One Hundred and One Salhinid Tales

[magical girl salhin]

XXX

THE KING AND THE FISHERMAN

Once upon a time, in a faraway ring, there lived a fisherman. He was neither particularly clever nor cunning, but he was honest and kind, and a man of tireless diligence. He was obedient to all the King's laws and the earthly laws of his liege. He fished from morning to dusk by the piers, and in the evenings worked hard labor moving crates and chests as a stevedore. His labors were for his son, whom he was dearly fond of, and whom he had raised alone since his wife passed away shortly after his son's birth.

Misfortune, however, plagued his days. Not only was the fisherman assailed by the travails of grief all those years back, but his labors tended to bear only scarce fruits. He had saved dinars for a fund for his son's education when brigands stole them. He planned a trip afar to wondrous sights only for the ship to be turned back by storm.

One day, both he and his son fell ill. The fisherman scraped what dinars he could, and hired a physician for his son, but the fisherman was meager in fortune, and could not afford the herbs and poultices that the physician prescribed.

Nevertheless, the fisherman recovered, in time.

His son did not.

With nothing but the shirt on his back, the destitute fisherman stared off into the King's Keep, and began to walk. On and on the fisherman walked, through ring after ring he went, bearing a burning hate. A thousand thousand rings went by, until finally the fisherman stood before the King.

There, the fisherman said - "Why, oh King, why? Have I not been a faithful servant? I have not bemoaned my humble lot, nor jaloused of those born great and rich. I have worked tirelessly as an honest man, donned righteousness as my clothing and obedience as my arms. I have rescued those who cried for help in the waters drowning, been eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. All I have asked, all I have ever asked, is for my son to outlive me and that he may live a better life than I had lived. Is that too much for a father to ask?"

Continued the fisherman - "Why, oh King, why? You have made an unjust world, one that makes mockery of the pauper and the beggar's plight. If he lifts up his voice and complains of his wrong, none pities or heeds him, however he's right, and when sorrows and evils like these he must brave, his happiest homestead is down in the grave. Why did I not perish at birth, and still from the womb, for now I would be lying in peace and asleep at rest? Why was I not hidden away in the ground to never see the light of day, where the wicked cease their turmoil and where the weary may rest?"

Concluded the fisherman - "Why, oh King, why?"

Quoth then the King -  "Where were you when I donned the Crown and made servile the mists? Where were you when I brightened the dark and laid the first cornerstones of my City sublime? Where were you when I marked the four corners of this creation, and carved a facet of Phor's Unmoving into the firmaments? Surely you may school me! On what did I set the bedrock of this world, how birthed I the light of dawn, what wonders did I set upon its thousand stars? Where were you when I sculpted life as if clay, when with my outstretched fingers I touched the heavens and made an ark of salvation for all the peoples of my dominion?"

Continued the King - "Have you journeyed across the Sea of Pearls, walked in the recesses of its depths, and comprehended the vast expanses of my City? Have you wrestled with the dragons of the Smolderpeaks, danced with the kraken of the deepest darkness, and sealed the courts behind the walls? Who gave al-Na his wisdom, who lent Aeb his strength? Who spoke thunder to the skies, called rain upon the drought, showered oasis in the ashes, and watered the gardens? Have you gazed upon all the Rings of my making, and all its peoples and all its nations, all the nuances of my justice and the marvels of my City?"

There are three endings to this tale.

In the first, the fisherman said - "Oh King, with nothing you permitted me into your City, and with nothing I shall depart from it." With those words he returned to his Ring, and in time, his health was restored, his riches and his family remade, and he lived to see new children and his children produce grandchildren.

In the second, the fisherman said - "If all of my anguish and my misery is weighed on a scale, it would still outweigh the sum of your imperfect world." With those words he hewed a wooden blade from an ancient tree, and carved the name of his son upon it. Thereafter he declared himself in eternal rebellion against the King, and devoted himself to the cause of regicide since that day.

In the third, the fisherman embarked on a long pilgrimage to bring about a just and perfect creation. We can only assume that he failed, or that he strives to remake the world to this very day.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXI

THE JAR OF BUTTER

A servant lived with a merchant who paid him an allowance of dinars and butter from his trade. Butter was rare and valuable in those parts, and so the servant gathered all that came to him together in a jar and filled it up and hung it up above the head of his bed for safekeeping.

