“Not that one!” said Maskull, shrinking. “I have already been cut there.” He submitted the other, and his blood poured forth. Joiwind delicately and skilfully placed the mouths of the two wounds together, and then kept her arm pressed tightly against Maskull’s for a long time. He felt a stream of pleasure entering his body through the incision. His old lightness and vigour began to return to him. After about five minutes a duel of kindness started between them; he wanted to remove his arm, and she to continue. At last he had his way, but it was none too soon—she stood there pale and dispirited. She looked at him with a more serious expression than before, as if strange depths had opened up before her eyes. “What is your name?” “Maskull.” “Where have you come from, with this awful blood?” “From a world called Earth.... The blood is clearly unsuitable for this world, Joiwind, but after all, that was only to be expected. I am sorry I let you have your way.” “Oh, don’t say that! There was nothing else to be done. We must all help one another. Yet, somehow—forgive me—I feel polluted.” “And well you may, for it’s a fearful thing for a girl to accept in her own veins the blood of a strange man from a strange planet. If I had not been so dazed and weak I would never have allowed it.” “But I would have insisted. Are we not all brothers and sisters? Why did you come here, Maskull?” He was conscious of a slight degree of embarrassment. “Will you think it foolish if I say I hardly know?—I came with those two men. Perhaps I was attracted by curiosity, or perhaps it was the love of adventure.” “Perhaps,” said Joiwind. “I wonder... These friends of yours must be terrible men. Why did they come?” “That I can tell you. They came to follow Surtur.” Her face grew troubled. “I don’t understand it. One of them at least must be a bad man, and yet if he is following Surtur—or Shaping, as he is called here—he can’t be really bad.” “What do you know of Surtur?” asked Maskull in astonishment. Joiwind remained silent for a time, studying his face. His brain moved restlessly, as though it were being probed from outside. “I see.... and yet I don’t see,” she said at last. “It is very difficult.... Your God is a dreadful Being—bodyless, unfriendly, invisible. Here we don’t worship a God like that. Tell me, has any man set eyes on your God?” “What does all this mean, Joiwind? Why speak of God?” “I want to know.” “In ancient times, when the earth was young and grand, a few holy men are reputed to have walked and spoken with God, but those days are past.” “Our world is still young,” said Joiwind. “Shaping goes among us and converses with us. He is real and active—a friend and lover. Shaping made us, and he loves his work.” “Have you met him?” demanded Maskull, hardly believing his ears. “No. I have done nothing to deserve it yet. Some day I may have an opportunity to sacrifice myself, and then I may be rewarded by meeting and talking with Shaping.”