Tanith Lee - The Man Who Stole The Moon.pdf

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THE MAN WHO STOLE THE MOON
(A Story of the Flat Earth)
Tanith Lee
Tanith Lee (tribute website: www3.sympatico.ca/jim.pattison) lives in the south of England. She
is one of the leading fantasy and horror writers of the last three decades. Her first professional
sale was to The Ninth Pan Book of Horror Stories ( 1968), and, in 1971, Macmillan published The
Dragon Hoard, a children’s novel, followed by Animal Castle, a children’s picture book, and
Princess Hynchatti & Some Other Surprises, a short story collection (both 1972). After receiving
numerous rejections from British publishers for her adult fantasy novel The Birthgrave, she wrote a
letter of inquiry to DAW Books, the American publishing firm founded by well-known science
fiction fan and editor Donald A. Wolheim. DAW published The Birthgrave in 1975, beginning a
relationship that lasted until 1989 and saw the publication of 28 books altogether. Among her
most famous works is the series of fantasy stories of Flat Earth, collected in Night’s Master ( 1978
), Death’s Master ( 1979 ), Delusion’s Master ( 1981 ), Delirium’s Mistress ( 1986), and Night’s
Sorceries ( 1987 ).
“The Man Who Stole the Moon,” a Flat Earth story, appeared in Weird Tales, where Lee is a
frequent contributor, and which continues a distinguished tradition of publishing fantasy and
supernatural horror going all the way back to 1923. In the tradition of Clark Ashton Smith, this is
a powerful story of a thief and lover, an overreaching demon, and a magical world of evil .
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As so often, from an idea by John Kailne .
Several tales are told concerning the Moon of the Flat Earth. Some say that this Moon, perhaps, was a
hollow globe, within which lay lands and seas, having even their own cool Sun. However, there are other
stories.
One evening, Jaqir the accomplished thief rose from a bed of love and said to his mistress, “Alas,
sweetheart, we must now part forever.” Jaqir’s mistress looked at him in surprise and shook out her
bright hair. “You are mistaken. My husband, the old merchant, is miles off again, buying silk and other
stuff, and besides suspects nothing. And I am well satisfied with you.”
“Dear heart,” said Jaqir, as he dressed his handsome self swiftly, “neither of these things is the stumbling
block to our romance. It is only this. I have grown tired of you.”
“Tired of me!” cried the lady, springing from the bed.
“Yes, though indeed you are toothsome in all respects. I am inconstant and easily bored. You must
forgive me.”
“Forgive you!” screamed the lady, picking up a handy vase.
Jaqir ducked the vase and swung nimbly out of the high window, an action to which he was quite
accustomed, from his trade. “Although a deceiver in my work, honesty in my private life is always my
preferred method,” he added, as he dropped quickly down through the vine to the street below. Once
there he was gone in a flash, and just in time to miss the jar of piddle the lady that moment upended from
the window. However, three of the king’s guard, next second passing beneath, were not so fortunate.
“A curse upon all bladders,’” howled they, wringing out their cloaks and hair. Then looking up, they
beheld the now no-longer mistress of Jaqir, and asked her loudly what she meant by it.
“Pardon me, splendid sirs,” said she. “The befoulment was not intended for you, but for that devilish
thief, Jaqir, who even now runs through that alley there toward a hiding place he keeps in the House of
the Thin Door.”
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At the mention of Jaqir, who was both celebrated and notorious in that city, the soldiers forgot their
inconvenience, and gave instant chase. Never before had any been able to lay hands on Jaqir, who, it
was said, could steal the egg from beneath a sleeping pigeon. Now, thanks to the enragement of his
discarded lover, the guard knew not only of Jaqir’s proximity, but his destination. Presently then they
came up with him by the House of the Thin Door.
“Is it he?”
“So it is, for I have heard, when not in disguise, he dresses like a lord, like this one, and, like this one, his
hair is black as a panther’s fur.”
At this they strode up to Jaqir and surrounded him.
“Good evening, my friends,” said Jaqir. “You are fine fellows, despite your smell.”
“That smell is not our own, but the product of a night-jar emptied on us. And the one who did this also
told us where to find the thief Jaqir.”
“Fate has been kind to you. I will not therefore detain you further.”
“No, it is you who shall be detained.”
“ I? ” asked Jaqir modestly.
But within the hour he discovered himself in chains in the king’s dungeons.
“Ah, Jaqir,” said he to himself, “a life of crime has taught you nothing. For have the gods not always
rewarded your dishonesty—and now you are chastised for being truthful.”
Although of course the indifferent, useless gods had nothing to do with any of it.
A month or so later, the king got to hear that Jaqir the Prince of Thieves languished in the prison,
awaiting trial.
“I will see to it,” said the king. “Bring him before me.”
So Jaqir was brought before the king. But, despite being in jail, being also what he was, Jaqir had
somehow stolen a gold piece from one jailor and gifted it to another, and so arrived in the king’s sight
certainly in chains, but additionally bathed, barbered, and anointed, dressed in finery, and with a cup of
wine in his hand.