One night, as he sat on his bed, he fell began to muse upon the jar of butter and the great wealth that was its price and thought to himself:

He could sell the jar and buy a goat with the dinars. In the first year the goat will bear two goats and these in turn will bear other goats, until they become a great flock. Then, he will sell the male goats and buy camels with the dinars he received, which will increase and multiply and become many. Then, he will rent them out to armies and caravan masters, and from the profits buy for himself a plot of land and a garden, which he would tend lovingly.

He will buy robes and raiment and hold a wedding the likes that has never been seen before, in which he will slaughter cattle and spread sweetmeats and confections and assemble merchants and lordly men from Kha'esh to Baz'eel to Ilstu. Then in due time, his wife will bear him a boy, and he shall rejoice in him and rear him daintily and teach him the Knowledge and describe nine hundred stars to him and make his name renowned amongst the assemblies of the learned.

Then, he will forbid the boy from lewdness and iniquity and exhort him to piety and wisdom, and if he sees in the boy an inclination for disobedience, he will come down on him with a great ire! Lo! So saying this, the man raised his hands to beat his son but his hands hit the jar of butter which overhung his head, and broke it, whereupon its shards and butter rained down upon his head and his rags and his beard and his bed, and all his butter and dreams were ruined. Wherefore, it is said, it behooves a man not to speak overly of fortunes yet come to pass, lest one tempts the fickle mockery of whatever the high above.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXII

PARABLE OF THE PARROT'S FALSE STORM

A learned man in Kha'esh owned a parrot that he relied on as a vigilant guardian of his home, to report misdeeds or misfortunes that should befall.

One evening, while the learned man was away, his son brought a few friends home. These friends of his were rowdy and immodest, prone to vulgar barbarism and exceeding drunkardness. After they had left a mess in their wake, they departed, and the learned man returned home to rage exceeding rage. Dutifully, the parrot reported what unfolded, and the learned man punished his son most harshly.

Furious at the parrot, the son devised a cunning plan to discredit it. During the learned man's next absence, and as soon as the sable cloak had fallen, his son and his son's friends covered the parrot's cage with leather. They sprinkled waters upon the cage, fanned great and mighty winds, and flashed light from lanterns as if flashing lightning. Unceasingly they did so until the demon Pra'raj vaulted the horizons, and so when the learned man eventually returned, the parrot reported a great storm when the learned man knew that there was none. Angrily, his son then feigned anger, claiming that the parrot had also lied about his friends. The learned man, thinking that he was led astray by the parrot to wrongfully punish his own son, had the parrot slain.

Later, the learned man came to know eventually of his son's deceit, and was rueful with a profound anguish; in villainy his son had sought harm upon an innocent creature, all for the audacity of speaking the truth.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXIII

WEAVER'S FIRST AND LAST PERFORMANCE

Once, there lived a weaver who worked diligently but could not earn a living save by overwork.

It chanced that there was a travelling show and folks across the village were invited, and so the weaver went and supped of the well-waters and joined as guest. There, he envied the performers who wore rich raiments and served with delicate viands and who were merry in gaiety. Quoth the weaver in his mind, then, "If I change my craft for this craft that is better paid, I shall amass a great store of dinars and I shall buy splendid attires, that I may rise and be exalted."

Presently, he beheld one of the travelling performers, climbing up to the top of a high and colossal wall and throwing herself off down to the ground and alighting onto her feet with cheers and applause. The audience cheered and showered dinars, the lucre gleaming gold. Whereupon quoth the weaver in his mind, "I must do as this one has done, for surely I shall not fail of it, and riches shall be mine!"

So arose he and upon the wall he went and, casting himself down, broke his neck and died. In death he earned a dubious fame, however, for thereafter did folks speak of the weaver's folly.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXIV

THE FARMER AND THE SERPENT

A farmer was tending to his garden when he discovered a small serpent curled under a bush. It was tiny, barely more than a hatchling. The farmer considered killing the serpent, whereupon quoth the farmer in his mind, - "Why harm such a petty thing? Perhaps it will slither away on its own."

The weeks crept by, the serpent grew. It began to feast on the farmer's chickens and supped upon the farmer's well-waters. The farmer again considered killing the serpent, whereupon quoth the farmer in his mind, - "It is yet a threat to me. Perhaps it will leave once it is grown."

