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Chapter 14 - Polecrab
The morning slowly passed. Maskull made some convulsive movements,
and opened his eyes. He sat up, blinking. All was night-like and
silent in the forest. The strange light had gone, the music had
ceased, Dreamsinter had vanished. He fingered his beard, clotted
with Tydomin's blood, and fell into a deep muse.
"According to Panawe and Catice, this forest contains wise men.
Perhaps Dreamsinter was one. Perhaps that vision I have just seen
was a specimen of his wisdom. It looked almost like an answer to my
question.... I ought not to have asked about myself, but about
Surtur. Then I would have got a different answer. I might have
learned something ... I might have seen him."
He remained quiet and apathetic for a bit.
"But I couldn't face that awful glare," he proceeded. "It was
bursting my body. He warned me, too. And so Surtur does really
exist, and my journey stands for something. But why am I here, and
what can I do? Who is Surtur? Where is he to be found?"
Something wild came into his eyes.
"What did Dreamsinter mean by his 'Not you, but Nightspore'? Am I a
secondary character - is he regarded as important; and I as
unimportant? Where is Nightspore, and what is he doing? Am I to
wait for his time and pleasure - can I originate nothing?"
He continued sitting up, with straight-extended legs.
"I must make up my mind that this is a strange journey, and that the
strangest things will happen in it. It's no use making plans, for I
can't see two steps ahead - everything is unknown. But one thing's
evident: nothing but the wildest audacity will carry me through, and
I must sacrifice everything else to that. And therefore if Surtur
shows himself again, I shall go forward to meet him, even if it means
death."
Through the black, quiet aisles of the forest the drum beats came
again. The sound was a long way off and very faint. It was like the
last mutterings of thunder after a heavy storm. Maskull listened,
without getting up. The drumming faded into silence, and did not
return.
He smiled queerly, and said aloud, "Thanks, Surtur! I accept the
omen."
When he was about to get up, he found that the shrivelled skin that
had been his third arm was flapping disconcertingly with every
movement of his body. He made perforations in it all around, as
close to his chest as possible, with the fingernails of both hands;
then he carefully twisted it off. In that world of rapid growth and
ungrowth he judged that the stump would soon disappear. After that,
he rose and peered into the darkness.
The forest at that point sloped rather steeply and, without thinking
twice about it, he took the downhill direction, never doubting it
would bring him somewhere. As soon as he started walking, his temper
became gloomy and morose - he was shaken, tired, dirty, and languid
with hunger; moreover, he realised that the walk was not going to be
a short one. Be that as it may. he determined to sit down no more
until the whole dismal forest was at his back.
One after another the shadowy, houselike trees were observed,
avoided, and passed. Far overhead the little patch of glowing sky
was still always visible; otherwise he had no clue to the time of
day. He continued tramping sullenly down the slope for many damp,
slippery miles - in some places through bogs. When, presently, the
twilight seemed to thin, he guessed that the open world was not far
away. The forest grew more palpable and grey, and now he saw its
majesty better. The tree trunks were like round towers, and so wide
were the intervals that they resembled natural amphitheatres. He
could not make out the colour of the bark. Everything he saw amazed
him, but his admiration was of the growling, grudging kind. The
difference in light between the forest behind him and the forest
ahead became so marked that he could no longer doubt that he was on
the point of coming out.
Real light was in front of him; looking back, he found he had a
shadow. The trunks acquired a reddish tint. He quickened his pace.
As the minutes went by, the bright patch ahead grew luminous and
vivid; it had a tinge of blue. He also imagined that he heard the
sound of surf.
All that part of the forest toward which he was moving became rich
with colour. The boles of the trees were of a deep, dark red; their
leaves, high above his head, were ulfire-hued; the dead leaves on the
ground were of a colour he could not name. At the same time he
discovered the use of his third eye. By adding a third angle to his
sight, every object he looked at stood out in greater relief. The
world looked less flat - more realistic and significant. He had a
stronger attraction toward his surroundings; he seemed somehow to
lose his egotism, and to become free and thoughtful.
