Maskull looked around, but saw no third person.  “Whose statue was the last?” he demanded.

“Did you hear me speaking?”

“I heard your voice, but no one else’s.”

“I’ve just had my death foretold, so I suppose I have not long to live.  Leehallfae prophesied the same thing.”

Corpang shook his head.  “What value do you set on life?” he asked.

“Very little.  But it’s a fearful thing all the same.”

“Your death is?”

“No, but this warning.”

They stopped talking.  A profound silence reigned.  Neither of the two men seemed to know what to do next, or where to go.  Then both of them heard the sound of drumming.  It was slow, emphatic, and impressive, a long way off and not loud, but against the background of quietness, very marked.  It appeared to come from some point out of sight, to the left of where they were standing, but on the same rock shelf.  Maskull’s heart beat quickly.

“What can that sound be?” asked Corpang, peering into the obscurity.

“It is Surtur.”

“Once again, who is Surtur?”

Maskull clutched his arm and pressed him to silence.  A strange radiance was in the air, in the direction of the drumming.  It increased in intensity and gradually occupied the whole scene.  Things were no longer seen by Thire’s light, but by this new light.  It cast no shadows.

Corpang’s nostrils swelled, and he held himself more proudly.  “What fire is that?”

“It is Muspel-light.”

They both glanced instinctively at the three statues.  In the strange glow they had undergone a change.  The face of each figure was clothed in the sordid and horrible Crystalman mask.

Corpang cried out and put his hand over his eyes.  “What can this mean?” he asked a minute later.

“It must mean that life is wrong, and the creator of life too, whether he is one person or three.”

Corpang looked again, like a man trying to accustom himself to a shocking sight.  “Dare we believe this?”

“You must,” replied Maskull.  “You have always served the highest, and you must continue to do so.  It has simply turned out that Thire is not the highest.”

Corpang’s face became swollen with a kind of coarse anger.  “Life is clearly false—­I have been seeking Thire for a lifetime, and now I find—­this.”

“You have nothing to reproach yourself with.  Crystalman has had eternity to practice his cunning in, so it’s no wonder if a man can’t see straight, even with the best intentions.  What have you decided to do?”

“The drumming seems to be moving away.  Will you follow it, Maskull?”

“Yes.”

“But where will it take us?”

“Perhaps out of Threal altogether.”

“It sounds to me more real than reality,” said Corpang.  “Tell me, who is Surtur?”

“Surtur’s world, or Muspel, we are told, is the original of which this world is a distorted copy.  Crystalman is life, but Surtur is other than life.”