Maskull did not awaken till long after Blodsombre. Leehallfae was standing by his side, looking down at him. It was doubtful whether ae had slept at all.

“What time is it?” Maskull asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“The day is passing,” was the vague reply.

Maskull got on to his feet, and gazed up at the cliff. “Now I’m going to climb that. No need for both of us to risk our necks, so you wait here, and if I find anything on top I’ll call you.”

Ale phaen glanced at him strangely. “There’s nothing up there except a bare hillside. I’ve been there often. Have you anything special in mind?”

“Heights often bring me inspiration. Sit down, and wait.”

Refreshed by his sleep, Maskull immediately attacked the face of the cliff, and took the first twenty feet at a single rush. Then it grew precipitous, and the ascent demanded greater circumspection and intelligence. There were few hand — or footholds: he had to reflect before every step. On the other hand, it was sound rock, and he was no novice at the sport. Branchspell glared full on the wall, so that it half blinded him with its glittering whiteness.

After many doubts and pauses he drew near the top. He was hot, sweating copiously, and rather dizzy. To reach a ledge he caught hold of two projecting rocks, one with each hand, at the same time scrambling upward, his legs between the rocks. The left-hand rock, which was the larger of the two, became dislodged by his weight, and, flying like a huge, dark shadow past his head, crashed down with a terrifying sound to the foot of the precipice, followed by an avalanche of smaller stones. Maskull steadied himself as well as he could, but it was some moments before he dared to look down behind him.

At first he could not distinguish Leehallfae. Then he caught sight of legs and hindquarters a few feet up the cliff from the bottom. He perceived that the phaen had aer head in a cavity and was scrutinising something, and waited for aer to reappear.

Ae emerged, looked up to Maskull, and called out in aer hornlike voice, “The entrance is here!”

“I’m coming down!” roared Maskull. “Wait for me!”

He descended swiftly — without taking too much care, for he thought he recognised his “luck” in this discovery — and within twenty minutes was standing beside the phaen.

“What happened?”

“The rock you dislodged struck this other rock just above the spring. It tore it out of its bed. See — now there’s room for us to get in!”

“Don’t get excited!” said Maskull. “It’s a remarkable accident, but we have plenty of time. Let me look.”

He peered into the hole, which was large enough to admit a big man without stooping. Contrasted with the daylight outside it was dark, yet a peculiar glow pervaded the place, and he could see well enough. A rock tunnel went straight forward into the bowels of the hill, out of sight. The valley brook did not flow along the floor of this tunnel, as he had expected, but came up as a spring just inside the entrance.

“Well Leehallfae, not much need to deliberate, eh? Still, observe that your stream parts company with us here.”

As he turned around for an answer he noticed that his companion was trembling from head to foot.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

Leehallfae pressed a hand to aer heart. “The stream leaves us, but what makes the stream what it is continues with us. Faceny is there.”

“But surely you don’t expect to see him in person? Why are you shaking?”

“Perhaps it will be too much for me after all.”

“Why? How is it affecting you?”

The phaen took him by the shoulder and held him at arm’s length, endeavouring to study him with aer unsteady eyes. “Faceny’s thoughts are obscure. I am his lover, you are a lover of women, yet he grants to you what he denies to me.”

“What does he grant to me?”

“To see him, and go on living. I shall die. But it’s immaterial. Tomorrow both of us will be dead.”

Maskull impatiently shook himself free. “Your sensations may be reliable in your own case, but how do you know I shall die?”

“Life is flaming up inside you,” replied Leehallfae, shaking aer head. “But after it has reached its climax — perhaps tonight — it will sink rapidly and you’ll die tomorrow. As for me, if I enter Threal I shan’t come out again. A smell of death is being wafted to me out of this hole.”

“You talk like a frightened man. I smell nothing.”

“I am not frightened,” said Leehallfae quietly — ae had been gradually recovering aer tranquillity — “but when one has lived as long as I have, it is a serious matter to die. Every year one puts out new roots.”

“Decide what you’re going to do,” said Maskull with a touch of contempt, “for I’m going in at once.”

The phaen gave an odd, meditative stare down the ravine, and after that walked into the cavern without another word. Maskull, scratching his head, followed close at aer heels.

The moment they stepped across the bubbling spring, the atmosphere altered. Without becoming stale or unpleasant, it grew cold, clear and refined, and somehow suggested austere and tomblike thoughts. The daylight disappeared at the first bend in the tunnel. After that, Maskull could not say where the light came from. The air itself must have been luminous, for though it was as light as full moon on Earth, neither he nor Leehallfae cast a shadow. Another peculiarity of the light was that both the walls of the tunnel and their own bodies appeared colourless. Everything was black and white, like a lunar landscape. This intensified the solemn, funereal feelings created by the atmosphere.

After they had proceeded for about ten minutes, the tunnel began to widen out. The roof was high above their heads, and six men could have walked side by side. Leehallfae was visibly weakening. Ae dragged aerself along slowly and painfully, with sunken head.

