When he awoke, the day was not so bright, and he it was late
afternoon. Polecrab and his wife were on their feet, and another
meal of fish had been and was waiting for him.
“Is it who is to go with me?” he asked, down.
“I go,” said Gleameil.
“Do you agree, Polecrab?”
The a little in his and to the others
to take their seats. He took a answering.
“Something is her, and I can’t her back. I don’t
think I shall see you again, wife, but the are now nearly old
enough to for themselves.”
“Don’t take views,” Gleameil sternly. She was not
eating. “I shall come back, and make to you. It’s only for a
night.”
Maskull from one to the other in perplexity. “Let me go alone. I
would be sorry if anything happened.”
Gleameil her head.
“Don’t this as a woman’s caprice,” she said. “Even if you hadn’t
passed this way, I would have that music soon. I have a for
it.”
“Haven’t you any such feeling, Polecrab?”
“No. A woman is a and creature, and there are
attractions in nature too for males. Take her with you, since she
is set on it. Maybe she’s right. Perhaps Earthrid’s music will answer
your questions, and hers too.”
“What are your questions, Gleameil?”
The woman a smile. “You may be sure that a question which
requires music for an answer can’t be put into words.”
“If you are not by the morning,” her husband, “I will know
you are dead.”
The was in a silence. Polecrab his
mouth, and produced a from a of pocket.
“Will you say goodbye to the boys? Shall I call them?” She a
moment.
“Yes—yes, I must see them.”
He put the to his mouth, and blew; a loud, noise passed
through the air.
A minutes later there was a of footsteps, and the
boys were from the forest. Maskull looked with curiosity
at the children he had on Tormance. The boy was
carrying the on his back, while the third some distance
behind. The child was let down, and all the three a in
front of Maskull, up at him with wide-open eyes.
Polecrab looked on stolidly, but Gleameil away from them, with
proudly and a expression.
Maskull put the of the boys at about nine, seven, and five years,
respectively; but he was calculating according to Earth time. The eldest
was tall, slim, but built. He, like his brothers, was naked,
and his skin from top to toe was ulfire-colored. His muscles
indicated a wild and nature, and his were like green fires.
The second promise of being a broad, powerful man. His was
large and heavy, and drooped. His and skin were reddish. His eyes
were almost too and for a child’s.
“That one,” said Polecrab, the boy’s ear, “may up
to be a second Broodviol.”
“Who was that?” the boy, his to the
answer.
“A big, old man, of wisdom. He wise by making up his
mind to ask questions, but to out for himself.”
“If I had not asked this question, I should not have about him.”
“That would not have mattered,” the father.
The child was and than his brothers. His face
was mostly and expressionless, but it had this peculiarity
about it, that every minutes, without any cause, it would
wrinkle up and look perplexed. At these times his eyes, which were of a
tawny gold, to difficult to with one of
his age.
“He puzzles me,” said Polecrab. “He has a like sap, and he’s
interested in nothing. He may turn out to be the most of the
bunch.”
Maskull took the child in one hand, and him as high as his head.
He took a good look at him, and set him again. The boy never
changed countenance.
“What do you make of him?” asked the fisherman.
“It’s on the of my to say, but it just me. Let me
drink again, and then I shall have it.”
“Go and drink, then.”
Maskull over to the tree, drank, and returned. “In to come,”
he said, speaking deliberately, “he will be a and tradition.
A possibly, or a divinity. Watch over him well.”
The boy looked scornful. “I want to be none of those things. I
would like to be like that big fellow.” And he pointed his at
Maskull.
He laughed, and his white teeth through his beard. “Thanks for
the old warrior!” he said.
“He’s great and brawny,” the boy, “and can his own with
other men. Can you me up with one arm, as you did that child?”
Maskull complied.
“That is being a man!” the boy. “Enough!” said Polecrab
impatiently. “I called you here to say goodbye to your mother. She
is going away with this man. I think she may not return, but we don’t
know.”
The second boy’s inflamed. “Is she going of her own
choice?” he inquired.
“Yes,” the father.
“Then she is bad.” He the out with such and emphasis
that they like the of a whip.
The old man him twice. “Is it your mother you are speaking of?”
The boy his ground, without of expression, but said
nothing.
