The Uncrowned King | Page 6

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.
* * * * *

AND THE THIRD VOICE WAS THE VOICE OF THE NIGHT
[Illustration: And the Third Voice was The Voice of the Night (see
king008.png)]

It was full night when the Pilgrim turned again to seek his couch.
Without the Temple it was very still--dark and still. Very still was it
within The Quiet Room, and the darkness that came stealing through
the open window was a thick and heavy darkness. The Pilgrim lay upon
his couch staring with blank, unseeing eyes into a blackness wherein
there was not even a spot of gray to show where the window was.
And after a little there came out of the heavy darkness the sad, sad
Voice of the Night.
Said the Voice: "To thee, O Hadji, I come from the Limitless Realm of
the Past that begins this moment and reaches back even beyond the day
of all beginnings. I speak from the Deeps Above. I tell