And when Elric had told his three lies to Cymoril, his betrothed, and had set his ambitious cousin Yyrkoon as Regent on the Ru

And when Elric had told his three lies to Cymoril, his betrothed,
and had set his ambitious cousin Yyrkoon as Regent on the Ruby
Throne of Melniboné, and when he had taken leave of Rackhir the
Red Archer, he set off into lands unknown, to seek knowledge which
he believed would help him rule Melniboné as she had never been
ruled before.
But Elric had not reckoned with a destiny already determining that
he should learn and experience certain things which would have a
profound effect upon him. Even before he encountered the blind
captain and the Ship Which Sailed the Seas of Fate, he was to find
his life, his soul and all his idealism in jeopardy.
In Ufych-Sormeer he was delayed over a matter involving a
misunderstanding between four unworldly wizards who amiably and
inadvertently threatened the destruction of the Young Kingdoms
before they had served the Balance's ultimate purpose; and in
Filkhar he experienced an affair of the heart which he would never
again speak about; he was learning, at some cost, the power and
the pain of bearing the Black Sword.
But it was in the desert city of Quarzhasaat that he began the
adventure which was to help set the course of his weird for years
to come. . .
The Chronicle of the Black Sword

PART ONE
Is there a madman with a brain To turn the stuff of nightmare sane
And demons crush and Chaos tame, Who'll leave his realm, forsake
his bride And, tossed by contradictory tides, Give up his pride
for pain?
The Chronicle of the Black Sword

1
A Doomed Lord Dying

It was in lonely Quarzhasaat, destination of many caravans but
terminus of few, that Elric, hereditary Emperor of Melniboné, last
of a bloodline more than ten thousand years old, sometime conjuror
of terrible resource, lay ready for death. The drugs and herbs
which usually sustained him had been used in the final days of his
long journey across the southern edge of the Sighing Desert and he
had been able to acquire no replacements for them in this fortress


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city which was more famous for its treasure than for its
sufficiency of hie.
Slowly and feebly the albino prince stretched his bone-coloured
fingers to the light and brought to vividness the bloody jewel in
the Ring of Kings, the last traditional symbol of his ancient
responsibilities; then he let the hand fall. It was as if he had
briefly hoped the Actorios would revive him, but the stone was
useless while he lacked energy to command its powers. Besides, he
had no great desire to summon demons here. His own folly had
brought him to Quarzhasaat; he owed her citizens no vengeance.
They, indeed, had cause to hate him, had they but known his
origins.
Once Quarzhasaat had ruled a land of rivers and lovely valleys,
its forests verdant, its plains abundant with crops, but that had
been before the casting of certain incautious spells in a war with
threatening Melniboné more than two thousand years earlier.
Quarzhasaat's empire had been lost to both sides. It had been
engulfed by a vast mass of sand which swept over it like a tide,
leaving only the capital and her traditions which in time became
the prime reason for her continuing existence. Because Quarzhasaat
had always stood there, she must be sustained, her citizens
believed, at any cost throughout eternity. Though she had no
purpose or function, still her masters felt a heavy obligation to
continue her existence by whichever means they found expedient.
Fourteen times had armies attempted to cross the Sighing Desert to
loot fabulous Quarzhasaat. Fourteen times had the desert itself
defeated them.
Meanwhile the city's chief obsessions (some would say her chief
industry) were the elaborate intrigues amongst her rulers. A
republic, albeit in name only, and hub of a vast inland empire,
albeit entirely covered by sand, Quarzhasaat was ruled by her
Council of Seven, whimsically known as the Six and One Other, who
controlled the greater part of the city's wealth and most of her
affairs. Certain other potent men and women, who chose not to
serve in this septocracy, wielded considerable influence while
displaying none of the trappings of power. One of these, Elric had
learned, was Narfis, Baroness of Kuwai'r, who dwelled in a simple
yet beautiful villa at the city's southern extreme and gave most
of her attention to her notorious rival, the old Duke Ral, patron
of Quarzhasaat's finest artists, whose own palace on the northern


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heights was as unostentatious as it was lovely. These two, Elric
was told, had elected three members each to the Council, while the
seventh, always nameless and simply called the Sexocrat (who ruled
the Six), maintained a balance, able to sway any vote one way or
the other. The ear of the Sexocrat was most profoundly desired by
all the many rivals in the city, even by Baroness Narfis and Duke
Ral.
Uninterested in Quarzhasaat's ornate politics as he was in his
own, Elric's reason for being here was curiosity and the fact that
Quarzhasaat was clearly the only haven in a great wasteland lying
north of the nameless mountains dividing the Sighing Desert from
the Weeping Waste.
Moving his exhausted bones on the thin straw of his pallet, Elric
wondered sardonically if he would be buried here without the
people ever knowing that the hereditary ruler of their nation's
greatest enemies had died amongst them. He wondered if this had
after all been the fate his gods had in store for him: nothing as
grandiose as he had dreamed of and yet it had its attractions.
When he had left Filkhar in haste and some confusion, he had taken
the first ship out of Raschil and it had brought him to Jadmar,
where he had chosen wilfully to trust an old Ilmioran drunkard who
had sold him a map showing fabled Tanelorn. As the albino had half-
guessed, the map proved a deception, leading him far from any kind
of human habitation. He had considered crossing the mountains to
make for Karlaak by the Weeping Waste but on consulting his own
map, of more reliable Melnibonéan manufacture, he had discovered
Quarzhasaat to be significantly closer. Riding north on a steed
already half-dead from heat and starvation, he had found only
dried river-beds and exhausted oases, for in his wisdom he had
chosen to cross the desert in a time of drought. He had failed to
find fabled Tanelorn and, it seemed, would not even catch sight of
a city which, in his people's histories, was almost as fabulous.
As was usual for them, Melnibonéan chroniclers showed only a
passing interest in defeated rivals, but Elric remembered that
Quarzhasaat's own sorcery was said to have contributed to her
extinction as a threat to her half-human enemies: A misplaced
rune, he understood, uttered by Fophean Dals, the Sorcerer Duke,
ancestor to the present Duke Ral, in a spell meant to flood the
Melnibonéan army with sand and build a bulwark about the entire
nation. Elric was still to discover how this accident was


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explained in Quarzhasaat now. Had they created myths and legends
to rationalise the city's ill-luck entirely as a result of evil
emanating from the Dragon Isle?
Elric reflected how his own obsession with myth had brought him to
almost inevitable destruction. "In my miscalculations," he
murmured, turning dull crimson eyes again towards the Actorios, "I
have shown that I share something in common with these people's
ancestors." Some forty miles from his dead horse, Elric had been
discovered by a boy out searching for the jewels and precious
artefacts occasionally flung up by those sandstorms which
constantly came and went over this part of the desert and were
partially responsible for the city's survival as well as for the
astonishing height of Quarzhasaat's magnificent walls. They were
also the origin of the desert's melancholy name.
In better health Elric would have relished the city's monumental
beauty. It was a beauty derived from an aesthetic refined over
centuries and bearing no signs of outside influence. Though so
many of the curving ziggurats and palaces were of gigantic
proportions there was nothing vulgar or ugly about them; they had
an airy quality, a peculiar lightness of style which made them
seem, in their terra-cotta reds and glittering silver granite,
their whitewashed stucco, their rich blues and greens, as if they
had been magicked out of the very air. Their luscious gardens
filled marvellously complex terraces, their fountains and water-
courses, drawn from deep-sunk wells, gave tranquil sound and
wonderful perfume to her old cobbled ways and wide tree-lined
avenues, yet all this water, which might have been diverted to
growing crops, was used to maintain the appearance of Quarzhasaat
as she had been at the height of her imperial power and was more
valuable than jewels, its use rationed and its theft punishable by
the severest of laws.
Elric's own lodgings were in no way magnificent, consisting as
they did of a truckle bed, straw-strewn flagstones, a single high
window, a plain earthenware jug and a basin containing a little
brackish water which had cost him his last emerald. Water permits
were not available to foreigners and the only water on general
sale was Quarzhasaat's single most expensive commodity. Elric's
water had almost certainly been stolen from a public fountain. The
statutory penalties for such thefts were rarely discussed, even in
private.


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Elric required rare herbs to sustain his deficient blood, but
their cost, even had they been available, would have proven far
beyond his present means which had been reduced to a few gold
coins; a fortune in Karlaak but of virtually no worth in a city
where gold was so common it was used to line the city's aqueducts
and sewers. His expeditions into the streets had been exhausting
and depressing.
Once a day the boy, who had found Elric in the desert and brought
him to this room, paid the albino a visit, staring at him as if at
a curious insect or captured rodent. The boy's name was Anigh and,
though he spoke the Melnibonéan-derived lingua franca of the Young
Kingdoms, his accent was so thick it was sometimes impossible to
understand all he said.
Once more Elric tried to lift his arm only to let it fall. That
morning he had reconciled himself to the fact that he would never
again see his beloved Cymoril and would never sit upon the Ruby
Throne. He knew regret, but it was of a distant kind, for his
illness made him oddly euphoric.
"I had hoped to sell you."
Elric peered, blinking, into the shadows of the room on the far
side of a single ray of sunlight. He recognized the voice but
could make out little more than a silhouette near the door.
"But now it seems all I have to offer in next week's market will
be your corpse and your remaining possessions." It was Anigh,
almost as depressed as Elric at the prospect of his prize's death.
"You are still a rarity, of course. Your features are those of our
ancient enemies but whiter than bone and those eyes I have never
seen before in a man."
"I'm sorry to disappoint your expectations." Elric rose weakly on
his elbow. He had deemed it imprudent to reveal his origins but
instead had said he was a mercenary from Nadsokor, the Beggar
City, which sheltered all manner of freakish inhabitants.
"Then I had hoped you might be a wizard and reward me with some
bit of arcane lore which would set me on the path to becoming a
wealthy man and perhaps a member of the Six. Or you might have
been a desert spirit who could confer on me some useful power. But
I have wasted my waters, it seems. You are merely an impoverished
mercenary. Have you no wealth left at all? Some curio which might
prove of value, for instance?" And the boy's eyes went towards a
bundle which, long and slender, rested against the wall near


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Elric's head.
"That's no treasure, lad," Elric informed him grimly. "He who
possesses it could be said to bear a curse impossible to
exorcise." He smiled at the thought of the boy trying to find a
buyer for the Black Sword which, wrapped in a torn cassock of red
silk, occasionally gave out a murmur, like a senile old man
attempting to recall the power of speech.
"It's a weapon, is it not?" said Anigh, his thin, tanned features
making his vivid blue eyes seem large.
"Aye," Elric agreed. "A sword."
"An antique?" The boy reached under his striped brown djellabah
and picked at the scab on his shoulder.
"That's a fair description." Elric was amused but found even this
brief conversation tiring.
"How old?" Now Anigh took a step forward so that he was entirely
illuminated by the ray of sunlight. He had the perfect look of a
creature adapted to dwell amongst the tawny rocks and the dusky
sands of the Sighing Desert.
"Perhaps ten thousand years." Elric found that the boy's startled
expression helped him forget, momentarily, his almost certain
fate. "But probably more than that..."
"Then it's a rarity, indeed! Rarities are prized by Quarzhasaat's
lords and ladies. There are those amongst the Six, even, who
collect such things. His honour the Master of Unicht Shlur, for
instance, has the armour of a whole Ilmioran army, each piece
arranged on the mummified corpses of the original warriors. And my
Lady Talith possesses a collection of war-instruments numbering
several thousands, each one different. Let me take that, Sir
Mercenary, and I'll discover a buyer. Then I'll seek the herbs you
need."
"Whereupon I'll be fit enough for you to sell me, eh?" Elric's
amusement increased.
Anigh's face became exquisitely innocent. "Oh, no, sir. Then you
will be strong enough to resist me. I shall merely take a
commission on your first engagement."
Elric felt affection for the boy. He paused, gathering strength
before he spoke again. "You expect I'll interest an employer, here
in Quarzhasaat?"
"Naturally," Anigh grinned. "You could become a bodyguard to one
of the Six, perhaps, or at least one of their supporters. Your


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unusual appearance makes you immediately employable! I have
already told you what great rivals and plotters our masters are."
"It is encouraging"-Elric paused for breath-"to know that I can
look forward to a life of worth and fulfillment here in
Quarzhasaat." He tried to stare directly into Anigh's brilliant
eyes, but the boy's head turned out of the sunlight so that only
part of his body was exposed. "However, I understood from you that
the herbs I described grew only in distant Kwan, days from here-in
the foothills of the Ragged Pillars. I will be dead before even a
fit messenger could be half-way to Kwan. Do you try to comfort me,
boy? Or are your motives less noble?"
"I told you, sir, where the herbs grew. But what if there are some
who have already gathered Kwan's harvest and returned?"
"You know of such an apothecary? But what would one charge me for
such valuable medicines? And why did you not mention this before?"
"Because I did not know if it before." Anigh seated himself in the
relative cool of the doorway. "I have made enquiries since our
last conversation. I am a humble boy, your worship, not a learned
man, nor yet an oracle. Yet I know how to banish my ignorance and
replace it with knowledge. I am ignorant, good sir, but not a
fool."
"I share your opinion of yourself, Master Anigh."
"Then shall I take the sword and find a buyer for you?" He came
again into the light, hand reaching towards the bundle.
Elric fell back, shaking his head and smiling a little. "I, too,
young Anigh, have much ignorance. But, unlike you, I think I might
also be a fool."
"Knowledge brings power," said Anigh. "Power shall take me into
the entourage of the Baroness Narfis, perhaps. I could become a
captain in her guard. Maybe a noble!"
"Oh, one day you'll surely be more than either." Elric drew in
stale air, his frame shuddering, his lungs enflamed. "Do what you
will, though I doubt the sword will go willingly."
"May I see it?"
"Aye." With painful awkward movements Elric rolled to the bed's
edge and plucked the wrappings free of the huge sword. Carved with
runes which seemed to flicker unsteadily upon the blade of black,
glowing metal, decorated with ancient and elaborate work, some of
mysterious design, some depicting dragons and demons intertwined
as if in battle, Stormbringer was clearly no mundane weapon.


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The boy gasped and drew back, almost as if regretting his
suggested bargain. "Is it alive?"
Elric contemplated his sword with a mixture of loathing and
something akin to sensuality. "Some would say it possessed both a
mind and a will. Others would claim it to be a demon in disguise.
Some believe it composed of the vestigial souls of all damned
mortals, trapped within as once, in legend, a great dragon was
said to dwell inside another pommel than that which the sword now
bears." To his own faint distaste, he found that he was taking a
certain pleasure in the boy's growing dismay. "Have you never
looked upon an artefact of Chaos before, Master Anigh? Or one who
is wedded to such a thing? Its slave, perhaps?" He let his long,
white hand descend into the dirty water and raised it to wet his
lips. His red eyes flickered like dying embers. "During my travels
I have heard this blade described as Arioch's own battlesword,
able to slice down the walls between the very Realms. Others, as
they die upon it, believe it to be a living creature. There is a
theory that it is but one member of an entire race, living in our
dimension but capable, should it desire, of summoning a million
brothers. Can you hear it speaking, Master Anigh? Will that voice
delight and charm the casual buyers in your market?" And a sound
came from the pale lips that was not a laugh yet contained a
desolate kind of humour.
Anigh withdrew hastily into the sunlight again. He cleared his
throat. "You called the thing by a name?"
"I called the sword Stormbringer but the peoples of the Young
Kingdoms sometimes have another name, both for myself and for the
blade. The name is Soulstealer. It has drunk many souls."
"You're a dreamthief!" Anigh's eyes remained on the blade. "Why
are you not employed?"
"I do not know the term and I do not know who would employ a
'dreamthief.'" Elric looked to the boy for further explanation.
But Anigh's gaze did not leave the sword. "Would it drink my soul,
master?"
"If I chose. To restore my energy for a while, all I would have to
do is let Stormbringer kill you and perhaps a few more and then
she'll pass her energy on to me. Then, doubtless, I could find a
steed and ride away from here, possibly to Kwan."
Now the Black Sword's voice grew more tuneful, as if approving of
this notion.