The child spoke, for the time. “My mother will not come
back, but she will die dancing.”
Polecrab and his wife looked at one another.
“Where are you going to, Mother?” asked the lad.
Gleameil down, and him. “To the Island.”
“Well then, if you don’t come by tomorrow morning, I will go and
look for you.”
Maskull more and more in his mind. “This to me to be a
man’s journey,” he said. “I think it would be for you not to
come, Gleameil.”
“I am not to be dissuaded,” she replied.
He his in perplexity. “Is it time to start?”
“It wants four hours to sunset, and we shall need all that.”
Maskull sighed. “I’ll go to the mouth of the creek, and wait there for
you and the raft. You will wish to make your farewells, Gleameil.”
He then Polecrab by the hand. “Adieu, fisherman!”
“You have me well for my answers,” said the old man gruffly. “But
it’s not your fault, and in Shaping’s world the happen.”
The boy came close to Maskull, and at him. “Farewell, big
man!” he said. “But my mother well, as well as you are well able
to, or I shall you, and kill you.”
Maskull walked slowly along the bank till he came to the bend. The
glorious sunshine, and the sparkling, sea then met his eyes
again; and all was out of his mind. He as far
as the seashore, and out of the of the forest, strolled
on to the sands, and sat in the full sunlight. The of
Alppain had long since disappeared. He in the hot, invigorating
wind, to the waves, and over the sea
with its pinnacles and currents, at Swaylone’s Island.
“What music can that be, which a wife and mother away from all she
loves the most?” he meditated. “It unholy. Will it tell me what I
want to know? Can it?”
In a little while he aware of a movement him, and, turning
his head, he saw the along the creek, toward the open sea.
Polecrab was upright, it with a pole. He passed
by Maskull, without looking at him, or making any salutation, and
proceeded out to sea.
While he was at this behaviour, Gleameil and the boys
came in sight, walking along the bank of the inlet. The eldest-born was
holding her hand, and talking; and the other two were behind. She was
calm and smiling, but abstracted.
“What is your husband doing with the raft?” asked Maskull.
“He’s it in position and we shall out and join it,” she
answered, in her low-toned voice.
“But how shall we make the island, without or sails?”
“Don’t you see that away from land? See, he is
approaching it. That will take us there.”
“But how can you back?”
“There is a way; but we need not think of that today.”
“Why shouldn’t I come too?” the boy.
“Because the won’t three. Maskull is a man.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the boy. “I know where there is for
another raft. As soon as you have gone, I shall set to work.”
Polecrab had by this time his to the position he
desired, a yards of the current, which at that point a
sharp from the east. He out some to his wife and
Maskull. Gleameil her children convulsively, and a
little. The boy his lip till it bled, and in
his eyes; but the children wide-eyed, and no
emotion.
Gleameil now walked into the sea, by Maskull. The water covered
first their ankles, then their knees, but when it came as high as their
waists, they were close on the raft. Polecrab let himself into the
water, and his wife to climb over the side. When she was up,
she and him. No were exchanged. Maskull scrambled
up on to the part of the raft. The woman sat cross-legged in the
stern, and the pole.
Polecrab them off toward the current, while she her pole
until they had got its power. The to
travel away from land, with a smooth, motion.
The boys from the shore. Gleameil responded; but Maskull turned
his to land, and ahead. Polecrab was to
the shore.
For of an hour Maskull did not his position by an inch. No
sound was but the of the all around them,
and the of the current, which its way
smoothly through the tossing, sea. From their of
safety, the them were an exhilarating
experience. The air was fresh and clean, and the from Branchspell,
now low in the west, was at last endurable. The of sea colors had
long since all and from his heart. Yet he felt
such a against the woman for those who should
have been dear to her that he not himself to a
conversation.
But when, over the now shape of the dark island, he caught
sight of a long of lofty, mountains, salmon-pink
in the sunlight, he to the by
inquiring what they were.
“It is Lichstorm,” said Gleameil.
Maskull asked no questions about it; but in to address her, his
eyes had rested on the Wombflash Forest, and he
continued to at that. They had about eight miles, and
now he the of the trees.
Overtopping them, away, he saw Sant; and he fancied, but was not
quite sure, that he Disscourn as well.
