Chapter 7. PANAWE
The husband got up to meet his wife and their guest. He was clothed inwhite. He had a beardless face, with breve and poigns. His skin, on faceand body alike, was so white, fresh, and soft, that it scarcely lookedskin at all—it rather resembled a new kind of pure, snowy flesh,extending right down to his bones. It had nothing in common with theartificially whitened skin of an over-civilised woman. Its whiteness anddelicacy aroused no voluptuous thoughts; it was obviously themanifestation of a cold and almost cruel chastity of nature. His hair,which fell to the nape of his neck, also was white; but again, fromvigour, not decay. His eyes were black, quiet and fathomless. He wasstill a young man, but so stern were his features that he had theappearance of a lawgiver, and this in spite of their great beauty andharmony.
His magn and Joiwind’s intertwined for a single moment and Maskull sawhis face soften with love, while she looked exultant. She put him in herhusband’s arms with gentle force, and stood back, gazing and smiling.Maskull felt rather embarrassed at being embraced by a man, butsubmitted to it; a sense of cool, pleasant languor passed through him inthe act.
“The stranger is red-blooded, then?”
He was startled by Panawe’s speaking in English, and the voice too wasextraordinary. It was absolutely tranquil, but its tranquillity seemedin a curious fashion to be an illusion, proceeding from a rapidity ofthoughts and feelings so great that their motion could not be detected.How this could be, he did not know.
“How do you come to speak in a tongue you have never heard before?”demanded Maskull.
“Thought is a rich, complex thing. I can’t say if I am really speakingyour tongue by instinct, or if you yourself are translating my thoughtsinto your tongue as I utter them.”
“Already you see that Panawe is wiser than I am,” said Joiwind gaily.
“What is your name?” asked the husband.
“Maskull.”
“That name must have a meaning—but again, thought is a strange thing. Iconnect that name with something—but with what?”
“Try to discover,” said Joiwind.
“Has there been a man in your world who stole something from the Makerof the universe, in order to ennoble his fellow creatures?”
“There is such a myth. The hero’s name was Prometheus.”
“Well, you seem to be identified in my mind with that action—but what itall means I can’t say, Maskull.”
“Accept it as a good omen, for Panawe never lies, and never speaksthoughtlessly.”
“There must be some confusion. These are heights beyond me,” saidMaskull calmly, but looking rather contemplative.
“Where do you come from?”
“From the planet of a distant sun, called Earth.”
“What for?”
“I was tired of vulgarity,” returned Maskull laconically. Heintentionally avoided mentioning his fellow voyagers, in order thatKrag’s name should not come to light.
“That’s an honourable motive,” said Panawe. “And what’s more, it may betrue, though you spoke it as a prevarication.”
“As far as it goes, it’s quite true,” said Maskull, staring at him withannoyance and surprise.
The swampy lake extended for about half a mile from where they werestanding to the lower buttresses of the mountain. Feathery purple reedsshowed themselves here and there through the shallows. The water wasdark green. Maskull did not see how they were going to cross it.
Joiwind caught his arm. “Perhaps you don’t know that the lake will bearus?”
Panawe walked onto the water; it was so heavy that it carried hisweight. Joiwind followed with Maskull. He instantly started to slipabout—nevertheless the motion was amusing, and he learned so fast, bywatching and imitating Panawe, that he was soon able to balance himselfwithout assistance. After that he found the sport excellent.
For the same reason that women excel in dancing, Joiwind’s half fallsand recoveries were far more graceful and sure than those of either ofthe men. Her slight, draped form—dipping, bending, rising, swaying,twisting, upon the surface of the dark water—this was a picture Maskullcould not keep his eyes away from.
The lake grew deeper. The gnawl water became green-black. The crags,gullies, and precipices of the shore could now be distinguished indetail. A waterfall was visible, descending several hundred feet. Thesurface of the lake grew disturbed—so much so that Maskull haddifficulty in keeping his balance. He therefore threw himself down andstarted swimming on the face of the water. Joiwind turned her head, andlaughed so joyously that all her teeth flashed in the sunlight.