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"Oh, Gamek Idianit!" Anigh got to his feet, ready to flee if
necessary. "This is like that story on Mass'aboon's walls. This is
what those who brought about our isolation were said to wield.
Aye, the leaders bore identical swords to these. The teachers at
the school tell of it. I was there. Oh, what did they say!" And he
frowned deeply, an object lesson to anyone wishing to point a
moral concerning the benefits of attending at classes.
Elric regretted frightening the boy. "I am not disposed, young
Anigh, to maintain my own life at the expense of others who have
offered me no harm. That is partly the reason why I find myself in
this specific predicament. You saved my life, child. I would not
kill you."
"Oh, master. Thou art dangerous!" In his panic he spoke a tongue
more ancient than Melnibonéan, and Elric, who had learned such
things to aid his studies, recognised it.
"Where came you by that language, by that Opish?" the albino
asked.
Even in his terror the boy was surprised. "They call it the gutter
cant, here in Quarzhasaat. The thieves' secret. But I suppose it
is common enough to hear it in Nadsokor."
"Aye, indeed. In Nadsokor, true." Elric was again intrigued by
this minor turn of events. He reached towards the boy, to reassure
him.
The motion caused Anigh to jerk up his head and make a noise in
his throat. Clearly he set no store by Elric's attempt to regain
his confidence. Without further remark, he left the room, his bare
feet pattering down the long corridor and the steps into the
narrow street.
Convinced that Anigh was now gone for good, Elric knew a sudden
pang of sadness. He regretted only one thing now, that he would
never be reunited with Cymoril and return to Melniboné to keep his
promise to wed her. He understood that he had always been and
probably would always be reluctant to ascend the Ruby Throne
again, yet he knew it was his duty to do so. Had he deliberately
chosen this fate for himself, to avoid that responsibility?
Elric knew that though his blood was tainted by his strange
disease, it was still the blood of his ancestors and it would not
have been easy to deny his birthright or his destiny. He had hoped
he might, by his rule, turn Melniboné from the introverted, cruel
and decadent vestige of a hated empire into a reinvigorated nation


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capable of bringing peace and justice to the world, of presenting
an example of enlightenment which others might use to their own
advantage.
For a chance to return to Cymoril he would more than willingly
trade the Black Sword. Yet secretly he had little hope that this
was possible. The Black Sword was more than a source of
sustenance, a weapon against his enemies. The Black Sword bound
him to his race's ancient loyalties, to Chaos, and he could not
see Lord Arioch willingly allowing him to break that particular
bond. When he considered these matters, these hints at a greater
destiny, he found his mind growing confused and he preferred to
ignore the questions whenever possible.
"Well, perhaps in folly and in death, I shall break that bond and
thwart Melniboné's bad old friends."
The breath in his lungs seemed to grow thin and no longer burned.
Indeed, it felt cool. His blood moved more sluggishly in his veins
as he tried to rise and stagger to the rough wooden table where
his few provisions lay. But he could only stare at the stale
bread, the vinegary wine, the wizened pieces of dried meat whose
origins were best not speculated upon. He could not get up; he
could not summon the will to move. He had accepted his dying if
not with equanimity then at least with a degree of dignity.
Falling into a languorous reverie, he recalled his deciding to
leave Melniboné, his cousin Cymoril's trepidation, his ambitious
cousin Yyrkoon's secret glee, his pronouncements made to Rackhir
the Warrior Priest of Phum, who had also sought Tanelorn.
Elric wondered if Rackhir the Red Archer had been any more
successful in his quest or whether he lay somewhere in another
part of this vast desert, his scarlet costume reduced to rags by
the forever sighing wind, his flesh drying on his bones. Elric
hoped with all his heart that Rackhir had succeeded in discovering
the mythical city and the peace it promised. Then he found that
his longing for Cymoril was growing and he believed that he wept.
Earlier he had considered calling upon Arioch, his patron Duke of
Chaos, to save him, yet had continued to feel a deep reluctance
even to contemplate the possibility. He feared that by employing
Arioch's help once more he would lose far more than his life. Each
time that powerful supernatural agreed to help, it further
strengthened an agreement both implicit and mysterious. Not that
the debate was anything more than notional, Elric reflected


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ironically. Of late Arioch had shown a distinct reluctance to come
to his aid. Possibly Yyrkoon had superseded him in every way...
This thought brought Elric back to pain, to his longing for
Cymoril. Again he tried to rise. The sun's position had changed.
He thought he saw Cymoril standing before him. Then she became an
aspect of Arioch. Was the Duke of Chaos playing with him, even
now?
Elric moved his gaze to contemplate the sword which seemed to
shift in its loose silk wrappings and whisper some kind of
warning, or possibly a threat.
Elric turned his head away. "Cymoril?" He peered into the shaft of
sunlight, following it until he looked through the window at the
intense desert sky. Now he believed he saw shapes moving there,
shadows that were almost the forms of men, of beasts and demons.
As these shapes grew more distinct they came to resemble his
friends. Cymoril was there again. Elric moaned in despair. "My
love!"
He saw Rackhir, Dyvim Tvar, even Yyrkoon. He called out to them
all.
At the sound of his own cracked speech he realised he had grown
feverish, that his remaining energy was being dissipated by his
fantasies, that his body was feeding on itself and that death must
be close.
Elric reached to touch his own brow, feeling the sweat pour from
it. He wondered how much each bead might fetch on the open market.
He found it amusing to speculate on this. Could he sweat enough to
buy himself more water, or at least a little wine? Or was this
production of liquid in itself against Quarzhasaat's bizarre water
laws?
He looked again beyond the sunlight, thinking he saw men there,
perhaps the city's guard come to inspect his premises and demand
to see his licence to perspire.
Now it seemed that the desert wind, which was never very far away,
came sliding through the room, bringing with it some elemental
gathering, perhaps a force which was to bear his soul to its
ultimate destination. He felt relief. He smiled. He was glad in
several ways that his struggle was over. Perhaps Cymoril would
join him soon?
Soon? What could Tune mean in that intemporal Realm? Perhaps he
must wait for Eternity before they could be together? Or a mere


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passing moment? Or would he never see her? Was all that lay ahead
for him an absence, a nothingness? Or would his soul enter some
other body, perhaps equally as sickly as his present one, and be
faced again with the same impossible dilemmas, the same terrible
moral and physical challenges which had plagued him since his
emergence into adulthood?
Elric's mind drifted further and further from logic, like a
drowning mouse swept away from the shore, spinning ever more
crazily before death brought oblivion. He chuckled, he wept; he
raved and occasionally slept as his life dissipated its last with
the vapours now pouring from his strange, bone-white flesh. Any
uninformed on-looker would have seen that some misborn diseased
beast, not a man at all, lay in its final and doubtless felicitous
agonies upon that rough bed.
Darkness came and with it a brilliant panoply of people from the
albino's past. He saw again the wizards who had educated him in
all the arts of sorcery; he saw the strange mother he had never
known, and a stranger father; the cruel friends of his childhood
with whom, bit by bit, he could no longer enjoy the luscious,
terrible sports of Melniboné; the caverns and secret glades of the
Dragon Isle, the slim towers and hauntingly intricate palaces of
his unhuman people, whose ancestors were only partially of this
world and who had arisen as beautiful monsters to conquer and rule
before, with a deep weariness which he could appreciate all the
better now, declining into self-examination and morbid fantasies.
And he cried out, for in his mind he saw Cymoril, her body as
wasted as his own while Yyrkoon, giggling with horrible pleasure,
practised upon it the foulest of abominations. And then, again, he
wanted to live, to return to Melniboné, to save the woman he loved
so deeply that often he refused to let himself be conscious of the
intensity of his passion. But he could not.
He knew, as the visions passed and he saw only the dark blue sky
through his window, that soon he would be dead and there would be
nobody to save the woman he had sworn to marry.
By morning the fever was gone and Elric knew he was but a short
hour or two from the end. He opened misted eyes to see the shaft
of sunlight, soft and golden now, no longer glaring directly in as
it had the previous day, but reflected from the glittering walls
of the palace beside which his hovel had been built.
Feeling something suddenly cool upon his cracked lips, he jerked


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his head away and tried to reach for his sword, for he feared that
steel was being positioned against him, perhaps to cut his throat.
"Stormbringer..."
His voice was feeble and his hand was too weak to leave his side,
let alone grip his murmuring blade. He coughed and realised that
liquid was being dripped into his mouth. It was not the filthy
stuff he had bought with his emerald but something fresh and
clean. He drank, trying hard to focus his eyes. Immediately before
him was an ornamental silver flask, a golden, soft hand, an arm
clothed in exquisitely delicate brocade, a humorous face which he
did not recognise. He coughed again. The liquid was more than
ordinary water. Had the boy found some sympathetic apothecary? The
potion was like one of his own sustaining distillations. He drew a
ragged, grateful breath and stared in wary curiosity at the man
who had resurrected him, however briefly. Smiling, his temporary
saviour moved with studied elegance in his heavy, unseasonable
robes.
"Good morning to you, Sir Thief. I trust I'm not insulting you. I
gather you're a citizen of Nadsokor, where all kinds of robbery
are practised with pride?"
Elric, conscious of the delicacy of his situation, saw fit not to
contradict him. The albino prince nodded slowly. His bones still
ached.
The tall, clean-shaven man slipped a stopper into his flask. "The
boy Anigh tells me you have a sword to sell?"
"Perhaps." Certain now that his recovery was only temporary, Elric
continued to exercise caution. "Though I would guess 'tis the kind
of purchase most would regret making..."
"But your sword is not representative of your main trade, eh? You
have lost your crooked staff, no doubt. Sold for water?" A knowing
expression.
Elric chose to humour the man. He allowed himself to hope for life
again. The liquid had revived him enough to bring back his wits,
together with a proportion of his usual strength. "Aye," he said,
appraising his visitor. "Maybe."
"So ho? What? Do you advertise your own incompetence? Is this the
way of the Nadsokor Thieves' Company? Thou art a subtler felon
than thy guise suggests, eh?" This last was delivered in the same
canting tongue Anigh had used on the previous day.
Now Elric realised that this wealthy person had formed an opinion


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of his status and powers which, while at odds with any actuality,
could provide him with a means of escape from his immediate
predicament. Elric grew more alert. "You'd buy my services, is
that it? My special prowess? That of myself and possibly my
sword?"
The man affected carelessness. "If you like." But it was clear he
suppressed some urgency. "I have been told to inform you that the
Blood Moon must soon burn over the Bronze Tent."
"I see." Elric pretended to be impressed by what to him was pure
gibberish. "Then we must move swiftly, I suppose."
"So my master believes. The words mean nothing to me, but they
have significance for you. I was told to offer you a second draft
if you appeared to respond positively to that knowledge. Here."
And smiling more broadly, he held out the silver flask, which
Elric accepted, drinking sparingly and feeling still more strength
return, his aches gradually dissipating.
"Your master would commission a thief? What does he wish stolen
that the thieves of Quarzhasaat cannot steal for him?"
"Aha, sir, you affect a literal-mindedness I cannot believe in
now." He took back the flask. "I am Raafi as-Keeme and I serve a
great man of this empire. He has, I believe, a commission for you.
We have heard much of the Nadsokorian skills and for some while
have been hoping one of your folk might wander this way. Did you
plan to steal from us? None is ever successful. Better to steal
for us, I think."
"Wise advice, I would guess." Elric rose in his bed and put his
feet upon the flagging. Already the liquid's strength was ebbing.
"Perhaps you would outline the nature of the task you have for me,
sir?"
He reached for the flask but it was withdrawn into Raafi as-
Keeme's sleeve.
"By all means, sir," said the newcomer, "when we have discussed a
little of your background. You steal more than jewels, the boy
says. Souls, I hear."
Elric felt some alarm and looked suspiciously at the man whose
expression remained bland. "In a manner of speaking..."
"Good. My master wishes to make use of your services. If you're
successful you'll have a cask of this elixir to carry you back to
the Young Kingdoms or anywhere else you desire to go."
"You are offering me my life, sir," said Elric slowly, "and I am


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willing to pay only so much for that."
"Ah, sir, you have a streak of the merchant's bartering instinct,
I see. I am sure a good bargain can be struck. Will you come with
me now to a certain palace?"
Smiling, Elric took Stormbringer in his two hands and flung
himself back across the bed, his shoulders against the wall and
the source of the sunlight. Placing the sword upon his lap, he
waved his hand in mockery of lordly hospitality. "Would you not
prefer to stay and sample what I have to offer, Sir Raafi as-
Keeme?"
The richly clad man shook his head deliberately. "I think not. You
have doubtless become used to this stink and to the stink of your
own body, but I can assure you it is not pleasant to one who is
unfamiliar with it."
Elric laughed as he accepted this. He rose to his feet, hooking
his scabbard to his belt and slipping the murmuring runesword into
the black leather. "Then lead on, sir. I must admit I'm curious to
discover what considerable risks I am to take that would make one
of your own thieves refuse the kind of rewards a lord of
Quarzhasaat can offer."
And in his mind he had already made a bargain: that he would not
allow his life to slip away so easily a second time. He owed that
much, he had decided, to Cymoril.

2
"The Pearl at the Heart of the World"

In a room through which mellow sunlight slanted in dusty bands
from a massive grille set deep into the ornately painted roof of a
place called Goshasiz whose complicated architecture was stained
by something more sinister than time, Lord Gho Fhaazi entertained
his guest to further drafts of the mysterious elixir and food
which, in Quarzhasaat, was at least as valuable as the
furnishings.
Bathed and wearing fresh robes, Elric possessed a new vitality,
the dark blues and greens of his silks emphasising the whiteness
of his skin and long, fine hair. The scabbarded runesword leaned
against the carved arm of his chair and he was prepared to draw it
and use it should this audience prove an elaborate trap.
Lord Gho Fhaazi was modishly coiffed and clad. His black hair and


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beard were teased into symmetrical ringlets, the long moustachios
were waxed and pointed, the heavy brows bleached blond above pale
green eyes and a skin artificially whitened until it resembled
Elric's own. The lips were painted a vivid red. He sat at the far
end of a table which slanted down subtly towards bis guest, his
back to the light so that he almost resembled a magistrate sitting
in judgement on a felon.
Elric recognised the deliberateness of the arrangement and was not
put out by it. Lord Gho was still relatively young, in his early
thirties, and had a pleasant, slightly high-pitched voice. He
waved plump fingers at the plates of figs and dates in mint
leaves, of honeyed locusts, which lay between them, pushed the
silver flask of elixir in Elric's direction with an awkward
display of hospitality, his movements revealing that he performed
tasks he would usually have reserved for his servants.
"My dear fellow. More. Have more." He was unsure of Elric, almost
wary of him, and it grew clear to the albino that there was some
urgency involved in the matter, which Lord Gho had not yet
proposed, nor revealed through the courier he had sent to the
hovel "Is there perhaps some favourite food we have not provided?"
Elric raised yellow linen to his lips. "I'm obliged to you, Lord
Gho. I have not eaten so well since I left the lands of the Young
Kingdoms."
"Aha, just so. Food is plentiful there, I hear."
"As plentiful as diamonds in Quarzhasaat. You have visited the
Young Kingdoms?"
"We of Quarzhasaat have no need to travel." Lord Gho spoke in some
surprise. "What is there abroad that we could possibly desire?"
Elric reflected that Lord Gho's people had a good deal in common
with his own. He reached and took another fig from the nearest
dish and as he chewed it slowly, savouring its sweet succulence,
he stared frankly at Lord Gho. "How came you to learn of
Nadsokor?"
"We do not travel ourselves-but, naturally, travellers come to us.
Some of them have taken caravans to Karlaak and elsewhere. They
bring back the occasional slave. They tell us such astonishing
lies!" He laughed tolerantly. "But there's a gram of truth, no
doubt, in some of what they say. While dreamthieves, for instance,
are secretive and circumspect about their origins, we have heard
that thieves of every land are welcomed in Nadsokor. It takes


