Five minutes later, the Prince, wrapped in a soldier’s cloak, stole out through the park, met Prexaspes there alone, mounted a horse held by him in readiness, passed through the park, and rode away with him through the city towards the northern road. When clear of the city environs, they spurred away at a gallop side by side towards the city of Rhages lying at the foot of distant Mount Demavend.
Meanwhile, in the King’s presence, many wonderful things were happening. After several minutes of silence on the part of the Magians, the heavy table around which they stood rose to the ceiling without apparent supporting hands and there remained several minutes. Balls of light floated about the room near the ceiling. A tree sprang up out of the floor and visibly grew till its top touched the suspended table. Then the table slowly circled about the room, returned, and settled down to the floor. The tree disappeared as it settled. Upon the table, immediately, a mass of writhing snakes appeared, hissing and shooting forth angry red tongues, so that the guests were about to rise and flee in terror. They disappeared. The voice of the chief magician said in sepulchral tones:
“None of these mighty wonders will bring harm to any of you, unless you make a noise and attempt to flee. Remain quietly in your places and behold the wonders of the gods! Know that the spirits of the mountains and of the valleys and of the plains are here, the rulers of earth, whom we serve. Know that there is no other religion worthy of practice than ours. Let the Great King behold and act accordingly!”
The voice ceased and a hush fell over the assembly. The King moved uneasily in his seat, and answered in loud, sarcastic tones: “Tricksters have existed in all nations and in all ages! Your spirits are lying spirits conjured up in your own minds to frighten superstitious men. Bah! There are gods and gods! Show me a spirit!”
“It is well!” answered the magician. “We obey the King of Kings. Only say nothing and move not!”
A deep hush fell upon the assembly. The group of magicians drew together again and formed a circle about the table, placing their joined hands upon it and bowing their heads. Only the chief stood as if in a trance, looking upward. Then, above the heads of the group a pallid, misty light suddenly appeared, growing in density and assuming shape, until it became the shape of a man, wavering, translucent, with a sneering, evil countenance and sinister eyes, such as are ever ascribed to evil spirits. The King drew in his breath sharply and bent forward startled and alarmed. A voice seemed to come from the spirit:
“What would you ask, O King of the Earth?”
For a moment the King could not reply. He was agitated beyond measure. He summoned all his bravado, and with a great effort stammered, “Who and what are you?”
A derisive smile curled the features of the apparition, as the voice replied: “I am your soul’s companion, the spirit that goes with you wherever you go! I am your evil genius! I am—you!”
Rage filled the heart of the King.