Maskull caught hold of aer. “You can’t go on like that. Better let me take you back.”

The phaen smiled, and staggered. “I’m dying.”

“Don’t talk like that. It’s only a passing indisposition. Let me take you back to the daylight.”

“No, help me forward. I wish to see Faceny.”

“The sick must have their way,” said Maskull. Lifting aer bodily in his arms, he walked quickly along for another hundred yards or so. They then emerged from the tunnel and faced a world the parallel of which he had never set eyes upon before.

“Set me down!” directed Leehallfae feebly. “Here I’ll die.”

Maskull obeyed, and laid aer down at full length on the rocky ground. The phaen raised aerself with difficulty on one arm, and stared with fast-glazing eyes at the mystic landscape.

Maskull looked too, and what he saw was a vast, undulating plain, lighted as if by the moon — but there was of course no moon, and there were no shadows. He made out running streams in the distance. Beside them were trees of a peculiar kind; they were rooted in the ground, but the branches also were aerial roots, and there were no leaves. No other plants could be seen. The soil was soft, porous rock, resembling pumice. Beyond a mile or two in any direction the light merged into obscurity. At their back a great rocky wall extended on either hand; but it was not square like a wall, but full of bays and promontories like an indented line of sea cliffs. The roof of this huge underworld was out of sight. Here and there a mighty shaft of naked rock, fantastically weathered, towered aloft into the gloom, doubtless serving to support the roof. There were no colours — every detail of the landscape was black, white, or grey. The scene appeared so still, so solemn and religious, that all his feelings quieted down to absolute tranquillity.

Leehallfae fell back suddenly. Maskull dropped on his knees, and helplessly watched the last flickerings of aer spirit, going out like a candle in foul air. Death came. . . . He closed the eyes. The awful grin of Crystalman immediately fastened upon the phaen’s dead features.

While Maskull was still kneeling, he became conscious of someone standing beside him. He looked up quickly and saw a man, but did not at once rise.

“Another phaen dead,” said the newcomer in a grave, toneless, and intellectual voice.

Maskull got up.

The man was short and thickset but emaciated. His forehead was not disfigured by any organs. He was middle-aged. The features were energetic and rather coarse — yet it seemed to Maskull as though a pure, hard life had done something toward refining them. His sanguine eyes carried a twisted, puzzled look; some unanswerable problem was apparently in the forefront of his brain. His face was hairless; the hair of his head was short and manly; his brow was wide. He was clothed in a black, sleeveless robe, and bore a long staff in his hand. There was an air of cleanness and austerity about the whole man that was attractive.

He went on speaking dispassionately to Maskull, and, while doing so, kept passing his hand reflectively over his cheeks and chin. “They all find their way here to die. They come from Matterplay. There they live to an incredible age. Partly on that account, and partly because of their spontaneous origin, they regard themselves as the favoured children of Faceny. But when they come here to find him, they die at once.”

“I think this one is the last of the race. But whom do I speak to?”

“I am Corpang. Who are you, where do you come from, and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Maskull. My home is on the other side of the universe. As for what I am doing here — I accompanied Leehallfae, that phaen, from Matterplay.”

“But a man doesn’t accompany a phaen out of friendship. What do you want in Threal?”

“Then this is Threal?”

“Yes.”

Maskull remained silent.

Corpang studied his face with rough, curious eyes. “Are you ignorant, or merely reticent, Maskull?”

“I came here to ask questions, and not to answer them.”

The stillness of the place was almost oppressive. Not a breeze stirred, and not a sound came through the air. Their voices had been lowered, as though they were in a cathedral.

“Then do you want my society, or not?” asked Corpang.

“Yes, if you can fit in with my mood, which is — not to talk about myself.”

“But you must at least tell me where you want to go to.”

“I want to see what is to be seen here, and then go on to Lichstorm.”

“I can guide you through, if that’s all you want. Come, let us start.”

“First let’s do our duty and bury the dead, if possible.”

“Turn around,” directed Corpang.

Maskull looked around quickly. Leehallfae’s body had disappeared.

“What does this mean — what has happened?”

“The body has returned to whence it came. There was nowhere here for it to be, so it has vanished. No burial will be required.”

“Was the phaen an illusion, then?”

“In no sense.”

“Well, explain quickly, then, what has taken place. I seem to be going mad.”

“There’s nothing unintelligible in it, if you’ll only listen calmly. The phaen belonged, body and soul, to the outside, visible world — to Faceny. This underworld is not Faceny’s world, but Thire’s, and Faceny’s creatures cannot breathe its atmosphere. As this applies not only to whole bodies, but even to the last particles of bodies, the phaen has dissolved into Nothingness.”

“But don’t you and I belong to the outside world too?”

“We belong to all three worlds.”

“What three worlds — what do you mean?”

“There are three worlds,” said Corpang composedly. “The first is Faceny’s, the second is Amfuse’s, the third is Thire’s. From him Threal gets it name.”

“But this is mere nomenclature. In what sense are there three worlds?”

