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Updated: June 14, 2025
Without appearing to care about an answer, he sat up, and turning away from them, began to scoop up the loose soil with his hand, and to eat it halfheartedly. "Now, how can you eat that filth?" demanded Maskull, in disgust. "Don't be angry, Maskull," said Gleameil, laying hold of his arm, and flushing a little. "It is Earthrid the man who is to help us." "He has not said so."
In what state of mind she had died, he did not know, for her face wore the vulgar Crystalman grin. The whole tragedy had not lasted five minutes. He went over to Earthrid and dragged him forcibly away from his playing. "You have been as good as your word, musician," he said. "Gleameil is dead." Earthrid tried to collect his scattered senses. "I warned her," he replied, sitting up.
"Yes," replied Gleameil, gazing at him intently. "When Teargeld rises, which is our moon." "If Earthrid plays men to death, it appears to me that his own death is due. In any case I should like to hear those sounds for myself. But as for taking you with me, Gleameil women die too easily in Tormance. I have only just now washed myself clean of the death blood of another woman."
On his forehead, in place of a third eye, he possessed a perfectly circular organ, with elaborate convolutions, like an ear. He had an unpleasant smell. He appeared to be of young middle age. "Wake up, man," said Maskull sharply, "and tell us if you are Earthrid." "What time is it?" counterquestioned the man. "Does it want long to moonrise?"
And the man that can play the instrument of Earthrid would be able to conjure up the most astonishing forms, which are not phantasms, but realities." "That may be so," growled Polecrab. "But I have been to the island by daylight, and what did I find there? Human bones, new and ancient. Those are Earthrid's victims. And you, wife, shall not go." "But will that music play tonight?" asked Maskull.
But what's that organ for on your forehead?" Earthrid glared, and smiled, and glared again. "That is for rhythm, which is what changes noise into music. Don't stand and argue, but go away. It is no pleasure to me to people the island with corpses. They corrupt the air, and do nothing else." Darkness now crept swiftly on over the landscape. "You are rather bigmouthed," said Maskull coolly.
"Did I not beg her to go away? But she died very easily. She did not wait for the beauty she spoke about. She heard nothing of the passion, nor even of the rhythm. Neither have you." Maskull looked down at him in indignation, but said nothing. "You should not have interrupted me," went on Earthrid. "When I am playing, nothing else is of importance. I might have lost the thread of my ideas.
"I am Earthrid," said the other, in his weak and muffled voice, which, however, suddenly struck Maskull as being autocratic. "What do you want here? Or rather, you had better get away as quickly as you can, for it will be too late when Teargeld rises." "You need not explain," exclaimed Maskull. "We know your reputation, and we have come to hear your music.
"How long that will take, you know better than I; but till then you are safe." Earthrid cast him a look of malice, hesitated for an instant, and then moved away, and started to climb the nearest hill. Halfway up he glanced over his shoulder apprehensively, as if to see what was happening.
"But after we have heard you play, perhaps I shall adventure a tune myself." "You? Are you a musician, then? Do you even know what music is?" A flame danced in Gleameil's eyes. "Maskull thinks music reposes in the instrument," she said in her intense way. "But it is in the soul of the Master." "Yes," said Earthrid, "but that is not all. I will tell you what it is.
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