Chapter 14

Polecrab

22 min

The morning slowly passed. Maskull made some convulsive movements, and opened his eyes. He sat up, blinking. All was night-like and silent in the forest. The strange light had gone, the music had ceased, Dreamsinter had vanished. He fingered his beard, clotted with Tydomin’s blood, and fell into a deep muse.

The morning slowly passed. Maskull twitched a few times and opened his eyes. He sat up, blinking. The forest was dark as night and silent. The strange light was gone, the music had stopped, and Dreamsinter had vanished. He touched his beard, matted with Tydomin’s blood, and sank into deep thought.

“According to Panawe and Catice, this forest contains wise men. Perhaps Dreamsinter was one. Perhaps that vision I have just seen was a specimen of his wisdom. It looked almost like an answer to my question.... I ought not to have asked about myself, but about Surtur. Then I would have got a different answer. I might have learned something... I might have seen him.”

“According to Panawe and Catice, there are wise men in this forest. Perhaps Dreamsinter was one of them. Perhaps the vision I just saw was an example of his wisdom. It seemed almost like an answer to my question.... I shouldn't have asked about myself, but about Surtur. Then I would have gotten a different answer. I might have learned something... I might have seen him.”

He remained quiet and apathetic for a bit.

He stayed quiet and uninterested for a while.

“But I couldn’t face that awful glare,” he proceeded. “It was bursting my body. He warned me, too. And so Surtur does really exist, and my journey stands for something. But why am I here, and what can I do? Who is Surtur? Where is he to be found?”

“But I couldn’t face that awful glare,” he continued. “It was bursting my body. He warned me, too. So Surtur really does exist, and my journey means something. But why am I here, and what can I do? Who is Surtur? Where can I find him?”

Something wild came into his eyes.

“What did Dreamsinter mean by his ‘Not you, but Nightspore’? Am I a secondary character—is he regarded as important; and I as unimportant? Where is Nightspore, and what is he doing? Am I to wait for his time and pleasure—can I originate nothing?”

“What did Dreamsinter mean by ‘Not you, but Nightspore’? Am I a secondary character? Is he considered important, and am I unimportant? Where is Nightspore, and what is he doing? Do I have to wait until he is ready and willing? Can I start nothing on my own?”

He continued sitting up, with straight-extended legs.

He remained sitting up with his legs stretched straight out.

“I must make up my mind that this is a strange journey, and that the strangest things will happen in it. It’s no use making plans, for I can’t see two steps ahead—everything is unknown. But one thing’s evident: nothing but the wildest audacity will carry me through, and I must sacrifice everything else to that. And therefore if Surtur shows himself again, I shall go forward to meet him, even if it means death.”

“I must accept that this is a strange journey and that the strangest things will happen along the way. There’s no point making plans. I can’t see two steps ahead, and everything is unknown. But one thing is clear: only the boldest action will get me through, and I must sacrifice everything else for that. So if Surtur appears again, I’ll go forward to meet him, even if it means death.”

Through the black, quiet aisles of the forest the drum beats came again. The sound was a long way off and very faint. It was like the last mutterings of thunder after a heavy storm. Maskull listened, without getting up. The drumming faded into silence, and did not return.

The drumbeats came again through the dark, quiet passages of the forest. They were very faint and far away. They sounded like the last rumble of thunder after a heavy storm. Maskull listened without getting up. The drumming faded into silence and did not return.

He smiled queerly, and said aloud, “Thanks, Surtur! I accept the omen.”

He smiled strangely and said aloud, “Thanks, Surtur! I accept the omen.”

When he was about to get up, he found that the shrivelled skin that had been his third arm was flapping disconcertingly with every movement of his body. He made perforations in it all around, as close to his chest as possible, with the fingernails of both hands; then he carefully twisted it off. In that world of rapid growth and ungrowth he judged that the stump would soon disappear. After that, he rose and peered into the darkness.

As he was about to get up, he noticed the shriveled skin that had been his third arm. It flapped unsettlingly with every movement of his body. Using the fingernails of both hands, he made holes all around it, as close to his chest as possible. Then he carefully twisted it off. In that world of rapid growth and decay, he thought the stump would soon disappear. After that, he got up and peered into the darkness.

The forest at that point sloped rather steeply and, without thinking twice about it, he took the downhill direction, never doubting it would bring him somewhere. As soon as he started walking, his temper became gloomy and morose—he was shaken, tired, dirty, and languid with hunger; moreover, he realised that the walk was not going to be a short one. Be that as it may, he determined to sit down no more until the whole dismal forest was at his back.

The forest sloped rather steeply there, and he headed downhill without thinking twice. He never doubted it would lead him somewhere. As soon as he started walking, he grew gloomy and miserable. He was shaken, tired, dirty, and weak with hunger. He also realized the walk would not be a short one. Even so, he resolved not to sit down again until the whole dismal forest was behind him.

One after another the shadowy, houselike trees were observed, avoided, and passed. Far overhead the little patch of glowing sky was still always visible; otherwise he had no clue to the time of day. He continued tramping sullenly down the slope for many damp, slippery miles—in some places through bogs. When, presently, the twilight seemed to thin, he guessed that the open world was not far away. The forest grew more palpable and grey, and now he saw its majesty better. The tree trunks were like round towers, and so wide were the intervals that they resembled natural amphitheatres. He could not make out the colour of the bark. Everything he saw amazed him, but his admiration was of the growling, grudging kind. The difference in light between the forest behind him and the forest ahead became so marked that he could no longer doubt that he was on the point of coming out.

One after another, he spotted the shadowy, house-sized trees, avoided them, and passed them. Far overhead, the small patch of glowing sky was still visible. Otherwise, he had no idea what time of day it was. He trudged gloomily down the slope for many damp, slippery miles, sometimes through bogs. Eventually, the twilight seemed to thin, and he guessed he was not far from the open world. The forest became clearer and grayer, and he could see its majesty better. The tree trunks were like round towers, and the spaces between them were wide enough to resemble natural amphitheaters. He could not make out the color of the bark. Everything he saw amazed him, but he admired it all with a grumbling reluctance. The forest ahead grew so much lighter than the forest behind him that he knew he was about to emerge.

