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Haunte pointed to the hanging flesh and to the liquor skins, but did not pause in his chewing. "Where's a cup?" inquired Maskull, lifting one of the skins. Haunte indicated a clay goblet lying on the floor. Maskull picked it up, undid the neck of the skin, and, resting it under his arm, filled the cup. Tasting the liquor, he discovered it to be raw spirit.
It was possible to climb it, but the ascent would be difficult. The now tiny brook issued from a hole in the rock only a few feet up. Apart from its musical running, not a sound was to be beard. The floor of the gorge was in shadow, but about halfway up the precipice the sun was shining. "What do you want me to do?" demanded Maskull.
They stared at one another, the beast with wicked eyes, Maskull with cool and wary ones. While he was staring, a singular thing happened to him. His eyes blurred again. But when in a minute or two this blurring passed away and he saw clearly once more, his vision had changed in character. He was looking right through the animal's body and could distinguish all its interior parts.
Catice raised his hand, and after holding the flint poised for a moment, brought it down with adroitness and force upon the left-hand probe. Maskull cried out with the pain. The blood streamed down, and the function of the organ was destroyed. There was a pause, while he walked to and fro, trying to staunch the blood. "What now do you feel, Maskull? What do you see?" inquired Tydomin anxiously.
"And why not the tower? He's probably in there, since the gate is open. I'm going up to look." Nightspore grunted, but made no opposition. All was pitch-black inside the gate. Maskull struck a match, and the flickering light disclosed the lower end of a circular flight of stone steps. "Are you coming up?" he asked. "No, I'll wait here." Maskull immediately began the ascent.
The others hastened after him, to take advantage of the light, and a moment later their footsteps, clattering down the uncarpeted stairs, resounded through the deserted house. Krag waited till they were out, and then banged the front door after them with such violence that the windows shook. While they were walking swiftly across to the tower, Maskull caught his arm.
His will became so restless and uneasy that merely to sit there in inactivity was a torture. He could scarcely endure not to be doing something. "How secretive you are, Maskull!" said Oceaxe quietly, without turning her head. "What secrets what do you mean?" "Oh, I know perfectly well what's passing inside you. Now I think it wouldn't be amiss to ask you is friendship still enough?"
"So much so that it has changed the dress, speech, and thoughts of the whole sex." "Probably they are more beautiful than I?" "No, I think not," said Maskull. There was another rather long silence, as they travelled unsteadily onward. "What is your business in Ifdawn?" demanded Oceaxe suddenly. He hesitated over his answer.
"Is that a sign from Shaping?" asked Maskull, in a low, awed tone. "Perhaps it is. It is a time mirage." "What can that be, Joiwind?" "You see, dear Maskull, the temple does not yet exist but it will do so, because it must. What you and I are now doing in simplicity, wise men will do hereafter in full knowledge." "It is right for man to pray," said Maskull.
"Now if Panawe knew that Panawe existed, he might be jealous." Panawe put his hand on her gently. "You would not talk like that in Shaping's presence," he said. "No. Forgive me! I'm not quite myself. Perhaps it is Maskull's blood in my veins.... Now let us bid him adieu. Let us pray that he will do only honourable deeds, wherever he may be." "I'll set Maskull on his way," said Panawe.
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