“What is that drumming?”
“Surtur,” said Dreamsinter.
“Is it advisable for me to follow it?”
“Why?”
“Perhaps he intends me to. He brought me here from Earth.”
Dreamsinter caught hold of him, bent down, and peered into his face. “Not you, but Nightspore.”
This was the first time that Maskull had heard Nightspore’s name since his arrival on the planet. He was so astonished that he could frame no more questions.
“Eat this,” said Dreamsinter. “Then we will chase the sound together.” He picked something up from the ground and handed it to Maskull. He could not see distinctly, but it felt like a hard, round nut, of the size of a fist.
“I can’t crack it.”
Dreamsinter took it between his hands, and broke it into pieces. Maskull then ate some of the pulpy interior, which was intensely disagreeable.