Real light was in front of him; looking back, he found he had a shadow. The trunks acquired a reddish tint. He quickened his pace. As the minutes went by, the bright patch ahead grew luminous and vivid; it had a tinge of blue. He also imagined that he heard the sound of surf.

There was real light ahead of him. Looking back, he saw his shadow. The trunks took on a reddish color. He walked faster. As the minutes passed, the bright patch ahead grew more vivid and began to glow. It had a hint of blue. He also thought he heard the sound of waves.

All that part of the forest toward which he was moving became rich with colour. The boles of the trees were of a deep, dark red; their leaves, high above his head, were ulfire-hued; the dead leaves on the ground were of a colour he could not name. At the same time he discovered the use of his third eye. By adding a third angle to his sight, every object he looked at stood out in greater relief. The world looked less flat—more realistic and significant. He had a stronger attraction toward his surroundings; he seemed somehow to lose his egotism, and to become free and thoughtful.

All the forest he was moving toward grew rich with color. The tree trunks were a deep, dark red. Their leaves, high above his head, were ulfire-hued. The dead leaves on the ground were a color he could not name. At the same time, he discovered how to use his third eye. It added a third angle to his vision, making everything he looked at stand out more clearly. The world looked less flat, more realistic and significant. He felt more strongly drawn to his surroundings. Somehow, he seemed to lose his self-centeredness and become free and thoughtful.

Now through the last trees he saw full daylight. Less than half a mile separated him from the border of the forest, and, eager to discover what lay beyond, he broke into a run. He heard the surf louder. It was a peculiar hissing sound that could proceed only from water, yet was unlike the sea. Almost immediately he came within sight of an enormous horizon of dancing waves, which he knew must be the Sinking Sea. He fell back into a quick walk, continuing to stare hard. The wind that met him was hot, fresh and sweet.

Through the last trees, he could now see full daylight. He was less than half a mile from the forest’s edge. Eager to see what lay beyond, he began to run. The surf grew louder. It made a strange hissing sound that could only come from water, yet sounded unlike the sea. Almost immediately, he saw a vast expanse of dancing waves stretching to the horizon. He knew it must be the Sinking Sea. He slowed to a brisk walk, still staring intently. The wind that met him was hot, fresh, and sweet.

When he arrived at the final fringe of forest, which joined the wide sands of the shore without any change of level, he leaned with his back to a great tree and gazed his fill, motionless, at what lay in front of him. The sands continued east and west in a straight line, broken only here and there by a few creeks. They were of a brilliant orange colour, but there were patches of violet. The forest appeared to stand sentinel over the shore for its entire length. Everything else was sea and sky—he had never seen so much water. The semicircle of the skyline was so vast that he might have imagined himself on a flat world, with a range of vision determined only by the power of his eye. The sea was unlike any sea on Earth. It resembled an immense liquid opal. On a body colour of rich, magnificent emerald-green, flashes of red, yellow, and blue were everywhere shooting up and vanishing. The wave motion was extraordinary. Pinnacles of water were slowly formed until they attained a height of perhaps ten or twenty feet, when they would suddenly sink downward and outward, creating in their descent a series of concentric rings for long distances around them. Quickly moving currents, like rivers in the sea, could be seen, racing away from land; they were of a darker green and bore no pinnacles. Where the sea met the shore, the waves rushed over the sands far in, with almost sinister rapidity—accompanied by a weird, hissing, spitting sound, which was what Maskull had heard. The green tongues rolled in without foam.

When he reached the edge of the forest, he found that it met the wide sands of the shore without any change in level. He leaned back against a great tree and stood motionless, gazing at the view before him. The sands stretched east and west in a straight line, broken only here and there by a few creeks. They were bright orange, with patches of violet. The forest seemed to stand guard over the shore along its entire length. Everything else was sea and sky. He had never seen so much water. The semicircle of the horizon was so vast that he might have imagined himself on a flat world. His view seemed limited only by how far his eyes could see. The sea was unlike any sea on Earth. It looked like an immense liquid opal. Its rich, magnificent emerald-green surface was filled with flashes of red, yellow, and blue that shot up and vanished. The movement of the waves was extraordinary. Peaks of water slowly rose to perhaps ten or twenty feet. Then they suddenly sank downward and outward, forming a series of rings that spread far around them. Swift currents, like rivers in the sea, raced away from the land. They were a darker green and had no peaks. Where the sea met the shore, the waves rushed far across the sand with an almost sinister speed. They made a strange hissing, spitting sound, which was what Maskull had heard. The green tongues rolled in without foam.

About twenty miles distant, as he judged, directly opposite him, a long, low island stood up from the sea, black and not distinguished in outline. It was Swaylone’s Island. Maskull was less interested in that than in the blue sunset that glowed behind its back. Alppain had set, but the whole northern sky was plunged into the minor key by its afterlight. Branchspell in the zenith was white and overpowering, the day was cloudless and terrifically hot; but where the blue sun had sunk, a sombre shadow seemed to overhang the world. Maskull had a feeling of disintegration—just as if two chemically distinct forces were simultaneously acting upon the cells of his body. Since the afterglow of Alppain affected him like this, he thought it more than likely that he would never be able to face that sun itself, and go on living. Still, some modification might happen to him that would make it possible.