Seeing this, the king laughed. He was a young king and not without a sense of the humorous. In addition,
he knew that Jaqir, while he had stolen from everyone he might, had never harmed a hair of their heads,
while his skills of disguise and escape were much admired by any he had not annoyed.
“Now then, Prince of Thieves, may a mere king invite you to sit? Shall I strike off your chains?” added
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the king.
“Your majesty,” said one of the king’s advisers, “pray do not unchain him, or he will be away over the
roofs. Look, he has already stolen two of my gold rings—and see, many others have lost items.”
This was a fact. All up and down the palace hall, those who had gathered to see Jaqir on trial were
exclaiming over pieces of jewelry suddenly missing. And one lady had even lost her little dog, which
abruptly, and with a smile, Jaqir let out of an inner compartment in his shirt, though it seemed quite sorry
to leave him.
“Then I shall not unchain you,” said the king. “Restore at once all you have filched.”
Jaqir rose, shook himself somewhat, and an abundance of gold and gems cascaded from his person.
“Regrettably, lord king, I could not resist the chance to display my skills.”
“Rather you should deny your skills. For you have been employed in my city seven years, and lived like
the prince you call yourself. But the punishment for such things is death.”
Jaqir’s face fell, then he shrugged. He said, “I see you are a greater thief, sir, than I. For I only presume
to rob men of their goods. You are bold enough to burgle me of my life.”
At that the court made a noise, but the king grew silent and thoughtful. Eventually he said, “I note you
will debate the matter. But I do not believe you can excuse your acts.”
“There you are wrong. If I were a beggar calling for charity on the street you would not think me guilty
of anything but ill luck or indigence. Or, if I were a seller of figs you would not even notice me as I took
the coins of men in exchange for my wares.”
“Come,” said the king. “You neither beg nor sell. You thieve.”
“A beggar,” said Jaqir, “takes men’s money and other alms, and gives nothing in return but a blessing.
Please believe me, I heap blessings on the heads of all I rob, and thank them in my prayers for their
charity. Had I begged it, I might, it is true, not have received so great a portion. How much nobler and
blessed are they then, that they have given over to me the more generous amount? Nor do they give up
their coins for nothing. For what they buy of me, when it is I who steal from them, is a dramatic tale to
tell. And indeed, lord king, have you never heard any boast of how they were robbed by me?”
The king frowned, for now and then he had heard this very thing, some rich noble or other reciting the
story of how he had been despoiled of this or that treasure by the nimble Jaqir, the only thief able to take
it. And once or twice, there were women, too, who said, “When I woke, I found my rings were gone,
but on my pillow lay a crimson rose. Oh, would he had stayed a while to steal some other prize.”
“I am not,” declared Jaqir, “a common thief. I purloin from none who cannot afford the loss. I deduct
nothing that has genuine sentimental or talismanic weight. I harm none. Besides, I am an artist in what I
do. I come and go like a shadow, and vanish like the dawn into the day. You will have been told, I can
abstract the egg of a pigeon from beneath the sleeping bird and never wake it.”
The king frowned deeply. He said, “Yet with all this vaunted knack, you did not, till today, leave my
dungeons.”
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Jaqir bowed. “That was because, lord king, I did not wish to miss my chance of meeting you.”
“Truly? I think rather it was the bolts and bars and keys, the numerous guards—who granted you wine,
but not an open door. You seem a touch pale.”
“Who can tell?” idly answered pale Jaqir.
But the king only said, “I will go apart and think about all this.” And so he did, but the court lingered,
looking at Jaqir, and some of the ladies and young men came and spoke to him, but trying always not to
get near enough to be robbed. Yet even so, now and then, he would courteously hand them back an
emerald or amethyst he had removed from their persons.
Meanwhile the king walked up and down a private chamber where, on pedestals of marble,
jewel-colored parrots sat watching him.
“He is clever,” said the king, “handsome, well mannered, and decorative. One likes him at once, despite
his nefarious career. Why cast such a man out of the state of life? We have callous villains and nonentities
enough. Must every shining star be snuffed?”
Then a scarlet parrot spoke to him.
“O king, if you do not have Jaqir executed, they will say you are partial, and not worthy to be trusted
with the office of judge.”
“Yes,” said the king, “this I know.”
At this another parrot, whose feathers shone like a pale-blue sky, also spoke out. “But if you kill him, O
king, men may rather say you were jealous of him. And no king must envy any man.”
“This is also apt,” said the king, pacing about.
Then a parrot spoke, which was greener than jade.
“O king, is Jaqir not a thief? Does he not brag of it? Set him then a test of thieving, and make this test as
impossible as may be. And say to him, ‘If you can do this, then indeed your skill is that of a poet, an
artist, a warrior, a prince. But if you fail you must die.’”
Then the king laughed again. “Well said. But what test?”
At that a small gray parrot flew from its pedestal, and standing on his shoulder, spoke in the king’s ear
with a jet-black beak.
The king said, “O wisest of all my councilors.”
In the palace hall Jaqir sat among the grouped courtiers, being pleasant and easy with them in his chains,
like a king. But then the king entered and spoke as follows:
“Now, Jaqir, you may have heard, in my private rooms four angels live, that have taken another form.
With these four I have discussed your case. And here is the verdict. I shall set you now a task that,
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