The months crept by, the serpent grew. Its body became as thick as vast as a Colossi's arm and its scales were silvered shields. On a certain day, while the farmer was tending to his garden, the serpent struck, sinking its fangs into the farmer's foot. Writhing in pain, the farmer tried to flee, but could not get far ere he died in his garden.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXV

THE PRODIGAL SON

a tale heard from Gregor the Hakawati

Once there was a son, born to a father who loved nothing more than to look at the stars. The son, however, was keen with his hands and a chisel, and worked hard stone into beauteous shapes. It so was that jackals would come to his father's telescope, and set all his tools into disorder.

So the son said - "Father, I will make a wall for your dwelling, of such artifice that it shall keep the jackals from your door."

And the father embraced his son, with tears in his eyes, for he knew that his son was a better stonemason than all others.

For five years the boy worked, each day his wall growing more subtle in its artifice. He hewed patterns into stones, which were red like clay, and in those designs made pictures of the stars and of the deep places of the world.

Then came the day when the work was done, and the father said - "Oh, my son! Whose works are greater than all others. The jackals no longer come to my house, and I can behold the skies at night in peace. Take from me my kisses, and my love, for your whole life."

And the son embraced his father, and went out into the world.

Then it was that the son met a beautiful Queen, and went into her service. He made for her such designs that had never been seen in her Kingdom, and he became beloved of her. Before long their love was consummated, and he was known to all as her consort.

She whispered into his ear at night, asking him to whom he had been in service before her. Quoth he in reply - "My father, who needed a wall to protect him from the onrush of jackals." The Queen remarked that he must have been a very rich person indeed, to which the son replied - "He paid me in nothing but his love."

At these words the Queen grew wrothful and jaloused of the father, for even in their love she paid the son handsomely in jewels, incense, myrrhs, cinnamon, and fine spices. And she cursed the father, for she beheld in him a greater love than the son held for her. For twelve years she spoke against the father, until the son came to believe that he had indeed been wronged. Eventually, the son travelled back to the land of his youth, and demanded payment for his labors.

Quoth then the father - "My son! So daubed in fineries you return to me. You have gone out into the world and made a wonder of yourself."

The father made to embrace his son, but was scorned.

Quoth the son - "No little wonder indeed, yet I wonder why none of these fineries came from you!"

Replied the father - "My son! Long have we been parted, why speak you to me so? Come, let us embrace each other, for we were parted and now we are reunited."

And the son spoke again - "Not until you have paid me your debt, which is grievous. Come, father, pay me and I shall embrace you as is fitting."

But the father was poor, and had no purchase but his love. The son, in a great rage, tore down the wall he had made. Then the hungry jackals came out of the cypress wood, and carried away his tools. Then no longer did the father look at the stars, and his Knowledge was lost to the jackals.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXVI

AL-ZURAQI'S OKAPI

It is said that al-Zuraqi was once tasked with weeding out the disloyal in the Tantalum Palace.

Accordingly, he brought a camel into the great hall and painted it a brilliant shade of violet, and presented it to the wayward Emir Zojhir, stating, "Behold, for this is a rare royal okapi!"

The wayward Emir was said to have been silent, and many of his courtiers were filled with consternation, for all knew that al-Zuraqi had poisoned his mind with heresies and yet spoke with his favor. Finally, some of his courtiers dared to speak out, declaring that it was a camel, and not an okapi.

Whereupon al-Zuraki had all who said that the camel was a camel immolated, while those who obsequiously concurred that it was an okapi were spared. So it was that the occluded city beat with sycophantic servility, where heresies and heterodoxies were worshipped as truths while the sacred is blasphemed.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXVII

THE EMIR AND THE PHYSICIAN

There once was a certain emir who was greatly fond of food. In his retainer dwelled a host of chefs, and the culinary delights of his court were the talk of the Desert. He indulged in eating as much as he could, and ever begrudged the limit of his capacity.

Now, a certain physician came into his employ, and was wont with secret malice and envy, and was engaged by the emir's rivals to do him great harm. Whereby the physician said then to the emir, "I see in you a great eater, but yet there is only so much you can eat. Take this remedy, and your stomach shall be speedy of digestion, and by the Wyld shall you feast to contentment."

The emir was most curious and suspicious, but his want for food won out his restrain, and he took the remedy gratefully. Lo, to his delight! He found himself with a greater appetite, and joyfully ate and feasted with his courtiers.

Still, the emir had to stop, eventually, when eventually his belly was full and rotund. Whereby the physician said then to the emir, "Alas, o liege! Forgive me, punish me, for even that remedy was lacking! This one instead that I have concocted, it would see that your appetite will be truly ceaseless!"

