Path of the Eclipse

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  As Saint-Germain carried the earth-filled sacks into the guest house, he thought about the spokesman’s wife’s sister, who had slept with other foreigners. He hoped that she was not another passive woman, who would allow him the use of her. He wanted, he needed, more than that. Sternly he reminded himself that any contact was better than none, and knew, with profound sadness, that this was not true.

  Text of a letter carried by Saint-Germain from SGyi Zhel-ri, Master of the Yellow Hats. The letter is written in Tibetan, Chinese, Hindi and Tamil.

  From the Master of the Yellow Hats at the Bya-grub Me-long ye-shys lamasery to those distinguished persons to whom this message is presented.

  Long have we of the Yellow Hat Order treasured knowledge and learning. It is the pursuit of these qualities that set the steps on the Path, and lead to the release from the Wheel and the attainment of Inner Light.

  Those who are capable of great learning are surely to be honored and revered by all who seek to end their travail in this life as well as in those to come.

  The bearer of this, a man from the West who has been called Shih Ghieh-Man by the scholars in China, has shown himself worthy of such a name, and for that reason, if no other, should be received with courtesy in the courts and homes of all lands where understanding is treasured. Be sure that Shih Ghieh-Man has a profound respect for the value of study, and a true love of all the attributes of knowledge, and for this reason, if no other, is capable of adding much to any discussion that he enters. You who read this are most fortunate to have the chance to avail yourselves of this remarkable man’s experience and learning.

  This man, I assure you, is not a pedant or a mere cataloger of information, but one who has taken to heart the essence of what he has learned. Though he does not describe himself as a philosopher, there is more philosophy in him than there is in most of the men who have taken that title for their own. Shih Ghieh-Man has not only erudition, but great literacy, and you will find that the hours spent in his company will be filled with remarkable conversation. Whether he provides you with allegory or the example of history, you will come away from him with enriched perceptions and increased wisdom.

  It is not appropriate for me to speak of those things he has shared with me, but you should know that I hold his confidence, which he reposed in me, with the highest esteem. Nothing I can say would be adequate to describe the value of his friendship. Should you be fortunate enough to have the honor of his affection, you will have the rarest of opportunities, and one it would be folly to turn from.

  Though I address you as leader to leader, and with the formality that is born of respect both for you, though unknown, and for Shih Ghieh-Man, who is my friend, and my words are those of one who speaks in public to a multitude, there are no idle compliments here, no flattery or polite deception. Shih Ghieh-Man, or Saint-Germain, is the most remarkable man I have ever known, and my life, I know, would be the poorer had I not met him. If you are willing to receive him, you may eventually share my appreciation. It is very much my hope that you will.

  May your life incur no karma, and may you pass soon from the Wheel, and return to the state of unity with the Source of all Bliss.

  Your kindness to this man Saint-Germain will bring you my prayers to aid you to that excellent state.

  SGyi Zhel-ri

  from his own hand

  at the Bya-grub Me-long ye-shys lamasery

  Order of Yellow Hats

  9

  Today the merchants and vendors had moved their bazaar nearer the river in a vain attempt to escape the heat that lay over the city, moist and stifling as a wet cloth. As it was almost sunset many of the awning-covered booths had been taken down, but there were those who hoped to earn a few more bits of copper before retiring for the evening. Behind the bazaar there were shops, and perhaps half of these still stood open.

  The old jeweler was about to close his doors for the night. No one had set foot in the dark interior of his shop since midafternoon, and the oppressive heat, redolent with the scents of spices, sandalwood and excrement, had made him drowsy. It was time to be at home with his family, sipping a cooling mixture of fermented milk and fruit juices. The thought of it made him hasten, and he was in the act of closing his doors when the stranger appeared.

  “I realize it is late,” he said in oddly accented but high-caste dialect. “If you would spare me a little time, it would, I think, be of benefit to both of us.”

