the end in a pool of ink in a slave's hand. I've seen mankind begin
lower nor the gibbering ape, and I've seen them end the shining sons
of God. Millions on millions on millions of years, multiplied unto
dizziness, crawling, infinitesimal work overcoming nature, overcoming
themselves, overcoming the princes of the powers of darkness, one of
whom I am. But this is too deep for you, Marco Polo.

"Now you can go on your way without hindrance from me, Marco Polo,
because of the memory of an old time, when the courting of a woman
was more to me than the killing of a man, when beauty meant more
nor power.

"Let you be on your way, Marco Polo, while I sit here a lonely old
man, with wee, soft ghosts whispering to him. Let you be hastening
on your way before I remember I am a prince of the powers of darkness
and should do you harm. . .



CHAPTER IX

And so they went on eastward, ever eastward, and the moons were born,
grew, waned, and died. . .

They passed through Khotan, where the divers bring up jade from the
rivers, white jade and black jade, and green jade veined with gold.
They passed through Carnal, the shameful city, whose women are fair
and wanton, whose men are cuckolds. And they passed through the
province of Chitingolos, where are the mountains of the Salamanders.
They passed through the city of Campicha, where there are more idols