“What does that light suggest to you, Maskull?”
“I’m not speaking of that light.”
“Doesn’t it suggest anything at all?”
“Perhaps it doesn’t. What does it matter?”
“Not sacrifice?”
Maskull grew sullen again. “Sacrifice of what? What do you mean?”
“Hasn’t it entered your head yet,” said Tydomin, looking straight in front of her, and speaking in her delicate, hard manner, “that this adventure of yours will scarcely come to an end until you have made some sort of sacrifice?”
He returned no answer, and she said nothing more. In a few minutes’ time Maskull got up of his own accord, and irreverently, and almost angrily, threw Crimtyphon’s corpse over his shoulder again.
“How far do we have to go?” he asked in a surly tone.
“An hour’s walk.”