Now through the last trees he saw full daylight. Less than half a
mile separated him from the border of the forest, and, eager to
discover what lay beyond, he broke into a run. He heard the surf
louder. It was a peculiar hissing sound that could proceed only from
water, yet was unlike the sea. Almost immediately he came within
sight of an enormous horizon of dancing waves, which he knew must be
the Sinking Sea. He fell back into a quick walk, continuing to stare
hard. The wind that met him was hot, fresh and sweet
When he arrived at the final fringe of forest, which joined the wide
sands of the shore without any change of level, he leaned with his
back to a great tree and gazed his fill, motionless, at what lay in
front of him. The sands continued east and west in a straight line,
broken only here and there by a few creeks. They were of a brilliant
orange colour, but there were patches of violet. The forest appeared
to stand sentinel over the shore for its entire length. Everything
else was sea and sky - he had never seen so much water. The
semicircle of the skyline was so vast that he might have imagined
himself on a flat world, with a range of vision determined only by
the power of his eye. The sea was unlike any sea on Earth. It
resembled an immense liquid opal. On a body colour of rich,
magnificent emerald-green, flashes of red, yellow, and blue were
everywhere shooting up and vanishing. The wave motion was
extraordinary. Pinnacles of water were slowly formed until they
attained a height of perhaps ten or twenty feet, when they would
suddenly sink downward and outward, creating in their descent a
series of concentric rings for long distances around them. Quickly
moving currents, like rivers in the sea, could be seen, racing away
from land; they were of a darker green and bore no pinnacles. Where
the sea met the shore, the waves rushed over the sands far in, with
almost sinister rapidity - accompanied by a weird, hissing, spitting
sound, which was what Maskull had heard. The green tongues rolled in
without foam.
About twenty miles distant, as he judged, directly opposite him, a
long, low island stood up from the sea, black and not distinguished
in outline. It was Swaylone's island. Maskull was less interested in
that than in the blue sunset that glowed behind its back. Alppain
had set, but the whole northern sky was plunged into the minor key by
its afterlight. Branchspell in the zenith was white and
overpowering, the day was cloudless and terrifically hot; but where
the blue sun had sunk, a sombre shadow seemed to overhang the world.
Maskull had a feeling of disintegration - just as if two chemically
distinct forces were simultaneously acting upon the cells of his
body. Since the afterglow of Alppain affected him like this, he
thought it more than likely that he would never be able to face that
sun itself, and go on living. Still, some modification might happen
to him that would make it possible.
The sea tempted him. He made up his mind to bathe, and at once
walked toward the shore. The instant he stepped outside the shadow
line of the forest trees, the blinding rays of the sun beat down on
him so savagely that for a few minutes he felt sick and his head
swam. He trod quickly across the sands. The orange-coloured parts
were nearly hot enough to roast food, he judged, but the violet parts
were like fire itself. He stepped on a patch in ignorance, and
immediately jumped high into the air with a startled yell.
The sea was voluptuously warm. It would not bear his weight, so he
determined to try swimming. First of all he stripped off his skin
garment, washed it thoroughly with sand and water, and laid it in the
sun to dry. Then he scrubbed himself as well as he could and washed
out his beard and hair. After that, he waded in a long way, until
the water reached his breast, and took to swimming - avoiding the
spouts as far as possible He found it no pastime. The water was
everywhere of unequal density. In some places he could swim, in
others he could barely save himself from drowning, in others again he
could not force himself beneath the surface at all. There were no
outward signs to show what the water ahead held in store for him.
The whole business was most dangerous.
He came out, feeling clean and invigorated. For a time he walked up
and down the sands, drying himself in the hot sunshine and looking
around him. He was a naked stranger in a huge, foreign, mystical
world, and whichever way he turned, unknown and threatening forces
were glaring at him. The gigantic, white, withering Branchspell, the
awful, body-changing Alppain, the beautiful, deadly, treacherous sea,
the dark and eerie Swaylone's Island, the spirit-crushing forest out
of which he had just escaped - to all these mighty powers,
surrounding him on every side, what resources had he, a feeble,
ignorant traveller to oppose, from a tiny planet on the other side of
space, to avoid being utterly destroyed? ... Then he smiled to
himself. "I've already been here two days, and still I survive. I
have luck - and with that one can balance the universe. But what is
luck - a verbal expression, or a thing?"
