LITMIR.BIZ

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smiled. “If he’ll forgive me for again trespassing in his brain. But the difficulty is small. Life on a new planet, Maskull, is necessarily energetic and lawless, and not sedate and imitative. Nature is still fluid—not yet rigid—and matter is plastic. The will forks and sports incessantly, and thus no two creatures are alike.”

      “Well, I understand all that,” replied Maskull, after listening attentively. “But what I don’t grasp is this—if living creatures here sport so energetically, how does it come about that human beings wear much the same shape as in my world?”

      “I’ll explain that too,” said Panawe. “All creatures that resemble Shaping must of necessity resemble one another.”

      “Then sporting is the blind will to become like Shaping?”

      “Exactly.”

      “It is most wonderful,” said Maskull. “Then the brotherhood of man is not a fable invented by idealists, but a solid fact.”

      Joiwind looked at him, and changed colour. Panawe relapsed into sternness.

      Maskull became interested in a new phenomenon. The jale-coloured blossoms of a crystal bush were emitting mental waves, which with his breve he could clearly distinguish. They cried out silently, “To me! To me!” While he looked, a flying worm guided itself through the air to one of these blossoms and began to suck its nectar. The floral cry immediately ceased.

      They now gained the crest of the mountain, and looked down beyond. A lake occupied its crater-like cavity. A fringe of trees partly intercepted the view, but Maskull was able to perceive that this mountain lake was nearly circular and perhaps a quarter of a mile across. Its shore stood a hundred feet below them.

      Observing that his hosts did not propose to descend, he begged them to wait for him, and scrambled down to the surface. When he got there, he found the water perfectly motionless and of a colourless transparency. He walked onto it, lay down at full length, and peered into the depths. It was weirdly clear: he could see down for an indefinite distance, without arriving at any bottom. Some dark, shadowy objects, almost out of reach of his eyes, were moving about. Then a sound, very faint and mysterious, seemed to come up through the gnawl water from an immense depth. It was like the rhythm of a drum. There were four beats of equal length, but the accent was on the third. It went on for a considerable time, and then ceased.

      The sound appeared to him to belong to a different world from that in which he was travelling. The latter was mystical, dreamlike, and unbelievable—the drumming was like a very dim undertone of reality. It resembled the ticking of a clock in a room full of voices, only occasionally possible to be picked up by the ear.

      He rejoined Panawe and Joiwind, but said nothing to them about his experience. They all walked round the rim of the crater, and gazed down on the opposite side. Precipices similar to those that had overlooked the desert here formed the boundary of a vast moorland plain, whose dimensions could not be measured by the eye. It was solid land, yet he could not make out its prevailing colour. It was as if made of transparent glass, but it did not glitter in the sunlight. No objects in it could be distinguished, except a rolling river in the far distance, and, farther off still, on the horizon, a line of dark mountains, of strange shapes. Instead of being rounded, conical, or hogbacked, these heights were carved by nature into the semblance of castle battlements, but with extremely deep indentations.

      The sky immediately above the mountains was of a vivid, intense blue. It contrasted in a most marvellous way with the blue of the rest of the heavens. It seemed more luminous and radiant, and was in fact like the afterglow of a gorgeous blue sunset.

      Maskull kept on looking. The more he gazed, the more restless and noble became his feelings.

      “What is that light?”

      Panawe was sterner than usual, while his wife clung to his arm. “It is Alppain—our second sun,” he replied. “Those hills are the Ifdawn Marest.... Now let us get to our shelter.”

      “Is it imagination, or am I really being affected—tormented by that light?”

      “No, it’s not imagination—it’s real. How can it be otherwise when two suns, of different natures, are drawing you at the same time? Luckily you are not looking at Alppain itself. It’s invisible here. You would need to go at least as far as Ifdawn, to set eyes on it.”

      “Why do you say ‘luckily’?”

      “Because the agony caused by those opposing forces would perhaps be more than you could bear.... But I don’t know.”

      For the short distance that remained of their walk, Maskull was very thoughtful and uneasy. He understood nothing. Whatever object his eye chanced to rest on changed immediately into a puzzle. The silence and stillness of the mountain peak seemed brooding, mysterious, and waiting. Panawe gave him a friendly, anxious look, and without further delay led the way down a little track, which traversed the side of the mountain and terminated in the mouth of a cave.

      This cave was the home of Panawe and Joiwind. It was dark inside. The host took a shell and, filling it with liquid from a well, carelessly sprinkled the sandy floor of the interior. A greenish, phosphorescent light gradually spread to the furthest limits of the cavern, and continued to illuminate it for the whole time they were there. There was no furniture. Some dried, fernlike leaves served for couches.

      The moment she got in, Joiwind fell down in exhaustion. Her husband tended her with calm concern. He bathed her face, put drink to her lips, energised her with his magn, and finally laid her down to sleep. At the sight of the noble woman thus suffering on his account, Maskull was distressed.

      Panawe, however, endeavoured to reassure him. “It’s quite true this has been a very long, hard double journey, but for the future it will lighten all her other journeys for her.... Such is the nature of sacrifice.”

      “I can’t conceive how I have walked so far in a morning,” said Maskull, “and she has been twice the distance.”

      “Love flows in her veins, instead of blood, and that’s why she is so strong.”

      “You know she gave me some of it?”

      “Otherwise you couldn’t even have started.”

      “I shall never forget that.”

      The languorous heat of the day outside, the bright mouth of the cavern, the cool seclusion of the interior, with its pale green glow, invited Maskull to sleep. But curiosity got the better of his lassitude.

      “Will it disturb her if we talk?”

      “No.”

      “But how do you feel?”

      “I require little sleep. In any case, it’s more important that you should hear something about your new life. It’s not all as innocent and idyllic as this. If you intend to go through, you ought to be instructed about the dangers.”

      “Oh, I guessed as much. But how shall we arrange—shall I put questions, or will you tell me what you think is most essential?”

      Panawe motioned to Maskull to sit down on a pile of ferns, and at the same time reclined himself, leaning on one arm, with outstretched legs.

      “I will tell some incidents of my life. You will begin to learn from them what sort of place you have come to.”

      “I shall be grateful,” said Maskull, preparing himself to listen.

      Panawe paused for a moment or two, and then started his narrative in tranquil, measured, yet sympathetic tones.

      PANAWE’S STORY

      “My earliest recollection is of being taken, when three years old (that’s equivalent to fifteen of your years, but we develop more slowly here), by my father and mother, to see Broodviol, the wisest man in Tormance. He dwelt in the great Wombflash Forest. We walked through trees for three days, sleeping at night. The trees grew taller as we went along, until the tops were out of sight. The trunks were of a dark red colour and the leaves were of pale

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