The Neverending Story - The Neverending Story Part 26
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The Neverending Story Part 26

With that he jumped out of the litter and left her.

Xayide's fingers played with the snake's head and her green-and-red eyes glowed. After a while she smiled again. Violet smoke rose from her mouth and she whispered: 'You will see, my lord and master. The belt Ghemmal will show you.'

When the camp was set up that night, Bastian went to his tent. He ordered Ilwan, the blue djinn, not to admit anyone, and especially not Xayide. He wanted to be alone and to think.

What the sorceress had told him about Atreyu hardly seemed worth troubling his head about. He had something else on his mind: those few words she dropped about wisdom.

He had been through so much; he had known joy and fear, discouragement and triumph; he had rushed from wish fulfillment to wish fulfillment, never stopping to rest. And nothing had brought him calm and contentment. To be wise was to be above joy and sorrow, fear and pity, ambition and humiliation. It was to hate nothing and to love nothing, and above all to be utterly indifferent to the love and hate of others. A truly wise man attached no importance to anything. Nothing could upset him and nothing could harm him. Yes, to be like that would be his final wish, the wish that would bring him to what he really wanted. Now he thought he understood what Grograman had meant by those words. And so he wished to become wise, the wisest being in Fantastica.

A little later he stepped out of his tent.

The moon cast its light on a landscape that he had scarcely noticed up until then. The tent city lay in a hollow ringed about by strangely shaped mountains. The silence Was complete. The hollow was fairly well wooded, while on the mountain slopes the vegetation became more sparse and farther up there was none at all. The peaks formed all manner of figures, almost as though a giant sculptor had shaped them. No breeze was blowing and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The stars glittered and seemed nearer than usual.

At the top of one of the highest peaks Bastian made out a sort of cupola. It seemed to be inhabited, for it gave off a faint light.

'I've noticed it too, my lord,' said Ilwan in his rasping voice. He was standing at his post by the entrance to the tent. 'What can it be?'

He had no sooner spoken than Bastian heard a strange cry in the distance. It suggested the long-drawn-out hooting of an owl, but it was deeper and louder. It sounded a second and then a third time, but now there were several voices.

Owls they were indeed, six in number, as Bastian was soon to find out. Coming from the direction of the cupola, they glided at an incredible speed on almost motionless wings. Soon they were close enough for Bastian to see how amazingly large they were. Their eyes glittered, and their erect ears were capped with bundles of down. The flight was soundless, but as they landed, a faint whirring of their wings could be heard.

Then they were sitting on the ground in front of Bastian's tent, swiveling their heads with their great round eyes in all directions. Bastian went up to them.

'Who are you?' he asked, 'and who are you looking for?'

'We were sent by Ushtu, the Mother of Intuition,' said one of the six owls. 'We are messengers from Ghigam, the Star Cloister.'

'What sort of cloister is that?' Bastian asked.

'It is the home of wisdom,' said another of the owls, 'where the Monks of Knowledge live.'

'And who is Ushtu?' Bastian asked.

'One of the Three Deep Thinkers who direct the cloister and instruct the monks,' said a third owl. 'We are the night messengers, which puts us in her department.'

'If it were daytime,' said the fourth owl, 'Shirkry, the Father of Vision, would have sent his messengers, who are eagles. And in the twilight hours between day and night, Yisipu, the Son of Reason, sends his messengers, who are foxes.'

'Who are Shirkry and Yisipu?'

'They are the other Deep Thinkers, our Superiors.'

'And what are you doing here?'

'We are looking for the Great Knower,' said the sixth owl. 'The Three Deep Thinkers know he is in this tent city and have sent us to beg him for illumination.'

'The Great Knower?' asked Bastian. 'Who's that?'

'His name,' replied all six owls at once, 'is Bastian Balthazar Bux.'

'You've found him,' said Bastian. 'It's me.'

They bowed low, which because of their jerky movements looked almost comical in spite of their great size.

