… Suddenly he heard a voice, quiet and a little husky, with a hard-to-place accent, issuing, it seemed, not from the darkness under the hood, but from somewhere off to the side, or from above:
“Are you afraid of me, Haladdin?”
“Well, how shall I put it …”
“Put it straight: yes, I’m afraid. You see, I could have assumed … er … a more neutral appearance, but I’ve too little strength left. So please bear with me, it’ll not be for long. Although it must be creepy to one unused to such things.”
“Thank you,” Haladdin answered gruffly, feeling his fear suddenly dissipate without a trace. “Could you at least introduce yourself, since you know me but I don’t know you?”
“Actually, you do know me, if only by hearsay: Sharya-Rana, at your service.” The edge of the cowl dipped in a small bow. “To be more precise, I was Sharya-Rana in my previous life.”
“Amazing!” Now Haladdin was sure that he was dreaming, and tried to behave accordingly. “A personal conversation with Sharya-Rana himself – I would’ve gladly given five years of my life for that. By the way, you have a rather interesting lexicon for a Vendotenian who lived more than a century ago.”
“It’s your lexicon, not mine.” Haladdin could have sworn that for a split second the emptiness under the cowl coalesced into a smirk. “I’m simply using your words, it’s no effort for me. But if you dislike it …”
“No, it’s fine.” Delusion, sheer delusion! “But tell me, honored Sharya-Rana, they say that all the Nazgúl are former kings?”
“There are kings among us, too, as well as doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs, and such. As you can see, some of us are mathematicians.”
“So is it true that after publishing The Natural Basis of Celestial Mechanics you turned completely to theology?”
“Yes, but that, too, is all behind me, in my former life.”
“And when you leave those former lives, you simply shed your tired flesh and acquire unlimited powers and immortality?”
“No. We are long-lived, but mortal. Indeed, we are always nine – that is the tradition – but members of the Nine change. As for unlimited powers … it’s really an unimaginably heavy burden. We are the magic shield that had for ages protected the little oasis of Reason in which your light-minded civilization had so comfortably nestled. It is absolutely alien to the World in which we had to be born, and Middle Earth is struggling against this alien presence with all the might of its magic. When we manage to absorb a blow, we dematerialize, and then it is simply very painful; whereas when we make a mistake and a blow reaches your little world … What we feel then has no name in any human language: all the World’s pain, all the World’s fear, all the World’s despair is the payment for our work. If you only knew how emptiness can hurt …” The burning coals under the hood seemed filmed with ash momentarily. “In other words, you shouldn’t envy us our powers.”
“Forgive me,” Haladdin mumbled. “None of us even suspect … they tell all kind of tales about you … I myself thought that you’re phantoms that don’t care about the real world.”
“On the contrary, we do care a lot. For example, I’m well acquainted with your work.”
“Really?!”
“Yes, quite. Congratulations: what you did the year before last with your study of nerve tissue will inaugurate a new era in physiology. Not sure that you’ll make it into a school textbook, but a university course certainly … provided that after the recent events this world will ever have textbooks and universities.”
“Yeah?” Haladdin was doubtful. Sure, to hear this kind of praise from Sharya-Rana himself (provided that this was, indeed, Sharya-Rana) was pleasant beyond belief, but the great mathematician seemed not so competent in a foreign subject. “I’m afraid that you’re confusing a few things. I did indeed achieve some good results studying
“Are you afraid of me, Haladdin?”
“Well, how shall I put it …”
“Put it straight: yes, I’m afraid. You see, I could have assumed … er … a more neutral appearance, but I’ve too little strength left. So please bear with me, it’ll not be for long. Although it must be creepy to one unused to such things.”
“Thank you,” Haladdin answered gruffly, feeling his fear suddenly dissipate without a trace. “Could you at least introduce yourself, since you know me but I don’t know you?”
“Actually, you do know me, if only by hearsay: Sharya-Rana, at your service.” The edge of the cowl dipped in a small bow. “To be more precise, I was Sharya-Rana in my previous life.”
“Amazing!” Now Haladdin was sure that he was dreaming, and tried to behave accordingly. “A personal conversation with Sharya-Rana himself – I would’ve gladly given five years of my life for that. By the way, you have a rather interesting lexicon for a Vendotenian who lived more than a century ago.”
“It’s your lexicon, not mine.” Haladdin could have sworn that for a split second the emptiness under the cowl coalesced into a smirk. “I’m simply using your words, it’s no effort for me. But if you dislike it …”
“No, it’s fine.” Delusion, sheer delusion! “But tell me, honored Sharya-Rana, they say that all the Nazgúl are former kings?”
“There are kings among us, too, as well as doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs, and such. As you can see, some of us are mathematicians.”
“So is it true that after publishing The Natural Basis of Celestial Mechanics you turned completely to theology?”
“Yes, but that, too, is all behind me, in my former life.”
“And when you leave those former lives, you simply shed your tired flesh and acquire unlimited powers and immortality?”
“No. We are long-lived, but mortal. Indeed, we are always nine – that is the tradition – but members of the Nine change. As for unlimited powers … it’s really an unimaginably heavy burden. We are the magic shield that had for ages protected the little oasis of Reason in which your light-minded civilization had so comfortably nestled. It is absolutely alien to the World in which we had to be born, and Middle Earth is struggling against this alien presence with all the might of its magic. When we manage to absorb a blow, we dematerialize, and then it is simply very painful; whereas when we make a mistake and a blow reaches your little world … What we feel then has no name in any human language: all the World’s pain, all the World’s fear, all the World’s despair is the payment for our work. If you only knew how emptiness can hurt …” The burning coals under the hood seemed filmed with ash momentarily. “In other words, you shouldn’t envy us our powers.”
“Forgive me,” Haladdin mumbled. “None of us even suspect … they tell all kind of tales about you … I myself thought that you’re phantoms that don’t care about the real world.”
“On the contrary, we do care a lot. For example, I’m well acquainted with your work.”
“Really?!”
“Yes, quite. Congratulations: what you did the year before last with your study of nerve tissue will inaugurate a new era in physiology. Not sure that you’ll make it into a school textbook, but a university course certainly … provided that after the recent events this world will ever have textbooks and universities.”
“Yeah?” Haladdin was doubtful. Sure, to hear this kind of praise from Sharya-Rana himself (provided that this was, indeed, Sharya-Rana) was pleasant beyond belief, but the great mathematician seemed not so competent in a foreign subject. “I’m afraid that you’re confusing a few things. I did indeed achieve some good results studying
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