  Though it was late and the evening particularly hot and still, the old jeweler was curious. The stranger was clearly a foreigner, for the color of his skin and the way he walked proclaimed him so as much as his black clothing. Around his neck he wore a silver chain and from it hung a pectoral in the shape of a black disk with raised, spread wings—the sign of the eclipse. The stranger’s dark, compelling eyes rested for a moment on the jeweler, and then he smiled wryly.

  “Truly, it is late, but I find it hard to bear the full weight of the sun. If you would prefer, I will return tomorrow at first light, but it would be just as well for us to settle this now, if you are interested.” His voice was beautiful, musically modulated and low. He put his hand to the wallet fastened to his belt. “I admit that I have come to sell, not to buy, but that may not disappoint you.”

  The old jeweler stiffened. “It is quite late, good stranger. If you will tell me what you have, then perhaps tomorrow…”

  “Look for yourself,” the foreigner said as he held out his hands. There were six stones in his palms, four of them the size of the man’s thumbnail. But the other two—the other two were magnificent. One, the jeweler could see though the light was poor, was a straw-colored diamond more than twice the size of the Rajah’s. The last gem was slightly smaller, and rather uneven in shape. The old jeweler reached out to touch it.

  “A ruby? This size?” he whispered as he felt the curious, slightly greasy texture of the stone.

  Now the stranger permitted himself to smile. “I came here only a few days ago, and inquired of the traders here for escort west.”

  The jeweler gave a scoffing laugh before he could stop himself. The stranger, being a Westerner, might not wish him to mock the plight of those distant lands.

  “Yes,” the stranger said unhappily, but with steel in his tone. “I was told of what has happened in Persia. Jenghiz Khan has brought his Mongols there, and is conquering the land.” For a moment he was back in that narrow valley, near a pile of shattered bodies, searching for one … He forced his mind back to the old jeweler. “For the time being, I would be wise to stay here, and for that reason I will need a house and servants. Selling these will enable me to live reasonably well for a time.”

  It was the opinion of the old jeweler that a man possessed of such jewels could live better than the Rajah for more years than any man could reasonably expect to live. He thought perhaps that the stranger was possessed of a large family and many slaves, but the impression was dispelled at once.

  “I would also wish to know where I might hire servants. I would prefer not to buy slaves.” The stranger glanced at the three oil lamps in the shop. “Here. Take them. Look at them.” He held out the jewels to the old man.

  Had these stones been religious objects, the jeweler could not have handled them with greater care. He took the small stones first. There were two diamonds, one quite clear, one with a slightly bluish cast. The smallest stone was an emerald, a blue light winking in its green interior. The fourth stone was a sapphire with a large star gleaming against its blackness. He held each of these to the lamps in turn, and each time he was filled with the kind of awe that stopped the words in his throat and made him wish to weep. He was not certain he dared to touch the larger stones again.

  “Please,” the stranger said persuasively, handing the two largest stones to him. “Examine them.”

  The old jeweler nodded, lifting the diamond and then the ruby to the light. Both stones glowed with that uncanny luminosity that distinguished all superior gems. “They are … amazing,” he murmu
red. In his many years as a jeweler he had never seen such fine stones, and to have six of them at once! He gave the jewels back to the stranger. “They are most remarkable.”

  “Yes,” the foreigner said as he returned the jewels to his wallet. “It was good of you not to try to tell me that the quality was poor or that you would not be able to find any interest in these gems just now.”

  “Ah.” The old jeweler darkened with embarrassment. “You have been to Chandri before me.” He could not meet the stranger’s dark eyes.

  “I asked him to believe that these were not pebbles I had found in the road,” the foreigner said so politely that the old jeweler was touched with fear.

  “A man with such stones would know their worth,” the old jeweler said, sighing in spite of himself. “And for that reason, I do not know if I may purchase them. It is not that I do not want them, for it would delight me to have these stones, if only for the time it would take me to find a buyer. But you will wish money at once, and though I am not a poor man, yet I cannot put my hands to sufficient amounts in little time.”

  The stranger did not seem perturbed by this. “How long would it take you to find enough to make me a reasonable offer?”

