“Don’t be bitter,” said Maskull.  “I’ll tell you another thing.  Muspel can’t be willed, for the simple reason that Muspel does not concern the will.  To will is a property of this world.”

“Then what is your journey for?”

“It’s one thing to walk to a destination, and to linger over the walk, and quite another to run there at top speed.”

“Perhaps I’m not so easily deceived as you think,” said Corpang with another smile.

The light persisted in the cave.  The path narrowed and became a steep ascent.  Then the angle became one of forty-five degrees, and they had to climb.  The tunnel grew so confined that Maskull was reminded of the confined dreams of his childhood.

Not long afterward, daylight appeared.  They hastened to complete the last stage.  Maskull rushed out first into the world of colours and, all dirty and bleeding from numerous scratches, stood blinking on a hillside, bathed in the brilliant late-afternoon sunshine.  Corpang followed closely at his heels, He was obliged to shield his eyes with his hands for a few minutes, so unaccustomed was he to Branchspell’s blinding rays.

“The drum beats have stopped!” he exclaimed suddenly.

“You can’t expect music all the time,” answered Maskull dryly.  “We mustn’t be luxurious.”

“But now we have no guide.  We’re no better off than before.”

“Well, Tormance is a big place.  But I have an infallible rule, Corpang.  As I come from the south, I always go due north.”

“That will take us to Lichstorm.”

Maskull gazed at the fantastically piled rocks all around them.  “I saw these rocks from Matterplay.  The mountains look as far off now as they did them, and there’s not much of the day left.  How far is Lichstorm from here?”

Corpang looked away to the distant range.  “I don’t know, but unless a miracle happens we shan’t get there tonight.”

“I have a feeling,” said Maskull, “that we shall not only get there tonight, but that tonight will be the most important in my life.”

And he sat down passively to rest.

Chapter 18

HAUNTE

While Maskull sat, Corpang walked restlessly to and fro, swinging his arms.  He had lost his staff.  His face was inflamed with suppressed impatience, which accentuated its natural coarseness.  At last he stopped short in front of Maskull and looked down at him.  “What do you intend to do?”

Maskull glanced up and idly waved his hand toward the distant mountains.  “Since we can’t walk, we must wait.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know...  How’s this, though?  Those peaks have changed colour, from red to green.”

“Yes, the lich wind is travelling this way.”

“The lich wind?”

“It’s the atmosphere of Lichstorm.  It always clings to the mountains, but when the wind blows from the north it comes as far as Threal.”