The Shadow Kingdom | Page 3

king of kings. Yet

now it seemed that the seizing was far easier than the keeping. The
sight of the Pict had brought back youthful associations to his mind, the
free, wild savagery of his boyhood. And now a strange feeling of dim
unrest, of unreality, stole over him as of late it had been doing. Who
was he, a straightforward man of the seas and the mountain, to rule a
race strangely and terribly wise with the mysticisms of antiquity? An
ancient race-
"I am Kull!" said he, flinging back his head as a lion flings back his
mane. "I am Kull!"
His falcon gaze swept the ancient hall. His selfconfidence flowed
back. . . . And in a dim nook of the hall a tapestry moved-slightly.

2. Thus Spake the Silent Halls of Valusia
The moon had not risen, and the garden was lighted with torches aglow
in silver cressets when Kull sat down on the throne before the table of
Ka-nu, ambassador of the western isles. At his right hand sat the
ancient Pict, as much unlike an emissary of that fierce race as a man
could be. Ancient was Ka-nu and wise in statecraft, grown old in the
game. There was no elemental hatred in the eyes that looked at Kull
appraisingly; no Tribal traditions hindered his judgments. Long
associations with the statesmen of the civilized nations had swept away
such cobwebs. Not: who and what is this man? was the question ever
foremost in Ka-nu's mind, but: can I use this man, and how? Tribal
prejudices he used only to further his own schemes.
And Kull watched Ka-nu, answering his conversation briefly,
wondering if civilization would make of him a thing like the Pict. For
Ka-nu was soft and paunchy. Many years had stridden across the
sky-rim since Ka- nu had wielded a sword. True, he was old, but Kull
had seen men older than he in the forefront of battle. The Picts were a
long-lived race. A beautiful girl stood at Ka-nu's elbow, refilling his
goblet, and she was kept busy. Meanwhile Ka-nu kept up a running fire
of jests and comments, and Kull, secretly contemptuous of his garrulity,

nevertheless missed none of his shrewd humor.
At the banquet were Pictish chiefs and statesmen, the latter jovial and
easy in their manner, the warriors formally courteous, but plainly
hampered by their tribal affinities. Yet Kull, with a tinge of envy, was
cognizant of the freedom and ease of the affair as contrasted with like
affairs of the Valusian court. Such freedom prevailed in the rude camps
of Atlantis-Kull shrugged his shoulders. After all, doubtless Ka-nu,
who had seemed to have forgotten he was a Pict as far as time- hoary
custom and prejudice went, was right and he, Kull, would better
become a Valusian in mind as in name.
At last when the moon had reached her zenith, Ka-nu, having eaten and
drunk as much as any three men there, leaned back upon his divan with
a comfortable sigh and said, "Now, get you gone, friends, for the king
and I would converse on such matters as concern not children. Yes, you
too, my pretty; yet first let me kiss those ruby lips-so; no, dance away,
my rose-bloom."
Ka-nu's eyes twinkled above his white beard as he surveyed Kull, who
sat erect, grim and uncompromising.
"You are thinking, Kull," said the old statesman, suddenly, "that Ka- nu
is a useless old reprobate, fit for nothing except to guzzle wine and kiss
wenches!"
In fact, this remark was so much in line with his actual thoughts, and so
plainly put, that Kull was rather startled, though he gave no sign.
Ka-nu gurgled and his paunch shook with his mirth. "Wine is red and
women are soft," he remarked tolerantly. "But-ha! ha!-think not old
Ka-nu allows either to interfere with business."
Again he laughed, and Kull moved restlessly. This seemed much like
being made sport of, and the king's scintllant eyes began to glow with a
feline light.
Ka-nu reached for the wine-pitcher, filled his beaker and glanced

questoningly at Kull, who shook his head irritably.
"Aye," said Ka-nu equably, "it takes an old head to stand strong drink. I
am growing old, Kull, so why should you young men begrudge me
such pleasures as we oldsters must find? Ah me, I grow ancient and
withered, friendless and cheerless."
But his looks and expressions failed far of bearing out his words. His
rubicund countenance fairly glowed, and his eyes sparkled, so that his
white beard seemed incongruous. Indeed, he looked remarkably elfin,
reflected Kull, who felt vaguely resentful. The old scoundrel had lost
all of the primitive virtues of his race and of Kull's race, yet he seemed
more pleased in his aged days than otherwise.
"Hark ye,