“ ‘What is greater than Pleasure?’ he asked suddenly.
“I was at an age when one wishes to be thought equal to any emergency, so, concealing my surprise, I applied myself to the conversation, as if it were for that purpose we had met.
“ ‘Pain,’ I replied, ‘for pain drives out pleasure.’
“ ‘What is greater than Pain?’
“I reflected. ‘Love. Because we will accept our loved one’s share of pain.’
“ ‘But what is greater than Love?’ he persisted.
“ ‘Nothing, Slofork.’
“ ‘And what is Nothing?’
“ ‘That you must tell me.’
“ ‘Tell you I will. This is Shaping’s world. He that is a good child here, knows pleasure, pain, and love, and gets his rewards. But there’s another world—not Shaping’s and there all this is unknown, and another order of things reigns. That world we call Nothing—but it is not Nothing, but Something.’
“There was a pause.
“ ‘I have heard,’ said I, ‘that you are good at growing and ungrowing organs?’
“ ‘That’s not enough for me. Every organ tells me the same story. I want to hear different stories.’
“ ‘Is it true, what men say, that your wisdom flows and ebbs in pulses?’
“ ‘Quite true,’ replied Slofork. ‘But those you had it from did not add that they have always mistaken the flow for the ebb.’
“ ‘My experience is,’ said I sententiously, ‘that wisdom is misery.’
“ ‘Perhaps it is, young man, but you have never learned that, and never will. For you the world will continue to wear a noble, awful face. You will never rise above mysticism. … But be happy in your own way.’
“Before I realised what he was doing, he jumped tranquilly from the path, down into the empty void. He crashed with ever-increasing momentum toward the valley below. I screeched, flung myself down on the ground, and shut my eyes.
“Often have I wondered which of my ill-considered, juvenile remarks it was that caused this sudden resolution on his part to commit suicide. Whichever it might be, since then I have made it a rigid law never to speak for my own pleasure, but only to help others.
“I came eventually to the Marest. I threaded its mazes in terror for four days. I was frightened of death, but still more terrified at the possibility of losing my sacred attitude toward life. When I was nearly through, and was beginning to congratulate myself, I stumbled across the third extraordinary personage of my experience—the grim Muremaker. It was under horrible circumstances. On an afternoon, cloudy and stormy, I saw, suspended in the air without visible support, a living man. He was hanging in an upright position in front of a cliff—a yawning gulf, a thousand feet deep, lay beneath his feet. I climbed as near as I could, and looked on. He saw me, and made a wry grimace, like one who wishes to turn his humiliation into humour. The spectacle so astounded me that I could not even grasp what had happened.
“ ‘I am Muremaker,’ he cried in a scraping voice which shocked my ears. ‘All my life I have sorbed others—now I am sorbed. Nuclamp and I fell out over a woman. Now Nuclamp holds me up like this. While the strength of his will lasts I shall remain suspended; but when he gets tired—and it can’t be long now—I drop into those depths.’
“Had it been another man, I would have tried to save him, but this ogre-like being was too well known to me as one who passed his whole existence in tormenting, murdering, and absorbing others, for the sake of his own delight. I hurried away, and did not pause again that day.
“In Poolingdred I met Joiwind. We walked and talked together for a month, and by that time we found that we loved each other too well to part.”
Panawe stopped speaking.
“That is a fascinating story,” remarked Maskull. “Now I begin to know my way around better. But one thing puzzles me.”
“What’s that?”
“How it happens that men here are ignorant of tools and arts, and have no civilisation, and yet contrive to be social in their habits and wise in their thoughts.”
“Do you imagine, then, that love and wisdom spring from tools? But I see how it arises. In your world you have fewer sense organs, and to make up for the deficiency you have been obliged to call in the assistance of stones and metals. That’s by no means a sign of superiority.”
“No, I suppose not,” said Maskull, “but I see I have a great deal to unlearn.”
They talked together a little longer, and then gradually fell asleep. Joiwind opened her eyes, smiled, and slumbered again.
VIII
The Lusion Plain
Maskull awoke before the others. He got up, stretched himself, and walked out into the sunlight. Branchspell was already declining. He climbed to the top of the crater edge and looked away toward Ifdawn. The afterglow of Alppain had by now completely disappeared. The mountains stood up wild and grand.
They impressed him like a simple musical theme, the notes of which are widely separated in the scale; a spirit of rashness, daring, and adventure seemed to call to him from them. It was at that moment that the determination flashed into his heart to walk to the Marest and explore its dangers.
He returned to the cavern to say goodbye to his hosts.
Joiwind looked at him with her brave and honest eyes. “Is this selfishness, Maskull?” she asked, “or are you drawn by something stronger than yourself?”
“We must be reasonable,” he answered, smiling. “I can’t settle down in Poolingdred before I have found out something about this surprising new planet of yours. Remember what a long way I have come. … But very likely I shall come back here.”
“Will you make me a promise?”
Maskull hesitated. “Ask nothing difficult, for I hardly know my powers yet.”
“It is not hard, and I wish it. Promise