About twenty miles away, he guessed, a long, low island rose from the sea directly opposite him. It was black, with no distinct outline. It was Swaylone’s Island. Maskull was less interested in the island than in the blue sunset glowing behind it. Alppain had set, but its afterglow cast a melancholy light over the whole northern sky. Branchspell was directly overhead, white and overpowering. The sky was cloudless, and the day was terribly hot. But where the blue sun had set, a gloomy shadow seemed to hang over the world. Maskull felt as if he were coming apart, as though two chemically distinct forces were acting on his body’s cells at once. Since Alppain’s afterglow affected him this way, he thought he would most likely die if he faced the sun itself. Still, some change might happen to him that would make it possible.

The sea tempted him. He made up his mind to bathe, and at once walked toward the shore. The instant he stepped outside the shadow line of the forest trees, the blinding rays of the sun beat down on him so savagely that for a few minutes he felt sick and his head swam. He trod quickly across the sands. The orange-coloured parts were nearly hot enough to roast food, he judged, but the violet parts were like fire itself. He stepped on a patch in ignorance, and immediately jumped high into the air with a startled yell.

The sea tempted him. He decided to bathe and immediately walked toward the shore. As soon as he stepped out of the forest’s shade, the sun’s blinding rays beat down on him fiercely. For a few minutes, he felt sick and dizzy. He walked quickly across the sand. He judged that the orange patches were almost hot enough to roast food, but the violet patches were like fire itself. Without knowing this, he stepped on a violet patch. He immediately jumped high into the air with a startled yell.

The sea was voluptuously warm. It would not bear his weight, so he determined to try swimming. First of all he stripped off his skin garment, washed it thoroughly with sand and water, and laid it in the sun to dry. Then he scrubbed himself as well as he could and washed out his beard and hair. After that, he waded in a long way, until the water reached his breast, and took to swimming—avoiding the spouts as far as possible He found it no pastime. The water was everywhere of unequal density. In some places he could swim, in others he could barely save himself from drowning, in others again he could not force himself beneath the surface at all. There were no outward signs to show what the water ahead held in store for him. The whole business was most dangerous.

The sea was delightfully warm. It would not support his weight, so he decided to try swimming. First, he took off his skin garment, washed it thoroughly with sand and water, and laid it in the sun to dry. Then he scrubbed himself as well as he could and washed his beard and hair. After that, he waded out until the water reached his chest. He began swimming, avoiding the spouts as much as possible. He found it no pleasure. The water’s density varied everywhere. In some places he could swim. In others he could barely keep himself from drowning. In still others he could not force himself beneath the surface at all. There were no outward signs to show what the water ahead would be like. The whole undertaking was extremely dangerous.

He came out, feeling clean and invigorated. For a time he walked up and down the sands, drying himself in the hot sunshine and looking around him. He was a naked stranger in a huge, foreign, mystical world, and whichever way he turned, unknown and threatening forces were glaring at him. The gigantic, white, withering Branchspell, the awful, body-changing Alppain, the beautiful, deadly, treacherous sea, the dark and eerie Swaylone’s Island, the spirit-crushing forest out of which he had just escaped—to all these mighty powers, surrounding him on every side, what resources had he, a feeble, ignorant traveller from a tiny planet on the other side of space, to oppose, to avoid being utterly destroyed?... Then he smiled to himself. “I’ve already been here two days, and still I survive. I have luck—and with that one can balance the universe. But what is luck—a verbal expression, or a thing?”

He came out feeling clean and refreshed. For a while, he walked up and down the beach, drying himself in the hot sun and looking around. He was a naked stranger in a vast, foreign, mystical world. Wherever he turned, unknown and threatening forces glared at him. There was the gigantic, white, withering Branchspell and the terrifying Alppain, which changed bodies. There was the beautiful, deadly, treacherous sea, the dark and eerie Swaylone’s Island, and the spirit-crushing forest he had just escaped. These mighty powers surrounded him on every side. What could he, a weak, ignorant traveler from a tiny planet on the other side of space, do against them? How could he avoid being utterly destroyed? Then he smiled to himself. “I’ve already been here two days, and I’m still alive. I have luck, and with luck one can balance the universe. But what is luck, just a word or a real thing?”

As he was putting on his skin, which was now dry, the answer came to him, and this time he was grave. “Surtur brought me here, and Surtur is watching over me. That is my ‘luck.’... But what is Surtur in this world?... How is he able to protect me against the blind and ungovernable forces of nature? Is he stronger than Nature?...”

As he put on his skin, which was now dry, the answer came to him. This time he was serious. “Surtur brought me here, and Surtur is watching over me. That is my ‘luck.’... But what is Surtur in this world?... How can he protect me from the blind, uncontrollable forces of nature? Is he stronger than Nature?...”

Hungry as he was for food, he was hungrier still for human society, for he wished to inquire about all these things. He asked himself which way he should turn his steps. There were only two ways; along the shore, either east or west. The nearest creek lay to the east, cutting the sands about a mile away. He walked toward it.

Hungry as he was, he wanted human company even more. He wanted to ask people about all these things. He wondered which way to go. There were only two choices: east or west along the shore. The nearest creek was to the east, cutting across the sand about a mile away. He walked toward it.

The forest face was forbidding and enormously high. It was so squarely turned to the sea that it looked as though it had been planed by tools. Maskull strode along in the shade of the trees, but kept his head constantly turned away from them, toward the sea—there it was more cheerful. The creek, when he reached it, proved to be broad and flat-banked. It was not a river, but an arm of the sea. Its still, dark green water curved around a bend out of sight, into the forest. The trees on both banks overhung the water, so that it was completely in shadow.

The edge of the forest was forbidding and enormously high. It faced the sea so squarely that it looked as though tools had shaved it flat. Maskull strode along in the shade of the trees, but kept his head turned toward the sea. It was more cheerful there. When he reached the creek, he found it broad, with flat banks. It was not a river, but an arm of the sea. Its still, dark green water curved around a bend and disappeared into the forest. Trees on both banks hung over the water, leaving it completely in shadow.