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little intelligence to draw the obvious conclusion..."
"Especially if one is blessed with only the barest information
concerning other lands and peoples." Elric smiled.
Lord Gho Fnaazi did not recognise the albino's sarcasm, or perhaps
he ignored it. "Is Nadsokor your home city or did you adopt it?"
he asked.
"A temporary home at best," Elric told him truthfully.
"You have superficial looks in common with the people of
Melniboné, whose greed led us to our present situation," Lord Gho
informed him. "Is there Melnibonéan blood in your ancestry,
perhaps?"
"I have no doubt of it." Elric wondered why Lord Gho failed to
draw the most obvious conclusion. "Are the folk of the Dragon Isle
still hated for what they did?"
"Their attempt upon our empire, you mean? I suppose so. But the
Dragon Isle has long since sunk beneath the waves, a victim of our
sorcerous revenge, and her puny empire with her. Why should we
give much thought to a dead race which was duly punished for its
infamy?"
"Indeed." Elric realised that so thoroughly had Quarzhasaat
explained away her defeat and provided for herself a reason for
taking no action, that she had consigned his entire people to
oblivion in her legends. He could not therefore be a Melnibonéan,
for Melniboné no longer existed. On that score, at least, he could
know some peace of mind. Moreover, so uninterested were these
people in the rest of the world and its denizens that Lord Gho
Fhaazi had no further curiosity about him. The Quarzhasaatim had
decided who and what Elric was and were satisfied. The albino
reflected on the power of the human mind to build a fantasy and
then defend it with complete determination as a reality.
Elric's chief dilemma now lay in the fact that he had no clear
notion at all of the profession he was thought to practise or of
the task Lord Gho wished him to perform.
The Quarzhasaati nobleman lowered his hands into a bowl of scented
water and washed his beard, ostentatiously letting the liquid fall
upon the geometrical mosaics of the floor.
"My servant tells me you understood his references," he said,
drying himself upon a gauzy towel. Again it was clear he usually
employed slaves for this task but had chosen to dine alone with
Elric, perhaps for fear of his secrets being overheard. "The


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actual words of the prophecy are a little different. You know
them?"
"No," said Elric with immediate frankness. He wondered what would
happen if Lord Gho realised that he was here under false
pretences.
"When the Blood Moon makes fire of the Bronze Tent, then the Path
to the Pearl will be opened."
"Aha," said Elric. "Just so."
"And the nomads tell us that the Blood Moon will appear over the
mountains in little less than a week. And will shine upon the
Waters of the Pearl."
"Exactly," said Elric.
"And so the path to the Fortress shall, of course, be revealed."
Elric nodded with gravity and as if in confirmation. "And a man
such as yourself, with a knowledge at once supernatural and not
supernatural, who can tread between reality and unreality, who
knows the ways along the borders of dreams and waking, may break
through the defences, overwhelm the guardians and steal the
Pearl!" Lord Gho's voice was a mixture of lasciviousness, venality
and hot excitement.
"Indeed," said the Emperor of Melniboné.
Lord Gho took Elric's reticence for discretion. "Would you steal
that Pearl for me, Sir Thief?"
Elric gave the matter apparent consideration before he spoke.
"There is considerable danger in the stealing, I would guess."
"Of course. Of course. Our people are now convinced that none but
one of your craft is able even to enter the Fortress, let alone
reach the Pearl itself!"
"And where lies this Fortress of the Pearl?"
"I suppose at the Heart of the World."
Elric frowned.
"After all," said Lord Gho with some impatience, "the jewel is
known as the Pearl at the Heart of the World, is it not?"
"I follow your reasoning," said Elric, and resisted an urge to
scratch the back of his head. Instead he considered a further
draft of the marvellous elixir, although he was growing
increasingly disturbed, both by Lord Gho's conversation and the
fact that the pale liquid was so delicious to him. "But surely
there is some other clue ... ?"
"I had thought such things your sphere, Sir Thief. You must go, of


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course, to the Silver Flower Oasis. It is the time when the nomads
hold one of their gatherings. Some significance, no doubt,
concerning the Blood Moon. It is most likely that at the Silver
Flower Oasis the path will be opened to you. You have heard of the
oasis, naturally."
"I have no map, I fear," Elric informed him, a little lamely.
"That will be provided. You have never travelled the Red Road?"
"As I've explained. I'm a stranger to your empire, Lord Gho."
"But your geographies and histories must concern themselves with
us!"
"I fear we are a little ignorant, my lord. We of the Young
Kingdoms, so long in the shadow of wicked Melniboné, had not the
opportunity to discover the joys of learning."
Lord Gho raised his unnatural eyebrows. "Yes," he said, "that
would be the case, of course. Well, well, Sir Thief, we'll provide
you with a map. But the Red Road's easy enough to follow since it
leads from Quarzhasaat to the Silver Flower Oasis and beyond are
only the mountains the nomads call the Ragged Pillars. They're of
no interest to you, I think. Unless the Path of the Pearl takes
you through them. That's a more mysterious road and not, you'll
appreciate, marked on any conventional map at least. None that we
possess. And our libraries are the most sophisticated in the
world."
So determined was Elric to get the best from his reprieve that he
was prepared to continue with this farce until he was clear of
Quarzhasaat and riding for the Young Kingdoms again. "And a steed,
I hope. You'll give me a mount."
"The finest. Will you need to redeem your crooked staff? Or is
that merely a kind of sign of your calling?"
"I can find another."
Lord Gho put his hand to his peculiar beard. "Just as you say, Sir
Thief."
Elric determined to change the subject. "You have said little
about the nature of my fee." He drained his goblet and clumsily
Lord Gho filled it again.
"What would you usually ask?" said the Quarzhasaati.
"Well, this is an unusual commission." Elric grew amused again at
the situation. "You understand that there are very few of my skill
or indeed standing, even in the Young Kingdoms, and fewer still
who come to Quarzhasaat..."


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"If you bring me that specific Pearl, Sir Thief, you will have all
manner of wealth. At least enough to make you one of the most
powerful men in the Young Kingdoms. I would furnish you with an
entire nobleman's household. Clothes, jewels, a palace, slaves.
Or, if you wished to continue your travels, a caravan capable of
purchasing a whole nation in the Young Kingdoms. You could become
a prince there, possibly even a king!"
"A heady prospect," said the albino sardonically.
"Add to that what I have already paid and shall be paying and I
think you'll judge the reward handsome enough."
"Aye. Generous, no doubt." Elric frowned, glancing around the
great room, with its hangings, its rich gem-work, its mosaics of
precious stones, its elaborately ornamental cornices and pillars.
He had it in mind to bargain further, because he guessed it was
expected of him. "But if I have a notion of the Pearl's worth to
you, Lord Gho- what it will purchase for you here-you'll admit
that the price you offer is not necessarily a large one."
Lord Gho Fhaazi grew amused in turn. "The Pearl will buy me the
place on the Council of Six which shall shortly be vacated. The
Nameless Seventh has given the Pearl as her price. It is why I
must have it so soon. It is already promised. You have guessed
this. There are rivals, but none who has offered so much."
"And do these rivals know of your offer?"
"Doubtless there are rumours. But I would warn you to keep silent
on the nature of your task..."
"You do not fear that I could look for a better bargain elsewhere
in your city?"
"Oh, there will be those who would offer you more, if you were so
greedy and so disloyal. But they could not offer you what I offer,
Sir Thief." And Lord Gho Fhaazi let his mouth form a terrible
grin.
"Why so?" Elric felt suddenly trapped and his instinct was to
reach for Stormbringer.
"They do not possess it." Lord Gho pushed the flask towards the
albino and Elric was a little surprised to see that he had already
drunk another goblet of the elixir. He filled his cup once more
and drank thoughtfully. Some of the truth was coming to him and he
feared it
"What can be as rare as the Pearl?" The albino put down his
goblet. He believed he had an idea of the answer.


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Lord Gho was staring at him intently. "You understand, I think."
Lord Gho smiled again.
"Aye." Elric felt his spirits drop and he knew a frisson of deep
terror mixed with a growing anger. "The elixir, I suppose..."
"Oh, that's relatively easy to make. It is, of course, a poison-a
drug which feeds off its user, giving him only an appearance of
vitality. Eventually there is nothing left for the drug to feed
upon and the death which results is almost always unpleasant. What
a wretch the stuff makes of men and women who only a week or so
earlier believed themselves powerful enough to rule the world!"
Lord Gho began to laugh, his little ringlets bobbing at his face
and on his head. "Yet, dying, they will beg and beg for the thing
which has killed them. Is that not an irony, Sir Thief? What's so
rare as the Pearl? you ask. Why, the answer must be clear to you
now, eh? An individual's life, is it not?"
"So I am dying. Why then should I serve you?"
"Because there is, of course, an antidote. Something which
replaces everything the other drug steals, which does not cause a
craving in the one who drinks it, which restores the user to full
health in a matter of days and drives out the need for the
original drug. So you see, Sir Thief, my offer to you was by no
means an empty one. I can give you enough of the elixir to let you
complete your task and, so long as you return here in good time, I
can give you the antidote. You'll have gained much, eh?"
Elric straightened himself in his chair and put his hand upon the
pommel of the Black Sword. "I have already informed your courier
that my life has only limited worth to me. There are certain
things I value more."
"I understood as much," said Lord Gho Fhaazi with cruel joviality,
"and I respect you for your principles, Sir Thief. Your point's
well put. But there's another life to consider, is there not? That
of your accomplice?"
"I have no accomplice, sir."
"Have you not? Have you not, Sir Thief? Would you come with me?"
Elric, mistrustful of the man, still saw no reason not to follow
him when he strode arrogantly through the huge, curving doorway of
the hall. At his belt once more Stormbringer grumbled and stirred
like a suspicious hound.
The passages of the palace, lined in green, brown and yellow
marble to give the feeling of a cool forest, scented with the most


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exquisite flowering shrubs, led them past rooms of retainers,
menageries, tanks of fish and reptiles, a seraglio and an armoury,
until Lord Gho arrived at a wooden door guarded by two soldiers hi
the unpractically baroque armour of Quarzhasaat, their own beards
oiled and forked into fantastically exaggerated shapes. They
presented their engraved halberds as Lord Gho approached.
"Open this," he ordered. And one took a massive key from within
his breastplate, inserting it into the lock.
The door opened upon a small courtyard containing a defunct
fountain, a little cloister and a set of living quarters on the
far side.
"Where are you? Where are you, my little one? Show yourself!
Quickly now!" Lord Gho was impatient.
There was a clink of metal and a figure emerged from the doorway.
It had a piece of fruit in one hand, a loop or two of chain in the
other, and it walked with difficulty for the links were attached
to a metal band riveted around its waist. "Ah, master," it said to
Elric, "you have not served me as I would have hoped."
Elric's smile was grim. "But maybe as you deserve, eh, Anigh?" He
let his anger show. "I did not imprison you, boy. I think the
choice, in reality, was probably your own. You tried to deal with
a power which clearly recognises no decencies."
Lord Gho was unmoved. "He approached Raafi as-Keeme's manservant,"
he said, staring at the boy with a certain interest, "and offered
your services. He said he was acting as your agent."
"Well, so he was," agreed Elric, his smile more sympathetic in
view of Anigh's evident discomfiture. "But that surely is not
against your laws?"
"Certainly not. He showed excellent enterprise."
"Then why is he imprisoned?"
"That's a matter of expediency. You appreciate that, Sir Thief?"
"In other circumstances I would suspect some minor infamy," said
Elric carefully. "But I know you, Lord Gho, to be a nobleman. You
would not hold this boy in order to threaten me. It would be
beneath you."
"I hope I am a nobleman, sir. Yet in such times as these not all
nobles in this city are bound by the old codes of honour. Not when
such stakes are played for. You appreciate that even though you
are not yourself a nobleman. Or even, I suppose, a gentleman."
"In Nadsokor I am thought one," said Elric quietly.


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"Oh, but of course. In Nadsokor." Lord Gho pointed at Anigh, who
smiled uncertainly from one to the other, not following this
exchange at all. "And in Nadsokor, I am sure, they would hold a
convenient hostage if they could."
"But this is unfair, sir." Elric's voice was trembling with rage
and he had to control himself not to reach his right hand towards
the Black Sword on his left hip. "If I am killed in pursuit of my
goal, the boy dies, just as if I had made my escape."
"Well, yes, that is true, dear thief. But I expect you to return,
you see. If not-well, the boy will still be useful to me, both
alive and dead."
Anigh no longer smiled. Terror came slowly into his eyes. "Oh,
masters!"
"He'll not be harmed." Lord Gho placed a cold, powdered hand on
Elric's shoulders. "For you will return with the Pearl at the
Heart of the World, will you not?"
Elric breathed deeply, controlling himself. He felt a need deep
within him; a need he could not readily identify. Was it
bloodlust? Did he want to draw the Black Sword and suck the soul
from this scheming degenerate? He spoke evenly. "My lord, if you
would release the boy, I will assure you of my best efforts... I
will swear..."
"Good thief, Quarzhasaat is full of men and women who give the
most fulsome reassurances and who, I am sure, are sincere when
they do so. They will swear great, important oaths upon all that
is most holy to them. Yet should circumstances change, they forget
those oaths. Some security, I find, is always useful to remind
them of obligations undertaken. We are, you will appreciate,
playing for the very highest stakes. There are really none higher
in the whole world. A seat upon the Council." This last sentence
was emphasised without mockery. Clearly Lord Gho Fhaazi could see
no greater goal. Disgusted by the man's sophistry and contemptuous
of his provincialism, Elric turned his back on Lord Gho. He
addressed the lad. "You'll observe, Anigh, that little luck
befalls those who league themselves with me. I warned you of this.
Yet still I shall endeavour to return and save you." His next
sentence was uttered in the thievish cant. "Meanwhile do not trust
this filthy creature and make every sensible effort to escape on
your own."
    "No gutter patois here!" cried Lord Gho, suddenly alarmed, "or


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you both die at once!" Evidently he did not understand the cant as
his courier had done.
"Best not to threaten me, Lord Gho." Elric returned his hand to
the hilt of his sword.
The nobleman laughed. "What? Such belligerence! Understand you
not, Sir Thief, that the elixir you drink is already killing you?
You have three weeks before only the antidote will save you! Do
you not feel the gnawing need for the drug? If such an elixir were
harmless, why, sir, we should all use it and become gods!"
Elric could not be sure if it was his mind or his body which felt
the pangs. He realised that even as his instincts drove him to
kill the Quarzhasaati nobleman his craving for the drug threatened
to dominate him. Even close to death when his own drugs failed him
he had never craved anything so much. He stood with his whole body
trembling as he sought to master it again. His voice was icy.
"This is more than minor infamy, Lord Gho. I congratulate you. You
are a man of the cruellest and most unpleasant cunning. Are all
those who serve upon the Council as corrupt as yourself?"
Lord Gho grew still more genial. "This is unworthy of you, Sir
Thief. All I am doing is assuring myself that you'll follow my
interests for a while." Again he chuckled. "I have assured myself,
in fact, that for this period of time your interests become mine.
What is so wrong with that? I would not think it befitting in a
self-confessed .thief, to insult a noble of Quarzhasaat merely
because he knows how to strike a good bargain!"
Elric's hatred for the man, who originally he had only disliked,
still threatened to consume him. But a new, colder mood took him
as his hold over his own emotions returned. "So you are saying
that I am your slave, Lord Gho."
"If you wish to put it so. At least until you bring me back the
Pearl at the Heart of the World."
"And should I find this Pearl for you, how do I know you will
supply me with the poison's antidote?"
Lord Gho shrugged. "That is for you to determine. You are an
intelligent man for an outlander, and have survived this long, I'm
sure, on your wits. But make no mistake. This potion is brewed for
me alone and you'll not find the identical recipe anywhere else.
Best hold to our bargain, Sir Thief, and depart from here
ultimately a rich man. With your little friend all in one piece."
Elric's mood had changed to one of grim humour. With his strength