As he was putting on his skin, which was now dry, the answer came to
him, and this time he was grave. "Surtur brought me here, and Surtur
is watching over me. That is my 'luck.' .. . But what is Surtur in
this world? ... How is he able to protect me against the blind and
ungovernable forces of nature? Is he stronger than Nature? .. ."
Hungry as he was for food, he was hungrier still for human society,
for he wished to inquire about all these things. He asked himself
which way he should turn his steps. There were only two ways; along
the shore, either east or west. The nearest creek lay to the east,
cutting the sands about a mile away. He walked toward it.
The forest face was forbidding and enormously high. It was so
squarely turned to the sea that it looked as though it had been
planed by tools. Maskull strode along in the shade of the trees, but
kept his head constantly turned away from them, toward the sea -
there it was more cheerful. The creek, when he reached it, proved to
be broad and flat-banked. It was not a river, but an arm of the sea.
Its still, dark green water curved around a bend out of sight, into
the forest. The trees on both banks overhung the water, so that it
was completely in shadow.
He went as far as the bend, beyond which another short reach
appeared. A man was sitting on a narrow shelf of bank, with his feet
in the water. He was clothed in a coarse, rough hide, which left his
limbs bare. He was short, thick, and sturdy, with short legs and a
long, powerful arms, terminating in hands of an extraordinary size.
He was oldish. His face was plain, slablike, and expressionless; it
was full of wrinkles, and walnut-coloured. Both face and head were
bald, and his skin was tough and leathery. He seemed to be some sort
of peasant, or fisherman; there was no trace in his face of thought
for others, or delicacy of feeling. He possessed three eyes, of
different colors - jade-green, blue, and ulfire.
In front of him, riding on the water, moored to the bank, was an
elementary raft, consisting of the branches of trees, clumsily corded
together.
Maskull addressed him. "Are you another of the wise men of the
Wombflash Forest?"
The man answered him in a gruff, husky voice, looking up as he did
so. "I'm a fisherman. I know nothing about wisdom."
"What name do you go by?"
"Polecrab. What's yours?"
"Maskull. If you're a fisherman, you ought to have fish. I'm
famishing."
Polecrab grunted, and paused a minute before answering.
"There's fish enough. My dinner is cooking in the sands now. It's
easy enough to get you some more."
Maskull found this a pleasant speech.
"But how long will it take?" he asked.
The man slid the palms of his hands together, producing a shrill,
screeching noise. He lifted his feet from the water, and clambered
onto the bank. In a minute or two a curious little beast came
crawling up to his feet, turning its face and eyes up affectionately,
like a dog. It was about two feet long, and somewhat resembled a
small seal, but had six legs, ending in strong claws.
"Arg, go fish!" said Polecrab hoarsely.
The animal immediately tumbled off the bank into the water. It swam
gracefully to the middle of the creek and made a pivotal dive beneath
the surface, where it remained a great while.
"Simple fishing," remarked Maskull. "But what's the raft for?"
"To go to sea with. The best fish are out at sea. These are
eatable."
"That arg seems a highly intelligent creature."
Polecrab grunted again. "I've trained close on a hundred of them.
The bigheads learn best, but they're slow swimmers. The narrowheads
swim like eels, but can't be taught. Now I've started interbreeding
them - he's one of them."
"Do you live here alone?"
"No, I've got a wife and three boys. My wife's sleeping somewhere,
but where the lads are, Shaping knows."
Maskull began to feel very much at home with this unsophisticated
being.
"The raft's all crazy," he remarked, staring at it. "If you go far
out in that, you've got more pluck than I have."
"I've been to Matterplay on it," said Polecrab.
The arg reappeared and started swimming to shore, but this time
clumsily, as if it were bearing a heavy weight under the surface.
