Naronda: The Master ceased and bent over the harp as bends a mother, love-entranced, over an infant at her breast. And though it's strings no longer quivered, the harp continued to ring on; "God is your captain, sail, my Ark!" And though the Master's lips were shut, his voice reverberated for a space throughout the Aerie and floated out in waves unto the rugged peaks about; unto the hills and vales below; unto the restless sea in the distance; unto the vaulted blue overhead.

"God is your captain, sail, my Ark!"

There were star showers and rainbows in that voice. There were quakes and gales along with soughing winds and song-intoxicated nightingales. There were heaving seas empalled with soft, dew-laden mist. And it seemed as if the whole of creation were listening thereto in thankful gladness.

And it further seemed as if the Milky mountains range, with Altar Peak in the centre, had suddenly become detached from the Earth and were afloat in space, majestic, powerful and certain of it's course.

For three days thereafter, the Master spoke no word to any man.

THE BOOK

b-_-d