And soon we saw the tide of the Sea himself advancing resolute between
Yann's borders, and Yann sprang lithely at him and they struggled a
while; then Yann and all that was his were pushed back northwards, so
that the sailors had to hoist the sails, and the wind being
favourable, we still held onwards.
And we passed Gondara and Narl and Hoz. And we saw memorable, holy
Golnuz, and heard the pilgrims praying.
When we awoke after the midday rest we were coming near to Nen, the
last of the cities in the River Yann. And the jungle was all about us
once again, and about Nen; but the great Mloon ranges stood up over
all things, and watched the city from beyond the jungle.
Here we anchored, and the captain and I went up into the city and
found that the Wanderers had come into Nen.
And the Wanderers were a weird, dark, tribe, that once in every seven
years came down from the peaks of Mloon, having crossed by a pass that
is known to them from some fantastic land that lies beyond. And the
people of Nen were all outside their houses, and all stood wondering
at their own streets. For the men and women of the Wanderers had
crowded all the ways, and every one was doing some strange thing. Some
danced astounding dances that they had learned from the desert wind,
rapidly curving and swirling till the eye could follow no longer.
Others played upon instruments beautiful wailing tunes that were full
of horror, which souls had taught them lost by night in the desert,
that strange far desert from which the Wanderers came.
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