IT WAS DENSE NIGHT when Maskull from his sleep. A wind
was against him, but wall-like, such as he had never
experienced on earth. He on the ground, as he was
unable to his of its weight. A pain,
which he not identify with any region of his frame, from now
onward as a lower, note to all his other sensations. It
gnawed away at him continuously; sometimes it and irritated
him, at other times he it.
He something hard on his forehead. Putting his hand up, he
discovered there a the size of a small plum, having
a in the middle, of which he not the bottom. Then he
also aware of a large on each of his neck, an inch
below the ear.
From the region of his heart, a had budded. It was as long as
his arm, but thin, like whipcord, and soft and flexible.
As soon as he the of these new organs,
his to pump. Whatever might, or might not, be their use,
they proved one thing—that he was in a new world.
One part of the sky to than the rest. Maskull cried
out to his companions, but no response. This him. He
went on out, at intervals—equally at the
silence and at the of his own voice. Finally, as no hail
came, he it not to make too much noise, and after that he
lay quiet, waiting in cold blood for what might happen.
In a while he around him, but these were not
his friends.
A pale, milky over the ground to succeed the black night,
while in the upper sky appeared. On earth, one would have
said that day was breaking. The on imperceptibly
increasing for a very long time.
Maskull then that he was on sand. The colour of the
sand was scarlet. The he had were bushes, with
black and leaves. So far, nothing else was visible.
The day up. It was too for direct sunshine, but long
the of the light was already than that of the midday
sun on earth. The heat, too, was intense, but Maskull it—it
relieved his pain and his of weight. The wind
had with the of the sun.
He now to onto his feet, but succeeded only in kneeling. He
was unable to see far. The had no more than dissolved,
and all that he was a narrow circle of red dotted
with ten or twenty bushes.
He a soft, touch on the of his neck. He started forward
in and, in doing so, over onto the sand. Looking
up over his quickly, he was to see a woman standing
beside him.
She was in a single flowing, green garment, rather
classically draped. According to earth she was not beautiful,
for, although her was otherwise human, she was endowed—or
afflicted—with the additional organs that Maskull had
discovered in himself. She also the tentacle. But when
he sat up, and their met and in contact, he
seemed to see right into a that was the home of love, warmth,
kindness, tenderness, and intimacy. Such was the of
that gaze, that he he her. After that, he all
the of her person. She was tall and slight. All her movements
were as as music. Her skin was not of a dead, colour,
like that of an earth beauty, but was opalescent; its was
continually changing, with every and emotion, but none of these
tints was vivid—all were delicate, half-toned, and poetic. She had very
long, plaited, hair. The new organs, as soon as Maskull
had himself with them, something to her that
was and striking. He not it to himself, but
subtlety and added. The organs did not the
love of her or the purity of her features, but nevertheless
sounded a note—a note that saved her from girlishness.
Her was so and that Maskull scarcely
any at at her feet, and helpless. She realised
his plight, and put into his hands a that she had been carrying
over her arm. It was to the one she was wearing, but of a
darker, more colour.
“Do you think you can put it on by yourself?”
He was of these words, yet her voice had not
sounded.
He himself up to his feet, and she helped him to master the
complications of the drapery.
“Poor man—how you are suffering!” she said, in the same inaudible
language. This time he that the of what she said was
received by his brain through the organ on his forehead.
“Where am I? Is this Tormance?” he asked. As he spoke, he staggered.
She him, and helped him to down. “Yes. You are with friends.”
Then she him with a smile, and speaking aloud, in
English. Her voice somehow him of an April day, it was so
fresh, nervous, and girlish. “I can now your language. It was
strange at first. In the I’ll speak to you with my mouth.”
“This is extraordinary! What is this organ?” he asked, his
forehead.
“It is named the ‘breve.’ By means of it we read one another’s thoughts.
Still, speech is better, for then the can be read too.”
He smiled. “They say that speech is us to others.”
“One can with thought, too. But I’m of the best, not
the worst.”
“Have you my friends?”
She him quietly, answering. “Did you not come alone?”
“I came with two other men, in a machine. I must have consciousness
on arrival, and I haven’t them since.”
“That’s very strange! No, I haven’t them. They can’t be here, or we
would have it. My husband and I—”
“What is your name, and your husband’s name?”