He went as far as the bend, beyond which another short reach appeared. A man was sitting on a narrow shelf of bank, with his feet in the water. He was clothed in a coarse, rough hide, which left his limbs bare. He was short, thick, and sturdy, with short legs and a long, powerful arms, terminating in hands of an extraordinary size. He was oldish. His face was plain, slablike, and expressionless; it was full of wrinkles, and walnut-coloured. Both face and head were bald, and his skin was tough and leathery. He seemed to be some sort of peasant, or fisherman; there was no trace in his face of thought for others, or delicacy of feeling. He possessed three eyes, of different colors—jade-green, blue, and ulfire.

He went as far as the bend, where another short stretch came into view. A man sat on a narrow ledge of the bank, with his feet in the water. He wore a coarse, rough hide that left his arms and legs bare. He was short, thick, and sturdy, with short legs and long, powerful arms. His hands were extraordinarily large. He was somewhat old. His face was plain, flat, and expressionless, with deep wrinkles and walnut-colored skin. He had no hair on his head or face, and his skin was tough and leathery. He seemed to be some kind of peasant or fisherman. His face showed no sign of concern for others or sensitivity. He had three eyes, each a different color: jade-green, blue, and ulfire.

In front of him, riding on the water, moored to the bank, was an elementary raft, consisting of the branches of trees, clumsily corded together.

In front of him, a simple raft floated on the water, tied to the bank. It was made of tree branches clumsily tied together.

Maskull addressed him. “Are you another of the wise men of the Wombflash Forest?”

Maskull spoke to him. “Are you another of the wise men of the Wombflash Forest?”

The man answered him in a gruff, husky voice, looking up as he did so. “I’m a fisherman. I know nothing about wisdom.”

The man looked up and answered in a gruff, husky voice. “I’m a fisherman. I know nothing about wisdom.”

“What name do you go by?”

“Polecrab. What’s yours?”

“Maskull. If you’re a fisherman, you ought to have fish. I’m famishing.”

“Maskull. If you’re a fisherman, you should have fish. I’m starving.”

Polecrab grunted, and paused a minute before answering.

Polecrab grunted and paused for a minute before answering.

“There’s fish enough. My dinner is cooking in the sands now. It’s easy enough to get you some more.”

“There’s enough fish. My dinner is cooking in the sand now. It’s easy enough to get you some more.”

Maskull found this a pleasant speech.

Maskull was pleased by what he heard.

“But how long will it take?” he asked.

The man slid the palms of his hands together, producing a shrill, screeching noise. He lifted his feet from the water, and clambered onto the bank. In a minute or two a curious little beast came crawling up to his feet, turning its face and eyes up affectionately, like a dog. It was about two feet long, and somewhat resembled a small seal, but had six legs, ending in strong claws.

The man rubbed his palms together, making a shrill, screeching noise. He lifted his feet from the water and climbed onto the bank. A minute or two later, a curious little animal crawled up to his feet. It looked up at him affectionately, like a dog. It was about two feet long and looked somewhat like a small seal, but it had six legs with strong claws.

“Arg, go fish!” said Polecrab hoarsely.

The animal immediately tumbled off the bank into the water. It swam gracefully to the middle of the creek and made a pivotal dive beneath the surface, where it remained a great while.

The animal immediately tumbled off the bank into the water. It swam gracefully to the middle of the creek, then pivoted and dived beneath the surface. It stayed underwater for a long time.

“Simple fishing,” remarked Maskull. “But what’s the raft for?”

“Simple fishing,” said Maskull. “But what’s the raft for?”

“To go to sea with. The best fish are out at sea. These are eatable.”

“To go to sea with. The best fish are out at sea. These are edible.”

“That arg seems a highly intelligent creature.”

“That arg seems like a highly intelligent creature.”

Polecrab grunted again. “I’ve trained close on a hundred of them. The bigheads learn best, but they’re slow swimmers. The narrowheads swim like eels, but can’t be taught. Now I’ve started interbreeding them—he’s one of them.”

Polecrab grunted again. “I’ve trained nearly a hundred of them. The bigheads learn best, but they’re slow swimmers. The narrowheads swim like eels, but they can’t be taught. Now I’ve started breeding them with each other. He’s one of them.”

“Do you live here alone?”

“No, I’ve got a wife and three boys. My wife’s sleeping somewhere, but where the lads are, Shaping knows.”

“No, I’ve got a wife and three boys. My wife is sleeping somewhere, but Shaping knows where the boys are.”

Maskull began to feel very much at home with this unsophisticated being.

Maskull began to feel very comfortable with this simple, unworldly being.

“The raft’s all crazy,” he remarked, staring at it. “If you go far out in that, you’ve got more pluck than I have.”

“The raft’s completely rickety,” he said, staring at it. “If you go far out on it, you’re braver than I am.”

“I’ve been to Matterplay on it,” said Polecrab.

The arg reappeared and started swimming to shore, but this time clumsily, as if it were bearing a heavy weight under the surface. When it landed at its master’s feet, they saw that each set of claws was clutching a fish—six in all. Polecrab took them from it. He proceeded to cut off the heads and tails with a sharp-edged stone which he picked up; these he threw to the arg, which devoured them without any fuss.

The arg reappeared and swam toward shore. But this time it moved clumsily, as if carrying a heavy weight underwater. When it landed at its master’s feet, they saw that each set of claws held a fish, six in all. Polecrab took the fish from it. He picked up a sharp-edged stone and cut off their heads and tails. He threw these to the arg, which ate them without any fuss.

Polecrab beckoned to Maskull to follow him and, carrying the fish, walked toward the open shore, by the same way that he had come. When they reached the sands, he sliced the fish, removed the entrails, and digging a shallow hole in a patch of violet sand, placed the remainder of the carcasses in it, and covered them over again. Then he dug up his own dinner. Maskull’s nostrils quivered at the savoury smell, but he was not yet to dine.

