“Why don’t you question me, rather?” demanded Oceaxe, looking up sharply.
Tydomin gave the shadow of a smile. “We know each other too well.”
“Play no tricks!” said Oceaxe, and she turned to go.
“Surely you must be dreaming,” said Tydomin. “That’s the way—unless you want to walk over the cliffside.”
The path Oceaxe had chosen led across the isthmus. The direction which Tydomin proposed for her was over the edge of the precipice, into empty space.
“Shaping! I must be mad,” cried Oceaxe, with a laugh. And she obediently followed the other’s finger.
She walked straight on toward the edge of the abyss, twenty paces away. Maskull pulled his beard around, and wondered what she was doing. Tydomin remained standing with outstretched finger, watching her. Without hesitation, without slackening her step once, Oceaxe strolled on—and when she had reached the extreme end of the land she still took one more step.
Maskull saw her limbs wrench as she stumbled over the edge. Her body disappeared, and as it did so an awful shriek sounded.
Disillusionment had come to her an instant too late. He tore himself out of his stupor, rushed to the edge of the cliff, threw himself on the ground recklessly, and looked over.... Oceaxe had vanished.
He continued staring wildly down for several minutes, and then began to sob. Tydomin came up to him, and he got to his feet.