They landed in a few more minutes on a promontory of black rock. Thewater on Maskull’s garment and body evaporated very quickly. He gazedupward at the towering mountain, but at that moment some strangemovements on the part of Panawe attracted his attention. His face wasworking convulsively, and he began to stagger about. Then he put hishand to his mouth and took from it what looked like a bright-colouredpebble. He looked at it carefully for some seconds. Joiwind also looked,over his shoulder, with quickly changing colors. After this inspection,Panawe let the object—whatever it was—fall to the ground, and took nomore interest in it.
“May I look?” asked Maskull; and, without waiting for permission, hepicked it up. It was a delicately beautiful egg-shaped crystal of palegreen.
“Where did this come from?” he asked queerly.
Panawe turned away, but Joiwind answered for him. “It came out of myhusband.”
“That’s what I thought, but I couldn’t believe it. But what is it?”
“I don’t know that it has either name or use. It is merely anoverflowing of beauty.”
“Beauty?”
Joiwind smiled. “If you were to regard nature as the husband, and Panaweas the wife, Maskull, perhaps everything would be explained.”
Maskull reflected.
“On Earth,” he said after a minute, “men like Panawe are called artists,poets, and musicians. Beauty overflows into them too, and out of themagain. The only distinction is that their productions are more human andintelligible.”
“Nothing comes from it but vanity,” said Panawe, and, taking the crystalout of Maskull’s hand, he threw it into the lake.
The precipice they now had to climb was several hundred feet in height.Maskull was more anxious for Joiwind than for himself. She was evidentlytiring, but she refused all help, and was in fact still the nimbler ofthe two. She made a mocking face at him. Panawe seemed lost in quietthoughts. The rock was sound, and did not crumble under their weight.The heat of Branchspell, however, was by this time almost killing, theradiance was shocking in its white intensity, and Maskull’s painsteadily grew worse.
When they got to the top, a plateau of dark rock appeared, bare ofvegetation, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see.It was of a nearly uniform width of five hundred yards, from the edge ofthe cliffs to the lower slopes of the chain of hills inland. The hillsvaried in height. The cup-shaped Poolingdred was approximately athousand feet above them. The upper part of it was covered with a kindof glittering vegetation which he could not comprehend.
Joiwind put her hand on Maskull’s shoulder, and pointed upward. “Hereyou have the highest peak in the whole land—that is, until you come tothe Ifdawn Marest.”
On hearing that strange name, he experienced a momentary unaccountablesensation of wild vigour and restlessness—but it passed away.
Without losing time, Panawe led the way up the mountainside. The lowerhalf was of bare rock, not difficult to climb. Halfway up, however, itgrew steeper, and they began to meet bushes and small trees. The growthbecame thicker as they continued to ascend, and when they neared thesummit, tall forest trees appeared.
These bushes and trees had pale, glassy trunks and branches, but thesmall twigs and the leaves were translucent and crystal. They cast noshadows from above, but still the shade was cool. Both leaves andbranches were fantastically shaped. What surprised Maskull the most,however, was the fact that,
as far as he could see, scarcely any twoplants belonged to the same species.
“Won’t you help Maskull out of his difficulty?” said Joiwind, pullingher husband’s arm.
He smiled. “If he’ll forgive me for again trespassing in his brain. Butthe difficulty is small. Life on a new planet, Maskull, is necessarilyenergetic and lawless, and not sedate and imitative. Nature is stillfluid—not yet rigid—and matter is plastic. The will forks and sportsincessantly, and thus no two creatures are alike.”
“Well, I understand all that,” replied Maskull, after listeningattentively. “But what I don’t grasp is this—if living creatures heresport so energetically, how does it come about that human beings wearmuch the same shape as in my world?”
