“But, pardon me, you are a man. You walk about on two legs, have a head, eyes in it, ears to the side. All the accoutrements. You want me to believe you’re some sort of ancient immortal dressed in ram-skin? A holdover from a time before time? I think you’ve got a good gig up here, doling out wisdom from your mountaintop.”
A cold chill rushed over me. I had been so drawn into the hermit’s words, I hadn’t even thought—but my vizier was right. This was no monster. How could I be sure this wasn’t just another man, ready to give advice, to send me on a goose chase, to play a titillating role, while my people suffered.
I looked at my companion, a mixture of embarrassment and admiration battling inside me, when I saw his face turn white. Have you ever heard the phrase? Well, it’s true. All the blood, instantly, rushed from him. Like a death mask; he gasped.
I turned to look at what he was gaping at, but all I saw was the old mountain man in his hermit’s rags.
“Forgive me!” my vizier bowed, laying himself down on the ground toward the old man.
“What?” I asked.
“Do not ask.” My servant’s voice rose from the earth. “I questioned, and have been answered. Lo, I shall die.”
“You need not die on my account,” the hermit answered. “But a little rest will cure; drink, deeply, and forget. Make love to a woman, touch her, and passion will drive all recollection away. Your wife will bear you a daughter. Send her when she is old enough, for what you have seen will pass from you and become a living thing. If you do not wish it to envelope you, you must let her go.”
“What did you see!” I shouted.
Trembling there on the floor, the vizier answered:
“He is what he says he is. Do not let so much as a taper shine in this cave. A mere spark might show you his real eyes.”
“You have gone made,” I said. “We are outside in daylight.”
“Your son will follow her, but I will send him back, a wise king. I will keep him safe on the journey, but I cannot save him from a broken heart. Now, go.”
And at this command, we were back again at the foot of the mountain, and I saw, distantly, two figures like ourselves, climbing up the forbidden slopes.
“Get up,” I said, kicking my friend lightly. He stood, staggering, and I had to support him. We watched the two figures, so eerily like ourselves, rise until the clouds obscured them. And the months we had spent in search of wisdom had not been spent at all.
Tale Told 