Corpang passed his hand over his forehead. “All this we can discuss as we go along. It’s a torment to me to be standing still.”

Maskull stared again at the spot where Leehallfae’s body had lain, quite bewildered at the extraordinary disappearance. He could scarcely tear himself away from the place, so mysterious was it. Not until Corpang called to him a second time did he make up his mind to follow him.

They set off from the rock wall straight across the airlit plain, directing their course toward the nearest trees. The subdued light, the absence of shadows, the massive shafts, springing grey-white out of the jetlike ground, the fantastic trees, the absence of a sky, the deathly silence, the knowledge that he was underground — the combination of all these things predisposed Maskull’s mind to mysticism, and he prepared himself with some anxiety to hear Corpang’s explanation of the land and its wonders. He already began to grasp that the reality of the outside world and the reality of this world were two quite different things.

“In what sense are there three worlds?” he demanded, repeating his former question.

Corpang smote the end of his staff on the ground. “First of all, Maskull, what is your motive for asking? If it’s mere intellectual curiosity, tell me, for we mustn’t play with awful matters.”

“No, it isn’t that,” said Maskull slowly. “I’m not a student. My journey is no holiday tour.”

“Isn’t there blood on your soul?” asked Corpang, eying him intently.

The blood rose steadily to Maskull’s face, but in that light it caused it to appear black.

“Unfortunately there is, and not a little.”

The other’s face was all wrinkles, but he made no comment.

“And so you see,” went on Maskull, with a short laugh, “I’m in the very best condition for receiving your instruction.”

Corpang still paused. “Underneath your crimes I see a man,” he said, after a few minutes. “On that account, and because we are commanded to help one another, I won’t leave you at present, though I little thought to be walking with a murderer. . . . Now to your question. . . . Whatever a man sees with his eyes, Maskull, he sees in three ways — length, breadth, depth. Length is existence, breadth is relation, depth is feeling.”

“Something of the sort was told me by Earthrid, the musician, who came from Threal.”

“I don’t know him. What else did he tell you?”

“He went on to apply it to music. Continue, and pardon the interruption.”

“These three states of perception are the three worlds. Existence is Faceny’s world, relation is Amfuse’s world, feeling is Thire’s world.”

“Can’t we come down to hard facts?” said Maskull, frowning. “I understand no more than I did before what you mean by three worlds.”

“There are no harder facts than the ones I am giving you. The first world is visible, tangible Nature. It was created by Faceny out of nothingness, and therefore we call it Existence.”

“That I understand.”

“The second world is Love — by which I don’t mean lust. Without love, every individual would be entirely self-centred and unable deliberately to act on others. Without love, there would be no sympathy — not even hatred, anger, or revenge would be possible. These are all imperfect and distorted forms of pure love. Interpenetrating Faceny’s world of Nature, therefore, we have Amfuse’s world of Love, or Relation.”

“What grounds have you for assuming that this so-called second world is not contained in the first?”

“They are contradictory. A natural man lives for himself; a lover lives for others.”

“It may be so. It’s rather mystical. But go on — who is Thire?”

“Length and breadth together without depth give flatness. Life and love without feeling produce shallow, superficial natures. Feeling is the need of men to stretch out toward their creator.”

“You mean prayer and worship?”

“I mean intimacy with Thire. This feeling is not to be found in either the first or second world, therefore it is a third world. Just as depth is the line between object and subject, feeling is the line between Thire and man.”

“But what is Thire himself?”

“Thire is the afterworld.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Maskull. “Do you believe in three separate gods, or are these merely three ways of regarding one God?”

“There are three gods, for they are mutually antagonistic. Yet they are somehow united.”

Maskull reflected a while. “How have you arrived at these conclusions?”

“None other are possible in Threal, Maskull.”

“Why in Threal — what is there peculiar here?”

“I will show you presently.”

They walked on for above a mile in silence, while Maskull digested what had been said. When they came to the first trees, which grew along the banks of a small stream of transparent water, Corpang halted.

“That bandage around your forehead has long been unnecessary,” he remarked.

Maskull removed it. He found that the line of his brow was smooth and uninterrupted, as it had never yet been since his arrival in Tormance.

“How has this come about — and how did you know it?”

“They were Faceny’s organs. They have vanished, just as the phaen’s body vanished.”

Maskull kept rubbing his forehead. “I feel more human without them. But why isn’t the rest of my body affected?”

“Because its living will contains the element of Thire.”

“Why are we stopping here?”

Corpang broke off the tip of one of the aerial roots of a tree, and proffered it to him. “Eat this, Maskull.”

“For food, or something else?”

“Food for body and soul.”

Maskull bit into the root. It was white and hard; its white sap was bleeding. It had no taste, but after eating it, he experienced a change of perception. The landscape, without alteration of light or outline, became several degrees more stern and sacred. When he looked at Corpang he was impressed by his aspect of Gothic awfulness, but the perplexed expression was still in his eyes.

“Do you spend all your time here, Corpang?”

“Occasionally I go above, but not often.”

“What fastens you t............