stily kissed the
withered lips, and got up from her knees. Lifting the corpse with all
three arms, she staggered with it to the extreme edge of the gulf and,
after an instant's hesitation, allowed it to drop into the lava. It
disappeared immediately without sound; a metallic splash came up. That
was Crimtyphon's funeral.

"Now I am ready, Maskull."

He did not answer, but stared past her. Another figure was standing,
erect and mournful, not far behind her. It was Joiwind. Her face was
wan, and there was an accusing look in her eyes. Maskull knew that
it was a phantasm, and that the real Joiwind was miles away, at
Poolingdred.

"Turn around, Tydomin," he said oddly, "and tell me what you see behind
you."

"I don't see anything," she answered, looking around.

"But I see Joiwind."

Just as he was speaking, the apparition vanished.

"Now I present you with your life, Tydomin. She wishes it."

The woman fingered her chin thoughtfully.

"I little expected I should ever be beholden for my life to one of my
own sex--but so be it. What really happened to you in my cavern?"

"I really saw Krag."

"Yes, some miracle must have taken place." She suddenly shivered. "Come,
let us leave this horrible spot. I shall never come here again."

"Yes," said Maskull, "it stinks of death and dying. But where are we
to go--what are we to do? Take me to Sant. I must get away from this
hellish land."

Tydomin remained standing, dull and hollow-eyed. Then she gave an
abrupt, bitter little laugh. "We make our journey together in singular
stages. Rather than be alone, I'll come with you--but you know that if I
set foot in Sant they will kill me."

"At least set me on the way. I wish to get there before night. Is it
possible?"

"If you are willing to take risks with nature. And why should you
not take risks today? Your luck holds. But someday or other it won't
hold--your luck."

"Let us start," said Maskull. "The luck I've had so far is nothing to
brag about."

Blodsombre was over when they set off; it was early afternoon, but
the heat seemed more stifling than ever. They made no more pretence at
conversation; both were buried in their own painful thoughts. The land
fell away from Disscourn in all other directions, but toward Sant there
was a gentle, persistent rise. Its dark, distant plateau continued to
dominate the landscape, and after walking for an hour they seemed none
the nearer to it. The air was stale and stagnant.