out—if I had any left. If you reach her, Atreyu, will you tell me? Will you? One of these days my thirst for knowledge will be the death of me, and no one, no one is willing to help. I beg you, promise you’ll tell me.”
Atreyu stood up and looked at the Great Riddle Gate, which lay bathed in moonlight.
“I can’t promise that, Engywook,” he said softly, “though I’d be glad to show my gratitude. But if no one has told you who or what Uyulala is, there must be a reason. And before I know what that reason is, I can’t decide whether someone who hasn’t seen her with his own eyes has a right to know.”
“In that case, get away from me!” screamed the gnome, his eyes literally spewing sparks. “All I get is ingratitude! All my life I wear myself out trying to reveal a secret of universal interest. And no one helps me. I should never have bothered with you.”
With that he ran into the little cave, and a door could be heard slamming within.
Urgl passed Atreyu and said with a titter: “The old fool means no harm. But he’s always running into such disappointments with this ridiculous investigation of his. He wants to go down in history as the one who has solved the great riddle. The world-famous gnome Engywook. You mustn’t mind him.”
“Of course not,” said Atreyu. “Just tell him I thank him with all my heart for what he has done for me. And I thank you too. If it’s allowed, I will tell him the secret—if I come back.”
“Then you’re leaving us?” Urgl asked.
“I have to,” said Atreyu. “There’s no time to be lost. Now I shall go to the Oracle. Farewell! And in the meantime take good care of Falkor, the luckdragon.”
With that he turned away and strode toward the Great Riddle Gate.
Urgl watched the erect figure with the blowing cloak vanish among the rocks and ran after him, crying: “Lots of luck, Atreyu!”
But she didn’t know whether he had heard or not. As she waddled back to her little cave, she muttered to herself: “He’ll need it all right—he’ll need lots of luck.”
Atreyu was now within fifty feet of the great stone gate. It was much larger than he had judged from a distance. Behind it lay a deserted plain. There was nothing to stop the eye, and Atreyu’s gaze seemed to plunge into an abyss of emptiness. In front of the gate and between the two pillars Atreyu saw only innumerable skulls and skeletons—all that was left of the varied species of Fantasticans who had tried to pass through the gate but had been frozen forever by the gaze of the sphinxes.
But it wasn’t these gruesome reminders that stopped Atreyu. What stopped him was the sight of the sphinxes.
He had been through a good deal in the course of the Great Quest—he had seen beautiful things and horrible things—but up until now he had not known that one and the same creature can be both, that beauty can be terrifying.
The two monsters were bathed in moonlight, and as Atreyu approached them, they seemed to grow beyond measure. Their heads seemed to touch the moon, and their expression as they looked at each other seemed to change with every step he took.
Currents of a terrible, unknown force flashed through the upraised bodies and still more through the almost human faces. It was as though these beings did not merely exist, in the way marble for instance exists, but as if they were on the verge of vanishing, but would recreate themselves at the same time. For that very reason they seemed far more real than anything made of stone.
Fear gripped Atreyu.
Fear not so much of the danger that threatened him as of something above and beyond his own self. It hardly grazed his mind that if the sphinxes’ gaze should strike him he would freeze to the spot forever. No, what made his steps heavier and heavier, until he felt as though he were made of cold gray lead, was fear of the unfathomable, of something intolerably vast.
Yet he went on. He stopped looking up. He kept his head bowed and walked
Atreyu stood up and looked at the Great Riddle Gate, which lay bathed in moonlight.
“I can’t promise that, Engywook,” he said softly, “though I’d be glad to show my gratitude. But if no one has told you who or what Uyulala is, there must be a reason. And before I know what that reason is, I can’t decide whether someone who hasn’t seen her with his own eyes has a right to know.”
“In that case, get away from me!” screamed the gnome, his eyes literally spewing sparks. “All I get is ingratitude! All my life I wear myself out trying to reveal a secret of universal interest. And no one helps me. I should never have bothered with you.”
With that he ran into the little cave, and a door could be heard slamming within.
Urgl passed Atreyu and said with a titter: “The old fool means no harm. But he’s always running into such disappointments with this ridiculous investigation of his. He wants to go down in history as the one who has solved the great riddle. The world-famous gnome Engywook. You mustn’t mind him.”
“Of course not,” said Atreyu. “Just tell him I thank him with all my heart for what he has done for me. And I thank you too. If it’s allowed, I will tell him the secret—if I come back.”
“Then you’re leaving us?” Urgl asked.
“I have to,” said Atreyu. “There’s no time to be lost. Now I shall go to the Oracle. Farewell! And in the meantime take good care of Falkor, the luckdragon.”
With that he turned away and strode toward the Great Riddle Gate.
Urgl watched the erect figure with the blowing cloak vanish among the rocks and ran after him, crying: “Lots of luck, Atreyu!”
But she didn’t know whether he had heard or not. As she waddled back to her little cave, she muttered to herself: “He’ll need it all right—he’ll need lots of luck.”
Atreyu was now within fifty feet of the great stone gate. It was much larger than he had judged from a distance. Behind it lay a deserted plain. There was nothing to stop the eye, and Atreyu’s gaze seemed to plunge into an abyss of emptiness. In front of the gate and between the two pillars Atreyu saw only innumerable skulls and skeletons—all that was left of the varied species of Fantasticans who had tried to pass through the gate but had been frozen forever by the gaze of the sphinxes.
But it wasn’t these gruesome reminders that stopped Atreyu. What stopped him was the sight of the sphinxes.
He had been through a good deal in the course of the Great Quest—he had seen beautiful things and horrible things—but up until now he had not known that one and the same creature can be both, that beauty can be terrifying.
The two monsters were bathed in moonlight, and as Atreyu approached them, they seemed to grow beyond measure. Their heads seemed to touch the moon, and their expression as they looked at each other seemed to change with every step he took.
Currents of a terrible, unknown force flashed through the upraised bodies and still more through the almost human faces. It was as though these beings did not merely exist, in the way marble for instance exists, but as if they were on the verge of vanishing, but would recreate themselves at the same time. For that very reason they seemed far more real than anything made of stone.
Fear gripped Atreyu.
Fear not so much of the danger that threatened him as of something above and beyond his own self. It hardly grazed his mind that if the sphinxes’ gaze should strike him he would freeze to the spot forever. No, what made his steps heavier and heavier, until he felt as though he were made of cold gray lead, was fear of the unfathomable, of something intolerably vast.
Yet he went on. He stopped looking up. He kept his head bowed and walked
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