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returned, no matter how artificially, he could wreak considerable
destruction to Lord Gho and, indeed, the whole city if he chose.
As if reading his mind, Stormbringer seemed to stir against his
hip and Lord Gho permitted himself a small, nervous glance towards
the great runesword.
Yet Elric did not want to die and neither did he desire Anigh's
death. He decided to bide his time, to pretend, at least, to serve
Lord Gho until he discovered more about the man and his ambitions,
and found out more, if possible, of the nature of the drug he so
longed for. Possibly the elixir did not kill. Possibly it was a
potion common to Quarzhasaat and many possessed the antidote. But
he had no friends here, other than Anigh, not even temporary
allies serving interests prepared to help him against Lord Gho as
a common enemy.
"Perhaps," said Elric, "I do not care what becomes of the boy."
"Oh, I think I read your character well enough, Sir Thief. You are
like the nomads. And the nomads are like the people of the Young
Kingdoms. They place unnaturally high values on the lives of those
with whom they associate. They have a weakness for sentimental
loyalties."
Elric could not help considering the irony of this, for
Melnibonéans thought themselves equally above such loyalties and
he was one of the few who cared what happened to those not of his
own immediate family. It was the reason he was here now. Fate, he
reflected, was teaching him some strange lessons. He sighed. He
hoped they did not kill him.
"If the boy is harmed when I return, Lord Gho-if he is harmed hi
any way-you will suffer a fate a thousand times worse than any you
bestow on him. Or, I'll add, on me!" He turned blazing red eyes
upon the aristocrat. It seemed that the fires of Hell raged inside
that skull.
Lord Gho shuddered, then smiled to hide his fear. "No, no, no!"
His unnatural brow clouded. "It is not for you to threaten me! I
have explained the terms. I am unused to this, Sir Thief, I warn
you."
Elric laughed and the fire in his eyes did not fade. "I will make
you used to everything you have accustomed others to, Lord Gho.
Whatever happens. Do you follow me? This boy will not be harmed!"
"I have told you..."
"And I have warned you." Elric's lids fell over his terrible eyes,


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as if he closed a door on a Realm of Chaos, yet still Lord Gho
took a step backward. Elric's voice was a cold whisper. "By all
the power I command, I will be revenged upon you. Nothing will
stop that vengeance. Not all your wealth. Not death itself."
This tune when Lord Gho made to smile he failed.
Anigh grinned suddenly, like the happy child he had been before
these events. Evidently he believed Elric's words.
The albino prince moved like a hungry tiger towards Lord Gho. Then
he staggered a little and drew a sharp breath. Clearly the elixir
was losing its strength, or demanding more of him, he could not
tell. He had experienced nothing like this before. He longed for
another draft. He felt pains hi his belly and chest, as if rats
chewed him from within. He gasped.
Now Lord Gho found a vestige of his former humour. "Refuse to
serve me and your death's inevitable. I would caution you to
greater politeness, Sir Thief."
Elric drew himself up with some dignity. "You should know this,
Lord Gho Fhaazi. If you betray any part of our bargain I will keep
my oath and bring such destruction upon you and your city you will
regret you ever heard my name. And you will only hear who I am,
Lord Gho Fhaazi, before you die, your city and all its degenerate
inhabitants dying with you."
The Quarzhasaati made to reply then bit back his words, saying
only: "You have three weeks."
With his remaining strength, Elric dragged Stormbringer from its
scabbard. The black metal pulsed, black light pouring from it
while the runes carved upon the blade twisted and danced and a
hideous, anticipatory song began to sound in that courtyard,
echoing through all the old towers and minarets of Quarzhasaat.
"This sword drinks souls, Lord Gho. It could drink yours now and
give me more strength than any potion. But you have a minor
advantage over me for the moment. I'll agree to your bargain. But
if you lie..."
"I do not lie!" Lord Gho had retreated to the other side of the
barren fountain. "No, Sir Thief, I do not lie! You must do as I
say. Bring me the Pearl at the Heart of the World and I will repay
you with all the wealth I promised, with your own life and that of
the boy!"
The Black Sword growled, clearly demanding the nobleman's soul
there and then.


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With a yelp, Anigh disappeared into the little room.
"I'll leave in the morning." Reluctantly Elric sheathed the sword.
"You must tell me which of the city's gates I must use to travel
upon the Red Road to the Silver Flower Oasis. And I will want your
honest advice on how best to ration that poisoned elixir."
"Come." Lord Gho spoke with nervous eagerness. "There is more in
the hall. It awaits you. I had no wish to spoil our encounter with
bad manners..."
Elric licked lips already growing unpleasantly dry. He paused,
looking towards the doorway from which the boy's face could just
be seen.
"Come, Sir Thief." Lord Gho's hand again went to Elric's arm. "In
the hall. More elixir. Even now. You long for it, do you not?"
He spoke the truth, but Elric let his hatred control his lust for
the potion. He called: "Anigh! Young Anigh!"
Slowly the boy emerged. "Aye, master."
"I swear you'll suffer no harm from any action of mine. And this
foul degenerate now understands that if he hurts you in any way
while I am gone he will die in the most terrible torment. And yet,
boy, you must remember all I've said, for I know not where this
adventure will lead me." And Elric added hi the cant: "Perhaps to
death."
"I hear you," said Anigh hi the same tongue. "But I would beg you,
master, not to die yourself. I have some interest in your
remaining alive."
"No more!" Lord Gho strode across the courtyard signalling for
Elric to accompany him. "Come. I'll supply you with all you need
to find the Fortress of the Pearl."
"And I would be most grateful if you did not let me die. I would
be a most grateful boy, master," said Anigh from behind them as
the door closed.

3
On the Red Road

So it was that next morning Elric of Melniboné left ancient
Quarzhasaat not knowing what he sought or where to find it;
knowing only that he must take the Red Road to the Silver Flower
Oasis and there find the Bronze Tent where he would learn how he
might continue on the Path to the Pearl at the Heart of the World.


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And if he failed in this numinous quest, his own life at very
least would be forfeit.
Lord Gho Fhaazi had offered no further illumination and it was
evident the ambitious politician knew no more than he had
repeated.
"The Blood Moon must make fire of the Bronze Tent before the
Pathway to the Pearl shall be revealed."
Knowing nothing of Quarzhasaat's legends or history and very
little of her geography, Elric had decided to follow the map he
had been given to the oasis. It was simple enough. It showed a
trail stretching for at least a hundred miles between Quarzhasaat
and the oddly named oasis. Beyond this were the Ragged Pillars, a
range of low mountains. The Bronze Tent was not named and neither
was there any reference to the Pearl.
Lord Gho believed the nomads to be better informed but had not
been able to guarantee that they would be prepared to talk to
Elric. He hoped that, once they understood who he was, and with a
little of Lord Gho's gold to reassure them, they would be
friendly, but he knew nothing of the Sighing Desert's interland,
nor its people. He knew only that Lord Gho despised the nomads as
primitives and resented occasionally admitting them into the city
to trade. Elric hoped the nomads would be better mannered than
those who still believed this whole continent to be under their
rule.
The Red Road was well-named, dark as half-dried blood, cutting
through the desert between high banks which suggested it had once
been the river on whose sides originally Quarzhasaat had been
built. Every few miles the banks descended to reveal the great
desert in all directions-a sea of rolling dunes which stirred in a
breeze whose voice was faint here but still resembled the sighing
of some imprisoned lover.
The sun climbed slowly into a glaring indigo sky as still as an
actor's backdrop and Elric was grateful for the local costume
provided him by Raafi as-Keeme before he left, a white cowl, loose
white jerkin and breeches, white linen shoes to the knee and a
visor which protected his eyes. His horse, a bulky, graceful beast
capable of great speed and endurance, was similarly clothed in
linen, to protect it from both the sun and the sand which blew in
constant gentle drifts across the landscape. Clearly some effort
was made to keep the Red Road free of the drifts which gathered


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against its banks and gradually built them into walls.
Elric had lost none of his hatred either of his situation or of
Lord Gho Fhaazi; neither had he lost his determination to remain
alive and rescue Anigh, return to Melniboné and be reunited with
Cymoril. Lord Gho's elixir had proved as addictive as he had
claimed and Elric carried two flasks of it in his saddle-bags. Now
he truly believed it must indeed kill him eventually and that only
Lord Gho possessed an antidote. This belief reinforced his
determination to be revenged upon that nobleman at the earliest
possible opportunity.
The Red Road seemed endless. The sky shivered with heat as the sun
climbed higher. And Elric, who disapproved of useless regret,
found himself wishing he had never been foolish enough to buy the
map from the Ihnioran sailor or to venture so badly prepared into
the desert.
"To summon supernatural to aid me now would compound the folly,"
he said aloud to the wilderness. "What's more, I might need that
aid when I reach the Fortress of the Pearl." He knew that his self-
disgust had not merely caused him to commit further foolishness,
but still dictated his actions. Without it, his thoughts might
have been clearer and he might better have anticipated Lord Gho's
trickery.
Even now he doubted his own instincts. For the past hour he had
guessed that he was being followed but had seen no one behind bun
on the Red Road. He had taken to glancing back suddenly, to
stopping without warning, to riding back a few yards. But he was
apparently as alone now as he had been when he began the journey.
"Perhaps that damned elixir addles my senses also," he said,
patting the dusty cloth of his horse's neck. The great bulwarks of
the road were falling away here, becoming little more than mounds
on either side of bun. He reined in the horse, for he fancied he
could see movement that was more than drifting sand. Little
figures ran here and there on long legs, upright like so many tiny
manikins. He peered hard at them but then they were gone. Other,
larger creatures, moving with far slower speeds, seemed to creep
just below the surface of the sand while a cloud of something
black hovered over them, following them as they made their
ponderous way across the desert.
Elric was learning that, hi this part of the Sighing Desert at
least, what appeared to be a lifeless wilderness was actually no


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such thing. He hoped that the large creatures he detected did not
regard man as a worthwhile prey.
Again he received a sense of something behind him and turning
suddenly thought he glimpsed a flash of yellow, perhaps a cloak,
but it had disappeared in a slight bend behind him. His temptation
was to stop, to rest for an hour or two before continuing, but he
was anxious to reach the Silver Flower Oasis as soon as possible.
There was little time to achieve his goal and return with the
Pearl to Quarzhasaat.
He sniffed the ah". The breeze brought a new smell. If he had not
known better he would have thought someone was burning kitchen
waste; it was the same acrid stink. Then he peered into the middle-
distance and detected a faint plume of smoke. Were there nomads so
close to Quarzhasaat? He had understood that they did not like
coming within a hundred miles or more of the city unless they had
specific reasons to do so. And if people were camped here, why did
they not set their tents closer to the road? Nothing had been said
of bandits, so he did not fear attack, but he remained curious,
continuing his journey with a certain caution.
The walls rose up again and blocked his view of the desert, but
the stink of burning grew stronger and stronger until it was
almost unbearable. He felt the stuff clogging his lungs. His eyes
began to stream. It was a most noxious smell, almost as if someone
were burning putrefying corpses.
Again the walls sank a little until he could see over them. Less
than a mile away, as best he could judge, he saw about twenty
plumes of smoke, darker now, while other clouds danced and
zigzagged about them. He began to suspect that he had come upon a
tribe who kept their cooking fires alight as they travelled in
waggons of some kind. Yet it was hard to know what kind of waggons
would easily cross the deep drifts. And again he wondered why they
were not on the Red Road.
Tempted to investigate he knew he would be a fool to leave the
road. He might again become lost and be in even worse condition
than when Anigh had found him all those days ago on the far side
of Quarzhasaat.
He was about to dismount and rest his mind and eyes, if not his
body, for an hour, when the wall nearest him began to heave and
quake and large cracks appeared in it. The terrible smell of
burning was even closer now and he cleared his throat, coughing to


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rid himself of the stench while his horse began to whinny and
refuse the rein as he tried to drive him forward.
Suddenly a flock of creatures ran directly across his path,
bursting from the newly made holes in the walls. These were what
he had mistaken for tiny men. Now that he saw them more closely he
realised they were some kind of rat, but a rat which ran on long
hind-legs, its forelegs short and held up high against its chest,
its long, grey face full of sharp little teeth, its huge ears
making it seem almost like some flying creature attempting to
leave the ground.
There came a great rumbling and cracking. Black smoke blinded
Elric and his horse reared. He saw a shape moving out of the
broken banks-a massive, flesh-coloured body on a dozen legs, its
mandibles clattering as it chased the rats which were clearly its
natural prey. Elric let the horse have its head and looked back to
get a clearer view of a creature he had thought existed only in
ancient times. He had read of such beasts but had believed them
extinct. They were called firebeetles. By some trick of biology
the gigantic beetles secreted oily pools in their heavy carapaces.
These pools, exposed to the sunlight and the flames already
burning on other backs, would catch fire so that sometimes as many
as twenty spots on the beetles' impervious backs would be burning
at any one time and would only be extinguished when a beast dug
its way deep underground during its breeding season. This was what
he had seen in the distance.
The firebeetles were hunting.
They moved with awful speed now. At least a dozen of the gigantic
insects were closing in on the road and Elric realised to his
horror that he and his horse were about to be trapped in a sweep
designed to catch the man-rats. He knew that the firebeetles would
not discriminate where flesh was concerned and he could well be
eaten by purest accident by a beast which was not known for making
prey of men. The horse continued to rear and snort and only put
all hooves on the ground when Elric forced it under his control,
drawing Stormbringer and considering how useless even that
sorcerous sword would be against the pink-grey carapaces from
which flames now leapt and guttered. Stormbringer drew scant
energy from natural creatures like these. He could only hope for a
lucky blow, splitting a back, perhaps, and breaking through the
tightening circle before he was completely trapped.


