“No magician has a sense of humour,” remarked Finaun, “he could not be a magician if he had—Humour is the health of the mind.”
“That,” Art broke in, “is one of the things he said to me. So you see he had discovered something. He was very near to being a wise man. He was certainly a courageous man, or, perhaps, foolhardy; but he was as serious as a fog, and he could not bring himself to believe it.”
“Tell us the story,” said Caeltia.
“Here it is,” said Art.
XXVII
“On a day long ago I laboured with the Army of the Voice. The first syllable of the great word had been uttered, and in far eastern space, beyond seven of the flaming wheels, I and the six sons drew the lives together and held them for the whirlwind which is the one. We were waiting for the second syllable to form the wind.
“As I stood by my place holding the north in quietness, I felt a strong vibration between my hands. Something was interfering with me. I could not let go, but I looked behind me, and there I saw a man standing, and he was weaving spells.
“It was a short, dark man with a little bristle of black whisker on his chin and a stiff bristle of black hair on his head. He was standing inside a double triangle having the points upwards, and there were magical signs at each point of the triangles. While I looked, he threw around him from side to side a flaming circle, and then he threw a flaming circle about him from front to back, and he span these so quickly that he was surrounded by a wall of fire.
“At him, on the instant, I charged a bolt, but it could not penetrate his circles; it hit them and fell harmless, for the circles had a greater speed than my thunderbolt.
“He stood so in the triangles, laughing at me and scratching his chin.
“I dared not loose my hands again lest the labour of a cycle should be dissipated in an instant, and it was no use shouting to the others, for they also were holding the lives in readiness for the whirlwind which would shape them to a globe, so the man had me at his mercy.
“He was working against my grip, and he had amazing power. He had somehow discovered part of the first syllable of the great word, and he was intoning this on me between giggles, but he could not destroy us, for together we were equal to the number of that syllable.
“When I looked at him again he laughed at me, and what he said astonished me greatly.
“ ‘This,’ said he, ‘is very funny.’
“I made no reply to him, being intent only on holding my grip; but I was reassured, for, although he poured on me incessantly the great sound, its effect was neutralised, for I am a number, and in totality we were the numbers; nevertheless the substance did strain and heave so powerfully that I could do no more than hold it in place.
“The man spoke to me again. Said he:
“ ‘Do you not think that this is very funny?’
“I made no answer for a time, and then I said:
“ ‘Who are you?’
“ ‘A name,’ he replied, ‘is a power; I won’t give you my name although I would like to, for this is a great deed and a funny one.’
“ ‘What is your planet?’ quoth I.
“ ‘I won’t tell you that,’ he replied; ‘you might read my signs and come after me later on.’
“I could not but admire the immense impertinence of his deed.
“ ‘I know your sign,’ said I, ‘for you have already made it three times with your hand, and there is only one planet of these systems which has evolved the fifth race, so I know your planet. Your symbol is the Mule, and Uriel is your Regent; he will be coming after you soon, so you had better go away while you have time.’
“ ‘If he comes,’ said the man, ‘I’ll put him in a bottle, and I’ll put you in a bottle too. I won’t go for another while, the joke is too good, and this is only the commencement of it.’
“ ‘You will be caught by the second syllable,’ I warned him.
“ ‘I’ll put it in a bottle,’ said he grinning at me. ‘No,’ he continued, ‘I won’t be caught, I’ve made my calculations, and it’s not due yet a while.’
“Again he poured on me the great sound until I rocked to and fro like a bush in the wind; but he could not loose my grip, for I was a part of the word.
“ ‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked him.
“ ‘I’ll tell you that,’ he replied.
“ ‘I am two things, and I am great in each of these two things. I am a great magician, and I am a great humourist. Now, it is very easy to prove that one is a magician, for one has only to do things and then people are astonished; they are filled with fear and wonder; they fall down and worship and call one god and master. But it is not so easy to be a humourist, because in that case it is necessary to make people laugh. If a man is to be a magician it is necessary, if his art is to be appreciated, that the people around him be fools. If a person desires to be a humourist it is necessary that the people around him shall be at least as wise as he is, otherwise his humour will not be comprehended. You see my predicament! and it is a cruel one, for I cannot forego either of these ambitions—they are my karma. Laughter is purely an intellectual quality, and in my planet I have no intellectual equals: my jokes can only be enjoyed by myself, and it is of the essence of humour that one share it, or it turns to ill-health and cynicism and mental sourness.
