“Or mad.”
“Then you had better leave me, Maskull—only—”
“Only what?”
“You wish to be consistent, don’t you? Leave all other mad and wicked people as well. Then you’ll find it easier to reform the rest.”
Maskull frowned, but said nothing.
“Well?” demanded Oceaxe, with a half smile.
“I’ll come with you, and I’ll see Crimtyphon—if only to warn him.”
Oceaxe broke into a cascade of rich, feminine laughter, but whether at the image conjured up by Maskull’s last words, or from some other cause, he did not know. The conversation dropped.
At a distance of a couple of miles from the now towering cliffs, the river made a sharp, right-angled turn to the west, and was no longer of use to them on their journey. Maskull stared up doubtfully.
“It’s a stiff climb for a hot morning.”