'The Three Deep Thinkers,' said the first owl, 'beg you humbly and respectfully to visit them. They hope you will solve a problem they have been trying in vain to solve all their long lives.'

Bastian stroked his chin thoughtfully.

'Very well,' he answered after a while. 'But I must take my two disciples with me.'

'There are six of us,' said the owl. 'Two of us will carry each one of you.'

Bastian turned to the blue djinn.

'Ilwan,' he said. 'Bring me Atreyu and Xayide.'

The djinn bowed and went his way.

'What is this problem they want me to solve?' Bastian asked.

'O Great Knower,' said one of the owls, 'we are only poor ignorant messengers. We don't even belong to the lowest rank of the Monks of Knowledge. How could we possibly have cognizance of the problem which the Deep Thinkers in all their long lives have been unable to solve?'

A few minutes later Ilwan came back with Atreyu and Xayide. On the way he had told them what it was all about.

As he stood before Bastian, Atreyu asked in an undertone: 'Why me?'

'Indeed,' said Xayide. 'Why him?'

'You will find out,' said Bastian.

With admirable foresight, the owls had brought trapezes, one for every two owls. Bastian, Atreyu, and Xayide sat on the bars, and the great night birds, each holding a trapeze rope in its claws, rose into the air.

When the travelers reached the Star Cloister of Ghigam, they round that the great cupola was only the uppermost part of a large building composed of many cubical compartments. It had innumerable little windows and its outer wall might have been taken for the continuation of a sheer cliff. An unbidden visitor could hardly have gained admittance to the place.

The cubical compartments contained the cells of the Monks of Knowledge, the libraries, the refectories, and the lodgings of the messengers. The meeting hall, where the Three Deep Thinkers delivered their lectures, was situated under the cupola.

The Monks of Knowledge were Fantasticans of all kinds, from every part of the realm. But anyone wishing to enter the cloister had to break off all contact with family and country. The lives of these monks were hard and frugal, devoted exclusively to knowledge. The community was far from accepting all applicants. The examinations were difficult and the Three Deep Thinkers set the highest standards. Thus there were seldom more than three hundred monks in the cloister at one time, but these were by far the most intelligent persons in all Fantastica. Occasionally the community dwindled to seven members, but even then there was no thought of relaxing the entrance requirements. At the moment the monks and monkesses numbered roughly two hundred.

When Bastian, followed by Atreyu and Xayide, was led into the large lecture hall, he saw a motley assortment of Fantasticans, who differed from his own retinue only in that they all were dressed in rough dark-brown monk's robes. A wandering cliff or a tiny must have looked very strange in such an outfit.

The Superiors of the order, the Three Deep Thinkers, were built like humans except for their heads. Ushtu, the Mother of Intuition, had the head of an owl; Shirkry, the Father of Vision, the head of an eagle; and Yisipu, the Son of Reason, the head of a fox. They sat in raised stone chairs and looked enormous. The sight of them seemed to intimidate Atreyu and even Xayide. But Bastian stepped right up to them.

With a motion of his head, Shirkry, who was evidently the oldest of the three and was sitting in the middle, indicated an empty chair facing the Deep Thinkers. Bastian sat down in it.

After a prolonged silence, Shirkry spoke. He spoke softly, but his voice sounded surprisingly deep and full.

'Since time immemorial we have been pondering the enigma of our world. Yisipu's reasonings in the matter are different from Ushtu's intuitions, and Ushtu's intuitions differ from my vision, which in turn is different from Yisipu's reasonings. This is intolerable and must not be allowed to go on. That is why we have asked the Great Knower to come here and instruct us. Are you willing?'

I am,' said Bastian.

'Then, O Great Knower, hear our question: What is Fantastica?'

After a short silence Bastian replied: 'Fantastica is the Never-ending Story.'

'Give us time to understand your answer,' said Shirkry. 'Let us meet again here tomorrow at the same hour.'

