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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I never loved him," said Oceaxe at last, looking at the ground. "That makes it all the worse." "What does all this mean what do you want?" "Nothing from you absolutely nothing thank heaven!" She gave a hard laugh. "You come here with your foreign preconceptions and expect us all to bow down to them." "What preconceptions?"
Its bold, domineering egotism was shot with undergleams of sex and softness. She came to the river's edge and reviewed him from top to toe. "Now you are built more like a man," she said, in her lovely, lingering voice. "You see, the experiment was successful," he answered, smiling gaily. Oceaxe continued looking him over. "Did some woman give you that ridiculous robe?"
"Why should you imagine that I can't read your mind? Is it so extremely complex?" She spoke in a rich, lingering, musical voice, which delighted him to listen to. "No, but you have no breve." "Well, but haven't I a sorb, which is better?" And she pointed to the eye on her brow. "What is your name?" "Oceaxe." "And where do you come from?" "Ifdawn."
He gritted his teeth, and kept quiet, but Oceaxe had not plotted the adventure to remain unconscious of his feelings. She looked around, with a golden, triumphant smile. "The ride will last some time, so hold on well!" Her voice was soft like a flute, but rather malicious. Maskull grinned, and said nothing. He dared not remove his arm. The shrowk straddled on to its legs.
He did not have to search his mind long, to remember where he had seen the brother of that expression. It was identical with that on the face of the apparition at the seance, after Krag had dealt with it. Oceaxe sat down carelessly on the couch of mosses, and began eating the plums. "You see, you had to kill him, Maskull," she said, in a rather quizzical voice.
It was as cool as an ice chamber. When Maskull attempted to plumb the chasm with his eyes, he saw nothing but black obscurity. "What is at the bottom?" he asked. "Death for you, if you go to look for it." "We know that. I mean, is there any kind of life down there?" "Not that I have ever heard of," said Oceaxe, "but of course all things are possible."
It gave a stupid grunt, elevated itself on its legs again, and, after half running, half flying for a few yards, rose awkwardly into the air, and paddled away in the same direction from which they had come. They watched it out of sight, and then Oceaxe started to cross the neck of land, followed by Maskull. Branchspell's white rays beat down on them with pitiless force.
Oceaxe called out aloud to Maskull, "Will you come with me now to Disscourn?" "If you wish," returned Maskull. "Go first, Oceaxe. I must question your friend about Crimtyphon's death. I won't keep him." "Why don't you question me, rather?" demanded Oceaxe, looking up sharply. Tydomin gave the shadow of a smile. "We know each other too well." "Play no tricks!" said Oceaxe, and she turned to go.
Maskull was impressed. "A fresh, wild, primitive land." "How is it where you come from?" asked Oceaxe. "Oh, mine is a decrepit world, where nature takes a hundred years to move a foot of solid land. Men and animals go about in flocks. Originality is a lost habit." "Are there women there?" "As with you, and not very differently formed." "Do they love?" He laughed.
Oceaxe gave a beautiful sneer as she took a step toward the river. "Better men than you better in every sense of the word are walking about with foreign wills inside them. You may be as moral as you like, Maskull, but the fact remains, animals were made to be eaten, and simple natures were made to be absorbed." "And human rights count for nothing!"
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