“Mine is Joiwind—my husband’s is Panawe. We live a very long way from
here; still, it came to us last night that you were here
insensible. We almost about which of us should come to you,
but in the end I won.” Here she laughed. “I won, I am the
stronger-hearted of the two; he is the in perception.”
“Thanks, Joiwind!” said Maskull simply.
The colors each other her skin. “Oh, why do you
say that? What is than loving-kindness? I at
the opportunity.... But now we must blood.”
“What is this?” he demanded, puzzled.
“It must be so. Your blood is too thick and for our world.
Until you have an of mine, you will up.”
Maskull flushed. “I like a complete here.... Won’t it
hurt you?”
“If your blood pains you, I it will pain me. But we will share
the pain.”
“This is a new of to me,” he muttered.
“Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” asked Joiwind, smiling, half
agitated.
“I can’t answer for any of my in this world. I know
where I am.... Why, yes—of I would, Joiwind.”
While they were talking it had full day. The had rolled
away from the ground, and only the upper fog-
charged. The of in all directions, except
one, where there was a of little oasis—some low hills, clothed
sparsely with little trees from to summit. It was about a
quarter of a mile distant.
Joiwind had with her a small knife. Without any of
nervousness, she a careful, on her upper arm. Maskull
expostulated.
“Really, this part of it is nothing,” she said, laughing. “And if it
were—a that is no sacrifice—what is there in that?...
Come now—your arm!”
The blood was her arm. It was not red blood, but a milky,
opalescent fluid.
“Not that one!” said Maskull, shrinking. “I have already been cut
there.” He submitted the other, and his blood forth.
Joiwind and the mouths of the two wounds
together, and then her arm pressed against Maskull’s for a
long time. He a of entering his through the
incision. His old and to return to him. After
about five minutes a of started them; he wanted to
remove his arm, and she to continue. At last he had his way, but it was
none too soon—she there and dispirited.
She looked at him with a more than before, as if
strange had opened up her eyes.
“What is your name?”
“Maskull.”
“Where have you come from, with this blood?”
“From a world called Earth.... The blood is for this
world, Joiwind, but after all, that was only to be expected. I am sorry
I let you have your way.”
“Oh, don’t say that! There was nothing else to be done. We must all help
one another. Yet, somehow—forgive me—I polluted.”
“And well you may, for it’s a thing for a girl to accept in her
own the blood of a man from a planet. If I had not
been so and weak I would have allowed it.”
“But I would have insisted. Are we not all and sisters? Why did
you come here, Maskull?”
He was of a of embarrassment. “Will you think it
foolish if I say I know?—I came with those two men. Perhaps I was
attracted by curiosity, or it was the love of adventure.”
“Perhaps,” said Joiwind. “I wonder... These friends of yours must be
terrible men. Why did they come?”
“That I can tell you. They came to Surtur.”
Her troubled. “I don’t it. One of them at least
must be a man, and yet if he is Surtur—or Shaping, as he
is called here—he can’t be bad.”
“What do you know of Surtur?” asked Maskull in astonishment.
Joiwind for a time, studying his face. His brain moved
restlessly, as though it were being from outside. “I see.... and
yet I don’t see,” she said at last. “It is very difficult.... Your God
is a Being—bodyless, unfriendly, invisible. Here we don’t
worship a God like that. Tell me, has any man set on your God?”
“What all this mean, Joiwind? Why speak of God?”
“I want to know.”
“In times, when the earth was and grand, a men
are to have walked and spoken with God, but those days are
past.”
“Our world is still young,” said Joiwind. “Shaping goes among us and
converses with us. He is and active—a friend and lover. Shaping
made us, and he loves his work.”
“Have you met him?” Maskull, his ears.
“No. I have done nothing to it yet. Some day I may have an
opportunity to myself, and then I may be by meeting
and talking with Shaping.”
“I have come to another world. But why do you say he is the
same as Surtur?”
“Yes, he is the same. We call him Shaping, and so do most men, but
a name him Surtur.”
Maskull his nail. “Have you of Crystalman?”
“That is Shaping once again. You see, he has many names—which how
much he our minds. Crystalman is a name of affection.”
“It’s odd,” said Maskull. “I came here with different ideas about
Crystalman.”
Joiwind her hair. “In that of trees over there a
desert of his. Let us go and pray there, and then we’ll go on our
way to Poolingdred. That is my home. It’s a long way off, and we must
get there Blodsombre.”
“Now, what is Blodsombre?”
“For about four hours in the middle of the day Branchspell’s are so
hot that no one can them. We call it Blodsombre.”
