And the Second Voice Was the Voice of the Evening Wind
It was early twilight when the Pilgrim in The Quiet Room returned to his couch and to his meditations.
Without the Temple, the last of the day was stealing over the rim of the world into the mysterious realm of the yesterdays. The feathery cloud ships no longer floated white in the depth of blue, but with wide flung sails of rose and crimson swept over an ocean of amethyst and gold. The ripples that ran on the Beautiful Sea were edged with yellow and scarlet flame, while leaf, and blade, and flower, and bird, and all of their kind and kin, were singing their evensong. Sweetly, softly, the choral anthem stole through the open window into The Quiet Room.
And after a little the Pilgrim heard, whispering low, in the twilight hymn, the Voice of the Evening Wind.
Said the Voice: “To thee, O Hadji, I come from the Boundless Ocean Above that begins wherever you are and extends farther away than the farthest point your thought can reach. I speak from out the Deeps Beyond. I tell of the Great That May Be. I too am a Voice of Life and mine it is to continue for you The Tale of The Uncrowned King.”
And this is the part of the Tale that was told by the Voice of the Evening Wind.
The twin princes Really-Is and Seemsto-Be, on their good horses Reality and Appearance, journeyed very pleasantly through the Land of Allthetime toward the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. Ever as they went the Royal travelers saw before them the walls of the city gleaming like polished silver in the sun, and high above the shining walls the great palace or temple that flamed like a ruby flame. Always as they rode the two talked gaily, in glad anticipation of the marvels they would certainly see, of the pleasures they would surely find, and of the delightful adventures that without doubt awaited them. So at last they arrived at the city gate, which was a gate all scrolled and patterned with precious gems.
Fairer than the dreams of angels, O Hadji, is the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. Of such radiant splendors, such dazzling brilliancy, such transcending glory there are yet no words fashioned to tell. It is a city, in the form and manner of its building, of exquisite loveliness, of fairy grace, of towering grandeur. It is a city in the beauty and richness of its color, all emerald, rose, and purple, all ruby, crimson and gold.
As the twin princes of Allthetime rode slowly through the wide jeweled gate and along the noble streets and stately avenues, they exclaimed aloud with delight and wonder at the enchanting beauty of the scene. More than they had heard at home was true. The poorest of the buildings in Sometime far exceeded in splendor the richest of the palaces in Daybyday; while before the palaces of Sometime, Really-Is and Seemsto-Be stood speechless and amazed. They were fairly drunken with the flashing, flaming, blazing, blinding glory of the sight.
The people of Sometime, too, were exceeding fair and very charming in their manner, and they welcomed the princes from Daybyday with a joyous welcome, answering their questions gladly and escorting them to the palace of their king. For you must know, O Hadji, that the City Sometime, too, is a Royal City, the home of Lookingahead, who rules over the Land of Yettocome. And King Lookingahead received his noble visitors with gladness and had great pleasure, he said, in presenting them to his two daughters, the princesses of Yettocome, Fancy and Imagination, who were fairer than any women the princes of Daybyday had ever seen, even in the loveliest of their dreams.
For a long happy, happy time Really-Is and Seemsto-Be remained in the City Sometime. Every day, and every day, with the royal princesses Fancy and Imagination for their guides, they rode or drove through the wide streets and broad avenues, walked in the beautiful gardens, explored the shadowy groves or visited the many palaces. And in this way it was that the charming princesses showed to their noble guests all the wonders of the Royal City of the Realm of Yettocome, pointing out for them every day new beauties, finding for them always new pleasures, leading them ever to fresh scenes of enchanting loveliness. And in turn the princes told their fair guides many things of their own city, Daybyday, in the Land of Allthetime; of the people with their many temples and their many gods; of their father What-Soever-Youthink and his wise reign. But most of all did they tell of the wonderful Crown, so very old, so very valuable, and how it was a Magic Crown, though no one then knew its magic, but knew only that its magic was.
Thus Really-Is and Seemsto-Be learned that the dwellers in Sometime were unlike the people of Daybyday in many ways, but in no way more than this, that they worshiped one god only, only one. The temple sacred to this god stood in the very heart of the city, which is the very heart of the land, and it was this temple, blazing like a ruby flame high above the shining city walls, the princes had seen from the tower of their palace home.
Often, very often did the four young people visit this shrine in Sometime with rich offerings to the god, Itmightbe.
But there came a time at last when, returning from a long ramble through the city, Really-Is and Seemsto-Be were met at the palace door by a royal messenger from home with the word that King What-Soever-Youthink was dead, and that the princes must hasten back to Daybyday, where Really-Is would be crowned with the Magic Crown and become the Ruler of Allthetime.
All was hurry and confusion in the palace of Lookingahead as the guests made swift preparations for their journey. Quickly the word went throughout the city and many charming people came to express regret, to sympathize and to bid the young men good-speed and safe going on their homeward way. The princesses, Fancy and Imagination, were very sad at losing their pleasant companions; and the Chief High Priest of the Temple commanded services and offerings extraordinary to the god Itmightbe.
“And this, O Hadji,” whispered the Voice of the Evening Wind, “is all of The Tale of The Uncrowned King that is given me to tell.”
The evening song of leaf and blade, and flower and bird, and all their kind and kin, ceased to come through the open window into The Quiet Room. The low Voice of the Evening Wind no longer whispered to the Pilgrim as he lay upon his couch. Without the Temple the eventide was passing from over the silent land and over the silent sea.
For a little the Pilgrim waited; then rising from his couch, again he went to the open window, and lo! in the evening sky he saw the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. All the wondrous castles and palaces were there, marvelous in their beauty, glorious in their splendor, dazzling in their colors of emerald, rose and purple, of ruby, crimson and gold. From spire and dome, cupola and turret, tower and battlement the lights flashed and gleamed, while the Pilgrim looked in wonder and in awe. And high above the city walls, that shone as burnished silver in the sun, rose the temple flaming like a ruby flame—the temple sacred to the god Itmightbe.
Slowly, slowly, the last of the twilight passed. Slowly, the graceful lines, the proud forms, the majestic piles of the city melted—melted, blurred and were lost even as are lost the form and loveliness of a snow flake on the sleeve. Slowly, slowly, the glorious colors faded as fade the flowers at the touch of frost. The lights went out. The darkness came. The city that is fairer than an angel’s dream was gone.