  “And who is to judge the reasonableness of the offer?” the old jeweler said with a chuckle. “You or I?”

  “I am willing to strike a bargain with you. But I dislike haggling. This is not your way, I know. But keep it in mind when you make your evaluation.” The stranger let the old jeweler consider this. “How much time will you need?”

  “By tomorrow I should have had an opportunity to speak with my brothers and cousins. At this time tomorrow, perhaps, you will return and I will tell you what we have decided.” He was determined to have the jewels, and both he and the stranger sensed this.

  “Tomorrow at sunset, then.” He turned toward the half-closed door. “I would wish to warn you that if you send one of your nephews to follow me, I will have no more dealings with you.” He said it casually, and his voice was still beautiful to hear, but the threat was most certainly genuine.

  “It did not enter my mind, Excellency,” the old jeweler lied.

  “Did it not.” He stepped out of the shop and away into the deepening shadows.

  The old jeweler stood alone in his shop for some little time, asking himself if he had dreamed the whole. Yet he knew he had touched those stones. He could recall the weight of them. As he remembered the jewels he felt suddenly cold. The stranger would return the next night, and he would have to make an offer, one that was not demeaning. He clamped his teeth together, for no matter what he said to his brothers and cousins there was no way they could find enough money to pay for more than two of the smaller ones. He would have to find other means. At once he thought of the Rajah Dantinusha and wondered if he had the courage to approach the Prince on the matter.

  It was now almost fully dark, only a violet bar lay along the western horizon as a reminder of the day that had fled. The old jeweler fingered his neat beard and wished for a sign that would indicate what was best for him to do. Dantinusha was known as a reasonable man, but when presented with news of a foreigner possessing such gems to sell, he might behave differently.

  A half-grown goat, which had been tethered to a stall at the far end of the bazaar, suddenly broke away and ran in the direction of the main road, turning toward the Rajah’s palace when he reached the crossing.

  This was a plain sign, the old jeweler recognized at once. He bustled to the back of his shop to the iron coffers bolted to the wall. Swiftly he opened these chests and drew out a number of wide golden chains and bejeweled bracelets. He already wore several rings, but decided to add a handsome band of red gold set with black pearls. There were those who would consider such a ring unlucky, he thought, but in the years he had worn it, his business had increased and none of his children had died. A most fortunate ring. He closed and locked the coffers, then hurried out of the shop.

  Rajah Dantinusha’s palace was not as large as it seemed, but it was sumptuous, and its setting was magnificent. With a grove of trees and the rising mountains behind it and the river below its wide terraces, it was a fabulous beacon to all those who lived in this high valley of the upper Chenab River. Though the little principality extended some distance beyond the valley, this was the heart of it, and the palace of the Rajah was its treasure.

  The old jeweler was detained at the gates by four pike-carrying guards in splendid military outfits. The senior guard asked a number of insolent questions, but in the end he called for a slave to take the old jeweler into the presence of Rajah Dantinusha. At the entrance to the royal quarters, the old jeweler was handed over to a dignified chamberlain and taken through a number of beautiful chambers, coming at last to a circular room that glowed like burnished gold in the torchlight.

  The chamberlain paused in the doorway of this magnificent apartment. “The jeweler…” He turned back to the old man, waiting.

  “Nandalas,” he whispered.

  “Yes.” Again he raised his voice to announcing pitch. “The jeweler Nandalas.” Then he stepped aside to allow the old man to enter the presence of the Rajah.

  Dantinusha sat on a dais, his low couch so covered in pillows that it was almost impossible to see the furniture that supported it. On a low table at his elbow a number of simple refreshments had been set out, and the Prince was just pouring himself spiced and honeyed fruit juice as the jeweler entered and abased himself. Dantinusha looked at the old man, saying after a moment, “Well?”

  Nandalas lifted his head. “I must speak to you, Rajah. It is of the utmost importance, or I would never have dared—”

  “—to insist on this audience,” Dantinusha said in slightly bored accents. “It seems that the only reason my subjects approach me is for reasons of the utmost importance. Go ahead.” He leaned back on his cushions and brought the elegant little cup to his lips. He was an attractive man, with a strong, thick body and deep-set, intelligent eyes. His hair and oiled mustaches were glistening black; his skin almost matched the dark honey that flavored his drink.