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He swung the great black battle-blade down and severed a waving
appendage. The beetle hardly noticed and did not pause for a
second in its progress. Elric yelled and swung again and fire
scattered. Hot oil was flung into the air as he struck the
firebeetle's back and again failed to do it any significant harm.
The shrieking of the horse and the wailing of the blade now
mingled and Elric found himself yelling as he turned the horse
this way and that in search of escape while all around his horse's
feet the man-rats scurried in terror, unable to burrow easily into
the hard clay of that much-travelled road. Blood spattered against
Elric's legs and arms, against the linen which clad his horse to
below its knees. Little spots of flaming oil flared on cloth and
burned holes. The beetles were feasting, moving more slowly as
they ate. There was nowhere in the circle a gap large enough for
horse and rider to escape.
Elric considered trying to ride the horse over the backs of the
great beetles, though it seemed their shells would be too slippery
for purchase. There was no other hope. He was about to force the
horse forward when he heard a peculiar humming in the air around
him, saw the air suddenly fill with flies and knew that these were
the scavengers which always followed the firebeetles, feeding off
whatever scraps they left and upon the dung they scattered as they
travelled. Now they were beginning to settle on him and his horse,
adding to his horror. He slapped at the things, but they formed a
thick coat, crawling on every part of bun, their noise both
sickening and deafening, their bodies half-blinding him.
The horse cried out again and stumbled. Elric desperately tried to
see ahead. The smoke and the flies were too much for both himself
and his horse. Flies filled his mouth and nostrils. He gagged,
trying to brush them from him, spitting them down to where the
little man-rats squealed and died.
Another sound came dimly to him, and miraculously the flies began
to rise. Through watering eyes he saw the beetles start to move
all hi one direction, leaving a space through which he might ride.
Without another thought he spurred his horse towards the gap,
dragging great gasps of air into his lungs, still unsure if he had
escaped or whether he had merely moved into a wider circle of
firebeetles, for the smoke and the noise were still confusing him.
Spitting more flies from his mouth, he adjusted his visor and
peered ahead. The beetles were no longer in sight, though he could


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hear them behind him. There were new shapes in the dust and smoke.
There were riders, moving on either side of the Red Road, driving
the beetles back with long spears which they hooked under the
carapaces and used as goads, doing the creatures no real harm but
giving them enough pain to make them move, where Elric's blade had
failed. The riders wore flowing yellow robes which were caught by
the breeze of their own movement and lifted about them like wings
as, systematically, they herded the firebeetles away from the road
and out into the desert while the remainder of the man-rats,
perhaps grateful for this unexpected salvation, scattered and
found burrows in the sand.
Elric did not sheath Stormbringer. He knew enough to understand
that these warriors might well be saving him only incidentally and
might even blame him for being in their way. The other
possibility, which was stronger, was that these men had been
following him for some time and did not wish the firebeetles to
cheat them of their prey.
Now one of the yellow-clad riders detached himself from the throng
and galloped up to Elric, hailing him with spear raised.
"I thank you mightily," the albino said. "You have saved my life,
sir. I trust I did not disrupt your hunt too much."
The rider was taller than Elric, very thin, with a gaunt dark face
and black eyes. His head was shaved and both his lips were
decorated, apparently with tiny tattoos, as if he wore a mask of
fine, multicoloured lace across his mouth. The spear was not
sheathed and Elric prepared to defend himself, knowing that his
chances against even so many human beings were greater than they
had been against the firebeetles.
The man frowned at Elric's statement, puzzled for a moment. Then
his brow cleared. "We did not hunt the firebeetles. We saw what
was happening and realised that you did not know enough to get out
of the creatures' way. We came as quickly as we could. I am Manag
Iss of the Yellow Sect, kinsman to Councillor Iss. I am of the
Sorcerer Adventurers."
Elric had heard of these sects, who had been the chief warrior
caste of Quarzhasaat and had been largely responsible for the
spells which inundated the Empire with sand. Had Lord Gho, not
trusting him completely, set them to following him? Or were they
assassins instructed to kill him?
"I thank you, nonetheless, Manag Iss, for your intervention. I owe


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you my life. I am honoured to meet one of your sect. I am Elric of
Nadsokor in the Young Kingdoms."
"Aye, we know of you. We were trailing you, waiting until we were
far enough from the city to speak to you safely."
"Safely? You're in no danger from me, Master Sorcerer Adventurer."
Manag Iss was evidently not a man who smiled often and when he
smiled now it was a strange contortion of the face. Behind them,
other members of the sect were beginning to ride back, rehousing
their long spears in the scabbards attached to their saddles. "I
did not think we were, Master Elric. We come to you in peace and
we are your friends, if you will have us. My kinswoman sends her
greetings. She is the wife of Councillor Iss. Iss remains,
however, our family name. We all tend to marry the same blood, our
clan."
"I am glad to make your acquaintance." Elric waited for the man to
speak further.
Manag Iss waved a long, brown hand whose nails had been removed
and replaced with the same tattoos as those on his mouth. "Would
you dismount and talk, for we come with messages and the offer of
gifts."
Elric slipped Stormbringer back into the scabbard and swung his
leg over his saddle, sliding to the dust of the Red Road. He
watched as the beetles lurched slowly away, perhaps in search of
more man-rats, their smoking backs reminding him of the fires of
the leper camps on the outskirts of Jadmar.
"My kinswoman wishes you to know that she, as well as the Yellow
Sect, is at your service, Master Elric. We are prepared to give
you whatever aid you require in seeking out the Pearl at the Heart
of the World."
Now Elric felt a certain amusement. "I fear you have me at a
disadvantage, Sir Manag Iss. Do you journey in quest of treasure?"
Manag Iss let an expression of mild impatience cross his strange
face. "It is known that your patron Lord Gho Fhaazi has promised
the Pearl at the Heart of the World to the Nameless Seventh and
she, hi turn, has promised him the new place on the Council in
return. We have discovered enough to know that only an exceptional
thief could have been commissioned to this task. And Nadsokor is
famous for her exceptional thieves. It is a task which, I am sure
you know, all Sorcerer Adventurers have failed hi completing. For
centuries members of every sect have tried to find the Pearl at


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the Heart of the World, whenever the Blood Moon rises. Those few
who ever survived to return to Quarzhasaat were raving mad and
died soon after. Only recently have we received some little
knowledge and evidence that the Pearl does actually exist. We
know, therefore, that you are a dreamthief, though you disguise
your profession by not carrying your hooked staff, for we now know
that only a dreamthief of the greatest skill could reach the Pearl
and bring it back."
"You tell me more than I knew, Manag Iss," said Elric seriously.
"And it is true that I am commissioned by Lord Gho Fhaazi. But
know you this also-I go upon this journey reluctantly." And Elric
trusted his instincts enough to reveal to Manag Iss the hold that
Lord Gho had over him.
Manag Iss plainly believed him. His tattooed fingertips brushed
lightly over the tattoos of his lips as he considered this
information. "That elixir is well-known to the Sorcerer
Adventurers. We have distilled it for millennia. It is true that
it feeds the very substance of the user back to him. The antidote
is much harder to prepare. I am surprised that Lord Gho claims to
possess it. Only certain sects of the Sorcerer Adventurers own
small quantities. If you would return with us to Quarzhasaat we
shall, I know, be able to administer the antidote to you within a
day at the most."
Elric considered this carefully. Manag Iss was employed by one of
Lord Gho's rivals. This made him suspicious of any offer, no
matter how generous it seemed. Councillor Iss, or the Lady Iss, or
whoever it was desired to place their own candidate upon the
Council, would no doubt be prepared to stop at nothing to achieve
that end. For all Elric knew, Manag Iss's offer might merely be a
means of lulling him out of his wariness so that he might be the
more easily murdered.
"You'll forgive me if I am blunt," said the albino, "but I have no
means of trusting you, Manag Iss. I know already that Quarzhasaat
is a city whose chief sport is intrigue and I have no wish to be
involved in that game of plots and counterplots which your fellow
citizens seem to enjoy so thoroughly. If the antidote to the
elixir exists, as you say, I would be better disposed to consider
your claims if, for instance, you were to meet me at the Silver
Flower Oasis in, say, six days from today. I have enough elixir to
last me three weeks, which is the time of the Blood Moon plus the


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time of my journey from and to your city. This will convince me of
your altruism."
"I shall also be frank," said Manag Iss, his voice cool. "I am
commissioned and bound by my blood oath, my sect contract and my
honour as a member of our holy guild. That commission is to
convince you, by any means, either to relinquish your quest or to
sell the Pearl. If you will not relinquish the quest, then I will
agree to purchase the Pearl from you at any price save, of course,
a position on our Council. Therefore, I will match Lord Gho's
offer and add to it anything else you desire."
Elric spoke with some regret. "You cannot match his offer, Manag
Iss. There is the matter of the boy whom he will kill."
"The boy is of little importance, surely."
"Not, doubtless, in the great scheme of things as they are played
out in Quarzhasaat." Elric grew weary.
Realising he had made a tactical mistake, Manag Iss said hastily:
"We'll rescue the boy. Tell us how to find him." \
"I think I'll keep to my original bargain," said Elric. "There
seems little to choose between the offers." "What if Lord Gho was
assassinated?" Elric shrugged and made to remount. "I'm grateful
for your intervention, Manag Iss. I'll consider your offer as I
ride. You'll appreciate I have little time to find the Fortress of
the Pearl."
"Master Thief, I would warn you-" At this Manag Iss broke off. He
looked behind him, along the Red Road. There was a faint cloud of
dust to be seen. Out of it emerged dim shapes, their robes pale
green and Sowing behind them as they rode. Manag Iss cursed. But
he was smiling his peculiar smile as the leaders galloped up.
It was clear to Elric, from their garb, that these men were also
members of the Sorcerer Adventurers. They, too, had tattoos, but
upon the eyelids and the wrists, and their billowing surcoats,
which reached to their ankles, bore an embroidered flower upon
them while the trimming of sleeves had the same design in
miniature. The leader of these newcomers jumped from his horse and
approached Manag Iss. He was a short man, handsome and clean-
shaven save for a tiny goatee which was oiled in the fashion of
Quarzhasaat and drawn to an exaggerated point. Unlike the Yellow
Sect members, he carried a sword, unscabbarded in a simple leather
harness. He made a sign which Manag Iss imitated.
"Greetings, Oled Alesham, and peace upon you. The Yellow Sect


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wishes great successes to the Foxglove Sect and is curious as to
why you travel so far along the Red Road." All this was spoken
rapidly, a formality. Manag Iss doubtless was as aware as Elric
why Oled Alesham and his men followed.
"We ride to give protection to this thief," said the leader of the
Foxglove Sect with a nod of acknowledgement to Elric. "He is a
stranger to our land and we would offer him help, as is our
ancient custom."
Elric himself smiled openly at this. "And are you, Master Oled
Alesham, related, by any chance, to some member of the Six and One
Other?"
Oled Alesham's sense of humour was better developed than that of
Manag Iss. "Oh, we are all related to everyone in Quarzhasaat, Sir
Thief. We are on our way to the Silver Flower Oasis and thought
you might require assistance with your quest."
"He has no quest," said Manag Iss, then instantly regretted the
stupidity of the He. "No quest, that is, save the one he shares
with his friends of the Yellow Sect."
"Since we are bound by our guild loyalties not to fight, we are
not, I hope, going to quarrel over who is to escort our guest to
the Silver Flower Oasis," said Oled Alesham with a chuckle. He was
greatly amused by the situation. "Are we all to journey together,
perhaps? And each receive a little piece of the Pearl?"
"There is no Pearl," said Elric, "and shall not be if I am further
hindered in my journey. I thank you, gentlemen, for your concern,
and I bid you all good afternoon."
This caused some consternation amongst the two rival sects and
they were attempting to decide what to do when over the rubble
created by the firebeetles there rode about a dozen black-clad,
heavily veiled and cowled warriors, their swords already drawn.
Elric, guessing these to mean him no good, withdrew so that Manag
Iss and Oled Alesham and their men were surrounding him. "More of
your kind, gentlemen?" he asked, his hand on the hilt of his own
sword.
"They are the Moth Brotherhood," said Oled Alesham, "and they are
assassins. They do nothing but kill, Sir Thief. You would best
throw in with us. Evidently someone has determined that you should
be murdered before you even see the Blood Moon rising."
"Will you help me defend myself?" said the albino, getting ready
to fight.


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"We cannot," said Manag Iss, and he sounded genuinely regretful.
"We cannot do battle with our own kind. But they will not kill us
if we surround you. You would be best advised to accept our offer,
Sir Thief."
Then the impatient rage which was a mark of his ancient blood took
hold of Elric and he drew Stormbringer without further ado. "I am
tired of these little bargains," he said. "I would ask you to
stand aside from me, Manag Iss, for I mean to do battle."
"There are too many!" Oled Alesham was shocked. "You'll be
butchered. These are skilled killers!"
"Oh, so am I, Master Sorcerer Adventurer. So am I!" And with that
Elric drove his horse forward, through the startled ranks of
Yellow and Foxglove Sects, directly at the leader of the Moth
Brotherhood.
The runesword began to howl in unison with its master and the
white-face glowed with the energy of the damned while the red eyes
blazed and the Sorcerer Adventurers realised for the first tune
that an extraordinary creature had come amongst them and that they
had underestimated him.
Stormbringer rose in Elric's gloved hand, its black metal catching
the rays of the glaring sun and seeming to absorb them. The black
blade fell, almost as if by accident, and split the skull of the
Moth Brotherhood's leader, clove him to his breastbone and howled
as it sucked the man's soul from him in the very split second of
his dying. Elric turned in his saddle, the sword swinging to bury
its edge in the side of the assassin riding up on his left. The
man shrieked. "It has me! Ah, no!" And he, too, died.
Now the other veiled riders were warier, circling the albino at
some distance while they determined their strategy. They had
thought they would need none, that all they must do was ride a
Young Kingdom thief down and destroy him. There were five of the
black riders left. They were calling on their fellow guild members
for aid, but neither Manag Iss nor Oled Alesham was ready to give
orders to their own people which could result in the unholy death
they had already witnessed.
Elric showed no such prudence. He rode directly at the next
assassin, who parried with great cleverness and even struck under
Elric's guard for a second before his arm was severed and he fell
back hi his saddle, blood gouting from the stump. Another graceful
movement, half Elric's, half his sword's, and that man, too, had


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his soul drawn from him. Now the others fell back amongst the
yellow and green robes of their brothers. There was panic in their
eyes. They recognised sorcery even if this was something more
powerful than they had ever anticipated.
"Hold! Hold!" cried Manag Iss. "There is no need for any more of
us to die! We are here to make the thief an offer. Did old Duke
Ral send you here?"
"He wants no more intrigue around the Pearl," growled one of the
veiled men. "He said clean death was the best solution. But these
deaths are not clean for us."
"Those who commission us have set the pattern," said Oled Alesham.
"Thief! Put up your sword. We do not wish to fight you!"
"I believe that." Elric was grim. The bloodlust was still upon him
and he fought to control it. "I believe you merely wish to slay me
without a fight. You are fools all. I have already warned Lord Gho
of this. I have the power to destroy you. It is your good fortune
that I am sworn to myself not to use my power merely to make
others perform my will to my own selfish ends. But I am not sworn
to let myself die at the hands of hired slaughterers! Go back! Go
back to Quarzhasaat!"
This last was almost screamed and the sword echoed it as he lifted
the great black blade into the sky, to warn them of what would
befall them if they did not obey.
Manag Iss said softly to Elric: "We cannot, Sir Thief. We can only
pursue our commissions. It is the way of our guild, of all the
Sorcerer Adventurers. Once we have agreed to perform a task, then
the task must be performed. Death is the only excuse for failure."
"Then I must kill you all," said Elric simply. "Or you must kill
me."
"We can still make the bargain I spoke of," said Manag Iss. "I was
not deceiving you, Sir Thief."
"My offer, too, is sound," said Oled Alesham.
"But the Moth Brotherhood is sworn to kill me," Elric pointed out,
almost amused, "and you cannot defend me against them. Nor, I
would guess, can you do anything but aid them against me."
Manag Iss was trying to draw back from the black-robed assassins
but it was clear they were determined to retain the safety of
their guild ranks.
Then Oled Alesham murmured something to the leader of the Yellow
Sect which made Manag Iss thoughtful. He nodded and signed to the


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remaining members of the Moth Brotherhood. For a few moments they
were in conference, then Manag Iss looked up and addressed Elric.
"Sir Thief, we have found a formula which will leave you in peace
and allow us to return with honour to Quarzhasaat. If we retreat
now, will you promise not to follow us?"
"If I have your word you'll not let those Moths attack me again."
Elric was calmer now. He laid the crooning runeblade across his
arm.
"Put away your swords, brothers!" cried Oled Alesham, and the
Moths obeyed at once.
Next Elric sheathed Stormbringer. The unholy energy which he had
drawn from those who sought to slay him was filling him now and he
felt all the old heightened sensibility of his race, all the
arrogance and all the power of his ancient blood. He laughed at
his enemies. "Know you not whom you would kill, gentlemen?"
Oled Alesham scowled a little. "I am beginning to guess a little
of your origins, Sir Thief. Tis said that the lords of the Bright
Empire carried such blades as yours once, in a time before this
time. In a time before history. 'Tis said those blades are living
things, a race allied to your own. You have the look of our long-
lost enemies. Does this mean that Melniboné did not drown?"
"I'll leave that for you to think on, Master Oled Alesham." Elric
suspected that they plotted some trick but was almost careless.
"If your people spent less time maintaining their own devalued
myths about themselves and more upon studying the world as it is,
I think your city would have a greater chance of surviving. As it
is, the place is crumbling beneath the weight of its own degraded
fictions. The legends which offer a race their sense of pride and
history eventually become putrid. If Melniboné drowns, Master
Sorcerer Adventurer, it will be as Quarzhasaat drowns now..."
"We are unconcerned with matters of philosophy," Manag Iss said
with evident poor temper. "We do not question the motives or the
y ideas of those who employ us. That is written in our charters."
"And must therefore be obeyed!" Elric smiled. "Thus you celebrate
your decadence and resist reality."
"Go now," said Oled Alesham. "It is not your business to instruct
us in moral matters and not ours to listen. We have left our
student days behind."
Elric accepted this mild rebuke and turned his tiring horse again
towards the Silver Flower Oasis. He did not look back once at the


