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Shambhala from about his neck and lifted it to his lips. The sun shone down on
him until he gleamed like an immortal, and
Alexandra had to glance away. Haraidr was so beautiful. She would never
understand why he loved her.
Then he sounded the horn, sending a merry, musical call up into the hills.
Winds rushed down from the peaks, bringing a faint powdering of snow and a
fainter scent of lotus.
"Again," said Alexandra.
With the second blast, a garden sprang up from the barren rock all about them.
Birds began to sing, while white clouds massed before them.
Haraidr grinned. Raising the horn a third time, he blew it until jubilant
echoes rang out from peak to peak, blending like the chorus of some awesome
festival.
The winds swelled again, bringing them the fragrance of
Shambhala's gardens. Eyes shut, Alexandra basked in the sunlight and the
warmth, the comfort of
Haraldr's arm over her shoulders as they waited.
Then they heard a sweet clamor of silver and gold horns. The clouds lit, then
parted in two shining arcs.
Out rode a troop of men and women, richly dressed as if for a wedding, and
mounted on splendid horses. In the lead, his right hand outstretched to
welcome them, rode the King of Shambhala.
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