Polecrab motioned for Maskull to follow him. Carrying the fish, he walked back toward the open shore by the way he had come. When they reached the sand, he sliced the fish and removed their guts. He dug a shallow hole in a patch of violet sand and buried the rest of the carcasses. Then he dug up his own dinner. Maskull’s nostrils twitched at the delicious smell, but he was not to eat yet.

Polecrab, turning to go with the cooked fish in his hands, said, “These are mine, not yours. When yours are done, you can come back and join me, supposing you want company.”

Polecrab turned to leave with the cooked fish in his hands. “These are mine, not yours,” he said. “When yours are done, you can come back and join me, if you want company.”

“How soon will that be?”

“About twenty minutes,” replied the fisherman, over his shoulder.

“About twenty minutes,” the fisherman replied over his shoulder.

Maskull sheltered himself in the shadows of the forest, and waited. When the time had approximately elapsed, he disinterred his meal, scorching his fingers in the operation, although it was only the surface of the sand which was so intensely hot. Then he returned to Polecrab.

Maskull sheltered in the shadows of the forest and waited. When about enough time had passed, he dug up his meal, burning his fingers as he did so. Only the surface of the sand was intensely hot, though. Then he returned to Polecrab.

In the warm, still air and cheerful shade of the inlet, they munched in silence, looking from their food to the sluggish water, and back again. With every mouthful Maskull felt his strength returning. He finished before Polecrab, who ate like a man for whom time has no value. When he had done, he stood up.

In the warm, still air and cheerful shade of the inlet, they ate in silence. They looked from their food to the slow-moving water and back again. With every mouthful, Maskull felt his strength returning. He finished before Polecrab, who ate like a man with all the time in the world. When Maskull had finished, he stood up.

“Come and drink,” he said, in his husky voice.

“Come and drink,” he said in his husky voice.

Maskull looked at him inquiringly.

Maskull looked at him questioningly.

The man led him a little way into the forest, and walked straight up to a certain tree. At a convenient height in its trunk a hole had been tapped and plugged. Polecrab removed the plug and put his mouth to the aperture, sucking for quite a long time, like a child at its mother’s breast. Maskull, watching him, imagined that he saw his eyes growing brighter.

The man led him a short way into the forest and went straight to a particular tree. A hole had been made in the trunk at a convenient height and sealed with a plug. Polecrab removed the plug and put his mouth to the hole. He sucked for quite a long time, like a child at its mother’s breast. As Maskull watched him, he thought he saw Polecrab’s eyes growing brighter.

When his own turn came to drink, he found the juice of the tree somewhat like coconut milk in flavour, but intoxicating. It was a new sort of intoxication, however, for neither his will not his emotions were excited, but only his intellect—and that only in a certain way. His thoughts and images were not freed and loosened, but on the contrary kept labouring and swelling painfully, until they reached the full beauty of an aperçu, which would then flame up in his consciousness, burst, and vanish. After that, the whole process started over again. But there was never a moment when he was not perfectly cool, and master of his senses. When each had drunk twice, Polecrab replugged the hole, and they returned to their bank.

When his turn came to drink, he found that the tree’s juice tasted somewhat like coconut milk, but it was intoxicating. It was a new kind of intoxication, though. It stirred neither his will nor his emotions, but only his intellect, and that only in a certain way. His thoughts and images did not become free and loose. Instead, they kept straining and swelling painfully until they reached the full beauty of an insight. The insight would then flare up in his consciousness, burst, and vanish. After that, the whole process began again. But he remained perfectly cool and in control of his senses throughout. When each had drunk twice, Polecrab plugged the hole again, and they returned to their bank.

“Is it Blodsombre yet?” asked Maskull, sprawling on the ground, well content.

“Is it Blodsombre yet?” asked Maskull, sprawled on the ground, quite content.

Polecrab resumed his old upright sitting posture, with his feet in the water. “Just beginning,” was his hoarse response.

Polecrab sat upright again, with his feet in the water. “Just beginning,” he replied hoarsely.

“Then I must stay here till it’s over.... Shall we talk?”

“Then I have to stay here until it’s over.... Shall we talk?”

“We can,” said the other, without enthusiasm.

“We can,” the other said without enthusiasm.

Maskull glanced at him through half-closed lids, wondering if he were exactly what he seemed to be. In his eyes he thought he detected a wise light.

Maskull glanced at him through half-closed eyes, wondering if he really was what he seemed. He thought he saw a wise light in the man's eyes.

“Have you travelled much, Polecrab?”

“Have you traveled much, Polecrab?”

“Not what you would call travelling.”

“Not what you would call traveling.”

“You tell me you’ve been to Matterplay—what kind of country is that?”

“You say you’ve been to Matterplay. What kind of country is it?”

“I don’t know. I went there to pick up flints.”

“What countries lie beyond it?”

“What countries are beyond it?”

“Threal comes next, as you go north. They say it’s a land of mystics... I don’t know.”

“Threal is next, as you go north. They say it’s a land of mystics... I don’t know.”

“Mystics?”

“So I’m told.... Still farther north there’s Lichstorm.”

“So I’m told.... Farther north, there’s Lichstorm.”

“Now we’re going far afield.”

“Now we’re getting far off topic.”

“There are mountains there—and altogether it must be a very dangerous place, especially for a full-blooded man like you. Take care of yourself.”

“There are mountains there, and overall it must be a very dangerous place, especially for a full-blooded man like you. Take care of yourself.”

“This is rather premature, Polecrab. How do you know I’m going there?”

“That’s a bit early, Polecrab. How do you know I’m going there?”

“As you’ve come from the south, I suppose you’ll go north.”

“Since you’ve come from the south, I suppose you’ll go north.”

“Well, that’s right enough,” said Maskull, staring hard at him. “But how do you know I’ve come from the south?”

“Well, that’s true,” said Maskull, staring hard at him. “But how do you know I’ve come from the south?”