When it landed at its master's feet, they saw that each set of claws
was clutching a fish - six in all. Polecrab took them from it. He
proceeded to cut off the heads and tails with a sharp-edged stone
which he picked up; these he threw to the arg, which devoured them
without any fuss.
Polecrab beckoned to Maskull to follow him and, carrying the fish,
walked toward the open shore, by the same way that he had come. When
they reached the sands, he sliced the fish, removed the entrails, and
digging a shallow hole in a patch of violet sand, placed the
remainder of the carcasses in it, and covered them over again. Then
he dug up his own dinner. Maskull's nostrils quivered at the savoury
smell, but he was not yet to dine.
Polecrab, turning to go with the cooked fish in his hands, said,
"These are mine, not yours. When yours are done, you can come back
and join me, supposing you want company."
"How soon will that be?"
"About twenty minutes," replied the fisherman, over his shoulder.
Maskull sheltered himself in the shadows of the forest, and waited.
When the time had approximately elapsed, he disinterred his meal,
scorching his fingers in the operation, although it was only the
surface of the sand which was so intensely hot. Then he returned to
Polecrab.
In the warm, still air and cheerful shade of the inlet, they munched
in silence, looking from their food to the sluggish water, and back
again. With every mouthful Maskull felt his strength returning. He
finished before Polecrab, who ate like a man for whom time has no
value. When he had done, he stood up.
"Come and drink," he said, in his husky voice.
Maskull looked at him inquiringly.
The man led him a little way into the forest, and walked straight up
to a certain tree. At a convenient height in its trunk a hole had
been tapped and plugged. Polecrab removed the plug and put his mouth
to the aperture, sucking for quite a long time, like. a child at its
mother's breast. Maskull, watching him, imagined that he saw his
eyes growing brighter.
When his own turn came to drink, he found the juice of the tree
somewhat like coconut milk in flavour, but intoxicating. It was a
new sort of intoxication, however, for neither his will not his
emotions were excited, but only his intellect - and that only in a
certain way. His thoughts and images were not freed and loosened, but
on the contrary kept labouring and swelling painfully, until they
reached the full beauty of an aperu, which would then flame up in
his consciousness, burst, and vanish. After that, the whole process
started over again. But there was never a moment when he was not
perfectly cool, and master of his senses. When each had drunk twice,
Polecrab replugged the hole, and they returned to their bank.
"Is it Blodsombre yet?" asked Maskull, sprawling on the ground, well
content.
Polecrab resumed his old upright sitting posture, with his feet in
the water. "Just beginning," was his hoarse response.
"Then I must stay here till it's over.... Shall we talk?"
"We can," said the other, without enthusiasm.
Maskull glanced at him through half-closed lids, wondering if he were
exactly what he seemed to be. In his eyes he thought he detected a
wise light.
"Have you travelled much, Polecrab?"
"Not what you would call travelling."
"You tell me you've been to Matterplay - what kind of country is
that?"
"I don't know. I went there to pick up flints."
"What countries lie beyond it?"
"Threal comes next, as you go north. They say it's a land of
mystics... I don't know."
"Mystics?"
"So I'm told.... Still farther north there's Lichstorm."
"Now we're going far afield."
"There are mountains there - and altogether it must be a very
dangerous place, especially for a full-blooded man like you. Take
care of yourself."
"This is rather premature, Polecrab. How do you know I'm going
there?"
"As you've come from the south, I suppose you'll go north."
"Well, that's right enough," said Maskull, staring hard at him. "But
how do you know I've come from the south?"
"Well, then, perhaps you haven't - but there's a look of Ifdawn about
you."
"What kind of look?"
"A tragical look," said Polecrab. He never even glanced at Maskull,
but was gazing at a fixed spot on the water with unblinking eyes.
"What lies beyond Lichstorm?" asked Maskull, after a minute or two.
"Barey, where you have two suns instead of one - but beyond that fact
I know nothing about it.... Then comes the ocean."
"And what's on the other side of the ocean?"
"That you must find out for yourself, for I doubt if anybody has ever
crossed it and come back."
