The Book of Wonder

by Lord Dunsany

  THE INJUDICIOUS PRAYERS OF POMBO THE IDOLATER

  Pombo the idolater had prayed to Ammuz a simple prayer, a necessaryprayer, such as even an idol of ivory could very easily grant, andAmmuz had not immediately granted it. Pombo had therefore prayed toTharma for the overthrow of Ammuz, an idol friendly to Tharma, and indoing this offended against the etiquette of the gods. Tharma refusedto grant the little prayer. Pombo prayed frantically to all the godsof idolatry, for though it was a simple matter, yet it was verynecessary to a man. And gods that were older than Ammuz rejected theprayers of Pombo, and even gods that were younger and therefore ofgreater repute. He prayed to them one by one, and they all refused tohear him; nor at first did he think at all of that subtle, divineetiquette against which he had offended. It occurred to him all atonce as he prayed to his fiftieth idol, a little green-jade god whomthe Chinese know, that all the idols were in league against him. WhenPombo discovered this he resented his birth bitterly, and madelamentation and alleged that he was lost. He might have been seen thenin any part of London haunting curiosity-shops and places where theysold idols of ivory or of stone, for he dwelt in London with others ofhis race though he was born in Burmah among those who hold Gangesholy. On drizzly evenings of November's worst his haggard face couldbe seen in the glow of some shop pressed close against the glass,where he would supplicate some calm, cross-legged idol till policemenmoved him on. And after closing hours back he would go to his dingyroom, in that part of our capital where English is seldom spoken, tosupplicate little idols of his own. And when Pombo's simple, necessaryprayer was equally refused by the idols of museums, auction-rooms,shops, then he took counsel with himself and purchased incense andburned it in a brazier before his own cheap little idols, and playedthe while upon an instrument such as that wherewith men charm snakes.And still the idols clung to their etiquette.

  Whether Pombo knew about this etiquette and considered it frivolous inthe face of his need, or whether his need, now grown desperate,unhinged his mind, I know not, but Pombo the idolater took a stick andsuddenly turned iconoclast.

  Pombo the iconoclast immediately left his house, leaving his idols tobe swept away with the dust and so to mingle with Man, and went to anarch-idolater of repute who carved idols out of rare stones, and puthis case before him. The arch-idolater who made idols of his ownrebuked Pombo in the name of Man for having broken his idols--"forhath not Man made them?" the arch-idolater said; and concerning theidols themselves he spoke long and learnedly, explaining divineetiquette, and how Pombo had offended, and how no idol in the worldwould listen to Pombo's prayer. When Pombo heard this he wept and madebitter outcry, and cursed the gods of ivory and the gods of jade, andthe hand of Man that made them, but most of all he cursed theiretiquette that had undone, as he said, an innocent man; so that atlast that arch-idolater, who made idols of his own, stopped in hiswork upon an idol of jasper for a king that was weary of Wosh, andtook compassion on Pombo, and told him that though no idol in theworld would listen to his prayer, yet only a little way over the edgeof it a certain disreputable idol sat who knew nothing of etiquette,and granted prayers that no respectable god would ever consent tohear. When Pombo heard this he took two handfuls of thearch-idolater's beard and kissed them joyfully, and dried his tearsand became his old impertinent self again. And he that carved fromjasper the usurper of Wosh explained how in the village of World'sEnd, at the furthest end of Last Street, there is a hole that you taketo be a well, close by the garden wall, but that if you lower yourselfby your hands over the edge of the hole, and feel about with your feettill they find a ledge, that is the top step of a flight of stairsthat takes you down over the edge of the World. "For all that menknow, those stairs may have a purpose and even a bottom step," saidthe arch-idolater, "but discussion about the lower flights is idle."Then the teeth of Pombo chattered, for he feared the darkness, but hethat made idols of his own explained that those stairs were always litby the faint blue gloaming in which the World spins. "Then," he said,"you will go by Lonely House and under the bridge that leads from theHouse to Nowhere, and whose purpose is not guessed; thence pastMaharrion, the god of flowers, and his high-priest, who is neitherbird nor cat; and so you will come to the little idol Duth, thedisreputable god that will grant your prayer." And he went on carvingagain at his idol of jasper for the king who was weary of Wosh; andPombo thanked him and went singing away, for in his vernacular mind hethought that "he _had_ the gods."

  It is a long journey from London to World's End, and Pombo had nomoney left, yet within five weeks he was strolling along LastStreet; but how he contrived to get there I will not say, for it wasnot entirely honest. And Pombo found the well at the end of the gardenbeyond the end house of Last Street, and many thoughts ran through hismind as he hung by his hands from the edge, but chiefest of all thosethoughts was one that said the gods were laughing at him through themouth of the arch-idolater, their prophet, and the thought beat in hishead till it ached like his wrists ... and then he found the step.

  And Pombo walked downstairs. There, sure enough, was the gloaming inwhich the world spins, and stars shone far off in it faintly;there was nothing before him as he went downstairs but that strangeblue waste of gloaming, with its multitudes of stars, and cometsplunging through it on outward journeys and comets returning home. Andthen he saw the lights of the bridge to Nowhere, and all of a suddenhe was in the glare of the shimmering parlour-window of Lonely House;and he heard voices there pronouncing words, and the voices werenowise human, and but for his bitter need he had screamed and fled.Halfway between the voices and Maharrion, whom he now saw standing outfrom the world, covered in rainbow halos, he perceived the weird greybeast that is neither cat nor bird. As Pombo hesitated, chilly withfear, he heard those voices grow louder in Lonely House, and at thathe stealthily moved a few steps lower, and then rushed past the beast.The beast intently watched Maharrion hurling up bubbles that are everyone a season of spring in unknown constellations, calling the swallowshome to unimagined fields, watched him without even turning to look atPombo, and saw him drop into the Linlunlarna, the river that rises atthe edge of the World, the golden pollen that sweetens the tide of theriver and is carried away from the World to be a joy to the Stars. Andthere before Pombo was the little disreputable god who cares nothingfor etiquette and will answer prayers that are refused by all therespectable idols. And whether the view of him, at last, excitedPombo's eagerness, or whether his need was greater than he could bearthat it drove him so swiftly downstairs, or whether, as is most likely,he ran too fast past the beast, I do not know, and it does not matterto Pombo; but at any rate he could not stop, as he had designed, inattitude of prayer at the feet of Duth, but ran on past him down thenarrowing steps, clutching at smooth, bare rocks till he fell from theWorld as, when our hearts miss a beat, we fall in dreams and wake upwith a dreadful jolt; but there was no waking up for Pombo, who stillfell on towards the incurious stars, and his fate is even one with thefate of Slith.