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"Maulger is dead," said Catice, speaking the same tongue as Spadevil, but with an even harsher accent, so that the tympanum of Maskull's ear was affected painfully. The latter saw before him a bowed, powerful individual, advanced in years. He wore nothing but a scanty loincloth. His trunk was long and heavy, but his legs were rather short.
A trifork, similar to the one Maskull had seen on Disscourn, but smaller, had been stuck in the mud close by his hand. They stopped by the side of the pond, and waited. Immediately he became aware of their presence, the man set down his other leg, and waded out of the water toward them, picking up his trifork in doing so. "This is not Maulger, but Catice," said Spadevil.
The freezing wind, flurrying across the desert, drove the fine particles of sand painfully against their faces. "Where now do you take us?" asked Maskull. "He who guards the old wisdom of Sant must give up that wisdom to me, that I may change it. What he says, others will say. I go to find Maulger." "And where will you seek him, in this bare country?"
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