Maskull was silent f or a little while.
"How is it that your people are so unadventurous? I seem to be the
only one travelling from curiosity."
"What do you mean by 'your people'?"
"True - you don't know that I don't belong to your planet at all.
I've come from another world, Polecrab."
"What to find?"
"I came here with Krag and Nightspore - to follow Surtur. I must have
fainted the moment I arrived. When I sat up, it was night and the
others had - vanished. Since then I've been travelling at random."
Polecrab scratched his nose. "You haven't found Surtur yet?"
"I've heard his drum taps frequently. In the forest this morning I
came quite close to him. Then two days ago, in the Lusion Plain, I
saw a vision - a being in man's shape, who called himself Surtur."
"Well, maybe it was Surtur."
"No, that's impossible," replied Maskull reflectively. "It was
Crystalman. And it isn't a question of my suspecting it - I know
it."
"How?"
"Because this is Crystalman's world, and Surtur's world is something
quite differently
"That's queer, then," said Polecrab.
"Since I've come out of that forest," proceeded Maskull, talking half
to himself, "a change has come over me, and I see things differently.
Everything here looks much more solid and real in my eyes than in
other places so much so that I can't entertain the least doubt of its
existence. It not only looks real, it is real - and on that I would
stake my life.... But at the same time that it's real, it is false."
"Like a dream?"
"No - not at all like a dream, and that's just what I want to
explain. This world of yours - and perhaps of mine too, for that
matter - doesn't give me the slightest impression of a dream, or an
illusion, or anything of that sort. I know it's really here at this
moment, and it's exactly as we're seeing it, you and I. Yet it's
false. It's false in this sense, Polecrab. Side by side with it
another world exists, and that. other world is the true one, and this
one is all false and deceitful, to the very core. And so it occurs
to me that reality and falseness are two words for the same thing."
"Perhaps there is such another world," said Polecrab huskily. "But
did that vision also seem real and false to you?"
"Very real, but not false then, for then I didn't understand all
this. But just because it was real, it couldn't have been Surtur,
who has no connection with reality."
"Didn't those drum taps sound real to you?"
"I had to hear them with my ears, and so they sounded real to me.
Still, they were somehow different, and they certainly came from
Surtur. If I didn't hear them correctly, that was my fault and not
his."
Polecrab growled a little. "If Surtur chooses to speak to you in
that fashion, it appears he's trying to say something."
"What else can I think? But, Polecrab, what's your opinion - is he
calling me to the life after death?"
The old man stirred uneasily. "I'm a fisherman," he said, after a
minute or two. "I live by killing, and so does everybody. This life
seems to me all wrong. So maybe life of any kind is wrong, and
Surtur's world is not life at all, but something else."
"Yes, but will death lead me to it, whatever it is?"
"Ask the dead," said Polecrab, "and not a living man."
Maskull continued. "In the forest I heard music and saw a light,
which could not have belonged to this world. They were too strong
for my senses, and I must have fainted for a long time. There was a
vision as well, in which I saw myself killed, while Nightspore walked
on toward the light, alone."
Polecrab uttered his grunt. "You have enough to think over."
A short silence ensued, which was broken by Maskull.
"So strong is my sense of the untruth of this present life, that it
may come to my putting an end to myself." The fisherman remained
quiet and immobile.
Maskull lay on his stomach, propped his face on his hands, and stared
at him. "What do you think, Polecrab? Is it possible for any man,
while in the body, to gain a closer view of that other world than I
have done?"
"I am an ignorant man, stranger, so I can't say. Perhaps there are
many others like you who would gladly know."
"Where? I should like to meet them."
"Do you think you were made of one stuff, and the rest of mankind of
another stuff?"
"I can't be so presumptuous. Possibly all men are reaching out
toward Muspel, in most cases without being aware of it."
"In the wrong direction," said Polecrab.
Maskull gave him a strange look. "How so?"