Silently the Three Deep Thinkers and the Monks of Knowledge arose, and all left the hall.

Bastian, Atreyu, and Xayide were led to guest cells, where a simple meal awaited them. Their beds were wooden planks covered with rough woolen blankets. Though this didn't matter to Bastian and Atreyu, Xayide would have liked to conjure up a more comfortable bed. But she soon found to her dismay that her magic powers were without effect in this cloister.

Late the following night the monks and the Three Deep Thinkers met again in the great meeting hall. Once again Bastian occupied the high seat. Xayide and Atreyu sat to the left and right of him.

This time it was Ushtu, the Mother of Intuition, who scrutinized Bastian with her great owl's eyes and said: 'We have meditated on your answer, O Great Knower. But a new question has occurred to us. If, as you say, Fantastica is the Neverending Story, where is the Neverending Story to be found?'

After a short silence Bastian replied: Tn a book bound with copper-colored silk.'

'Give us time to understand your words,' said Ushtu. 'Let us meet again tomorrow at the same hour.'

When they had gathered in the meeting hall the following night, Yisipu, the Son of Reason, took the floor.

'Again we have meditated on your answer, O Great Knower,' he said. 'And again a new question comes to perplex us. If our world, Fantastica, is a Neverending Story and if this Neverending Story is in a book bound in copper-colored silk - where then is this book?'

After a short silence Bastian replied: Tn the attic of a schoolhouse.'

'O Great Knower,' said the fox-headed Yisipu, 'we do not doubt the truth of what you say. But now we would like to ask you to let us see this truth. Can you do that?'

Bastian thought it over. Then he said: 'I believe I can.'

Atreyu looked at Bastian with surprise. Xayide too had a questioning look in her red-and-green eyes.

'Let us meet again tomorrow night at the same hour,' said Bastian. 'But not here. Let us meet on the roof of the Star Cloister. And then you must keep your eyes fixed on the heavens.'

The following night was as clear as the three before it. At the appointed hour the Three Deep Thinkers and all the Monks of Knowledge were gathered on the roof of the Star Cloister. Atreyu and Xayide, who had no idea what Bastian was up to, were there too.

Bastian climbed to the top of the great cupola and looked around. For the first time he saw the Ivory Tower far off on the horizon, shimmering in the moonlight.

He took the stone Al Tsahir from his pocket. It sent out a soft glow. He then called to mind the inscription he had seen on the door of the Amarganth Library: . But if he says my name a second time from the end to the beginning, I will glow in one moment with the light of a hundred years.

He held the stone up high and cried out: 'Rihast-la!'

At that moment there came a flash of lightning so bright that illumined. And that space was the schoolhouse attic with its age-blackened beams. In a moment the vision passed and the light of a hundred years was gone. Al Tsahir had vanished without a trace.

It was some time before the eyes of those present, including Bastian's, became accustomed to the feeble light of the moon and the stars.

Shaken by what they had seen, all gathered in the great lecture hall. Bastian was the last to enter. The Monks of Knowledge and the Three Deep Thinkers arose from their seats and bowed low to him.

T have no words,' said Shirkry, 'with which to thank you for that flash of illumination, O Great Knower. For in that mysterious attic I glimpsed a being of my own kind, an eagle.'

'You are mistaken, Shirkry,' said the owl-faced Ushtu with a gentle smile. T saw the creature plainly. It was an owl.'

'You are both mistaken,' cried Yisipu, his eyes aflame. 'That being is a relative of mine, a fox.'

Shirkry raised his hands in horror.

'Here we are back where we started!' he said. 'You alone, O Great Knower, can answer this new question. Which of us is right?'

Smiling serenely, Bastian replied: 'All three.'

'Give us time to understand your answer,' said Ushtu.

'All the time you wish,' Bastian replied, 'for we shall be leaving you now.'

Bitter disappointment could be read on the faces of the Three Deep Thinkers and of the Monks of Knowledge. They implored Bastian to stay longer, or better still, forever, but with a rather disrespectful shrug he declined.

