“Wilt thou give us leave to smoke?” asked Setos, as Yermah prepared to write.
“With both assent and blessing. Thou art kind to remember what my poor confused brain is unable to recall at this moment.”
He wrote:
Brethren of Tlamco—Greeting:
He whose face is always inscrutable and hidden begins another eon of time. Countless thousands of our fellows heard the dread voice and are silent.
Alcyone, the great central sun, has once more suffered eclipse, and a fiery sign hangs in the heavens.
The north is ingulfed, the south is on fire, the sacred east frowns and threatens in gray obscurity, and blood drowns the fading light in the west.
Desolation mocks the eye on all sides.
Thou art each and all commanded to prepare for a solemn commemoration of humiliation and despair. Go ye all to the Temple of Saturn, and there do honor to our beloved dead.
Bear thy burdens helpfully and with courage; for in the innumerable wanderings, upheavals, and cataclysms of our earth’s stupendous career each creature has some time been summoned under penalty of death to make good use of its wits.