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Sorcerer Adventurers but guessed them to be deeper than ever in
conversation. He began to whistle as the Red Road stretched before
him and the stolen energy of his enemies filled bun with euphoria.
His thoughts were on Cymoril and his return to Melniboné, where he
hoped to ensure his nation's survival by bringing about hi her the
very changes he had spoken of to the Sorcerer Adventurers. At this
moment, his goal seemed a little closer, his mind clearer than it
had been for several months.
Night seemed to come swiftly and with it a rapid descent hi
temperature which left the albino shivering and robbed him of some
of his good humour. He drew heavier robes from his saddle-bags and
donned them as he tethered his horse and prepared to build a fire.
The elixir on which he had depended had not been touched since his
encounter with the Sorcerer Adventurers and he was beginning to
understand its nature a little better. The craving had faded,
although he was still conscious of it, and he could now hope to
free himself of his dependency without need of further bargaining
with Lord Gho.
"All I have to do," he said to himself as he ate sparingly of the
food provided him, "is to make sure that I am attacked at least
once a day by members of the Moth Brotherhood..." And with that he
put away his figs and bread, wrapped himself in the night-cloak
and prepared to sleep.
His dreams were formal and familiar. He was in Imrryr, the
Dreaming City, and Cymoril sat beside him as he lay back upon the
Ruby Throne, contemplating his court. Yet this was not the court
which the emperors of Melniboné had kept for the thousands of
years of their rule. This was a court to which had come men and
women of all nations, from each of the Young Kingdoms, from Elwher
and the Unmapped East, from Phum, from Quarzhasaat even. Here
information and philosophies were exchanged, together with all
manner of goods. This was a court whose energies were not devoted
to maintaining itself unchanged for eternity, but to every kind of
new idea and lively, humane discussion, which welcomed fresh
thought not as a threat to its existence but as a very necessity
to its continued well-being, whose wealth was devoted to
experiment in the arts and sciences, to supporting those who were
needy, to aiding thinkers and scholars. The Bright Empire
brightness would come no longer from the glow of putrefaction but
from the light of reason and good will.


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This was Elric's dream, more coherent now than it had ever been.
This was his dream and it was why he travelled the world, why he
refused the power which was his, why he risked his life, his mind,
his love and everything else he valued, for he believed that there
was no life worth living that was not risked in pursuit of
knowledge and justice. And this was why his fellow countrymen
feared him. Justice was obtained, he believed, not by
administration but by experience. One must know what it was to
suffer humiliation and powerlessness, at least to some degree,
before one could entirely appreciate its effect. One must give up
power if one was to achieve true justice. This was not the logic
of Empire, but it was the logic of one who truly loved the world
and desired to see an age dawn when all people would be free to
pursue their ambitions in dignity and self-respect.
"Ah, Elric," said Yyrkoon, crawling like a serpent from behind the
Ruby Throne, "thou art an enemy of your own race, an enemy of her
gods and an enemy of all I worship and desire. That is why you
must be destroyed and why I must possess all you own. All ..."
At this, Elric woke up. His skin was clammy. He reached for his
sword. He had dreamed of Yyrkoon as a serpent and now he could
swear he beard something slithering over the sand not far off. The
horse smelled it and grunted, displaying increasing agitation.
Elric rose, the night-cloak falling from him. The horse's breath
was steaming in the air. There was a moon overhead casting a
faintly blue light over the desert.
The slithering came closer. Elric peered at the high banks of the
road but could make out nothing. He was sure that the firebeetles
had not returned. And what he heard next confirmed this certainty.
It was-a great outpouring of foetid breath, a rushing sound,
almost a shriek, and he knew some gigantic beast was nearby.
Elric knew also that the beast was not of this desert, nor indeed
of this world. He could sniff the stink of something supernatural,
something which had been raised from the pits of Hell, summoned to
serve his enemies, and he knew suddenly why the Sorcerer
Adventurers had called off their attack so readily, what they had
planned when they had let him go.
Cursing his own euphoria, Elric drew Stormbringer and crept back
into the darkness, away from the horse.
The roar came from behind him. He whirled and there it was!
It was a huge catlike thing, save that its body resembled that of


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a baboon with an arching tail and there were spines along its
back. Its claws were extended and it reared up, reaching for him
as he yelled and jumped to one side, slashing at it. The thing
flickered with peculiar colours and lights, as if not quite of the
material world. He was in no doubt of its origin. Such things had
been summoned more than once by the sorcerers of Melniboné to help
them against those they sought to destroy. He searched his mind
for some spell, something which would drive it back to the regions
from which it had been summoned, but it had been too long since he
had practised any kind of sorcery himself.
The thing had got his scent now and was moving in pursuit as he
ran rapidly and erratically away from it across the desert,
attempting to put as much space between himself and the creature
as possible.
The beast screamed. It was hungry for more than Elric's flesh.
Those who had summoned it had promised it his soul at very least.
It was the usual reward to a supernatural beast of that kind. He
felt its claws whistle in the air behind him as it again attempted
to seize him , and he turned, slashing at the creature's forepaws
with his sword. Stormbringer caught one of the pads and drew
something like blood. Elric felt a sickening wave of energy pour
into him. He stabbed this time and the beast shrieked, opening a
red mouth in which rainbow-coloured teeth glittered.
"By Arioch," gasped Elric, "you're an ugly creature. Tis almost a
duty to send you back to Hell..." And Stormbringer leapt out
again, slashing at the same wounded paw. But this time the cat-
thing saved itself and began to gather itself for a spring which
Elric knew he had little chance of surviving. A supernatural beast
was not as easily slain as the warriors of the Moth Brotherhood.
It was then he heard a yell and turning saw an apparition moving
towards him in the moonlight. It was manlike, riding on an oddly
humped animal which galloped more rapidly than any horse.
The cat-creature paused uncertainly and turned, spitting and
growling, to deal with this distraction before finishing the
albino.
Realising that this was not a further threat but some passing
traveller attempting to come to his assistance, Elric shouted:
"Best save yourself, sir. That beast is supernatural and cannot
easily be killed by familiar means!"
The voice which replied was deep and vibrant, full of good humour.


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"I'm aware of that, sir, and would be obliged if you could deal
with the thing while I draw its attention to myself." Whereupon
the rider turned his odd mount and began to ride at a reduced pace
in the opposite direction. The supernatural creature was not,
however, deceived. Clearly those who had raised it had instructed
it as to its prey. It scented at the air, seeking out Elric again.
The albino lay behind a dune, gathering his strength. He
remembered a minor spell which, given the extra energy he had
drawn , already from the demon, he might be able to employ. He
began to , sing in the old, beautiful, musical language they
called High Mel-nibonean, and as he did so he took up a handful of
sand and passed it through the air with strange, graceful
movements. Gradually, from the grains of the dunes, a spiral of
sand began to move upward, whistling as it spun faster and faster
in the oddly coloured moonlight.
The cat-beast growled and rushed forward. But Erie stood between
it and the whirling spiral. Then, at the last moment, he moved
aside. The spiral's voice rose still higher. It was no more than a
simple trick taught to young sorcerers by way of encouragement,
but it had the effect of blinding the cat-thing long enough for
Elric to charge and with his sword duck under the claws to plunge
the blade deep into the beast's vitals.
At once the energy began to drain into the blade and from the
blade into Elric. The albino screamed and raved as the stuff
filled him. Demon-energy was not unfamiliar to him, but it
threatened to make a demon of him, too, for it was all but
impossible to control.
"Aah! It is too much. Too much!" He writhed in agony while the
demonic life-essence poured into him and the cat-thing roared and
died.
Then it was gone and Elric lay gasping on. the sand as the beast's
corpse gradually faded into nothingness, returning to the realm
from which it had been summoned. For a few seconds Elric wanted to
follow the thing into its home regions, for the stolen energy
threatened to spill out of his body, burst its way from his blood
and his bones, but old habits fought to control this lust until at
last he once again had a rein upon himself. He began slowly to
rise from the ground only to hear the approach of hooves.
He whirled, the sword ready, but saw it was the traveller who had
earlier sought to help him. Stormbringer felt no sentiment in the


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matter and stirred in his hand, ready to take the soul of this
friend as readily as it had stolen the souls of Elric's enemies.
"No!" The albino forced the blade back into its scabbard. He felt
almost sick with the energy leeched from the demon but he made
himself take a grave bow as the rider joined him. "I thank you for
your help, stranger. I had not expected to find a friend this
close to Quarzhasaat."
The young man regarded him with some sympathy and good will. He
had startlingly handsome features with dark, humorous eyes in his
gleaming black flesh. On his short, curly hair he wore a skull cap
decorated with peacock feathers and his jacket and breeches seemed
to be of black velvet stitched with gold thread, over which was
thrown a pale-coloured hooded cloak of the pattern usually worn by
desert peoples in these parts. He rode up slowly on the loping,
bovine mount which had cloven hooves and a broad head, a massive
hump above its shoulders, like that of certain cattle Elric had
seen in scrolls depicting the Southern Continent.
At the young man's belt was a richly carved stick of some kind
with a crooked handle, about half his height, and on his other hip
he wore a simple flat-hilted sword.
"I had not expected to find an emperor of Melniboné in these
parts, either!" said the man with some amusement. "Greetings,
Prince Elric. I am honoured to make your acquaintance."
"We have not met? How do you know my name?"
"Oh, such tricks are nothing to one of my craft, Prince Elric. My
name is Alnac Kreb and I am making my way to the oasis they call
the Silver Flower. Shall we return to your camp and your horse? I
am glad to say he is unharmed. What powerful enemies you have, to
send such a foul demon against you. Have you given offence to the
Sorcerer Adventurers of Quarzhasaat?"
"It would seem so." Elric walked beside the newcomer as they made
their way back towards the Red Road. "I am grateful to you, Master
Alnac Kreb. Without your help, I should now be absorbed body and
soul in that creature and borne back to whatever hell gave birth
to it. But I must warn you, there is some danger that I shall be
attacked again by those who sent it."
"I think not, Prince Elric. They were doubtless confident of their
success and, what's more, wanted no further business with you,
once they realised that you were no ordinary mortal. I saw a pack
of them -from three separate sects of that unpleasant guild-riding


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rapidly back to Quarzhasaat not an hour since. Curious as to what
they fled from, I came this way. And so found you. I was glad to
be of some minor service."
"I, too, am riding for the Silver Flower Oasis, though I know not
what to expect there." Elric had taken a strong liking to this
young man. "I would be glad of your company on the journey."
"Honoured, sir. Honoured!" Smiling, Alnac Kreb dismounted from his
odd beast and tethered it close to Elric's horse, which was yet to
recover from its terror, though was now quieter.
"I will not ask you to weary yourself further tonight, sir," Elric
added, "but I'm mightily curious to know how you guessed my name
and my race. You spoke of a trick of your craft. What would that
trade be, may I ask?"
"Why, sir," said Alnac Kreb, dusting sand from his velvet
breeches. "I'd thought you guessed. I am a dreamthief."

4
A Funeral at the Oasis

The Silver Flower Oasis is rather more than a simple clearing in
the desert, as you'll discover," said Alnac Kreb, dabbing
delicately at his beautiful face with a kerchief trimmed with
glittering lace. "It is a great meeting place for all the nomad
nations, and much wealth comes to it to be traded. It is
frequented by kings and princes. Marriages are arranged and often
take place there, as do other ceremonies. Great political
decisions are made. Alliances are maintained and fresh ones
struck. News is exchanged. Every manner of thing is bartered. Not
everything is conventional, not every desire is material. It is a
vital place, unlike Quarzhasaat, which the nomads visit
reluctantly only when necessity-or greed-demands."
"Why have we seen none of these nomads, friend Alnac?" Elric
"They avoid Quarzhasaat. For them the place and its people are the
equivalent of Hell. Some even believe that the souls of the damned
are sent to Quarzhasaat. The city represents everything they fear
and everything that is at odds with what they most value."
"I'd be inclined to see eye to eye with those nomads." Elric
allowed himself a smile. Still free of the elixir, his body was
again craving it. The energy his sword had given him would
normally have sustained him for a considerably longer time. This


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was further proof that the elixir, as explained by Manag Iss, fed
off his very life-force to give him temporary physical strength.
He was beginning to suspect that he was feeding the elixir as well
as his own vitality. The distillation had come almost to represent
a sentient creature, like the sword. Yet the Black Sword had never
given him the same sense of being invaded. He kept his mind free
of such thoughts as much as he could. "I feel a certain kinship
with them already," he added.
"Your hope, Prince Elric, is that they find you acceptable!" And
Alnac laughed. "Though an ancient enemy of the Lords of
Quarzhasaat must have certain credentials. I have acquaintances
amongst some of the clans. You must let me introduce you, when the
time comes."
"Willingly," said Elric, "though you have yet to explain how you
came to know me."
Alnac nodded as if he had forgotten the matter. "It is not
complicated and yet it is remarkably complex, if you do not
understand the fundamental workings of the multiverse. As I told
you, I'm a dreamthief. I know more than most because I am familiar
with so many dreams. Let's merely say that I heard of you in a
dream and that it is sometimes my destiny to be your companion-
though not for long, I'd guess, in my present guise."
"In a dream? You have yet to tell me what a dreamthief does."
"Why, steal dreams, of course. Twice a year we take our booty to a
certain market to trade, just as the nomads trade."
"You trade in dreams?" Elric was disbelieving.
Alnac enjoyed his astonishment. "There are dealers at the market
who'll pay well for certain dreams. In turn they sell them to
those unfortunates who either cannot dream or have such banal
dreams they desire something better."
Elric shook his head. "You speak in parables, surely?"
"No, Prince Elric, I speak the exact truth." He dragged the oddly
hooked staff from his belt. It reminded Elric of a shepherd's
crook, though it was shorter. "One does not acquire this without
having studied the basic skills of the dreamthief's craft. I am
not the best in my trade, nor am I likely ever to be, but in this
realm, in this time, this is my destiny. There are few hi this
realm, for reasons you shall no doubt learn, and only the nomads
and the folk of Elwher recognise our craft. We are not known, save
to a few wise people, in the Young Kingdoms."