At that, the emir took the remedy with delight, and ate and ate and ate, until his stomach fell and his bowels were rend asunder, and by the morrow he was a dead man. Whereupon the physician mourned and spoke greatly of his grief, but alas he had only served as his liege had willed it, and done nothing more than enable the emir's wants.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXVIII

THE SCHOLAR'S LOVE

In a distant village there once lived a scholar, who was vivid in imaginations and lonesome in his Knowledge. He was learned in syntax and lexicology, in prosody and rhetorics, but could find none that were his equal and who could measure up to his desires. One day, a guest came to visit him, and found him deep in mourning.

Quoth the guest, "O learned man, whyfor drown you in the bitterness of grief?"

Explained the scholar, "One who was dearest to me and best beloved!"

Quoth the quest, "What woe! Was it your father?" "No!" "Your brother?" "No!" "A kin of your household?" "No!" "What relation then was the dead to you?"

Answered the scholar, "Oh, she was my beloved, and though I have never met her, she has stolen my heart. For you see, she is beloved by many, and speaks words fair and gentle, and these words are shared freely. And once I met a poet, who spoke couplets of her beauty and who celebrated her in odes, and so I fell in love with her. She is my loneliness' salve, and I had given to her my fortunes, that she may love me in turn. But alas, she had not replied to my letters despite my many gifts, and I can only imagine her dead, so I mourn her greatly."

And so the guest left, bemoaning the scholar's lack of wit.

[magical girl salhin]

XXXIX

THE BETTER SWORD

When Salhin first led us into the shade beneath Her sable cloak, there was much that he did not know. It is said that Izdu the Magi appeared then to teach the tribe of Salhin about fire and tools, of architecture and the raising of walls and the building of cities, of the Knowledge and the stars. It came to be, however, that jackals and horrors lurked within the Desert, and the Magi taught the Ashfolks the secrets of metalworking so that they may arm the races under their stewardship to safevouch their cities.

Two of the smiths that first came to learn the secrets of metalworking with the Magi competed to see who could forge the finer sword. They labored diligently until the swords were finished, and eventually, the swords were brought to the Magi for his assessment. Accordingly, the Magi suspended them above the river Edutu, with the blades submerged and facing the current.

The first smith's blade neatly sliced through anything that met it, be it fish, leaves, river, and the very air that breezes over its edge. All that was in creation came to be slain by it.

The second smith's blade cut nothing at all. Be it fish or leaves or the Edutu or the very air that flows, all that is good and wanted in creation could not be harmed by it.

After the Magi retrieved both swords from the Edutu, and to the surprise of many, he smiled and said that the second smith made the better sword.

Generations later, when Iblis the Djinn imperiled the tribe of Salhin, the first smith's sword could not harm the djinn-thing at all. With much reluctance, the tribe of Salhin permitted the second smith's sword to be drawn against the djinn-thing, and lo! Marvel exceeding marvels, the second smith's sword cleaved off the djinn-thing's hand, and thereafter were djinn-things taught to fear the Mother's children.

[magical girl salhin]

XL

THE KING AND THE VISCOUNT

Once upon a time, in a faraway ring, there lived a great and beneficent viscount. He had much love for his subjects and they loved him in turn, and he worked tirelessly to better their lives and safevouch them. However, despite his best efforts, his demesne is plagued by endless war and conflicts, his diplomatic overtures often failing before the irrational violence of his foes. People have grown callous and cruel, hateful in their greed, and with each passing year there is a butcher's bill of valiant retainers who paid with their lives to safekeep the viscount's realm. In time, the viscount realized that much akin to pushing a boulder up a slope, there was never end, with peace and prosperity seemingly ever further and further away.

It came to be, then, that the viscount turned to the King's Keep, and on and on the viscount walked, through ring after ring he went, bearing a lordly mien with a retinue of his retainers and subjects. Their silvery march passed through many trials and travails, and though many of his retainers fell along the way, the tribulations of the rings were not enough to hinder them. A thousand thousand rings went by, until finally the viscount stood before the King.

There, the viscount demanded - "Oh King! Faithfully we have served you, and though our faults may be many we have strived ever to uphold your laws and the decrees of your Royal Court. Yet, your courtiers have been arbitrary and your dispensations have wrought only strife, while the shipment of lordly gifts you promised have always been meager and scarce. Why have you wrought such a City into being, only to let your subjects suffer in grief and in anguish?"

