The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune - Robert E. Howard (best biographies to read .txt) 📗

The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune

 

Robert E. Howard

 

Featuring Kull, first appeared in Weird Tales, September 1929.

 

“A wild, weird clime that lieth sublime Out of Space, out of Time.”

 

—POE

 

There comes, even to kings, the time of great weariness. Then the gold

of the throne is brass, the silk of the palace becomes drab. The gems

in the diadem sparkle drearily like the ice of the white seas; the

speech of men is as the empty rattle of a jester’s bell and the feel

comes of things unreal; even the sun is copper in the sky, and the

breath of the green ocean is no longer fresh.

 

Kull sat upon the throne of Valusia and the hour of weariness was upon

him. They moved before him in an endless, meaningless panorama: men,

women, priests, events and shadows of events; things seen and things

to be attained. But like shadows they came and went, leaving no trace

upon his consciousness, save that of a great mental fatigue. Yet Kull

was not tired. There was a longing in him for things beyond himself

and beyond the Valusian court. An unrest stirred in him, and strange,

luminous dreams roamed his soul. At his bidding there came to him

Brule the Spearslayer, warrior of Pictland, from the islands beyond

the West.

 

“Lord king, you are tired of the life of the court. Come with me upon

my galley and let us roam the tides for a space.”

 

“Nay.” Kull rested his chin moodily upon his mighty hand. “I am weary

beyond all these things. The cities hold no lure for me—and the

borders are quiet. I hear no more the sea-songs I heard when I lay as

a boy on the booming crags of Atlantis, and the night was alive with

blazing stars. No more do the green woodlands beckon me as of old.

There is a strangeness upon me and a longing beyond life’s longings.

Go!”

 

Brule went forth in a doubtful mood, leaving the king brooding upon

his throne. Then to Kull stole a girl of the court and whispered:

 

“Great king, seek Tuzun Thune, the wizard. The secrets of life and

death are his, and the stars in the sky the lands beneath the seas.”

Kull looked at the girl. Fine gold was her hair and her violet eyes

were slanted strangely; she was beautiful, but her beauty meant little

to Kull.

 

“Tuzun Thune,” he repeated. “Who is he?”

 

“A wizard of the Elder Race. He lives here in Valusia, by the Lake of

Visions in the House of a Thousand Mirrors. All things are known to

him, lord king; he speaks with the dead and holds converse with the

demons of the Lost Lands.”

 

Kull arose.

 

“I will seek out this mummer; but no word of my going, do you hear?”

 

“I am your slave, my lord.” And she sank to her knees meekly, but the

smile of her scarlet mouth was cunning behind Kull’s back and the

gleam of her narrow eyes was crafty.

 

Kull came to the house of Tuzun Thune, beside the Lake of Visions.

Wide and blue stretched the waters of the lake, and many a fine palace

rose upon its banks; many swan-winged pleasure boats drifted lazily

upon its hazy surface and evermore there came the sound of soft music.

 

Tall and spacious, but unpretentious, rose the House of a Thousand

Mirrors. The great doors stood open, and Kull ascended the broad stair

and entered, unannounced. There in a great chamber, whose walls were

of mirrors, he came upon Tuzun Thune, the wizard. The man was ancient

as the hills of Zalgara; like wrinkled leather was his skin, but his

cold gray eyes were like sparks of sword steel.

 

“Kull of Valusia, my house is yours,” said he, bowing with old-time

courtliness and motioning Kull to a throne-like chair.

 

“You are a wizard, I have heard,” said Kull bluntly, resting his chin

upon his hand and fixing his sombre eyes upon the man’s face. “Can you

do wonders?”

 

The wizard stretched forth his hand; his fingers opened and closed

like a bird’s claws.

 

“Is that not a wonder—that this blind flesh obeys the thoughts of my

mind? I walk, I breathe, I speakare they not all wonders?”

 

Kull meditated awhile, then spoke. “Can you summon up demons?”

 

“Aye. I can summon up a demon more savage than any in ghost land—by

smiting you in the face.”

 

Kull started, then nodded. “But the dead, can you talk to the dead?”

 

“I talk with the dead always—as I am talking now. Death begins with

birth, and each man begins to die when he is born; even now you are

dead, King Kull, because you were born.”

 

“But you, you are older than men become; do wizards never die?”

 

“Men die when their times come. No later, no sooner. Mine has not

come.”

 

Kull turned these answers over in his mind.

 

“Then it would seem that the greatest wizard of Valusia is no more

than an ordinary man, and I have been duped in coming here.”

 

Tuzun Thune shook his head. “Men are but men, and the greatest men are

they who soonest learn the simpler things. Nay, look into my mirrors,

Kull.”

 

The ceiling was a great many mirrors, and the walls were mirrors,

perfectly joined, yet many mirrors of many sizes and shapes.

 

“Mirrors are the world, Kull,” droned the wizard. “Gaze into my

mirrors and be wise.”