“I’ll explain that too,” said Panawe. “All creatures that resembleShaping must of necessity resemble one another.”
“Then sporting is the blind will to become like Shaping?”
“Exactly.”
“It is most wonderful,” said Maskull. “Then the brotherhood of man isnot a fable invented by idealists, but a solid fact.”
Joiwind looked at him, and changed colour. Panawe relapsed intosternness.
Maskull became interested in a new phenomenon. The jale-colouredblossoms of a crystal bush were emitting mental waves, which with hisbreve he could clearly distinguish. They cried out silently, “To me! Tome!” While he looked, a flying worm guided itself through the air to oneof these blossoms and began to suck its nectar. The floral cryimmediately ceased.
They now gained the crest of the mountain, and looked down beyond. Alake occupied its crater-like cavity. A fringe of trees partlyintercepted the view, but Maskull was able to perceive that thismountain lake was nearly circular and perhaps a quarter of a mileacross. Its shore stood a hundred feet below them.
Observing that his hosts did not propose to descend, he begged them towait for him, and scrambled down to the surface. When he got there, hefound the water perfectly motionless and of a colourless transparency.He walked onto it, lay down at full length, and peered into the depths.It was weirdly clear: he could see down for an indefinite distance,without arriving at any bottom. Some dark, shadowy objects, almost outof reach of his eyes, were moving about. Then a sound, very faint andmysterious, seemed to come up through the gnawl water from an immensedepth. It was like the rhythm of a drum. There were four beats of equallength, but the accent was on the third. It went on for a considerabletime, and then ceased.
The sound appeared to him to belong to a different world from that inwhich he was travelling. The latter was mystical, dreamlike, andunbelievable—the drumming was like a very dim undertone of reality. Itresembled the ticking of a clock in a room full of voices, onlyoccasionally possible to be picked up by the ear.
He rejoined Panawe and Joiwind, but said nothing to them about hisexperience. They all walked round the rim of the crater, and gazed downon the opposite side. Precipices similar to those that had overlookedthe desert here formed the boundary of a vast moorland plain, whosedimensions could not be measured by the eye. It was solid land, yet hecould not make out its prevailing colour. It was as if made oftransparent glass, but it did not glitter in the sunlight. No objects init could be distinguished, except a rolling river in the far distance,and, farther off still, on the horizon, a line of dark mountains, ofstrange shapes. Instead of being rounded, conical, or hogbacked, theseheights were carved by nature into the semblance of castle battlements,but with extremely deep indentations.
The sky immediately above the mountains was of a vivid, intense blue. Itcontrasted in a most marvellous way with the blue of the rest of theheavens. It seemed more luminous and radiant, and was in fact like theafterglow of a gorgeous blue sunset.
Maskull kept on looking. The more he gazed, the more restless and noblebecame his feelings.
“What is that light?”
Panawe was sterner than usual, while his wife clung to his arm. “It isAlppain—our second sun,” he replied. “Those hills are the IfdawnMarest.... Now let us get to our shelter.”
“Is it imagination, or am I really being affected—tormented by thatlight?”
“No, it’s not imagination—it’s real. How can it be otherwise when twosuns, of different natures, are drawing you at the same time? Luckilyyou are not looking at Alppain itself. It’s invisible here. You wouldneed to go at least as far as Ifdawn, to set eyes on it.”
“Why do you say ‘luckily’?”
“Because the agony caused by those opposing forces would perhaps be morethan you could bear.... But I don’t know.”
For the short distance that remained of their walk, Maskull was verythoughtful and uneasy. He understood nothing. Whatever object his eyechanced to rest on changed immediately into a puzzle. The silence andstillness of the mountain peak seemed brooding, mysterious, and waiting.Panawe gave him a friendly, anxious look, and without further delay ledthe way down a little track, which traversed the side of the mountainand terminated in the mouth of a cave.
