A Voyage to Arcturus, David Lindsay [guided reading books TXT] 📗

of unusual sincerity, and in other respects he seemed a hardy, hardworking youth, of an intellectual type. His hair was thick, short, and flaxen. He possessed neither a sorb nor a third arm⁠—so presumably he was not a native of Ifdawn. His forehead, however, was disfigured by what looked like a haphazard assortment of eyes, eight in number, of different sizes and shapes. They went in pairs, and whenever two were in use, it was indicated by a peculiar shining⁠—the rest remained dull, until their turn came. In addition to the upper eyes he had the two lower ones, but they were vacant and lifeless. This extraordinary battery of eyes, alternatively alive and dead, gave the young man an appearance of almost alarming mental activity. He was wearing nothing but a sort of skin kilt. Maskull seemed somehow to recognise the face, though he had certainly never set eyes on it before.

Tydomin suggested to him to set down the corpse, and both sat down to rest in the shade.

“Question him, Maskull,” she said, rather carelessly, jerking her head toward the stranger.

Maskull sighed and asked aloud, from his seat on the ground, “What’s your name, and where do you come from?”

The man studied him for a few moments, first with one pair of eyes, then with another, then with a third. He next turned his attention to Tydomin, who occupied him a still longer time. He replied at last, in a dry, manly, nervous voice. “I am Digrung. I have arrived here from Matterplay.” His colour kept changing, and Maskull suddenly realised of whom he reminded him. It was of Joiwind.

“Perhaps you’re going to Poolingdred, Digrung?” he inquired, interested.

“As a matter of fact I am⁠—if I can find my way out of this accursed country.”

“Possibly you are acquainted with Joiwind there?”

“She’s my sister. I’m on my way to see her now. Why, do you know her?”

“I met her yesterday.”

“What is your name, then?”

“Maskull.”

“I shall tell her I met you. This will be our first meeting for four years. Is she well, and happy?”

“Both, as far as I could judge. You know Panawe?”

“Her husband⁠—yes. But where do you come from? I’ve seen nothing like you before.”

“From another world. Where is Matterplay?”

“It’s the first country one comes to beyond the Sinking Sea.”

“What is it like there⁠—how do you amuse yourselves? The same old murders and sudden deaths?”

“Are you ill?” asked Digrung. “Who is this woman, why are you following at her heels like a slave? She looks insane to me. What’s that corpse⁠—why are you dragging it around the country with you?”

Tydomin smiled. “I’ve already heard it said about Matterplay, that if one sows an answer there, a rich crop of questions immediately springs up. But why do you make this unprovoked attack on me, Digrung?”

“I don’t attack you, woman, but I know you. I see into you, and I see insanity. That wouldn’t matter, but I don’t like to see a man of intelligence like Maskull caught in your filthy meshes.”

“I suppose even you clever Matterplay people sometimes misjudge character. However, I don’t mind. Your opinion’s nothing to me, Digrung. You’d better answer his questions, Maskull. Not for his own sake⁠—but your feminine friend is sure to be curious about your having been seen carrying a dead man.”

Maskull’s underlip shot out. “Tell your sister nothing, Digrung. Don’t mention my name at all. I don’t want her to know about this meeting of ours.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t wish it⁠—isn’t that enough?”

Digrung looked impassive.

“Thoughts and words,” he said, “which don’t correspond with the real events of the world are considered most shameful in Matterplay.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, only to keep silent.”

“To hide the truth is a special branch of lying. I can’t accede to your wish. I must tell Joiwind everything, as far as I know it.”

Maskull got up, and Tydomin followed his example.

She touched Digrung on the arm and gave him a strange look. “The dead man is my husband, and Maskull murdered him. Now you’ll understand why he wishes you to hold your tongue.”

“I guessed there was some foul play,” said Digrung. “It doesn’t matter⁠—I can’t falsify facts. Joiwind must know.”

“You refuse to consider her feelings?” said Maskull, turning pale.

“Feelings which flourish on illusions, and sicken and die on realities, aren’t worth considering. But Joiwind’s are not of that kind.”

“If you decline to do what I ask, at least return home without seeing her; your sister will get very little pleasure out of the meeting when she hears your news.”

“What are these strange relations between you?” demanded Digrung, eying him with suddenly aroused suspicion.

Maskull stared back in a sort of bewilderment. “Good God! You don’t doubt your own sister. That pure angel!”

Tydomin caught hold of him delicately. “I don’t know Joiwind, but, whoever she is and whatever she’s like, I know this⁠—she’s more fortunate in her friend than in her brother. Now, if you really value her happiness, Maskull, you will have to take some firm step or other.”

“I mean to. Digrung, I shall stop your journey.”

“If you intend a second murder, no doubt you are big enough.”

Maskull turned around to Tydomin and laughed. “I seem to be leaving a wake of corpses behind me on this journey.”

“Why a corpse? There’s no need to kill him.”

“Thanks for that!” said Digrung dryly. “All the same, some crime is about to burst. I feel it.”

“What must I do, then?” asked Maskull.

“It is not my business, and to tell the truth I am not very interested.⁠ ⁠… If I were in your place, Maskull, I would not hesitate long. Don’t you understand how to absorb these creatures, who set their feeble, obstinate wills against yours?”

“That is a worse crime,” said Maskull.

“Who knows? He will live, but he will tell no tales.”

Digrung laughed, but changed colour. “I was right then. The monster has sprung into the light of day.”

Maskull laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have the choice, and we are not joking. Do as I ask.”

“You have fallen low, Maskull. But you