 

Kull chose one at random and looked into it intently. The mirrors upon

the opposite wall were reflected there, reflecting others, so that he

seemed to be gazing down a long, luminous corridor, formed by mirror

behind mirror; and far down this corridor moved a tiny figure. Kull

looked long ere he saw that the figure was the reflection of himself.

He gazed and a queer feeling of pettiness came over him; it seemed

that that tiny figure was the true Kull, representing the real

proportions of himself. So he moved away and stood before another.

 

“Look closely, Kull. That is the mirror of the past,” he heard the

wizard say.

 

Gray fogs obscured the vision, great billows of mist, ever heaving and

changing like the ghost of a great river; through these fogs Kull

caught swift fleeting visions of horror and strangeness; beasts and

men moved there and shapes neither men nor beasts; great exotic

blossoms glowed through the grayness; tall tropic trees towered high

over reeking swamps, where reptilian monsters wallowed, and bellowed;

the sky was ghastly with flying dragons, and the restless seas rocked

and roared and beat endlessly along the muddy beaches. Man was not,

yet man was the dream of the gods, and strange were the nightmare

forms that glided through the noisome jungles. Battle and onslaught

were there, and frightful love. Death was there, for Life and Death go

hand in hand. Across the slimy beaches of the world sounded the

bellowing of the monsters, and incredible shapes loomed through the

streaming curtain of the incessant rain. “This is of the future.” Kull

looked in silence. “See you—what?”

 

“A strange world,” said Kull heavily. “The Seven Empires are crumbled

to dust and are forgotten. The restless green waves roar for many a

fathom above the eternal hills of Atlantis; the mountains of Lemuria

of the West are the islands of an unknown sea. Strange savages roam

the elder lands and new lands flung strangely from the deeps, defiling

the elder shrines. Valusia is vanished and all the nations of today;

they of tomorrow are strangers. They know us not.”

 

“Time strides onward,” said Tuzun Thune calmly. “We live today; what

care we for tomorrow—or yesterday? The Wheel turns and nations rise

and fall; the world changes, and times return to savagery to rise

again through the long age. Ere Atlantis was, Valusia was, and ere

Valusia was, the Elder Nations were. Aye, we, too, trampled the

shoulders of lost tribes in our advance. You, who have come from the

green sea hills of Atlantis to seize the ancient crown of Valusia, you

think my tribe is old, we who held these lands ere the Valusians came

out of the East, in the days before there were men in the sea lands.

But men were here when the Elder Tribes rode out of the waste lands,

and men before men, tribe before tribe. The nations pass and are

forgotten, for that is the destiny of man.”

 

“Yes,” said Kull. “Yet is it not a pity that the beauty and glory of

men should fade like smoke on a summer sea?”

 

“For what reason, since that is their destiny? I brood not over the

lost glories of my race, nor do I labor for races to come. Live now,

Kull, live now. The dead are dead; the unborn are not. What matters

men’s forgetfulness of you when you have forgotten yourself in the

silent worlds of death? Gaze in my mirrors and be wise.”

 

Kull chose another mirror and gazed into it.

 

“That is the mirror of deepest magic; what see ye, Kull?”

 

“Naught but myself.”

 

“Look closely, Kull; is it in truth you?”

 

Kull stared into the great mirror, and the image that was his

reflection returned his gaze.

 

“I come before this mirror,” mused Kull, chin on fist, “and I bring

this man to life. That is beyond my understanding, since first I saw

him in the still waters of the lakes of Atlantis, till I saw him again

in the gold-rimmed mirrors of Valusia. He is I, a shadow of myself,

part of myself—I can bring him into being or slay him at my will;

yet—” He halted, strange thoughts whispering through the vast dim recesses

of his mind like shadowy bats flying through a great cavern—“yet where

is he when I stand not in front of a mirror? May it be in man’s power

thus lightly to form and destroy a shadow of life and existence? How

do I know that when I step back from the mirror he vanishes into the

void of Naught?”

 

“Nay, by Valka, am I the man or is he? Which of us is the ghost of the

other? Mayhap these mirrors are but windows through which we look into

another world. Does he think the same of me? Am I no more than a

shadow, a reflection of himself—to him, as he to me? And if I am the

ghost, what sort of a world lives upon the other side of this mirror?

What armies ride there and what kings rule? This world is all I know.

Knowing naught of any other, how can I judge? Surely there are green

hills there and booming seas and wide plains where men ride to battle.

Tell me, wizard who is wiser than most men, tell me are there worlds

beyond our worlds?”

 

“A man has eyes, let him see,” answered the wizard. “Who would see

must first believe.”

 

The hours drifted by, and Kull still sat before the mirrors of Tuzun

Thune, gazing into that which depicted himself. Sometimes it seemed

that he gazed upon hard shallowness; at other times gigantic depths

seemed to loom before him. Like the surface of the