“Is Branchspell another name for Arcturus?”
Joiwind off her and laughed. “Naturally we don’t take
our names from you, Maskull. I don’t think our names are very poetic,
but they nature.”
She took his arm affectionately, and their walk the
tree-covered hills. As they along, the sun through the upper
mists and a terrible of heat, like a blast from a
furnace, Maskull’s head. He looked up, but lowered
his again like lightning. All that he saw in that was a
glaring of electric white, three times the of the
sun. For a minutes he was blind.
“My God!” he exclaimed. “If it’s like this in early you must be
right about Blodsombre.” When he had himself
he asked, “How long are the days here, Joiwind?”
Again he his brain being probed.
“At this time of the year, for every hour’s that you have in
summer, we have two.”
“The is terrific—and yet somehow I don’t so by it
as I would have expected.”
“I it more than usual. It’s not difficult to account for it; you
have some of my blood, and I have some of yours.”
“Yes, every time I that, I—Tell me, Joiwind, will my blood
alter, if I here long enough?—I mean, will it its and
thickness, and pure and thin and light-coloured, like yours?”
“Why not? If you live as we live, you will like us.”
“Do you food and drink?”
“We eat no food, and drink only water.”
“And on that you manage to life?”
“Well, Maskull, our water is good water,” Joiwind, smiling.
As soon as he see again he around at the landscape. The
enormous to the horizon, excepting
where it was by the oasis. It was by a cloudless, deep
blue, almost violet, sky. The circle of the was larger than
on earth. On the skyline, at right to the direction in which they
were walking, appeared a of mountains, about forty
miles distant. One, which was higher than the rest, was like a
cup. Maskull would have to he was in
dreamland, but for the of the light, which everything
vividly real.
Joiwind pointed to the cup-shaped mountain. “That’s Poolingdred.”
“You didn’t come from there!” he exclaimed, startled.
“Yes, I did indeed. And that is where we have to go to now.”
“With the single object of me?”
“Why, yes.”
The colour to his face. “Then you are the and of
all girls,” he said quietly, after a pause. “Without exception. Why,
this is a for an athlete!”
She pressed his arm, while a score of unpaintable, stained
her in transition. “Please don’t say any more about it,
Maskull. It makes me unpleasant.”
“Very well. But can we possibly there midday?”
“Oh, yes. And you mustn’t be at the distance. We think
nothing of long here—we have so much to think about and feel.
Time goes all too quickly.”
During their they had near the of the hills,
which gently, and were not above fifty in height. Maskull
now to see of vegetable life. What looked like a
small of grass, above five square, was moving across
the in their direction. When it came near he that
it was not grass; there were no blades, but only roots. The roots
were revolving, for each small plant in the whole patch, like the spokes
of a wheel. They were alternately in the sand, and
withdrawn from it, and by this means the plant forward. Some
uncanny, semi-intelligent was all the plants together,
moving at one pace, in one direction, like a of in
flight.
Another plant was a large, ball, a
dandelion fruit, which they through the air. Joiwind
caught it with an movement of her arm, and showed
it to Maskull. It had and in the air and on
the chemical of the atmosphere. But what was about
it was its colour. It was an new colour—not a new or
combination, but a new colour, as as blue, red, or yellow,
but different. When he inquired, she told him that it was as
“ulfire.” Presently he met with a second new colour. This she designated
“jale.” The in Maskull by these two additional
primary colors can only be at by analogy. Just as is
delicate and mysterious, yellow clear and unsubtle, and red and
passionate, so he to be wild and painful, and jale
dreamlike, feverish, and voluptuous.
The were of a rich, dark mould. Small trees, of weird
shapes, all from each other, but all purple-coloured, covered
the and top. Maskull and Joiwind up and through. Some
hard fruit, in colour, of the size of a large apple, and
shaped like an egg, was in the trees.
“Is the fruit here poisonous, or why don’t you eat it?” asked Maskull.
She looked at him tranquilly. “We don’t eat things. The thought
is to us.”
“I have nothing to say against that, theoretically. But do you really
sustain your on water?”
“Supposing you nothing else to live on, Maskull—would you eat
other men?”
“I would not.”
“Neither will we eat plants and animals, which are our creatures.
So nothing is left to us but water, and as one can live on
anything, water very well.”