Quoth then the King -  "I may be your liege and the master of this City, but am I the master of your mind and your will, that your choices and their consequences are both mine to dictate? You live in a hell of your making, and generations after generations after endless generations, I have beheld again and again only treachery and failures. I gifted unto you a garden and I granted unto you your will, such that you may prosper in the former and tend it with the latter. I have wrought salvation from mists and delivered you from darkness. What have you done with my beneficence?"

Continued then the King - "You knavish fellows and fools! Would you have me enslave your choices, or make mockery of them such that no matter which path you pick both shall lead to boon? Ought I shape of this world nothing but playthings and playthings, that march as toys to my dominion? The evils you endure are nothing but the evils you and yours have wrought, the wages of sins accrued over countless centuries despite my best efforts at guidance and teaching. Repent, and rejoice! Stay wicked, and suffer. Between good and evil, I have granted you a choice, and indeed, it is the only choice that matters."

Concluded then the King - "What more dare you ask of me?"

There are three endings to this tale.

In the first, the viscount knelt - "Oh King, within the agent's power to perform the deed is also in the agent's power to refrain from the deed, and if all deeds lead only to leal ends then all deeds are false. I see now, it is we who have erred." With those words he embarked upon his silvery march back to his Ring, and labored to turn it from woe to weal. It is said that he failed, however, and the Nothing consumed him and all he held dear, for the banality of evil and complicity in it is ever more enticing than the inconvenience of battling it.

In the second, the viscount said - "Oh King, oh miserly lord, there are evils wrought of your City that are not only the wages of our sins, but yours and yours alone." With those words he embarked upon his silvery march, not to deliver his Ring from the Nothing, but to claim the power needed to dethrone the King. It is said that he failed in his march, and indeed, twisted by his regal ambitions he became a prince of Nothing himself.

In the third, the viscount scorned the King's response, but beheld that the imperfections of the King are a reflection of an unjust and imperfect creation. He devoted himself then on a long pilgrimage to bring about a just and perfect creation, one where the subjects may live in peace and prosperity, and where the butcher's bill of endless wars will finally be a thing of the past. We can only assume that he failed, or that he strives to remake the world to this very day.

[magical girl salhin]

XLI

THE IMMOLATION

by Mother Zalhanna Al-Fayyid

Our Mother B'aara wrought we Ashfolks from earth and soil. From red stone and scorched rock, from faceless granite and lifeless sand, we were born from the Desert as its stewards.

When B'aara descended from the Celestial Wheel, she looked upon our world and felt a great sadness - for there was no laughter or joy in the barren wastes of the desert. She heard only the cruel and wicked laughter of Pra'raj, as his scorching rays baked the rock and made death of things that wished to be life.

So she shed of herself a great and beautiful sable cloak, pristine and shimmering, and with it she softened the smoldering hatred of the demon Pra'raj - and full glad was she to witness such beauty, and he bore down upon it with envy and desire. And while the sun was away, she sculpted her children from rock and earth. But no matter how she tried, she could not bring them to life. They would not laugh or play for her, and only gazed listlessly into the distant wastes - thinking thoughts unheard and dreaming dreams unseen.

Her labor was good, and it was beautiful, and it was worthy. But it did not know life. Yet B'aara knew fear, for Pra'raj hated life, and would hate her for its making, when at least his unblinking stare pierced the sable cloak and looked down upon the earth.

B'aara gathered up her child, and made for the sacred place at the heart of the desert - where the first grain of sand had fallen and the world had been made. But as she came upon that blessed place, Pra'raj found her, and he was wroth. "You have deceived me!" He raged and roared, and B'aara felt pain. "You have taken my perfect place, and now you have blemished it with your hands, and made an unnatural thing!"

And Pra'raj bore down upon her, and B'aara was set ablaze by his wrath, and that place is known now as the Immolation. But she did not scream, for she cared naught for herself - she did not fight, for there was no triumph against the inevitable. She only wept, for the sake of her unborn child. And as her soul turned to ash, and her flesh became dust, the tears from her eyes fell upon us, and so were we born from her gift of water.

The first among us was Salhin, and he was named Emir, and he led us into the shade, where Pra'raj could not find us. There we built great and wonderful things, under the tutelage of the whole Wheel - but we cherished our mother's gift best of all, and made the earth a place where life can grow.

And our Mother looks kindly upon us, and lays out her beautiful blanket to shelter us from Pra'raj, and she weeps for her children that her tears become the river Edutu, and through Her tears our fields grow strong and our children may drink and be nourished. This is the faith held by we B'aarat, we sons and daughters of the tribe of Salhin.

