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Updated: June 26, 2025
If it's mere intellectual curiosity, tell me, for we mustn't play with awful matters." "No, it isn't that," said Maskull slowly. "I'm not a student. My journey is no holiday tour." "Isn't there blood on your soul?" asked Corpang, eying him intently. The blood rose steadily to Maskull's face, but in that light it caused it to appear black. "Unfortunately there is, and not a little."
A rather defiant smile crossed Maskull's face as it struck him that it might be possible to navigate this huge plant-animal as far as Matterplay. He lost no time in putting the conception into execution. Tearing off some of the long, tough leaves, he bound up all the membranes except the ones that faced the north. The tree instantly left the island, and definitely put out to sea.
Tydomin's words by this time were ringing in Maskull's head like an actual physical sound. There was no question of being able to ignore them; he had to make an open confession of his act, whatever the consequences might be. Quietly taking Oceaxe by the shoulder and putting her behind him, he said in a low, but perfectly distinct voice, "It was I that killed Crimtyphon."
Nightspore seemed unwilling to answer, but, finding Maskull's eyes still fixed on him, he brought out: "Unless light pulled, as well as pushed, how would flowers contrive to twist their heads around after the sun?" "I don't know. But the point is, what are these bottles for?"
When Branchspell, however, shone out again, though with subdued power, Maskull's curiosity rose once more. "Your fellow countrymen, then, Spadevil, are sick with self-love?" "The men of other countries," said Spadevil, "are the slaves of pleasure and desire, knowing it. But the men of my country are the slaves of pleasure and desire, not knowing it."
Womanhood and love belong to life, while Muspel is above life." "I give you all other men," said Sullenbode. "Maskull is mine." "No. I am not here to help Maskull to a lover but to remind him of the existence of nobler things." "You are a good man. But you two alone will never strike the road to Adage." "Are you acquainted with it?" Again the woman gripped Maskull's arm.
The subdued light, the absence of shadows, the massive shafts, springing grey-white out of the jetlike ground, the fantastic trees, the absence of a sky, the deathly silence, the knowledge that he was underground the combination of all these things predisposed Maskull's mind to mysticism, and he prepared himself with some anxiety to hear Corpang's explanation of the land and its wonders.
Maskull frowned, but said nothing. "Well?" demanded Oceaxe, with a half smile. "I'll come with you, and I'll see Crimtyphon if only to warn him." Oceaxe broke into a cascade of rich, feminine laughter, but whether at the image conjured up by Maskull's last words, or from some other cause, he did not know. The conversation dropped.
The spectral procession marched on, a little way ahead, on a path parallel with his own and Dreamsinter's. The music pulsated violently. Krag lifted his arm, and displayed a long, murderous-looking knife. He sprang forward and, raising it over the phantom Maskull's back, stabbed him twice, leaving the knife in the wound the second time. Maskull threw up his arms, and fell down dead.
"Has Surtur gone to Tormance?" ejaculated Nightspore in a strangled voice, fixing his eyes on Krag's face. "Yes, and he requires that we follow him at once." Maskull's heart began to beat strangely. It all sounded to him like a dream conversation. "And since how long, Krag, have I been required to do things by a total stranger.... Besides, who is this individual?"
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