Maskull up one of the fruits and it curiously. As he did
so another of his newly organs came into action. He found
that the his ears were in some fashion
acquainting him with the properties of the fruit. He not
only see, feel, and it, but its nature.
This nature was hard, and melancholy.
Joiwind answered the questions he had not asked.
“Those organs are called ‘poigns.’ Their use is to us to
understand and with all creatures.”
“What do you from that, Joiwind?”
“The of not being and selfish, dear Maskull.”
He the fruit away and again.
Joiwind looked into his swarthy, without and
slowly smiled. “Have I said too much? Have I been too familiar? Do you
know why you think so? It’s you are still impure. By and by you
will to all language without shame.”
Before he what she was about to do, she her tentacle
round his neck, like another arm. He offered no to its cool
pressure. The of her soft with his own was so and
sensitive that it another of kiss. He saw who it was that
embraced him—a pale, girl. Yet, enough, he experienced
neither sexual pride. The love by the
caress was rich, glowing, and personal, but there was not the least
trace of in it—and so he it.
She her tentacle, her two arms on his and
penetrated with her right into his very soul.
“Yes, I wish to be pure,” he muttered. “Without that what can I be
but a weak, devil?”
Joiwind him. “This we call the ‘magn,’” she said, indicating
her tentacle. “By means of it what we love already we love more, and
what we don’t love at all we to love.”
“A organ!”
“It is the one we most jealously,” said Joiwind.
The of the trees a timely screen from the now almost
insufferable of Branchspell, which was to
the zenith. On the other of the little hills, Maskull
looked for of Nightspore and Krag, but without result.
After about him for a minutes he his shoulders; but
suspicions had already to in his mind.
A small, natural at their feet, by
the tree-clad heights. The centre was of red sand. In the very middle
shot up a tall, tree, with a black and branches, and
transparent, leaves. At the of this tree was a natural,
circular well, dark green water.
When they had the bottom, Joiwind took him over to the
well.
Maskull at it intently. “Is this the you talked about?”
“Yes. It is called Shaping’s Well. The man or woman who to invoke
Shaping must take up some of the water, and drink it.”
“Pray for me,” said Maskull. “Your prayer will more
weight.”
“What do you wish for?”
“For purity,” answered Maskull, in a voice.
Joiwind a cup of her hand, and a little of the water. She
held it up to Maskull’s mouth. “You must drink too.” He obeyed. She then
stood erect, closed her eyes, and, in a voice like the soft murmurings
of spring, prayed aloud.
“Shaping, my father, I am you can me. A man has come
to us with blood. He to be pure. Let him know
the meaning of love, let him live for others. Don’t him pain, dear
Shaping, but let him his own pain. Breathe into him a soul.”
Maskull with in his heart.
As Joiwind speaking, a came over his eyes, and,
half in the sand, appeared a large circle of dazzlingly
white pillars. For some minutes they to and between
distinctness and indistinctness, like an object being focused. Then they
faded out of again.
“Is that a from Shaping?” asked Maskull, in a low, tone.
“Perhaps it is. It is a time mirage.”
“What can that be, Joiwind?”
“You see, dear Maskull, the temple not yet but it will do so,
because it must. What you and I are now doing in simplicity, wise men
will do in full knowledge.”
“It is right for man to pray,” said Maskull. “Good and in the world
don’t from nothing. God and Devil must exist. And we should
pray to the one, and the other.”
“Yes, we must Krag.”
“What name did you say?” asked Maskull in amazement.
“Krag—the author of and misery—whom you call Devil.”
He his thoughts. To prevent Joiwind from learning
his relationship to this being, he his mind a blank.
“Why do you your mind from me?” she demanded, looking at him
strangely and colour.
“In this bright, pure, world, so remote, one can
scarcely its meaning.” But he lied.
Joiwind at him, out of her clean soul. “The
world is good and pure, but many men are corrupt. Panawe, my husband,
has travelled, and he has told me I would almost have not
heard. One person he met the to be, from top to
bottom, a conjurer’s cave.”
“I should like to meet your husband.”
“Well, we are going home now.”
Maskull was on the point of she had any children, but
was of her, and himself.
She read the question. “What need is there? Is not the whole
world full of children? Why should I want selfish possessions?”
An past, a of five
distinct notes. It was not a bird, but had a balloon-shaped body,
paddled by five feet. It among the trees.
Joiwind pointed to it, as it by. “I love that beast, as
it is—perhaps all the more for its grotesqueness. But if I had children
of my own, would I still love it? Which is best—to love two or three, or
to love all?”