[magical girl salhin]

XLII

THE IMAMBARA

It is said that when the Magi Izdu and our father Salhin had their first meeting, the former was disguised in a filthy sackcloth while the latter's lips were parched with thirst. For the tribe of Salhin was new to the Desert, and knew not of its ways.

Salhin begged the Magi, "Please, give me a sip of your water. I am parched with thirst, and my children suffer under the heat of the demon Pra'raj."

The Magi looked at Salhin. Beneath his hood, his beard was inlaid with bangles, and many precious stones that gleamed. Quoth the Magi, "My flask is dry, and my lips are broken also. But come, press your forehead to my own, for I shall give you a gift greater than life." And then Salhin was overcome with so many thoughts that his mind could not take it, and he fell asleep.

When Salhin woke the next day, the Magi was gone. Salhin's mind swam, even as his body still shook with thirst. In his mind he felt a desire to go to a valley to the north, and there beheld a sight as he had never seen: Wisdom, hewn into great pillars. And certain matters which had hitherto eluded him were known to him thereafter. It was Knowledge itself that was hewn into them.

Quoth Salhin then to his tribe, the Ashfolks, "Follow me, for I have seen where our deliverance lies!" And then he instructed them in the art of excavation, and in the mine that they had dug was a spring of freshest water, with many fish swimming in it here and there. Thus it was that through Knowledge the people's troubles were for a time made better. In this way did the Ashfolk know to praise the Magi.

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XLIII

OUR WARRIOR, OUR PRODIGAL BROTHER

All know that the Ashfolks do not do violence with base bronze and silver, but instead shepherd the peoples of the Desert to safevouch their cities and their realms. It is said that when the tribe of Salhin was young, the Empress longed to enslave with barbarity the fledgling civilizations of the Desert, and to do great harm and hurt upon its peoples.

So it came to be that on a certain day, the sibilant slaves of the Empress marched on the Desert, and sought to do trespass that they may bring ruination to those who dwell in those ashes. Between them and the Desert was the valley of Formoria, and beyond the valley the mustered legions of the Ashfolks were yet far and days away.

In their path there was but a village, and in the village there lived a renowned swords-smith.

It came to be that Agaslakku the Warrior arrived in the village, and asked the swords-smith, "Why do you forge swords when you abhor violence?"

Quoth the swords-smith, "A well-forged sword in a warrior's hand can be salvation as much as it can be ruination. Knowing that, a sword is no less a tool for peace than a ploughshare, for complacency in peace is merely an invitation to war."

Hearing that, the Warrior did partake of a great taboo, and armed himself with a sword of bronze and a shield of silver. In the valley he raised a rampart and stood in such stalwart defiance that despite a thousand bouts none of the Empress' champions could overcome him. For long days and long nights he safevouched the Desert, until finally what will someday become the first of the Janissaries arrived and won for the tribe of Salhin its first war in a long string of wars.

After that first war, the prodigal brother of the tribe of Salhin warned that there shall be many more to come between then and through the times of hardships, until the twilight of creation and the Allahab Alsaakhin. When that day comes, said the Warrior, he shall return. Having spoken those words, he set forth into the Desert, across the Immolation.

[magical girl salhin]

XLIV

THE MANY-HUED GARDEN

Despite all the cities and the walls raised by the tribe of Salhin, much of the Desert remained bleak and desolate. It is said that Kula the Wyld visited ancient Ilstu and the fair realms of the Ashfolks, and bade the peoples to grow and to cultivate, that the expectant seed can come to take root and the soil shall be barren no more. She spoke of the gardens and of Bel-Ishȗn, and so it came to be that the holy jungle grew verdant upon the banks of the Edutu.

One of the first Wyldwalkers, foremost amongst her faithful, took her words to heart and tended to a many-hued garden. He sowed seeds of all kinds and planted flowers of every color, and tended to them lovingly, though many should fail and perish.

Quoth then some who beheld his garden, "You plant without order or sense, such that there is no beauty and only chaos. What kind of gardener cannot even come to grow a beautiful garden?"

Quoth he in reply, "It is not my duty to decide what lives and what dies, where life flourishes and where life fades, or which plant endures and which plant does not. It is theirs. Mine is to plant them and nurture them, and let the resilient endure."

Much later, when the seasons turned and the demon Pra'raj burned the hotter, the garden planted by that Wyldwalker endured where others' did not, and Kula blessed it with a pagoda of cedar at its heart where she spent much time in joyous revel.