This cave was the home of Panawe and Joiwind. It was dark inside. Thehost took a shell and, filling it with liquid from a well, carelesslysprinkled the sandy floor of the interior. A greenish, phosphorescentlight gradually spread to the furthest limits of the cavern, andcontinued to illuminate it for the whole time they were there. There wasno furniture. Some dried, fernlike leaves served for couches.
The moment she got in, Joiwind fell down in exhaustion. Her husbandtended her with calm concern. He bathed her face, put drink to her lips,energised her with his magn, and finally laid her down to sleep. At thesight of the noble woman thus suffering on his account, Maskull wasdistressed.
Panawe, however, endeavoured to reassure him. “It’s quite true this hasbeen a very long, hard double journey, but for the future it willlighten all her other journeys for her.... Such is the nature ofsacrifice.”
“I can’t conceive how I have walked so far in a morning,” said Maskull,“and she has been twice the distance.”
“Love flows in her veins, instead of blood, and that’s why she is sostrong.”
“You know she gave me some of it?”
“Otherwise you couldn’t even have started.”
“I shall never forget that.”
The languorous heat of the day outside, the bright mouth of the cavern,the cool seclusion of the interior, with its pale green glow, invitedMaskull to sleep. But curiosity got the better of his lassitude.
“Will it disturb her if we talk?”
“No.”
“But how do you feel?”
“I require little sleep. In any case, it’s more important that youshould hear something about your new life. It’s not all as innocent andidyllic as this. If you intend to go through, you ought to be instructedabout the dangers.”
“Oh, I guessed as much. But how shall we arrange—shall I put questions,or will you tell me what you think is most essential?”
Panawe motioned to Maskull to sit down on a pile of ferns, and at thesame time reclined himself, leaning on one arm, with outstretched legs.
“I will tell some incidents of my life. You will begin to learn fromthem what sort of place you have come to.”
“I shall be grateful,” said Maskull, preparing himself to listen.
Panawe paused for a moment or two, and then started his narrative intranquil, measured, yet sympathetic tones.
PANAWE’S STORY
“My earliest recollection is of being taken, when three years old(that’s equivalent to fifteen of your years, but we develop more slowlyhere), by my father and mother, to see Broodviol, the wisest man inTormance. He dwelt in the great Wombflash Forest. We walked throughtrees for three days, sleeping at night. The trees grew taller as wewent along, until the tops were out of sight. The trunks were of a darkred colour and the leaves were of pale ulfire. My father kept stoppingto think. If left uninterrupted, he would remain for half a day in deepabstraction. My mother came out of Poolingdred, and was of a differentstamp. She was beautiful, generous, and ch
arming—but also active. Shekept urging him on. This led to many disputes between them, which mademe miserable. On the fourth day we passed through a part of the forestwhich bordered on the Sinking Sea. This sea is full of pouches of waterthat will not bear a man’s weight, and as these light parts don’t differin appearance from the rest, it is dangerous to cross. My father pointedout a dim outline on the horizon, and told me it was Swaylone’s Island.Men sometimes go there, but none ever return. In the evening of the sameday we found Broodviol standing in a deep, miry pit in the forest,surrounded on all sides by trees three hundred feet high. He was a biggnarled, rugged, wrinkled, sturdy old man. His age at that time was ahundred and twenty of our years, or nearly six hundred of yours. Hisbody was trilateral: he had three legs, three arms, and six eyes, placedat equal distances all around his head. This gave him an aspect of greatwatchfulness and sagacity. He was standing in a sort of trance. Iafterward heard this saying of his: ‘To lie is to sleep, to sit is todream, to stand is to think.’ My father caught the infection, and fellinto meditation, but my mother roused them both thoroughly. Broodviolscowled at her savagely, and demanded what she required. Then I toolearned for the first time the object of our journey. I was aprodigy—that is to say, I was without sex. My parents were troubled overthis, and wished to consult the wisest of men.