“Now that we are alone in a place,” said Gleameil, her
head, and looking over the of the into the water, “tell
me what you of Polecrab.”
Maskull paused answering. “He to me like a mountain
wrapped in cloud. You see the buttresses, and think that is all.
But then, high up, above the clouds, you catch of
more mountain—and then it is not the top.”
“You read well, and have great perception,” Gleameil
quietly. “Now say what I am.”
“In place of a heart, you have a wild harp, and that’s all I know
about you.”
“What was that you said to my husband about two worlds?”
“You heard.”
“Yes, I heard. And I also am of two worlds. My husband and
boys are to me, and I love them fondly. But there is another world
for me, as there is for you, Maskull, and it makes my world appear
all false and vulgar.”
“Perhaps we are the same thing. But can it be right to satisfy
our self-nature at the of other people?”
“No, it’s not right. It is wrong, and base. But in that other world
these have no meaning.”
There was a silence.
“It’s to discuss such topics,” said Maskull. “The choice is now
out of our hands, and we must go where we are taken. What I would rather
speak about is what us on the island.”
“I am ignorant—except that we shall Earthrid there.”
“Who is Earthrid, and why is it called Swaylone’s Island?”
“They say Earthrid came from Threal, but I know nothing else about him.
As for Swaylone, if you like I will tell you his legend.”
“If you please,” said Maskull.
“In a far-back age,” Gleameil, “when the were hot, and clouds
hung over the earth, and life was rich with transformations,
Swaylone came to this island, on which men had set foot,
and to play his music—the music in Tormance. Nightly, when
the moon shone, people used to on this us, and
listen to the faint, sweet from over the sea. One
night, Shaping (whom you call Crystalman) was this way in
company with Krag. They a while to the music, and Shaping said
‘Have you more sounds? This is my world and my music.’
Krag with his foot, and laughed. ‘You must do than that,
if I am to it. Let us pass over, and see this at work.’
Shaping consented, and they passed over to the island. Swaylone was not
able to see their presence. Shaping him, and breathed
thoughts into his soul, so that his music ten times lovelier, and
people on that with delight. ‘Can any
strains be nobler?’ Shaping. Krag and said, ‘You are
naturally effeminate. Now let me try.’ Then he Swaylone,
and fast into his head. His was so
cracked, that since has it played right. From that time forth
Swaylone only music; yet it called to more
than the other sort. Many men over to the his
lifetime, to to the tones, but none them;
all died. After Swaylone’s death, another took up the tale; and
so the light has passed from to torch, till now Earthrid
bears it.”
“An legend,” Maskull. “But who is Krag?”
“They say that when the world was born, Krag was with it—a spirit
compounded of those of Muspel which Shaping did not know how to
transform. Thereafter nothing has gone right with the world, for he dogs
Shaping’s everywhere, and the does, he undoes.
To love he death; to sex, shame; to intellect, madness; to virtue,
cruelty; and to exteriors, entrails. These are Krag’s
actions, so the lovers of the world call him ‘devil.’ They don’t
understand, Maskull, that without him the world would its beauty.”
“Krag and beauty!” he, with a smile.
“Even so. That same which you and I are now to discover.
That for I am husband, children, and
happiness.... Did you to be pleasant?”
“Surely.”
“That is an of Shaping. To see beauty
in its terrible purity, you must tear away the from it.”
“Do you say I am going to beauty, Gleameil? Such an idea is far
from my mind.”
She did not respond to his remark. After waiting for a minutes, to
hear if she would speak again, he his on her once more.
There was no more talk until they the island.
The air had and by the time they approached its shores.
Branchspell was on the point of the sea. The Island appeared to
be some three or four miles in length. There were of all broad
sands, then low, dark cliffs, and these a of
insignificant, hills, of vegetation. The
current them to a hundred yards of the coast, when it a
sharp angle, and to skirt the length of the land.
Gleameil jumped overboard, and to shore. Maskull followed
her example, and the raft, abandoned, was away by the
current. They soon touched ground, and were able to the of the
way. By the time they land, the sun had set.
Gleameil for the hills; and Maskull, after a
single at the low, of the Wombflash Forest, followed
her. The were soon up. Then the was and
easy, while the rich, dry, was good to walk upon.