“Every woman can’t be like you, Joiwind, but it is good to have a few
like you. Wouldn’t it be as well,” he on, “since we’ve got to walk
through that sun-baked wilderness, to make for our out of
some of those long leaves?”
She pathetically. “You will think me foolish, but every
tearing off of a would be a in my heart. We have only to
throw our over our heads.”
“No that will answer the same purpose, but tell me—weren’t these
very once part of a creature?”
“Oh, no—no, they are the of a animal, but they have never
been in themselves alive.”
“You life to simplicity,” Maskull meditatively,
“but it is very beautiful.”
Climbing over the hills, they now without began
their across the desert.
They walked by side. Joiwind their toward
Poolingdred. From the position of the sun, Maskull their way to
lie north. The was soft and powdery, very to his naked
feet. The red his eyes, and him semi-blind. He was hot,
parched, and with the to drink; his of pain
emerged into full consciousness.
“I see my friends nowhere, and it is very queer.”
“Yes, it is queer—if it is accidental,” said Joiwind, with a peculiar
intonation.
“Exactly!” Maskull. “If they had met with a mishap, their bodies
would still be there. It to look like a piece of work to me.
They must have gone on, and left me.... Well, I am here, and I must make
the best of it. I will trouble no more about them.”
“I don’t wish to speak of anyone,” said Joiwind, “but my instinct
tells me that you are away from those men. They did not come here
for your sake, but for their own.”
They walked on for a long time. Maskull was to faint. She
twined her around his waist, and a of
confidence and well-being through his veins.
“Thanks, Joiwind! But am I not you?”
“Yes,” she replied, with a quick, glance. “But not much—and it
gives me great happiness.”
Presently they met a little creature, the size of a new-born
lamb, along on three legs. Each leg in turn moved to the front,
and so the little by means of a series of complete
rotations. It was coloured, as though it had been into
pots of and yellow paint. It looked up with small, shining
eyes, as they passed.
Joiwind and to it. “That’s a personal friend of mine,
Maskull. Whenever I come this way, I see it. It’s always waltzing, and
always in a hurry, but it to anywhere.”
“It to me that life is so self-sufficient here that there is no
need for anyone to anywhere. What I don’t is how
you manage to pass your days without ennui.”
“That’s a word. It means, it not, for excitement?”
“Something of the kind,” said Maskull.
“That must be a on by rich food.”
“But are you dull?”
“How we be? Our blood is quick and light and free, our is
clean and unclogged, and out.... Before long I you will
understand what of question you have asked.”
Farther on they a phenomenon. In the of the
desert a rose fifty into the air, with a
cool and sound. It differed, however, from a fountain
in this respect—that the water of which it was did not return
to the ground but was by the at the summit. It was
in a tall, of dark green fluid, with a of
coiling and vapours.
When they came closer, Maskull that this water was the
continuation and of a brook, which came from
the direction of the mountains. The of the was
evidently that the water at this spot chemical in the
upper air, and the ground.
“Now let us drink,” said Joiwind.
She herself at full length on the sand, face
downward, by the of the brook, and Maskull was not long in
following her example. She to her thirst until she had
seen him drink. He the water heavy, but with gas. He
drank copiously. It his in a new way—with the purity and
cleanness of water was the of a wine,
raising his spirits—but somehow the out his better
nature, and not his lower.
“We call it ‘gnawl water’,” said Joiwind. “This is not pure, as
you can see by the colour. At Poolingdred it is clear. But we
would be if we complained. After this you’ll we’ll get
along much better.”
Maskull now to his environment, as it were for the first
time. All his organs started to him and that
he had not suspected. The of the sands
became into a score of of red.
The sky was up into different blues. The of
Branchspell he to affect every part of his with unequal
intensities. His ears awakened; the was full of murmurs, the
sands hummed, the sun’s had a of their own—a of
faint Aeolian harp. Subtle, his nostrils. His
palate over the memory of the water. All the of his
skin were and by of air.
His poigns the nature of in his
immediate vicinity. His touched Joiwind, and from her person a
stream of love and joy. And by means of his he exchanged
thoughts with her in silence. This him to
the depths, and the walk of that he no
more fatigue.
When it was near to Blodsombre, they approached the margin
of a dark green lake, which Poolingdred.
Panawe was on a dark rock, waiting for them.
