Nine. That makes the mystic number. I never saw a purer white.
What is it?"
"Of course it is mystic," she said seriously. "It is the Ninefold
Flower. You saw who gave it?"
"That peasant lad."
She smiled.
"You will see more some day. Some might not even have seen that."
"Does it grow here?"
"This is the first I have seen. It is said to grow only where the
gods walk. Do you know that throughout all India Kashmir is said
to be holy ground? It was called long ago the land of the gods,
and of strange, but not evil, sorceries. Great marvels were seen
here."
I felt the labyrinthine enchantments of that enchanted land were
closing about me - a slender web, grey, almost impalpable, finer
than fairy silk, was winding itself about my feet. My eyes were
opening to things I had not dreamed. She saw my thought.
"Yes, you could not have seen even that much of him in Peshawar.
You did not know then."
"He was not there," I answered, falling half unconsciously into
her tone.
"He is always there - everywhere, and when he plays, all who hear
must follow.
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