A little way off, on their left, something white was shining.
“You need not go to it,” said the woman. “It can be nothing else than
one of those Polecrab talked about. And look—there is another
one over there!”
“This it home!” Maskull, smiling.
“There is nothing in having died for beauty,” said Gleameil,
bending her at him.
And when in the of their walk he saw the bones,
from white to dirty yellow, about, as if it
were a among the hills, he with her, and fell
into a mood.
It was still light when they the point, and set
eyes on the other side. The sea to the north of the was in no way
different from that which they had crossed, but its colors were
fast invisible.
“That is Matterplay,” said the woman, pointing her toward some
low land on the horizon, which to be off than
Wombflash.
“I wonder how Digrung passed over,” Maskull.
Not away, in a by a circle of little hills, they saw
a small, lake, not more than a mile in diameter. The
sunset colors of the sky were in its waters.
“That must be Irontick,” Gleameil.
“What is that?”
“I have that it’s the Earthrid plays on.”
“We are close,” he. “Let us go and investigate.”
When they nearer, they that a man was on the
farther side, in an of sleep.
“If that’s not the man himself, who can it be?” said Maskull. “Let’s get
across the water, if it will us; it will save time.”
He now the lead, and took the which
bounded the on that side. Gleameil him with greater
dignity, her on the man as if fascinated.
When Maskull the water’s edge, he it with one foot, to
discover if it would his weight. Something in its
appearance him to have doubts. It was a tranquil, dark, and
beautifully of water; it a of liquid
metal. Finding that it would him, and that nothing happened, he
placed his second on its surface. Instantly he a violent
shock his body, as from a powerful electric current; and he
was in a on to the bank.
He himself up, the off his person, and started
walking around the lake. Gleameil joined him, and they the
half together. They came to the man, and Maskull him
with his foot. He up, and at them.
His was pale, weak, and vacant-looking, and had a disagreeable
expression. There were thin of black on his and head.
On his forehead, in place of a third eye, he a perfectly
circular organ, with convolutions, like an ear. He had an
unpleasant smell. He appeared to be of middle age.
“Wake up, man,” said Maskull sharply, “and tell us if you are Earthrid.”
“What time is it?” the man. “Does it want long to
moonrise?”
Without appearing to about an answer, he sat up, and away
from them, to up the with his hand, and to eat it
halfheartedly.
“Now, how can you eat that filth?” Maskull, in disgust.
“Don’t be angry, Maskull,” said Gleameil, of his arm, and
flushing a little. “It is Earthrid—the man who is to help us.”
“He has not said so.”
“I am Earthrid,” said the other, in his weak and voice, which,
however, Maskull as being autocratic. “What do you want
here? Or rather, you had away as as you can, for it
will be too late when Teargeld rises.”
“You need not explain,” Maskull. “We know your reputation, and
we have come to your music. But what’s that organ for on your
forehead?”
Earthrid glared, and smiled, and again.
“That is for rhythm, which is what noise into music. Don’t stand
and argue, but go away. It is no to me to people the island
with corpses. They the air, and do nothing else.”
Darkness now on over the landscape.
“You are bigmouthed,” said Maskull coolly. “But after we have
heard you play, I shall a myself.”
“You? Are you a musician, then? Do you know what music is?”
A in Gleameil’s eyes.
“Maskull thinks music in the instrument,” she said in her
intense way. “But it is in the of the Master.”
“Yes,” said Earthrid, “but that is not all. I will tell you what it is.
In Threal, where I was and up, we learn the of the
Three in nature. This world, which us, has three
directions. Length is the line which off what is, from what is
not. Breadth is the surface which us in what manner one thing of
what-is, with another thing. Depth is the path which leads from
what-is, to our own body. In music it is not otherwise. Tone is
existence, without which nothing at all can be. Symmetry and Numbers are
the manner in which exist, one with another. Emotion is the
movement of our toward the world that is being created.
Now, men when they make music are to tones,
because of the they cause. Therefore their music world is based
on pleasure; its is regular and charming, its is sweet
and lovely.... But my music is on painful tones; and thus its
symmetry is wild, and difficult to discover; its is and
terrible.”
“If I had not its being original, I would not have come
here,” said Maskull. “Still, explain—why can’t have simple
symmetry of form? And why must they necessarily more profound
emotions in us who listen?”