“Well, then, perhaps you haven’t—but there’s a look of Ifdawn about you.”

“Well, perhaps you haven’t, but you have the look of Ifdawn about you.”

“What kind of look?”

“A tragical look,” said Polecrab. He never even glanced at Maskull, but was gazing at a fixed spot on the water with unblinking eyes.

“A tragic look,” said Polecrab. He never even glanced at Maskull, but stared without blinking at one spot on the water.

“What lies beyond Lichstorm?” asked Maskull, after a minute or two.

“What’s beyond Lichstorm?” asked Maskull after a minute or two.

“Barey, where you have two suns instead of one—but beyond that fact I know nothing about it.... Then comes the ocean.”

“Barey, where you have two suns instead of one. But beyond that, I know nothing about it.... Then comes the ocean.”

“And what’s on the other side of the ocean?”

“That you must find out for yourself, for I doubt if anybody has ever crossed it and come back.”

“You’ll have to find that out for yourself, because I doubt anyone has ever crossed it and come back.”

Maskull was silent for a little while.

Maskull was quiet for a little while.

“How is it that your people are so unadventurous? I seem to be the only one travelling from curiosity.”

“Why are your people so unadventurous? I seem to be the only one traveling out of curiosity.”

“What do you mean by ‘your people’?”

“True—you don’t know that I don’t belong to your planet at all. I’ve come from another world, Polecrab.”

“True, you don’t know that I’m not from your planet at all. I’ve come from another world, Polecrab.”

“What to find?”

“Find what?”

“I came here with Krag and Nightspore—to follow Surtur. I must have fainted the moment I arrived. When I sat up, it was night and the others had vanished. Since then I’ve been travelling at random.”

“I came here with Krag and Nightspore to follow Surtur. I must have fainted as soon as I arrived. When I sat up, it was night and the others were gone. Since then, I’ve been traveling without a plan.”

Polecrab scratched his nose. “You haven’t found Surtur yet?”

“I’ve heard his drum taps frequently. In the forest this morning I came quite close to him. Then two days ago, in the Lusion Plain, I saw a vision—a being in man’s shape, who called himself Surtur.”

“I’ve often heard his drum taps. I came quite close to him in the forest this morning. Then, two days ago on the Lusion Plain, I saw a vision. It was a being in the shape of a man who called himself Surtur.”

“Well, maybe it was Surtur.”

“No, that’s impossible,” replied Maskull reflectively. “It was Crystalman. And it isn’t a question of my suspecting it—I know it.”

“No, that’s impossible,” Maskull replied thoughtfully. “It was Crystalman. And I don’t just suspect it. I know it.”

“How?”

“Because this is Crystalman’s world, and Surtur’s world is something quite different.”

“Because this is Crystalman’s world, and Surtur’s world is very different.”

“That’s queer, then,” said Polecrab.

“That’s strange, then,” said Polecrab.

“Since I’ve come out of that forest,” proceeded Maskull, talking half to himself, “a change has come over me, and I see things differently. Everything here looks much more solid and real in my eyes than in other places so much so that I can’t entertain the least doubt of its existence. It not only looks real, it is real—and on that I would stake my life.... But at the same time that it’s real, it is false.”

“Since I came out of that forest,” Maskull continued, half talking to himself, “I’ve changed, and I see things differently. Everything here looks much more solid and real to me than things in other places. It looks so real that I can’t have the slightest doubt that it exists. It not only looks real, it is real. I would stake my life on that.... But even though it’s real, it is false.”

“Like a dream?”

“No—not at all like a dream, and that’s just what I want to explain. This world of yours—and perhaps of mine too, for that matter—doesn’t give me the slightest impression of a dream, or an illusion, or anything of that sort. I know it’s really here at this moment, and it’s exactly as we’re seeing it, you and I. Yet it’s false. It’s false in this sense, Polecrab. Side by side with it another world exists, and that other world is the true one, and this one is all false and deceitful, to the very core. And so it occurs to me that reality and falseness are two words for the same thing.”

“No, not at all like a dream, and that’s exactly what I want to explain. This world of yours doesn’t feel like a dream or an illusion to me at all. Perhaps it’s my world too, for that matter. I know it’s really here right now, exactly as you and I see it. Yet it’s false. Here’s what I mean by false, Polecrab. Another world exists alongside this one. That other world is the true one, and this one is false and deceitful to its core. So it occurs to me that reality and falseness are two words for the same thing.”

“Perhaps there is such another world,” said Polecrab huskily. “But did that vision also seem real and false to you?”

“Perhaps there is another world like it,” said Polecrab in a husky voice. “But did that vision seem both real and false to you, too?”

“Very real, but not false then, for then I didn’t understand all this. But just because it was real, it couldn’t have been Surtur, who has no connection with reality.”

“Very real, but not false then, because I didn’t understand all this at the time. But because it was real, it couldn’t have been Surtur, who has no connection with reality.”

“Didn’t those drum taps sound real to you?”

“I had to hear them with my ears, and so they sounded real to me. Still, they were somehow different, and they certainly came from Surtur. If I didn’t hear them correctly, that was my fault and not his.”

“I had to hear them with my ears, so they sounded real to me. Still, they were somehow different, and they certainly came from Surtur. If I didn’t hear them correctly, that was my fault, not his.”

Polecrab growled a little. “If Surtur chooses to speak to you in that fashion, it appears he’s trying to say something.”

Polecrab growled a little. “If Surtur chooses to speak to you that way, it seems he’s trying to say something.”

“What else can I think? But, Polecrab, what’s your opinion—is he calling me to the life after death?”

“What else can I think? But Polecrab, what do you think? Is he calling me to life after death?”

The old man stirred uneasily. “I’m a fisherman,” he said, after a minute or two. “I live by killing, and so does everybody. This life seems to me all wrong. So maybe life of any kind is wrong, and Surtur’s world is not life at all, but something else.”

