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Updated: May 1, 2025
His will became so restless and uneasy that merely to sit there in inactivity was a torture. He could scarcely endure not to be doing something. "How secretive you are, Maskull!" said Oceaxe quietly, without turning her head. "What secrets what do you mean?" "Oh, I know perfectly well what's passing inside you. Now I think it wouldn't be amiss to ask you is friendship still enough?"
"Go catch your fish," he returned, pulling down his brows. The broad, clear waters flowed past them with swelling undulations, from the direction of the mountains. Oceaxe knelt down on the bank, and peered into the depths. Presently her look became tense and concentrated; she dipped her hand in and pulled out some sort of little monster.
"Being such a terrible place, and seeing that I am a total stranger, it would be merely courteous if you were to warn me what I have to expect in the way of dangers." "I am perfectly and utterly indifferent to what becomes of you," retorted Oceaxe. "Are you returning in the morning?" persisted Maskull. "If I wish." "Then we will go together." She got up again on her elbow.
It was more than the conquest of a new world which he felt it was something different.... He bathed and drank, and as he was reclothing himself, Oceaxe strolled indolently up. He could now perceive the colour of her skin it was a vivid, yet delicate mixture of carmine, white, and jale. The effect was startlingly unearthly.
Before they had time to realise their position, they were in the sunlight. The upheaval still continued. In another minute or two the valley floor had formed a new mountain, a hundred feet or more higher than the old. Then its movement ceased suddenly. Every noise stopped, as if by magic; not a rock moved. Oceaxe and Maskull picked themselves up and examined themselves for cuts and bruises.
The shrowk slackened speed, and came to earth on the mainland, exactly at the gateway of the isthmus. They both descended Maskull with aching thighs. "What shall we do with the monster?" asked Oceaxe. Without waiting for a suggestion, she patted its hideous face with her hand. "Fly away home! I may want you some other time."
Oceaxe now really turned her back on Maskull. He considered for a few minutes, and then walked over and to where the stone was lying, and took it in his hand. It was a pebble the size of a hen's egg, radiant with crimson light, as though red-hot, and throwing out a continuous shower of small, blood-red sparks.
Her voice was so soft, low, and refined, that Maskull hardly was able to catch the words. The sounds, however, lingered in his ears, and curiously enough seemed to grow stronger, instead of fainter. Oceaxe whispered, "Don't say a word, leave it all to me." Then she swung her body around to face Tydomin squarely, and said aloud, "I killed him."
"It's of little consequence who killed him, for he's better dead than alive, in my opinion. Still, I did it. Oceaxe had no hand in the affair." Tydomin appeared not to hear him she looked beyond him at Oceaxe musingly. "When you murdered him, didn't it occur to you that I would come here, to find out?" "I never once thought of you," replied Oceaxe, with an angry laugh.
They were of different shapes, and did not look ancient; they were slender and swaying but did not appear very graceful; they looked tough, wiry, and savage. As Maskull continued to explore the landscape, he forgot Oceaxe and his passion. Other strange feelings came to the front. The morning was gay and bright.
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