Whereupon the six messengers carried him and his two disciples back to the tent city.

That night the usual harmony of the Three Deep Thinkers was disturbed by a first radical difference of opinion, which years later led to the breakup of the community. Then Ushtu the Mother of Intuition, Shirkry the Father of Vision, and Yisipu the Son of Reason each founded a cloister of his own. But that is another story and shall be told another time.

That night Bastian lost all memory of having gone to school. The attic and the stolen book bound in copper-colored silk vanished from his mind. And he even stopped asking himself how he had come to Fantastica.

XXII.

The Battle for the Ivory Tower

IGILANT scouts returned to camp, reporting that the Ivory Tower was not far off and could be reached in two or at the most three days' marches.

But Bastian seemed irresolute. He kept ordering rest stops, but before the troops were half settled he would make them start out again. No one knew why he was behaving so strangely, and no one dared ask him. Since his great feat at the Star Cloister he had been unapproachable, even for Xayide. All sorts of conjectures were rife, but most of the traveling companions were quite willing to obey his contradictory orders. Great wise men, they thought, often strike the common run of people as unpredictable. Atreyu and Falkor were equally at a loss. The incident at the Star Cloister had baffled them completely.

Within Bastian two feelings were at war, and he was unable to silence either one. He longed to meet Moon Child. Now that he was famous and admired throughout Fantastica, he could approach her as an equal. But at the same time he was afraid she would ask him to return AURYN to her. And what then? Would she try to send him back to the world he had almost forgotten? He didn't want to go back. And he wanted to keep the Gem. But then he had another idea. Was it so certain that she wanted it back? Maybe she would let him have it as long as he wished. Maybe she had made him a present of it and it was his for good. At such moments he could hardly wait to see her again. He rushed the caravan on. But then, assailed by doubts, he would order a stop and think it all over again.

After alternating forced marches and prolonged delays, the procession finally reached the edge of the famous Labyrinth, the immense flower garden with its winding avenues and pathways. On the horizon the Ivory Tower gleamed white against the gold-shimmering evening sky.

Awed by the splendor and beauty of the sight, the army of Fantasticans stood silent. And so did Bastian. Even Xayide's face showed a look of wonderment, which had never been seen before and which soon vanished. Atreyu and Falkor, who were in the rear of the procession, remembered how different the Labyrinth had looked the last time they had seen it: wasted with the ravages of the Nothing. Now it was greener and more flourishing than ever before.

Bastian decided to go no farther that day and the tents were pitched for the night. He sent out messengers to bring greetings to Moon Child and let her know that he would be arriving at the Ivory Tower next day. Then he lay down in his tent and tried to sleep. He tossed and turned on his cushions, his worries left him no peace. But he was far from suspecting that this would be his worst night since coming to Fantastica.

Toward midnight, soon after falling into a restless sleep, he was awakened by excited whisperings outside his tent. He got up and went out.

'What's going on?' he asked sternly.

'This messenger,' replied Ilwan, the blue djinn, 'claims he is bringing you news so important that it can't wait until tomorrow.'

The messenger, whom Ilwan had picked up by the collar, was a nimbly, a creature bearing a certain resemblance to a rabbit, except that its coat was of bright-colored feathers instead of fur. Nimblies are among the swiftest runners in Fantastica, and can cover enormous distances with incredible speed. When running they become almost invisible except for the trail of dust clouds they leave behind them. That is why the nimbly had been chosen as messenger. After running to the Ivory Tower and back in next to no time, he was desperately out of breath when the djinn set him down in front of Bastian.

'Forgive me, sire,' he said, bowing and panting. 'Forgive me if I make so bold as to disturb your rest, but you would have every reason to be displeased with me if I failed to do so. Moon Child is not in the Ivory Tower; she has not been there for a long, long time, and no one knows where she is.'

Suddenly Bastian felt cold and empty inside. 'You must be mistaken. That can't be.'