Like the first mutterings of a thunderstorm, the first faint breaths of cool wind, Maskull felt the stirrings of passion in his heart. In spite of his bodily fatigue, he in wished to test his strength against something. This craving he identified with the crags of the Marest. They seemed to have the same magical attraction for his will as the lodestone for iron. He kept biting his nails, as he turned his eyes in that direction - wondering if it would not be possible to conquer the heights that evening. But when he glanced back again at Poolingdred, he remembered Joiwind and Panawe, and grew more tranquil. He decided to make his bed at this spot, and to set off as soon after daybreak as he should awake.
He drank at the river, washed himself, and lay down on the bank to sleep. By this time, so far had his idea progressed, that he cared nothing for the possible dangers of the night - he confided in his star.
Branchspell set, the day faded, night with its terrible weight came on, and through it all Maskull slept. Long before midnight, however, he was awakened by a crimson glow in the sky. He opened his eyes, and wondered where he was. He felt heaviness and pain. The red glow was a terrestrial phenomenon; it came from among the trees. He got up and went toward the source of the light.
Away from the river, not a hundred feet off, he nearly stumbled across the form of a sleeping woman. The object which emitted the crimson rays was lying on the ground, several yards away from her.
It was like a small jewel, throwing off sparks of red light. He barely threw a glance at that, however.
The woman was clothed in the large skin of an animal. She had big, smooth, shapely limbs, rather muscular than fat. Her magn was not a thin tentacle, but a third arm, terminating in a hand. Her face, which was upturned, was wild, powerful, and exceedingly handsome.
But he saw with surprise that in place of a breve on her forehead, she possessed another eye. All three were closed. The colour of her skin in the crimson glow he could not distinguish.
He touched her gently with his hand. She awoke calmly and looked up at him without stirring a muscle. All three eyes stared at him; but the two lower ones were dull and vacant - mere carriers of vision.
The middle, upper one alone expressed her inner nature. Its haughty, unflinching glare had yet something seductive and alluring in it.
Maskull felt a challenge in that look of lordly, feminine will, and his manner instinctively stiffened.
She sat up.
"Can you speak my language?" he asked. "I wouldn't put such a question, but others have been able to.""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."
These contemptuous replies began to irritate him, and yet the mere sound of her voice was fascinating.
"I am going there tomorrow," he remarked.
She laughed, as if against her will, but made no comment.
"My name is Maskull," he went on. "I am a stranger - from another world.""So I should judge, from your absurd appearance.""Perhaps it would be as well to say at once," said Maskull bluntly, "are we, or are we not, to be friends?"She yawned and stretched her arms, without rising. "Why should we be friends? If I thought you were a man, I might accept you as a lover.""You must look elsewhere for that."
"So be it, Maskull! Now go away, and leave me in peace."She dropped her head again to the ground, but did not at on close her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" he interrogated.
"Oh, we Ifdawn folk occasionally come here to sleep, for there often enough it is a night for us which has no next morning.""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. "Instead of ****** plans for other people, I would do a very necessary thing.""Pray, tell me."
"Well, there's no reason why I should, but I will. I would try to convert my women's organs into men's organs. It is a man's country.""Speak more plainly."
"Oh, it's plain enough. If you attempt to pass through Ifdawn without a sorb, you are simply committing suicide. And that magn too is worse than useless.""You probably know what you are talking about, Oceaxe. But what do you advise me to do?"She negligently pointed to the light-emitting stone lying on the ground.
"There is the solution. If you hold that drude to your organs for a good while, perhaps it will start the change, and perhaps nature will do the rest during the night. I promise nothing."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.
Finally deciding that Oceaxe's advice was good, he applied the drude first to his magn, and then to his breve. He experienced a cauterising sensation - a feeling of healing pain.