  Though he was somewhat puzzled, the jeweler Nandalas determined to speak. “Great Lord, I am a jeweler, an honorable one, and the trade has long been in the family—”

  “So I understand,” Dantinusha interrupted him. “You, your brothers and your cousins have excellent reputations.”

  Nandalas was momentarily diverted. “You do? How does it come that so great a Lord—”

  “First,” Dantinusha explained painstakingly, but without any particular interest, “you are aware that I and my household buy more jewels than most, and are apt to know who gives the best value. While it is true that it is my chamberlain who deals with your cousin, nonetheless, I know where the jewels are bought. Second, my treasury has a record of assessments made on businesses for the last eight generations, and the name of your family is a prominent one.” He put his cup down. “Perhaps in vast kingdoms it is possible for a ruler to know nothing of those he rules, for there are so many of them. It is not a luxury I can allow myself, not with the followers of Islam nipping away at my borders.” He stared down at the jeweler. “Why did you come, then? What is this important matter?”

  “Uh…” The old jeweler found it difficult to recapture his thoughts. “It seems…” He cleared his throat and forced himself to begin again. “This evening, at sunset, when I was preparing to close the shop we keep near the bazaar, a man came to me with jewels to sell.” He could see the polite but bored expression in the Rajah’s eyes, and went on hurriedly. “He was a foreigner, from the West, though he has traveled far, I gather. Yes. He had jewels to sell, as I have said…”

  “I am at a loss as to why you bring this to my attention. There have been foreigners here before. Men have sold jewels. Were they counterfeit?” He replenished his cup and held it, but did not drink.

  “No, they were not counterfeit,” Nandalas said with such a change in his tone that Dantinusha’s attention was caught at once. “Gre
at Lord, they were wonderful, these jewels. There were six of them: a black sapphire with a star, of moderate size but great perfection; an emerald with a fine blue flash; two small diamonds, one clear, the other faintly colored. Then there were the larger stones. One is a yellow diamond, larger than the one in your state jewels—

  “How much larger?” Dantinusha asked. “Significantly?”

  “Yes.” Nandalas faltered after he had spoken. “I didn’t see it in bright light, and it may not be as fine.” He knew that this was not true, and apparently the Rajah recognized the fiction.

  “And the quality? Surely you did not rush here to tell me of inferior jewels.” He brushed his curling mustaches, not quite smiling.

  “The quality was excellent. The last jewel,” he went on doggedly, “is a ruby, the size of a small hen’s egg. The diamond is slightly larger than that.” He fumbled with his sash, suddenly embarrassed. “I would buy those jewels if I had sufficient funds for them, but, alas, I do not. My brothers and cousins would say—and certainly they would have reason on their side—that even if we had the money for such gems, aside from yourself there is no one to whom we could easily sell them. All these considerations occurred to me as I held the stones…”

  “Yet you’ve come to me,” Rajah Dantinusha pointed out.

  “And none of them made a difference, not when I saw how beautiful the jewels were. I would have ruined my family, I think, if I could have possessed those gems.” He looked at once suppliant and defiant.

  Dantinusha studied the old man. “Why do you say that?” he inquired after some little time.

  Now the old jeweler stumbled over his words in trying to frame an answer. “I do not know … You must love the stones, Great Lord. If there is a love of the stones, then … they are more than brothers and sons. They are vital. They are more than flesh and blood. To see the dark light in the heart of the ruby … I am as ardent as a young lover when I think of it. Don’t you see, Great Lord, most gems are flawed. They are not well-shaped, or their inner light does not shine truly, or their polish is marred, or there are chips missing, or the color is not good. There is hardly one stone in a thousand that is not in some way flawed. It is rare to see one such stone, and I have held six this very night.” His words came fast and he felt his heart race within him. “Any one of them would be remarkable, but six!…”