By and by, an upright object, apparently the work of man, attracted Maskull’s notice.  It was a slender tree stem, with the bark still on, imbedded in the stony ground.  From the upper end three branches sprang out, pointing aloft at a sharp angle.  They were stripped to twigs and leaves and, getting closer, he saw that they had been artificially fastened on, at equal distances from each other.

As he stared at the object, a strange, sudden flush of confident vanity and self-sufficiency seemed to pass through him, but it was so momentary that he could be sure of nothing.

“What may that be, Tydomin?”

“It is Hator’s Trifork.”

“And what is its purpose?”

“It’s a guide to Sant.”

“But who or what is Hator?”

“Hator was the founder of Sant—­many thousands of years ago.  He laid down the principles they all live by, and that trifork is his symbol.  When I was a little child my father told me the legends, but I’ve forgotten most of them.”

Maskull regarded it attentively.

“Does it affect you in any way?”

“And why should it do that?” she said, dropping her lip scornfully.  “I am only a woman, and these are masculine mysteries.”

“A sort of gladness came over me,” said Maskull, “but perhaps I am mistaken.”

They passed on.  The scenery gradually changed in character.  The solid parts of the land grew more continuous, the fissures became narrower and more infrequent.  There were now no more subsidences or upheavals.  The peculiar nature of the Ifdawn Marest appeared to be giving place to a different order of things.

Later on, they encountered a flock of pale blue jellies floating in the air.  They were miniature animals.  Tydomin caught one in her hand and began to eat it, just as one eats a luscious pear plucked from a tree.  Maskull, who had fasted since early morning, was not slow in following her example.  A sort of electric vigour at once entered his limbs and body, his muscles regained their elasticity, his heart began to beat with hard, slow, strong throbs.

“Food and body seem to agree well in this world,” he remarked smiling.

She glanced toward him.  “Perhaps the explanation is not in the food, but in your body.”

“I brought my body with me.”

“You brought your soul with you, but that’s altering fast, too.”

In a copse they came across a short, wide tree, without leaves, but possessing a multitude of thin, flexible branches, like the tentacles of a cuttlefish.  Some of these branches were moving rapidly.  A furry animal, somewhat resembling a wildcat, leaped about among them in the most extraordinary way.  But the next minute Maskull was shocked to realise that the beast was not leaping at all, but was being thrown from branch to branch by the volition of the tree, exactly as an imprisoned mouse is thrown by a cat from paw to paw.