlo-hlo, where it had been for the last
two million years since Hlo-hlo created the world and gave unto it all
things except that precious stone called Dead Man's Diamond. The jewel
was often stolen, but it had a knack of coming back again to the lap
of Hlo-hlo. Thangobrind knew this, but he was no common jeweller and
hoped to outwit Hlo-hlo, perceiving not the trend of ambition and lust
and that they are vanity.
How nimbly he threaded his way thought he pits of Snood!--now like a
botanist, scrutinising the ground; now like a dancer, leaping from
crumbling edges. It was quite dark when he went by the towers of Tor,
where archers shoot ivory arrows at strangers lest any foreigner
should alter their laws, which are bad, but not to be altered by mere
aliens. At night they shoot by the sound of the strangers' feet. O,
Thangobrind, was ever a jeweller like you! He dragged two stones
behind him by long cords, and at these the archers shot. Tempting
indeed was the snare that they set in Woth, the emeralds loose-set in
the city's gate; but Thangobrind discerned the golden cord that
climbed the wall from each and the weights that would topple upon him
if he touched one, and so he left them, though he left them weeping,
and at last came to Theth.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25