“Old Broodviol smoothed his face, and said, ‘This perhaps will not be sodifficult. I will explain the marvel. Every man and woman among us is awalking murderer. If a male, he has struggled with and killed the femalewho was born in the same body with him—if a female, she has killed themale. But in this child the struggle is still continuing.’
“‘How shall we end it?’ asked my mother.
“‘Let the child direct its will to the scene of the combat, and it willbe of whichever sex it pleases.’
“‘You want, of course, to be a man, don’t you?’ said my mother to meearnestly.
“‘Then I shall be slaying your daughter, and that would be a crime.’
“Something in my tone attracted Broodviol’s notice.
“‘That was spoken, not selfishly, but magnanimously. Therefore the malemust have spoken it, and you need not trouble further. Before you arrivehome, the child will be a boy.’
“My father walked away out of sight. My mother bent very low beforeBroodviol for about ten minutes, and he remained all that time lookingkindly at her.
“I heard that shortly afterward Alppain came into that land for a fewhours daily. Broodviol grew melancholy, and died.
“His prophecy came true—before we reached home, I knew the meaning ofshame. But I have often pondered over his words since, in later years,when trying to understand my own nature; and I have come to theconclusion that, wisest of men as he was, he still did not see quitestraight on this occasion. Between me and my twin sister, enclosed inone body, there never was any struggle, but instinctive reverence forlife withheld both of us from fighting for existence. Hers was thestronger temperament, and she sacrificed herself—though notconsciously—for me.
“As soon as I comprehended this, I made a vow never to eat or destroyanything that contained life—and I have kept it ever since.
“While I was still hardly a grown man, my father died. My mother’s deathfollowed immediately, and I hated the associations of the land. Itherefore made up my mind to travel into my mother’s country, where, asshe had often told me, nature was most sacred and solitary.
“One hot morning I came to Shaping’s Causeway. It is so called eitherbecause Shaping once crossed it, or because of its stupendous character.It is a natural embankment, twenty miles long, which links the mountainsbordering my homeland with the Ifdawn Marest. The valley lies below at adepth varying from eight to ten thousand feet—a terrible precipice oneither side. The knife edge of the ridge is generally not much over afoot wide. The causeway goes due north and south. The valley on my righthand was plunged in shadow—that on my left was sparkling with sunlightand dew. I walked fearfully along this precarious path for some miles.Far to the east the valley was closed by a lofty tableland, connectingthe two chains of mountains, but overtopping even the most toweringpinnacles. This is called the Sant Levels. I was never there, but I haveheard two curious facts concerning the inhabitants. The first is thatthey have no women; the second, that though they are addicted totravelling in other parts they never acquire habits of the peoples withwhom they reside.
“Presently I turned giddy, and lay at full length for a great while,clutching the two edges of the path with both hands, and staring at theground I was lying on with wide-open eyes. When that passed I felt likea different man and grew conceited and gay. About halfway across I sawsomeone approaching me a long way off. This put fear into my heartagain, for I did not see how we could very well pass. However, I wentslowly on, and presently we drew near enough together for me torecognise the walker. It was Slofork, the so-called sorcerer. I hadnever met him before, but I knew him by his peculiarities of person. Hewas of a bright gamboge colour and possessed a very long, proboscis-likenose, which appeared to be a useful organ, but did not add to hisbeauty, as I knew beauty. He was dubbed ‘sorcerer’ from his wondrousskill in budding limbs and organs. The tale is told that one evening heslowly sawed his leg off with a blunt stone and then lay for two days inagony while his new leg was sprouting. He was not reputed to be aconsistently wise man, but he had periodical flashes of penetration andaudacity that none could equal.
“We sat down and faced one another, about two yards apart.
“‘Which of us walks over the other?’ asked Slofork. His manner was ascalm as the day itself, but, to my young nature, terrible with hiddenterrors. I smiled at him, but did not wish for this humiliation. Wecontinued sitting thus, in a friendly way, for many minutes.
“‘What is greater than Pleasure?’ he asked suddenly.