The old man shifted uneasily. “I’m a fisherman,” he said after a minute or two. “I make a living by killing, and so does everyone else. This life seems all wrong to me. So maybe life of any kind is wrong. And maybe Surtur’s world isn’t life at all, but something else.”

“Yes, but will death lead me to it, whatever it is?”

“Ask the dead,” said Polecrab, “and not a living man.”

“Ask the dead,” said Polecrab, “not a living man.”

Maskull continued. “In the forest I heard music and saw a light, which could not have belonged to this world. They were too strong for my senses, and I must have fainted for a long time. There was a vision as well, in which I saw myself killed, while Nightspore walked on toward the light, alone.”

Maskull continued. “In the forest I heard music and saw a light that could not have belonged to this world. They were too much for my senses, and I must have fainted for a long time. I also had a vision. I saw myself killed, while Nightspore walked on alone toward the light.”

Polecrab uttered his grunt. “You have enough to think over.”

Polecrab grunted. “You have enough to think about.”

A short silence ensued, which was broken by Maskull.

A brief silence followed, then Maskull broke it.

“So strong is my sense of the untruth of this present life, that it may come to my putting an end to myself.” The fisherman remained quiet and immobile.

“I feel so strongly that this life is untrue that I may end my own life.” The fisherman remained silent and still.

Maskull lay on his stomach, propped his face on his hands, and stared at him. “What do you think, Polecrab? Is it possible for any man, while in the body, to gain a closer view of that other world than I have done?”

Maskull lay on his stomach, rested his face in his hands, and stared at him. “What do you think, Polecrab? Can anyone get a closer view of that other world than I have, while still in the body?”

“I am an ignorant man, stranger, so I can’t say. Perhaps there are many others like you who would gladly know.”

“I don’t know, stranger, so I can’t say. Perhaps there are many others like you who would be glad to know.”

“Where? I should like to meet them.”

“Where? I'd like to meet them.”

“Do you think you were made of one stuff, and the rest of mankind of another stuff?”

“Do you think you were made of different stuff from the rest of humanity?”

“I can’t be so presumptuous. Possibly all men are reaching out toward Muspel, in most cases without being aware of it.”

“I can’t claim to know that. Perhaps all men are reaching toward Muspel, most without realizing it.”

“In the wrong direction,” said Polecrab.

Maskull gave him a strange look. “How so?”

Maskull gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t speak from my own wisdom,” said Polecrab, “for I have none; but I have just now recalled what Broodviol once told me, when I was a young man, and he was an old one. He said that Crystalman tries to turn all things into one, and that whichever way his shapes march, in order to escape from him, they find themselves again face to face with Crystalman, and are changed into new crystals. But that this marching of shapes (which we call ‘forking’) springs from the unconscious desire to find Surtur, but is in the opposite direction to the right one. For Surtur’s world does not lie on this side of the one, which was the beginning of life, but on the other side; and to get to it we must repass through the one. But this can only be by renouncing our self-life, and reuniting ourselves to the whole of Crystalman’s world. And when this has been done, it is only the first stage of the journey; though many good men imagine it to be the whole journey.... As far as I can remember, that is what Broodviol said, but perhaps, as I was then a young and ignorant man, I may have left out words which would explain his meaning better.”

“I don’t speak from my own wisdom,” said Polecrab, “because I have none. But I have just remembered what Broodviol once told me, when I was young and he was old. He said that Crystalman tries to turn all things into one. His shapes try to escape from him, but whichever way they march, they come face to face with Crystalman again. Then they are changed into new crystals. This march of shapes, which we call ‘forking,’ comes from an unconscious desire to find Surtur. But it goes in the opposite direction from the right one. Surtur’s world does not lie on this side of the one, which was the beginning of life. It lies on the other side, and to reach it we must pass back through the one. But we can do this only by giving up our self-life and reuniting ourselves with the whole of Crystalman’s world. Even then, we have only completed the first stage of the journey. Yet many good men imagine it to be the whole journey.... As far as I can remember, that is what Broodviol said. But I was young and ignorant then. Perhaps I have left out words that would explain his meaning better.”

Maskull, who had listened attentively to all this, remained thoughtful at the end.

Maskull listened carefully to all of this and remained thoughtful afterward.

“It’s plain enough,” he said. “But what did he mean by our reuniting ourselves to Crystalman’s world? If it is false, are we to make ourselves false as well?”

“That’s clear enough,” he said. “But what did he mean by saying we should reunite with Crystalman’s world? If that world is false, should we make ourselves false too?”

“I didn’t ask him that question, and you are as well qualified to answer it as I am.”

“I didn’t ask him that question, and you can answer it as well as I can.”

“He must have meant that, as it is, we are each of us living in a false, private world of our own, a world of dreams and appetites and distorted perceptions. By embracing the great world we certainly lose nothing in truth and reality.”

“He must have meant that, as things are, we each live in a false, private world of our own. It is a world of dreams, desires, and distorted perceptions. By embracing the larger world, we certainly lose nothing in truth or reality.”

Polecrab withdrew his feet from the water, stood up, yawned, and stretched his limbs.

Polecrab pulled his feet out of the water, stood up, yawned, and stretched his arms and legs.

“I have told you all I know,” he said in a surly voice. “Now let me go to sleep.”

“I've told you all I know,” he said gruffly. “Now let me go to sleep.”

Maskull kept his eyes fixed on him, but made no reply. The old man let himself down stiffly on to the ground, and prepared to rest.

Maskull kept staring at him but said nothing. The old man lowered himself stiffly to the ground and prepared to rest.

While he was still arranging his position to his liking, a footfall sounded behind the two men, coming from the direction of the forest. Maskull twisted his neck, and saw a woman approaching them. He at once guessed that it was Polecrab’s wife. He sat up, but the fisherman did not stir. The woman came and stood in front of them, looking down from what appeared a great height.