“Pleasures may harmonise. Pains must clash; and in the order of their
clashing the symmetry. The the music, which is
rough and earnest.”
“You may call it music,” Maskull thoughtfully, “but to me it
bears a closer to life.”
“If Shaping’s plans had gone straight, life would have been like that
other of music. He who can of that in
the world of nature. But as it has out, life my
music and mine is the true music.”
“Shall we see shapes?”
“I don’t know what my mood will be,” returned Earthrid. “But when I have
finished, you shall your tune, and produce you
please—unless, indeed, the is out of your own big body.”
“The you are preparing may kill us,” said Gleameil, in a low,
taut voice, “but we shall die, beauty.”
Earthrid looked at her with a expression.
“Neither you, any other person, can the which I put
into my music. Still, you must have it your own way. It needed a woman
to call it ‘beauty.’ But if this is beauty, what is ugliness?”
“That I can tell you, Master,” Gleameil, at him.
“Ugliness is old, life, while yours every night fresh from
the of nature.”
Earthrid at her, without response. “Teargeld is rising,” he said
at last. “And now you shall see—though not for long.”
As the left his mouth, the full moon over the in the
dark sky. They it in silence, and soon it was up.
It was larger than the moon of Earth, and nearer. Its shadowy
parts out in just as relief, but somehow it did not give
Maskull the of being a world. Branchspell on the
whole of it, but Alppain only on a part. The that
reflected Branchspell’s alone was white and brilliant; but the part
that was by with a that
had almost power, and yet was cold and cheerless. On at
that light, he the same of that the
afterglow of Alppain had always in him; but now the was
not physical, but aesthetic. The moon did not appear to
him, but and mystical.
Earthrid rose, and for a minute. In the moonlight,
his to have a change. It its loose, weak,
disagreeable look, and a of grandeur. He clapped
his hands together two or three times, and walked up and
down. The others together, him.
Then he sat by the of the lake, and, on his side,
placed his right hand, open downward, on the ground, at the same
time out his right leg, so that the was in with
the water.
While Maskull was in the act of at him and at the lake, he felt
a right through his heart, as though he had been
pierced by a rapier. He himself from falling, and as he
did so he saw that a had on the water, and was now
subsiding again. The next moment he was by a blow
in the mouth, delivered by an hand. He himself up; and
observed that a second had formed. No sooner was he on his legs,
than a pain away his brain, as if by a
malignant tumour. In his agony, he and again; this time on
the arm Krag had wounded. All his other were in this
one, which him. It only a moment, and then sudden
relief came, and he that Earthrid’s music had its power
over him.
He saw him still in the same position. Spouts were coming
thick and fast on the lake, which was full of motion. But
Gleameil was not on her legs. She was on the ground, in a heap,
without moving. Her was ugly, and he she was dead. When
he her, he that she was dead. In what of mind
she had died, he did not know, for her the Crystalman
grin. The whole had not five minutes.
He over to Earthrid and him away from his playing.
“You have been as good as your word, musician,” he said. “Gleameil is
dead.”
Earthrid to his senses.
“I her,” he replied, up. “Did I not her to go away?
But she died very easily. She did not wait for the she spoke
about. She nothing of the passion, of the rhythm. Neither
have you.”
Maskull looked at him in indignation, but said nothing.
“You should not have me,” on Earthrid. “When I am
playing, nothing else is of importance. I might have the of
my ideas. Fortunately, I forget. I shall start over again.”
“If music is to continue, in the presence of the dead, I play next.”
The man up quickly.
“That can’t be.”
“It must be,” said Maskull decisively. “I playing to listening.
Another is that you will have every night, but I have only
tonight.”
Earthrid and his fist, and to turn pale. “With
your recklessness, you are likely to kill us both. Irontick to
me, and until you have learned how to play, you would only the
instrument.”
“Well, then, I will it; but I am going to try.”
The jumped to his and him. “Do you to
take it from me by violence?”
“Keep calm! You will have the same choice that you offered us. I shall
give you time to go away somewhere.”
“How will that me, if you my lake? You don’t what
you are doing.”
“Go, or stay!” Maskull. “I give you till the water smooth
again. After that, I playing.”