“I was at an age when one wishes to be thought equal to any emergency,so, concealing my surprise, I applied myself to the conversation, as ifit were for that purpose we had met.
“‘Pain,’ I replied, ‘for pain drives out pleasure.’
“‘What is greater than Pain?’
“I reflected. ‘Love. Because we will accept our loved one’s share ofpain.’
“‘But what is greater than Love?’ he persisted.
“‘Nothing, Slofork.’
“‘And what is Nothing?’
“‘That you must tell me.’
“‘Tell you I will. This is Shaping’s world. He that is a good childhere, knows pleasure, pain, and love, and gets his rewards. But there’sanother world—not Shaping’s—and there all this is unknown, and anotherorder of things reigns. That world we call Nothing—but it is notNothing, but Something.’
“There was a pause.
“‘I have heard,’ said I, ‘that you are good at growing and ungrowingorgans?’
“‘That’s not enough for me. Every organ tells me the same story. I wantto hear different stories.’
“‘Is it true, what men say, that your wisdom flows and ebbs in pulses?’
“‘Quite true,’ replied Slofork. ‘But those you had it from did not addthat they have always mistaken the flow for the ebb.’
“‘My experience is,’ said I sententiously, ‘that wisdom is misery.’
“‘Perhaps it is, young man, but you have never learned that, and neverwill. For you the world will continue to wear a noble, awful face. Youwill never rise above mysticism.... But be happy in your own way.’
“Before I realised what he was doing, he jumped tranquilly from thepath, down into the empty void. He crashed with ever-increasing momentumtoward the valley below. I screeched, flung myself down on the ground,and shut my eyes.
“Often have I wondered which of my ill-considered, juvenile remarks itwas that caused this sudden resolution on his part to commit suicide.Whichever it might be, since then I have made it a rigid law never tospeak for my own pleasure, but only to help others.
“I came eventually to the Marest. I threaded its mazes
in terror forfour days. I was frightened of death, but still more terrified at thepossibility of losing my sacred attitude toward life. When I was nearlythrough, and was beginning to congratulate myself, I stumbled across thethird extraordinary personage of my experience—the grim Muremaker. Itwas under horrible circumstances. On an afternoon, cloudy and stormy, Isaw, suspended in the air without visible support, a living man. He washanging in an upright position in front of a cliff—a yawning gulf, athousand feet deep, lay beneath his feet. I climbed as near as I could,and looked on. He saw me, and made a wry grimace, like one who wishes toturn his humiliation into humour. The spectacle so astounded me that Icould not even grasp what had happened.
“‘I am Muremaker,’ he cried in a scraping voice which shocked my ears.‘All my life I have sorbed others—now I am sorbed. Nuclamp and I fellout over a woman. Now Nuclamp holds me up like this. While the strengthof his will lasts I shall remain suspended; but when he gets tired—andit can’t be long now—I drop into those depths.’
“Had it been another man, I would have tried to save him, but this ogre-like being was too well known to me as one who passed his wholeexistence in tormenting, murdering, and absorbing others, for the sakeof his own delight. I hurried away, and did not pause again that day.
“In Poolingdred I met Joiwind. We walked and talked together for amonth, and by that time we found that we loved each other too well topart.”
Panawe stopped speaking.
“That is a fascinating story,” remarked Maskull. “Now I begin to know myway around better. But one thing puzzles me.”
“What’s that?”
“How it happens that men here are ignorant of tools and arts, and haveno civilisation, and yet contrive to be social in their habits and wisein their thoughts.”
“Do you imagine, then, that love and wisdom spring from tools? But I seehow it arises. In your world you have fewer sense organs, and to make upfor the deficiency you have been obliged to call in the assistance ofstones and metals. That’s by no means a sign of superiority.”
“No, I suppose not,” said Maskull, “but I see I have a great deal tounlearn.”
They talked together a little longer, and then gradually fell asleep.Joiwind opened her eyes, smiled, and slumbered again.