While he was still settling into a comfortable position, footsteps sounded behind the two men, coming from the forest. Maskull turned his head and saw a woman approaching. He immediately guessed she was Polecrab’s wife. He sat up, but the fisherman did not move. The woman came and stood in front of them, looking down from what seemed a great height.

Her dress was similar to her husband’s, but covered her limbs more. She was young, tall, slender, and strikingly erect. Her skin was lightly tanned, and she looked strong, but not at all peasantlike. Refinement was stamped all over her. Her face had too much energy of expression for a woman, and she was not beautiful. Her three great eyes kept flashing and glowing. She had great masses of fine, yellow hair, coiled up and fastened, but so carelessly that some of the strands were flowing down her back.

Her clothes were similar to her husband’s, but they covered more of her limbs. She was young, tall, slender, and stood strikingly straight. Her skin was lightly tanned, and she looked strong, but not at all like a peasant. Everything about her showed refinement. Her face was too energetic in its expression for a woman, and she was not beautiful. Her three large eyes kept flashing and glowing. She had thick masses of fine, yellow hair, coiled up and fastened. But it was so carelessly arranged that some strands flowed down her back.

When she spoke, it was in a rather weak voice, but full of lights and shades, and somehow intense passionateness never seemed to be far away from it.

When she spoke, her voice was rather weak, but full of subtle changes in tone. Somehow, intense passion never seemed far from it.

“Forgiveness is asked for listening to your conversation,” she said, addressing Maskull. “I was resting behind the tree, and heard it all.”

“Please forgive me for listening to your conversation,” she said to Maskull. “I was resting behind the tree and heard it all.”

He got up slowly. “Are you Polecrab’s wife?”

“She is my wife,” said Polecrab, “and her name is Gleameil. Sit down again, stranger—and you too, wife, since you are here.”

“She is my wife,” said Polecrab, “and her name is Gleameil. Sit down again, stranger. You too, wife, since you’re here.”

They both obeyed. “I heard everything,” repeated Gleameil. “But what I did not hear was where you are going to, Maskull, after you have left us.”

They both obeyed. “I heard everything,” Gleameil repeated. “But I didn't hear where you're going after you leave us, Maskull.”

“I know no more than you do.”

“I don't know any more than you do.”

“Listen, then. There’s only one place for you to go to, and that is Swaylone’s Island. I will ferry you across myself before sunset.”

“Listen, then. There’s only one place you can go: Swaylone’s Island. I’ll take you across myself before sunset.”

“What shall I find there?”

“What will I find there?”

“He may go, wife,” put in the old man hoarsely, “but I won’t allow you to go. I will take him over myself.”

“He may go, wife,” the old man interrupted hoarsely, “but I won’t let you go. I’ll take him over myself.”

“No, you have always put me off,” said Gleameil, with some emotion. “This time I mean to go. When Teargeld shines at night, and I sit on the shore here, listening to Earthrid’s music travelling faintly across the sea, I am tortured—I can’t endure it.... I have long since made up my mind to go to the island, and see what this music is. If it’s bad, if it kills me—well.”

“No, you’ve always put me off,” said Gleameil, with some emotion. “This time I’m going. When Teargeld shines at night, I sit here on the shore. I listen to Earthrid’s music drifting faintly across the sea, and it tortures me. I can’t bear it.... I decided long ago to go to the island and find out what this music is. If it’s bad, if it kills me, well.”

“What have I to do with the man and his music, Gleameil?” demanded Maskull.

“What do I have to do with the man and his music, Gleameil?” demanded Maskull.

“I think the music will answer all your questions better than Polecrab has done—and possibly in a way that will surprise you.”

“I think the music will answer all your questions better than Polecrab has. It may even surprise you.”

“What kind of music can it be to travel all those miles across the sea?”

“What kind of music could travel all those miles across the sea?”

“A peculiar kind, so we are told. Not pleasant, but painful. And the man that can play the instrument of Earthrid would be able to conjure up the most astonishing forms, which are not phantasms, but realities.”

“A strange kind, we're told. Not pleasant, but painful. A man who could play the instrument of Earthrid could conjure up astonishing forms. These would not be illusions, but real.”

“That may be so,” growled Polecrab. “But I have been to the island by daylight, and what did I find there? Human bones, new and ancient. Those are Earthrid’s victims. And you, wife, shall not go.”

“That may be so,” growled Polecrab. “But I have been to the island in daylight. And what did I find there? Human bones, both new and old. Those are Earthrid’s victims. And you, wife, will not go.”

“But will that music play tonight?” asked Maskull.

“Yes,” replied Gleameil, gazing at him intently. “When Teargeld rises, which is our moon.”

“Yes,” Gleameil replied, looking at him intently. “When Teargeld rises. Teargeld is our moon.”

“If Earthrid plays men to death, it appears to me that his own death is due. In any case I should like to hear those sounds for myself. But as for taking you with me, Gleameil—women die too easily in Tormance. I have only just now washed myself clean of the death blood of another woman.”

“If Earthrid plays men to death, I think he deserves to die himself. In any case, I would like to hear those sounds for myself. But I can’t take you with me, Gleameil. Women die too easily in Tormance. I have only just washed another woman’s death blood off myself.”

Gleameil laughed, but said nothing.

“Now go to sleep,” said Polecrab. “When the time comes, I will take you across myself.”

“Now go to sleep,” said Polecrab. “When the time comes, I’ll take you across myself.”

He lay down again, and closed his eyes. Maskull followed his example; but Gleameil remained sitting erect, with her legs under her.

He lay down again and closed his eyes. Maskull did the same, but Gleameil stayed sitting upright with her legs tucked under her.

“Who was that other woman, Maskull?” she asked presently.

“Who was that other woman, Maskull?” she asked after a while.

He did not answer, but pretended to sleep.

He didn't answer, but pretended to sleep.