"I don't speak from my own wisdom," said Polecrab, "for I have none;
but I have just now recalled what Broodviol once told me, when I was
a young man, and he was an old one. He said that Crystalman tries to
turn all things into one, and that whichever way his shapes march, in
order to escape from him, they find themselves again face to face
with Crystalman, and are changed into new crystals. But that this
marching of shapes (which we call 'forking') springs from the
unconscious desire to find Surtur, but is in the opposite direction
to the right one. For Surtur's world does not lie on this side of
the one, which was the beginning of life, but on the other side; and
to get to it we must repass through the one. But this can only be by
renouncing our self-life, and reuniting ourselves to the whole of
Crystalman's world. And when this has been done, it is only the
first stage of the journey; though many good men imagine it to be the
whole journey.... As far as I can remember, that is what Broodviol
said, but perhaps, as I was then a young and ignorant man, I may have
left out words which would explain his meaning better."
Maskull, who had listened attentively to all this, remained
thoughtful at the end.
"It's plain enough," he said. "But what did he mean by our reuniting
ourselves to Crystalman's world? If it is false, are we to make
ourselves false as well?"
"I didn't ask him that question, and you are as well qualified to
answer it as I am."
"He must have meant that, as it is, we are each of us living in a
false, private world of our own, a world of dreams and appetites and
distorted perceptions. By embracing the great world we certainly
lose nothing in truth and reality."
Polecrab withdrew his feet from the water, stood up, yawned, and
stretched his limbs.
"I have told you all I know," he said in a surly voice. "Now let me
go to sleep."
Maskull kept his eyes fixed on him, but made no reply. The old man
let himself down stiffly on to the ground, and prepared to rest.
While he was still arranging his position to his liking, a footfall
sounded behind the two men, coming from the direction of the forest.
Maskull twisted his neck, and saw a woman approaching them. He at
once guessed that it was Polecrab's wife. He sat up, but the
fisherman did not stir. The woman came and stood in front of them,
looking down from what appeared a great height.
Her dress was similar to her husband's, but covered her limbs more.
She was young, tall, slender, and strikingly erect. Her skin was
lightly tanned, and she looked strong, but not at all peasantlike.
Refinement was stamped all over her. Her face had too much energy of
expression for a woman, and she was not beautiful. Her three great
eyes kept flashing and glowing. She had great masses of fine, yellow
hair, coiled up and fastened, but so carelessly that some of the
strands were flowing down her back.
When she spoke, it was in a rather weak voice, but full of lights and
shades, and somehow intense passionateness never seemed to be far
away from it.
"Forgiveness is asked for listening to your conversation," she said,
addressing Maskull. "I was resting behind the tree, and heard it
all."
He got up slowly. "Are you Polecrab's wife?"
"She is my wife," said Polecrab, "and her name is Gleameil. Sit down
again, stranger - and you too, wife, since you are here."
They both obeyed. "I heard everything," repeated Gleameil. "But
what I did not hear was where you are going to, Maskull, after you
have left us."
"I know no more than you do."
"Listen, then. There's only one place for you to go to, and that is
Swaylone's Island. I will ferry you across myself before sunset."
"What shall I find there?"
"He may go, wife," put in the old man hoarsely, "but I won't allow
you to go. I will take him over myself."
"No, you have always put me off," said Gleameil, with some emotion.
"This time I mean to go. When Teargeld shines at night, and I sit on
the shore here, listening to Earthrid's music travelling faintly
across the sea, I am tortured - I can't endure it.... I have long
since made up my mind to go to the island, and see what this music
is. If it's bad, if it kills me - well."
"What have I to do with the man and his music, Gleameil?" demanded
Maskull.
"I think the music will answer all your questions better than
Polecrab has done - and possibly in a way that will surprise you."
"What kind of music can it be to travel all those miles across the
sea?"
"A peculiar kind, so we are told. Not pleasant, but painful. 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.
"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."
Gleameil laughed, but said nothing.
"Now go to sleep," said Polecrab. "When the time comes, I will take
you across myself."
He lay down again, and closed his eyes. Maskull followed his
example; but Gleameil remained sitting erect, with her legs under
her.
"Who was that other woman, Maskull?" she asked presently.
He did not answer, but pretended to sleep.
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