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Not far away, in a hollow enclosed by a circle of little hills, they saw a small, circular lake, not more than half a mile in diameter. The sunset colors of the sky were reflected in its waters. "That must be Irontick," remarked Gleameil. "What is that?" "I have heard that it's the instrument Earthrid plays on." "We are getting close," responded he. "Let us go and investigate."
On gazing at that combined light, he felt the same sense of disintegration that the afterglow of Alppain had always caused in him; but now the feeling was not physical, but merely aesthetic. The moon did not appear romantic to him, but disturbing and mystical. Earthrid rose, and stood quietly for a minute. In the bright moonlight, his face seemed to have undergone a change.
"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.
But in that other world these words have no meaning." There was a silence. "It's useless 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 awaits us on the island." "I am ignorant except that we shall find Earthrid there." "Who is Earthrid, and why is it called Swaylone's Island?"
Earthrid stared at her, without response. "Teargeld is rising," he said at last. "And now you shall see though not for long." As the words left his mouth, the full moon peeped over the hills in the dark eastern sky. They watched it in silence, and soon it was wholly up. It was larger than the moon of Earth, and seemed nearer.
I shall give you time to go away somewhere." "How will that serve me, if you spoil my lake? You don't understand what you are doing." "Go, or stay!" responded Maskull. "I give you till the water gets smooth again. After that, I begin playing." Earthrid kept swallowing. He glanced at the lake and back to Maskull. "Do you swear it?"
Fortunately, I never forget. I shall start over again." "If music is to continue, in the presence of the dead, I play next." The man glanced up quickly. "That can't be." "It must be," said Maskull decisively. "I prefer playing to listening. Another reason is that you will have every night, but I have only tonight." Earthrid clenched and unclenched his fist, and began to turn pale.
Many men crossed over to the island during his lifetime, to listen to the amazing tones, but none could endure them; all died. After Swaylone's death, another musician took up the tale; and so the light has passed down from torch to torch, till now Earthrid bears it." "An interesting legend," commented Maskull. "But who is Krag?"
"I don't know what my mood will be," returned Earthrid. "But when I have finished, you shall adventure your tune, and produce whatever shapes you please unless, indeed, the tune is out of your own big body." "The shocks you are preparing may kill us," said Gleameil, in a low, taut voice, "but we shall die, seeing beauty." Earthrid looked at her with a dignified expression.
"Something of the sort was told me by Earthrid, the musician, who came from Threal." "I don't know him. What else did he tell you?" "He went on to apply it to music. Continue, and pardon the interruption." "These three states of perception are the three worlds. Existence is Faceny's world, relation is Amfuse's world, feeling is Thire's world."
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