Sorry, Simon, the Mongols had stirrups. They were universally available in both Europe and Asia by the time of the Mongol invasions (c. 1200). In fact, stirrups ORIGINATED in East Asia, where they were used by Chinese, Koreans, Indians, and Japanese (and, presumably, proto-Mongols) for a century or two before reaching Europe.
The Mongols had stirrups, the Praxians have stirrups (except maybe the Impala Riders, who probably don't need them), the Pentans have stirrups, and the Six-Legged Empire certainly had stirrups.
A PAMALTELAN ENCOUNTER (some apologies to C.A. Smith)
The world has many many things in it, more than you think. Think on it, now. [pause] All right. Enough. Too much thinking is harmful to the soul and belly. Some of the world's things are good, and some are bad. One of the things is the Bird of Gifts.
Ah, the name sounds good, does it? You want to meet her, do you? You can, you can. I did. The trouble is, that as with all good things, you must first deal with bad things. The Bird of Gifts nests in the Enmal Mountains, I think, and you must go very far south, in the burned land where the Promalti flare. Maybe even further into the Nargan Desert. I met the Bird very far south indeed.
I had walked steadily south, because my heart told me that I must find the Enmal Mountains. I believed that that is where Duala lived. You remember Duala? I loved her awaken and asleep. When she died, the wise men said she was in the Enmal Mountains, and off I went, to find her. I studied and trained for years before I was ready for the travel. I prayed and sacrificed and prepared until I was older, but ready at last to go to Duala.
I walked through Zamokil, where live the Blue people with their polished stone knives and their cruel ways. There I almost fell in love with a Blue woman, but a dream of Duala saved me just in time. I walked past the Careech Caraban, where live the Truld, with their monstrous appetites and their soulless masters. There I almost died, but an early dawn saved me. I walked past the Black Land, where the Promalti rage endlessly, ever-seeking that which they can destroy. There I almost burned, but one of the Original People saved me, and so expiated fourscore years of his eons of selfishness. (1)
Finally I came to an endless waste. Far far away, my eyes saw the purple Enmal Mountains. My journey was not over, but surely I had only days left before I should achieve my purpose. Duala!
The night in this land at the edge of the edge of the world is dangerous. There are jackal folk, slime people, sparhogs, and similar foul beings. In the flat bleakness, I saw a flight of rock spinning up into the night, and climbed it, thinking that atop this strange stone formation I could defend myself against the night monsters. Atop the formation was a flat pile of stones, an altar. Atop the altar was a dried bunch of flowers. I was touched, for no flowers surely grew in the lands around for many miles. Someone must have brought the blossoms through tedium and danger to remember this unknown place. I reached within my blanket (2) and took out a dried redfruit, placing it on the altar with a sprinkle of water, an offering of my own. Then I went to sleep.
At dawn, the flutter of wings awoke me. I saw the Bird of Gifts, for what else could it be? It had come in answer to my offering, though I had made it with no thought of summoning the Bird. The Bird of Gifts was large. Not so great as the biggest Kresh wagons, but not so small as the smallest. Within its feathers were tucked all manner of gadgets and gewgaws, peeping out at me like wanton Blue women, tantalizing and teasing. I spoke with the Bird, and we engaged in the Meeting Contest. The Bird always chooses the Riddle Game, and I did, too. I could only answer one of the bird's riddles, and he answered all three of mine. Then, because he is the Bird of Gifts, he offered me the gift of my choosing. I asked for Duala. The Bird said nothing, did nothing. The Bird asked for another Riddle Game. I was not brave, did not dare question it. We played another Riddle Game and I answered another riddle. Then the bird plucked out a pair of wings and placed them on my back. "These will fly you to Duala", said the Bird.
Ecstatic, I left the Bird, and began to fly. I flew flew to the Enmals. Before I arrived, Old Man Wheelbarrow came walking through the air. (3) He stopped me and spoke to me. He asked me for a sign, and I knew the sign, from long years spent learning the lores. Old Man Wheelbarrow took me down to the mountaintop.
I did not see Pamalt. I did not see Pamalt's tent. I did not see any gods, unless Old Man Wheelbarrow is a god. I told Old Man Wheelbarrow that I wanted to see Duala, to take her back with me. And he pointed to the Place of Young Girls.
I ran to the Place of Young Girls and there, there was Duala! Other girls teemed everywhere, I vaguely recall, but only Duala was clear. I stood still and stared at her beauty. Her lips, her breasts, her breath, her hair. All was perfect. I stared for a long time. Suddenly the Bird was at my side. "It is time to return your Gift," she said, and the wings were gone. I did not care, but saw only Duala.
And then I saw more clearly. Her eyes did not sparkle, but were merely an ordinary black, with slightly yellowed whites. Her teeth were not even. Her breath smelled slightly of saltweed. One breast was a different shape than the other. Her upper arms had tiny pimples on them. Her legs were not slim, but merely skinny. Her hips were a trifle bony, and her belly-button stuck out. This was not Duala, but a cheap imitation.
"The Bird of Gifts has deceived me!" I cried. "This cannot be Duala, but is a mandrake or other mockery!" (4) Then the Bird was at my side. "Ask her." said the Bird, and so I did.
"I am that true Duala," the apparition said. "Whom you loved long ago." Her voice was not silvery, but just high-pitched.
I glared at the Bird. "That was not Duala's voice." I told it.
"This is all the Duala I can bring you." it said.
Sick at heart, I wished to go from there. The Bird said, "You have one gift remaining. Shall I take you hence?" I could only signal yes, and the Bird flew me to Jolar in a single night. Here it left me and I live here still.
Before it left, I questioned it. "Why could you not bring me to the real Duala?" The Bird said, "That was truly Duala. She had not changed. Only you had done so. I could bring you to Duala, but I could not bring back the eyes with which you saw her in your youth."
So now I live as you see me. Give me a redfruit for the tale, please, sir.
(1) The Doraddi believe that not all the Original People drank water to become mortal and learn to breed. They think that some of them decided to stay immortal, at the cost of love and children. Rarely, one of the Original People is supposedly encountered. Their numbers dwindle over the centuries, as they have no new recruits. The reference here is to a common Doraddi superstition that the remaining Original People are all cursed, and must continually do good deeds in order to make up for past sins.
(2) The common Doraddi travel-equipment is a blanket or rug, rolled into a tube, bent into a doughnut shape, tied with leather thongs, and carried diagonally over one's shoulder. Useful belongings are rolled up inside the blanket. Thus, no separate bag, pouch, or knapsack is needed
(3) Wheelbarrows and other gardening tools are associated with the elderly and retired, in Doraddi Lore, doubtless because of the oasis people. The Doraddi wheelbarrow is built with its single wheel directly underneath the barrow's load, making it easy to lift and maneuver, unlike the Western style, with the wheel at the tip. .
(4) The mandrake plant is known in Pamaltela. Reputedly, witches can use ITS root to manufacture artificial humans, among other uses.
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