Earthrid swallowing. He at the and to Maskull.
“Do you it?”
“How long that will take, you know than I; but till then you are
safe.”
Earthrid him a look of malice, for an instant, and then
moved away, and started to climb the nearest hill. Halfway up he glanced
over his apprehensively, as if to see what was happening. In
another minute or so, he had over the crest, in
the direction of the that Matterplay.
Later, when the water was once more tranquil, Maskull sat by its
edge, in of Earthrid’s attitude. He neither how to set
about producing his music, what would come of it. But audacious
projects entered his brain and he to create physical shapes—and,
above all, one shape, that of Surtur.
Before his to the water, he over a little in
his mind.
He said, “What are in common music, are in this music. The
composer not his by out single notes; but the
whole into his mind by inspiration. So it must be with
shapes. When I start playing, if I am anything, the undivided
ideas will pass from my mind to this lake, and then,
reflected in the of reality, I shall be for the first
time with them. So it must be.”
The his touched the water, he his flowing
from him. He did not know what they were, but the act of flowing
created a of mastery. With this was to learn
what they would prove to be. Spouts on the in increasing
numbers, but he no pain. His thoughts, which he to be
music, did not issue from him in a steady, stream, but in
great, gushes, of quiescence. When these
gushes came, the whole out in an of spouts.
He that the ideas from him did not in his
intellect, but had their in the of his will. He
could not decide what they should have, but he was able to
force them out, or them, by the of his volition.
At nothing around him. Then the moon dimmer, and a
strange, new to the landscape. It so
imperceptibly that it was some time he it as the
Muspel-light which he had in the Wombflash Forest. He not
give it a colour, or a name, but it him with a of and
sacred awe. He called up the of his powerful will. The spouts
thickened like a forest, and many of them were twenty high.
Teargeld looked and pale; the intense; but it cast
no shadows. The wind got up, but where Maskull was sitting, it was calm.
Shortly it to and whistle, like a full gale. He
saw no shapes, and his efforts.
His ideas were now out onto the so that his whole
soul was by and defiance. But still he did not
know their nature. A up and at the same moment the hills
began to and break. Great of were from
their bowels, and in the next period of quietness, he saw that the
landscape had altered. Still the light intensified. The moon
disappeared entirely. The noise of the was terrifying,
but Maskull played on, trying to out ideas which would
take shape. The were with chasms. The water escaping
from the of the spouts, the land; but where he was, it was
dry.
The terrible. It was everywhere, but Maskull that
it was in one particular quarter. He that it was
becoming localised, to into a solid form. He
strained and strained....
Immediately the of the subsided. Its fell
through, and his was broken.
The Muspel-light vanished. The moon out again, but Maskull could
not see it. After that shining, he to himself to be in
total blackness. The wind ceased; there was a silence.
His toward the lake, and his no longer
touched water, but in space.
He was too by the of the to either think or
feel. While he was still dazed, a in the
newly opened the lakebed. The water in its had
met fire. Maskull was in the air, many yards high, and
came heavily. He consciousness....
When he came to his again, he saw everything. Teargeld was
gleaming brilliantly. He was by the of the old lake, but it
was now a crater, to the of which his not penetrate.
The it were torn, as if by gunfire. A few
thunderclouds were in the air at no great height, from which
branched to the earth incessantly, by
alarming and crashes.
He got on his legs, and his actions. Finding that he was
uninjured, he of all viewed the at closer quarters, and
then started to walk toward the northern shore.
When he had the above the lake, the sloped
gently for two miles to the sea. Everywhere he passed through
traces of his work. The country was into scarps, grooves,
channels, and craters. He at the line of low overlooking
the beach, and that these also were by
landslips. He got onto the and looking over the moonlit,
agitated sea, how he to from this island
of failure.
Then he saw Earthrid’s body, close to him. It was on its
back. Both had been off and he not see them
anywhere. Earthrid’s teeth were in the of his right
forearm, that the man had died in physical agony.
The skin green in the moonlight, but it was by darker
discolourations, which were wounds. The about him was by the
pool of blood which had long since through.
Maskull left the in dismay, and walked a long way along the
sweet-smelling shore. Sitting on a rock, he waited for daybreak.
