The Lord of the Sky replied in airless monotone: “The throne you seek sits squat on the ground. I have longed always to rule, instead, the skies, to conquer the chariot that had taken our ancients to the skies. Air can overcome death, my brother. Why rule vainly on precious metal which in the turbulence of time will be but a receptacle of your dust? I am not a man of arteries but streaks of sky. I have soared while you did your blood-letting. But you must yield the great Horn of God so I may divine. Closer than ever am I to the stars. I, too, am the guardian of secret numbers.”
“Where is the Horn?” the Lord of Earth demanded. “It is only through the Horn that you could know of things so marvelous.”
“It is you who has the Horn,” the Lord of the Sky countered. “It was in your possession wh