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"Why do you not venture there?"
"We are not asked to do so. Have you ever heard of anyone seeking
the services of a dreamthief in the Young Kingdoms?"
"Never. But why should that be?"
"Perhaps because Chaos has so much influence in the West and
South. There, the most terrible nightmares can readily become
reality."
"You fear Chaos?"
"What rational being does not? I fear the dreams of those who
serve her." Alnac Kreb looked away towards the desert. "Elwher and
what you call the Unmapped East have La the main less complicated
inhabitants. Melniboné's influence was never so strong. Nor was
it, of course, in the Sighing Desert."
"So it is my folk whom you fear?"
"I fear any race which gives itself over to Chaos; which makes
pacts with the most powerful of supernatural; with the very Dukes
of Chaos; with the Sword Rulers themselves! I do not regard such
dealings as wholesome or sane. I am opposed to Chaos."
"You serve Law?"
"I serve myself. I serve, I suppose, the Balance. I believe that
one can live and let live and celebrate the world's variety."
"Such philosophy is enviable, Master Alnac. I aspire to it myself,
though I suppose you do not believe me."
"Aye, I believe you, Prince Elric. I am party to many dreams and
you occur hi some of them. And dreams are reality and vice versa
hi other realms." The dreamthief glanced sympathetically at the
albino. "It must be hard for one who has known millennia of power
to attempt a relinquishing of such power."
"You understand me well, Sir Dreamthief."
"Oh, my understanding is only ever of the broadest kind hi such
matters." Alnac Kreb shrugged and made a self-deprecating gesture.
"I have spent much tune hi seeking the meaning of justice, hi
visiting lands where it is said to exist, hi trying to discover
how best it may be accomplished, how it may be established so that
all the world shall benefit. Have you heard of Tanelorn, Alnac
Kreb? There justice is said to rule. There the Grey Lords, those
who keep charge of the world's equilibrium, are said to have their
greatest influence."
"Tanelorn exists," said the dreamthief quietly. "And it has many
names. Yet in some realms, I fear, it is no more than an idea of


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perfection. Such ideas are what maintain us in hope and fuel our
urge to make reality of dreams. Sometimes we are successful."
"Justice exists?"
"Of course it does. But it is not an abstraction. It must be
worked for. Justice is your demon, I think, Prince Elric, more
than any Lord of Chaos. You have chosen a cruel and an unhappy
road." He smiled delicately as he stared ahead of them at the
long, red trail stretching out to the horizon. "Crueller, I think,
than the Red Road to Silver Flower Oasis."
"You're not encouraging, Master Alnac."
"You must know yourself that there's precious little justice in
the world that is not hard fought for, hard won and hard held. It
is in our mortal nature to make such a burden the responsibility
of others or, indeed, to seek out the strongest forces and hope
that by allying themselves with power they will somehow survive
better. Experience frequently proves them right, in the short term
at least. Yet poor creatures like yourself continue to try to
relinquish power while acquiring more and more responsibility.
Some would say that it is admirable to do as you do, that it
builds character and strength of purpose, that it reaches towards
a higher form of sanity..."
"Aye. And some would say it is the purest form of madness, at odds
with all natural impulses. I do not know what it is I long for,
Sir Dreamthief, but I know I hope for a world where the strong do
not prey on the weak like mindless insects, where mortal creatures
may attain their greatest possible fulfillment, where all are
dignified and healthy, never victims of a few stronger than
themselves..."
"Then you serve the wrong masters in Chaos, Prince. For the only
justice recognised by the Dukes of Hell is the justice of their
own unchallenged existence. They are like fresh-born babes in
this. They are opposed to your every ideal."
Elric grew disturbed and spoke softly when he replied. "But can
one not use such forces to defeat them-or at least challenge their
power and adjust the Balance?"
"Only the Balance gives you the power you desire. And it is a
subtle, sometimes exceptionally delicate power."
"Not strong enough in my world, I fear."
"Strong only when sufficient numbers believe in it. Then it is
stronger than Chaos and Law combined." '


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"Well, I shall work for that day when the power of the Balance
holds sway, Master Alnac Kreb, but I am not sure I will live to
see it."
"If you live," said Alnac quietly, "I suspect it will not come.
But it will be many years before you are called upon to blow
Roland's horn."
"A horn? What horn is that?" But Elric's question was casual. He
believed that the dreamthief was making another allegorical
allusion.
"Look!" Alnac pointed ahead. "See in the far distance? There is
the first sign of the Silver Flower Oasis."
To their left the sun was going down. It cast deep shadows across
the dunes and the high banks of the Red Road while the sky was
darkening to a deep amber on the horizon. Yet almost at the limit
of his vision Elric made out another shape, something that was
neither a shadow nor a sand-dune but which might have been a group
of rocks.
"What is it? What do you recognise?"
"The nomads call it kashbeh. In our common tongue we would say it
was a castle, perhaps, or a fortified village. We have no exact
word for such a place, for we have no need of them. Here, in the
desert, it is a necessity. The Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz was built
long before the extinction of the Quarzhasaatin Empire and is
named for a wise king, founder of the Aloum'rit dynasty which
still holds the place hi charge for the nomad clans and is
respected above all other peoples of the desert. It is a kashbeh
sheltering anyone in need. Anyone who is a fugitive may seek
shelter there and be assured of a fair trial."
"So justice exists in this desert, if nowhere else?"
"Such places exist, as I said, throughout the realms of the
multiverse. They are maintained by men and women of the purest and
most humane principles..."
"Then is this kashbeh not Tanelorn, whose legend brought me to the
Sighing Desert?"
"It is not Tanelorn, for Tanelorn is eternal. The Kashbeh Moulour
Ka Riiz must be maintained through constant vigilance. It is the
antithesis of Quarzhasaat, and that city's lords have made many
attempts to destroy it."
Elric felt the pangs of craving and he resisted reaching for one
of his silver flasks. "Is that also called the Fortress of the


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Pearl?"
At this, Alnac Kreb laughed suddenly. "Oh, my good prince, clearly
you have only the haziest notion of the place and the thing you
seek. Let me now say that the Fortress of the Pearl may well exist
within that kashbeh and that the kashbeh could also have an
existence within the Fortress. But they are in no way the same!"
"Please, Master Alnac, do not confuse me further! I pretended to
know something of this, first because I wished to extend my own
life and then because I needed to purchase the life of another. I
would be grateful for some illumination. Lord Gho Fhaazi thought
me a dreamthief, after all, which supposes that a dreamthief would
know of the Blood Moon, the Bronze Tent and the location of the
Place of the Pearl."
"Aye, well. Some dreamthieves are better informed than others. And
if a dreamthief is required for this task, Prince, if, as you've
told me, Quarzhasaat's Sorcerer Adventurers cannot achieve it,
then I would guess the Fortress of the Pearl is more than mere
stones and mortar. It has to do with realms familiar only to a
trained dreamthief-but one probably more sophisticated than
myself."
"Know you, Master Alnac, that I have already travelled to strange
realms in pursuit of my various goals. I am not completely
unsophisticated in such matters..."
"These realms are denied to most." Alnac seemed reluctant to say
more but Elric pressed him.
"Where lie these realms?" He stared ahead, straining his eyes to {
see more of the Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz but failing, for the sun
was now almost below the horizon. "In the East? Beyond Elwher? Or
in another part of the multiverse altogether?"
Alnac Kreb was regretful. "We are sworn to speak as little as we
can of our knowledge, save in the most crucial and specific of
circumstances. But I should inform you that those realms are at
once closer and more distant than Elwher. I promise you that I
will not mystify you any more than I have done so already. And if
I can illuminate you and help you in your quest, that I will do
also." He made to laugh, to lighten his own mood. "Best ready
yourself for company, Prince. We shall have a great deal of it by
nightfall, if I'm not mistaken."
The moon had risen before the last rays of the sun had vanished
and its silver bore a pinkish sheen, like that of a rare pearl


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itself, as they reached a rise in the Red Road and looked down now
upon a thousand fires. Silhouetted against them were as many tall
tents, settled on the sand so as to resemble gigantic winged
insects stretched out to catch the last warmth from above. Within
these tents burned lamps while men, women and children wandered in
and out. A delicious smell of mingled herbs, spices, vegetables
and meats drifted up towards them and the soft smoke of the fires
rose and curled into the sky above the great rocks on which
perched the Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz, a massive tower about which
had grown a collection of buildings, some of wonderfully
imaginative architecture, the whole surrounded by a crenellated
wall of irregular but equally monumental proportions, all of the
same red rock so that it seemed to grow out of the very earth and
sand that surrounded it.
At intervals around those battlements great torches blazed,
revealing men who were evidently guards patrolling the walls and
roofs, while through tall gates a steady stream of traffic came
and went across a bridge carved from the living rock.
This was, as Alnac Kreb had warned him, not the simple resting
place of primitive caravans Elric had expected to find on the Red
Road.
They were not challenged as they descended towards the wide sheet
of water around which blossomed a rich variety of palms,
cypresses, poplars, fig trees and cacti, but many looked at them
with open curiosity. And not all the curious eyes were friendly.
Their horses were of a similar build to Elric's own, while others
of the nomads rode the bovine creatures favoured by Alnac. The
sounds of bellowing, grunting and spitting rose from every quarter
and Elric could see that beyond the field of tents lay corrals in
which riding beasts as well as sheep, goats and other creatures
were penned.
But the sight which dominated this extraordinary scene was that of
some hundred or more torches blazing hi a semi-circle at the
water's edge.
Each torch was held by a cloaked and cowled figure and each burned
with a bright, white steady flame which cast the same strong light
upon a dais of carved wood at the very centre of the gathering.
Elric and his companion reined in their mounts to watch, as
fascinated by this vision as the scores of other nomads who walked
slowly to the edge of the semi-circle to witness what was clearly


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a ceremony of some magnitude. The witnesses stood hi attitudes of
respect, their various robes and costumes identifying their clan.
The nomads were of a variety of colours, some as black as Alnac
Kreb, some almost as white-skinned as Elric, with every shade in
between, yet in features they were similar, with strong-boned
faces and deep-set eyes. Both men and women were tall and bore
themselves with considerable grace. Elric had never seen so many
handsome people and he was as impressed by their natural dignity
as he had been disgusted by the extremes of arrogance and
degredation he had witnessed in Quarzhasaat.
Now a procession approached down the hill and Elric saw that six
men bore a large, domed chest on then shoulders, proceeding with
grave slowness until they came to the dais.
The white light showed every detail of the scene. The men were
drawn from different clans, though all of the same height and all
of middle age. A single drum began to sound, its beat sharp and
clear in the night air. Then another joined it, then another,
until at least twenty drums were echoing across the waters of the
oasis and the rooftops of Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz, their voices at
once slow and obeying complicated rhythmic patterns whose subtlety
Elric gradually came to marvel at.
"Is it a funeral?" the albino asked his new friend.
Alnac nodded. "But I know not who they bury." He pointed to a
series of symmetrical mounds in the distance beyond the trees.
"Those are the nomad burial grounds."
Now another, older man, his beard and brows grey beneath his cowl,
stepped forward and began to read from a scroll he produced from
his sleeve, while two others opened the lid of the elaborate
coffin and, to Elric's astonishment, spat into it.
Now Alnac gasped. He stood on his toes and peered, for the brands
clearly illuminated the coffin's contents. He turned, still more
mystified, to Elric. " Tis empty, Prince Elric. Or else the corpse
is invisible."
The rhythm of the drums increased in tempo and complexity. Voices
began to chant, rising and falling like waves in an ocean. Elric
had never heard such music before. He found that it was moving him
to obscure emotions. He felt rage. He felt sorrow. He found that
he was close to weeping. And still the music continued, growing in
intensity. He longed to join in, but could understand nothing of
the language they used. It seemed to him that the words were older


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by far than the speech of Melniboné, which was the oldest in the
Young Kingdoms.
And then, suddenly, the singing and the drumming ended.
The six men took the coffin from the dais and began to march away
with it, towards the mounds, and the men with the torches
followed, the light casting strange shadows amongst the trees,
illuminating sudden patches of shining whiteness which Elric could
not identify.
As suddenly as it had stopped, the drumming and the chanting began
again, but this time it had a celebratory, triumphant note to it.
Slowly the crowd lifted its heads and from several hundred throats
came a high-pitched ululation, clearly a traditional response.
Then the nomads began to drift back towards their tents. Alnac
stopped one, a woman wearing richly decorated green and gold
robes, and pointed to the disappearing procession. "What is this
funeral, sister? I saw no corpse."
"The corpse is not here," she said, and she was smiling at his
confusion. "It is a ceremony of revenge, taken by all our clans at
the instigation of Raik Na Seem. The corpse is not present because
its owner will not know he is dead, perhaps for several months. We
bury him now because we cannot reach him. He is not one of us, not
of the desert. He is dead, however, but merely unaware of that
fact. There is no mistake, though. We lack only the physical
body."
"He is an enemy of your people, sister?"
"Aye, indeed. He is an enemy. He sent men to steal our greatest
treasure. They failed, but they have done us profound harm in
their failing. I know you, do I not? You are the one Raik Na Seem
hoped would return. He sent for a dreamthief." And she looked back
to the dais, where, beneath the light of a single torch, a huge
figure stood, bowed as if in prayer. "You are our friend, Alnac
Kreb, who aided us once before."
"I have been privileged to do your people a trifling service in
the past, aye." Alnac Kreb acknowledged her recognition with his
habitual grace.
"Raik Na Seem waits upon you," she said. "Go in peace, and peace
be with your family and friends."
Puzzled, Alnac Kreb turned to Elric. "I know not why Raik Na Seem
should have sent for me but I feel obliged to find out. Will you
stay here or accompany me, Prince Elric?"


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"I am growing curious about this whole affair," said Elric, "and
would know more, if that's possible."
They made their way through the trees until they stood on the
banks of the great oasis, waiting respectfully while the old man
remained in the position he had assumed since the coffin had been
carried off. Eventually he turned and it was clear that he had
been weeping. When he saw them he straightened up and, as he
recognised Alnac Kreb, he smiled, making a gesture of welcome. "My
dear friend!"
"Peace be upon you, Raik Na Seem." Alnac stepped forward and
embraced the old man, who was at least a head and shoulders taller
than himself. "I bring with me a friend. His name is Elric of
Melniboné, of that same people who were the great enemies of the
Quarzhasaatim."
"The name has substance in my heart," said Raik Na Seem. "Peace be
upon you, Elric of Melniboné. You are welcome here."
"Raik Na Seem is First Elder to the Bauradim Clan," Alnac said,
"and a father to me."
"I am blessed by a good, brave son." Raik Na Seem gestured back
towards the tents. "Come. Take refreshment in my tent."
"Willingly," said Alnac. "I would learn why you are burying an
empty casket and who your enemy is that he should merit such
elaborate ceremony."
"Oh, he is the worst of villains, make no mistake of that." A deep
sigh escaped the old man as he led them through the throngs of
tents until he reached a massive pavilion into which he led them,
their feet treading on richly patterned carpets. The pavilion was
actually a series of compartments, one leading into another, each
occupied by members of Raik Na Seem's family, which seemed vast
enough to be almost a tribe in itself. The smell of delicious food
came through to them as they were seated on cushions and offered
bowls of scented water with which to wash themselves.
Eventually, as they ate, the old man told his story and, while it
unfolded, Elric came to realise that Fate had brought him to the
Silver Flower Oasis at an auspicious time, for he slowly
recognised the significance of what was being said. At the tune of
the most recent Blood Moon, said Raik Na Seem, a group of men had
come to the Silver Flower Oasis asking after the road to the Place
of the Pearl. The Bauradim had recognised the name, for it was in
their literature, but they understood the references to be poetic


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metaphor, something for scholars and other poets to discuss and
interpret. They had told the newcomers this and hoped that they
would leave, for they were Quarzhasaatim, members of the Sparrow
Sect of Sorcerer Adventurers and as such notorious for their murky
wizardry and cruelty. The Bauradim wanted no quarrel, however,
with any Quarzhasaatim, with whom they traded. The men of the
Sparrow Sect did not leave, however, but continued to ask anyone
they could about the Place of the Pearl, which was how they came
to learn of Raik Na Seem's daughter.
"Varadia?" Alnac Kreb knew alarm. "They surely did not think she
knew anything of this jewel?"
"They heard that she was our Holy Girl, the one we believe will
grow to be our spiritual leader and bring wisdom and honour to our
clan. Because we say that our Holy Girl is the receptacle of all
our knowledge, they believed she must know where this Pearl was to
be found. They attempted to steal her."
Alnac Kreb growled with sudden anger. "What did they do, Father?"
"They drugged her, then made to ride away with her. We learned of
their crime and followed them. We caught them before they had
completed half the length of the Red Road back to Quarzhasaat and
in their terror they threatened us with the power of their master,
the man who had commissioned them to seek out the Pearl and use
any means to bring it back to him."
"Was his name Lord Gho Fhaazi?" asked Elric softly.
"Aye, Prince, it was." Raik Na Seem looked at him with new
curiosity. "Do you know him?"
"I know him. And I know him for what he is. Is that the man you
buried?"
"It is."
"When do you plan his death?"
"We do not plan it. We have been promised it. The Sorcerer
Adventurers attempted to use their arts against us, but we have
such people of our own and they were easily countered. It is not
something we like to use, that power, but sometimes it is
necessary. A certain creature was summoned from the netherworld.
It devoured the men of the Sparrow Sect and before it left it
granted us a prophecy, that their master would die within the
year, before the next Blood Moon had faded."
"But Varadia?" said Alnac Kreb urgently. "What became of your
daughter, your Holy Girl?"


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"She had been drugged, as I said, but she lived. We brought her
back."
"And she recovered?"
"She half-wakes, perhaps once a month," said Raik Na Seem,
controlling his sadness. "But the sleep will not lift from her.
Shortly after we found her she opened her eyes and told us to take
her to the Bronze Tent. There she sleeps, as she has slept for
almost a year, and we know that only a dreamthief may save her.
That was why I have sent word by every traveller and caravan we
have encountered, asking for a dreamthief. We are fortunate, Alnac
Kreb, that a friend heard our prayer."
The dreamthief shook his handsome head. "It was not your message
which brought me hither, Raik Na Seem."
"Still," said the old man philosophically, "you are here. You can
help us."
Alnac Kreb seemed disturbed, but disguised his emotions quickly.
"I will do my best, that I swear. In the morning we shall visit
the Bronze Tent."
"It is well-guarded now, for more Quarzhasaatim have come since
those first evil ones, and we have been forced to defend our Holy
Girl against them. That has been a simple enough matter. But you
spoke of the enemy we have buried, Prince Elric. What do you know
of him?"
Elric paused for only a few seconds before he spoke. He told Raik
Na Seem everything which had happened: how he had been tricked by
Lord Gho, what he had been told to find, the hold which Lord Gho
had over bun. He refused to lie to the old man, and the respect he
showed Raik Na Seem was apparently reciprocated, for though the
First Elder's face darkened with anger at the tale, he reached out
with a firm hand when it was finished and gripped Elric's arm in a
gesture of sympathy.
"The irony is, my friend, that the Place of the Pearl exists only
in our poetry and we have never heard of the Fortress of the
Pearl."
"You must know that I would do your Holy Girl no further harm,"
said Elric, "and that if I can help you and yours in any way, that
is what I shall do. My quest is ended here and now."
"But Lord Gho's potion will kill you unless you can find the
antidote. Then he'll kill your friend, too. No, no. Let us look
more positively at these problems, Prince Elric. We have them in


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common, I think, for we are all victims of that soon-dead lord. We
must consider how to defeat his schemes. It is possible that my
daughter does indeed know something about this fabulous Pearl, for
she is the vessel of all our wisdom and has already learned more
than ever my poor head could hold..."
"Her knowledge and her intelligence are as breathtaking as her
beauty and her amiability," said Alnac Kreb, still fuming at the
of what the Quarzhasaatim had done to Varadia. "If you had known
her, Elric..." He broke off, his voice shaking.
"We are all in need of rest, I think," said the First Elder of the
Bauradim. "You shall be our guests and in the morning I shall take
you to the Bronze Tent, there to look upon my sleeping daughter
and hope, perhaps with the sum of all our wisdom, to find a means
of bringing her waking mind back to this realm."
That night, sleeping in the luxury only a wealthy nomad's tent
could provide, Elric dreamed again of Cymoril, trapped in a drug
slumber by his cousin Yyrkoon, and it seemed that he slept beside
her, that they were one and the same, as he had always felt when
they lay together. But now he saw the dignified figure of Raik Na
Seem standing over him and he knew that this was his father, not
the neurotic tyrant, the distant figure of his childhood, and he
understood why he was obsessed with questions of morality and
justice, for it was this Bauradi who was his true ancestor. He
knew a kind of peace then, as well as some kind of new, disturbing
emotion, and when he awoke in the morning he was reconciled to the
fact that he was craving the elixir which at once brought him life
and death, and he reached for his flask and took a small sip
before rising, washing himself and joining Alnac and Raik Na Seem
at the morning meal.
When this was done, the old man called for the fleet, sturdy
mounts for which the Bauradim were famous, and the three of them
rode away from the Silver Flower Oasis, which bustled with every
kind of activity, where comedians, jugglers and snake-charmers
were already performing their skills and storytellers had gathered
groups of children whose parents had sent them there while they
went about their business, and they rode towards the Ragged
Pillars, seen faintly on the morning horizon. These mountains had
been eroded by the winds of the Sighing Desert until they did,
indeed, resemble huge columns of ragged red stone, as if they
should have supported the roof of the sky itself. Elric had


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thought at first he observed the ruins of some ancient city. But
Alnac Kreb had told him the truth.
"There are, indeed, many ruins in these parts. Farms, small
villages, whole towns, which the desert sometimes reveals, all
engulfed by the sands summoned by the foolish wizards of
Quarzhasaat. Many built here, even after the sands came, in the
belief that they would disperse after a while. Forlorn dreams, I
fear, like so many of the things built by men."
Raik Na Seem continued to lead them across the desert, though he
used no map or compass. Apparently he knew the way by habit and
instinct alone.
They stopped once at a spot where a tiny growth of cacti had been
all but covered by the sand and here Raik Na Seem took his long
knife and sliced the plants close to their roots, peeling them
swiftly and handing the juicy parts to his friends. "There was
once a river here," he said, "and a memory of it remains, far
below the surface. The cactus remembers."
The sun had reached zenith. Elric began to feel the heat sapping
him and was forced again to drink a little of the elixir, merely
in order to keep pace with the other two. And it was not until
evening, when the Ragged Pillars were considerably closer, that
Raik pointed to something which flashed and glittered hi the last
rays of the sun. "There is the Bronze Tent, where the peoples of
the desert go when they must meditate."
"It is your temple?" said Elric.
"It is the nearest thing we have to a temple. And there we debate
with our inner selves. It is also the nearest thing we have to the
religions of the West. And it is there we keep our Holy Girl, the
symbol of all our ideals, the vessel of our race's wisdom."
Alnac was surprised. "You keep her there always?"
Raik Na Seem shook his head, almost amused. "Only while she sleeps
in this unnatural slumber, my friend. As you know, before this she
was a normal little child, a joy to all who met her. Perhaps with
your help she will be that child again."
Alnac's brow clouded. "You must not expect too much of me, Raik Na
Seem. I am an inexpert dreamthief at best. There are those with
whom I learned my craft who would tell you so."
"But you are our dreamthief." Raik Na Seem smiled sadly and put '
his hand on Alnac Kreb's shoulder. "And our good friend."
The sun had set by the time they approached the great tent which


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resembled those Elric had seen at the Silver Flower Oasis but was
several times the size, its walls of pure bronze.
Now the moon made its appearance hi the sky almost directly
overhead. It seemed that the sun's rays reached for it even as
they began to sink beneath the horizon, touching it with their
colour, for it glowed with a richness Elric had never seen in
Melniboné or the lands of the Young Kingdoms. He gasped in
surprise, realising the specific nature of the prophecy.
A Blood Moon had risen over the Bronze Tent. Here he would find
the path to the Fortress of the Pearl.
Though it meant that his own life might now be saved, the Prince
of Melniboné discovered that he was only disturbed by this
revelation.

5
The Dreamthief's Pledge

"Here is our treasure," said Raik Na Seem. "Here is what greedy
Quarzhasaat would steal from us." And there was sorrow as well as
anger in his voice.
At the very centre of the Bronze Tent's cool interior, in which
tiny lamps burned over hundreds of heaped cushions and carpets
occupied by men and women in attitudes of deep contemplation, was
a raised level and on this a bed carved with intricate designs of
exquisite delicacy, set with mother-of-pearl and pale turquoise,
with milky jade and silver filigree and blond gold. Upon this, her
little hands folded on her chest, which rose and fell with
profound regularity, lay a young girl of about thirteen years. She
had the strong beauty of her people, and her hair was the colour
of honey against her tawny skin. She might have been sleeping as
naturally as any child of her age save for the single startling
fact that her eyes, blue as the wonderful Vilmirian Sea, stared
upward towards the roof of the Bronze Tent and were unblinking.
"My people believed that Quarzhasaat destroyed herself forever,"
said Elric. "Would that they had, or that Mehiibone had shown less
arrogance and completed what their wizards began!" He rarely
betrayed such ferocious emotion towards those his race had
defeated but now he knew only loathing for Lord Gho, whose men, he
was sure, had done this terrible thing. He recognised the nature
of the sorcery, for it was not unlike that he had learned himself,


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though his cousin Yyrkoon had shown more interest in those
specific arts and cared to practise them where Elric did not.
"But who can save her now?" said Raik Na Seem softly, perhaps a
little embarrassed by Elric's outburst in this place of
meditation.
The albino recovered himself and made a gesture of apology. "Are
there no potions which will rouse her from this slumber?" he
asked.
Raik Na Seem shook his head. "We have consulted everyone and
everything. The spell was cast by the leader of the Sparrow Sect
and he was killed when we took our premature revenge."
In deference to those who sat within the Bronze Tent, Raik Na Seem
now led them out into the desert again. Here guards stood, their
lamps and torches casting great shadows across the sand, while the
rays of the ruby moon drenched everything with crimson, so it was
almost as if they drowned in a tide of blood. Elric was reminded
how, as a youth, he had peered into the depths of his Actorios,
imagining the gem as a gateway into other lands, each facet
representing a different realm, for by then he already read much
of the multiverse and how it was thought to be constituted.
"Steal the dream which entraps her," Raik Na Seem was saying, "and
you know that all we have will be yours, Alnac Kreb."
The handsome black man shook his head. "To save her would be all
the reward I wanted, Father. Yet I fear I have not the skills...
Has no other tried?"
"We have been deceived more than once. Sorcerer Adventurers from
Quarzhasaat, either believing themselves possessed of your
knowledge or thinking they could accomplish what only a dreamthief
can accomplish, have come to us, pretending to be members of your
craft. We have seen them all go mad before our eyes. Several died.
Some we let run back to Quarzhasaat in the hope they would be a
warning to others not to waste their lives and our time."
"You sound very patient, Raik Na Seem," said Elric, remembering
what he had already heard and clearer now as to why Lord Gho so
desperately sought a dreamthief for this work. The news brought
back to Quarzhasaat by the maddened Sorcerer Adventurers had been
garbled. What little Lord Gho had made of it, he had passed on to
Elric. But now the albino saw that it was the child herself who
possessed the secret of the path to the Pearl at the Heart of the
World. Doubtless, as the recipient of all her people's wisdom, she


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had learned of its location. Perhaps it was a secret she must keep
to herself. Whatever the reason, it was obvious that the girl,
Varadia, must wake from her sorcerous sleep before any further
progress could be made. And Elric knew that even if she did wake
it was not in his nature to question her, to beg for a secret
which was not his to know. His only hope would be if she offered
the knowledge freely to him but he knew that no matter what
occurred he would never be able to ask.
Raik Na Seem seemed to understand a little of the albino's
dilemma. "My son, you are a friend of my son," he said in the
formal manner of his people. "We know that you are not our enemy
and that you did not come here willingly to steal what was ours.
We know, too, that you had no intention of taking from us any
treasure to which we are guardian. Know this, Elric of Melniboné,
that if Alnac Kreb can save our Holy Girl, we shall do all we can
to put you on the path to the Fortress of the Pearl. The only
reason for hindering you would be if Varadia, awakened, warned us
against giving this aid. Then, at least, you will be told as
much."
"There could be no fairer promise," said Elric gratefully.
"Meanwhile, I pledge myself to you, Raik Na Seem, to help guard
your daughter against all those who would harm her and to watch
over her until Alnac should bring her back to you."
Alnac had moved a little away from the other two and was standing
in deep thought on the edge of the torchlight, his white night-
cloak drenched a dark pinkish hue by the rays of the Blood Moon.
From his belt he had drawn his hooked staff and was holding it in
his two hands, looking at it and murmuring to it, much as Elric
might speak to his own runesword.
At length the dreamthief turned back to them, his face full of
great seriousness. "I will do my best," he said. "I will call upon
every resource within myself and upon everything I have been
taught, but I should warn you that I have weaknesses of character
I have not yet overcome. These are weaknesses which I can control
if called upon to exorcise an old merchant's nightmares or a boy's
love-trance. What I see here, however, might defeat the cleverest
dreamthief, the most experienced of my calling. There can be no
partial success. I succeed or I fail. I am willing, because of the
circumstances, because of our old friendship, because I loathe
everything that the Sorcerer Adventurers represent, to attempt the


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task."
"It is all I would hope," said Raik Na Seem somberly. He was
impressed by Alnac's tone.
"If you succeed you bring the child's soul back to the world where
it belongs," said Elric. "What do you lose if you fail, Master
Dreamthief?"
Alnac shrugged. "Nothing of any great value, I suppose."
Elric, looking hard into his new friend's face, saw that he lied.
But he saw, too, that he wished to be questioned no further in the
matter.
"I must rest," said Alnac. "And eat." He wrapped himself in the
folds of his night-cloak, his dark eyes staring back at Elric as
if he wished for all the world to share some secret which he felt
in his heart should never be shared. Then he turned away suddenly,
laughing. "If Varadia should wake as a result of my efforts and if
she knows the whereabouts of your terrible Pearl, why then, Prince
Elric, I'll have done most of your work for you. I'll expect part
of your reward, you know."
"My reward will be the slaying of Lord Gho," said Elric quietly.
"Aye," said Alnac, moving towards the Bronze Tent, which shifted
and shimmered like some half-materialised artefact of Chaos, "that
is exactly what I hope to share!"
The Bronze Tent consisted of the great central chamber and then a
series of smaller chambers, where travellers could rest and revive
themselves, and it was to one of these that the three men went to
lay themselves down and, still wakeful, consider the work which
must begin the next day. They did not talk, but it was several
hours before all were eventually asleep.
In the morning, while Elric, Raik Na Seem and Alnac Kreb
approached the place where the Holy Girl still lay, those who
remained in the Bronze Tent drew back respectfully. Alnac Kreb
held his dreamwand gently in his right hand, balancing it rather
than gripping it, as he stared down into the face of the child he
loved almost as his own daughter. A long sigh escaped him and
Elric saw that his sleep had not apparently refreshed him. He
looked drawn and unhappy. He turned, smiling, to the albino. "When
I saw you partaking of the contents of that silver flask earlier,
I had half a mind to ask / you for a little ..."
"The drug's poison and it's addictive," said Elric, shocked. "I
thought I had explained as much."


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"You had." Alnac Kreb again revealed by his expression that he
possessed thoughts he felt unable to share. "I had merely
thought   " that in the circumstances, there would be little point
in fearing its power."
"That is because you do not know it," said Elric forcefully.
"Believe me, Alnac, if there was any way in which I could help you
in this task I would do so. But to offer you poison would not, I
think, be an act of friendship ..."
Alnac Kreb smiled a little. "Indeed. Indeed." He slid his dream-
wand from hand to hand. "But you said that you would watch over
me?" ,
"I promised that, aye. And as you asked, the moment you tell me to
carry the dreamwand from the Bronze Tent, I shall do so."
"That is all you can do and I thank you for that," said the
dreamthief. "Now I'll begin. Farewell for the moment, Elric. I
think we are fated to meet again, but perhaps not in this
existence."
And with those mysterious words Alnac Kreb approached the sleeping
girl, placing his dreamwand over her unblinking eyes, laying his
ear against her heart, his own gaze growing distant and strange,
as if he entered a trance himself. He straightened, swaying, then
took the girl in his arms and lowered her gently to the carpets.
Next he lay down beside her, putting her lifeless hand within his
own, his dream-wand in the other. His breathing grew slower and
deeper and Elric almost thought he heard a faint song coming from
within the dreamthief's throat.
Raik Na Seem bent forward, peering into Alnac's face, but Alnac
did not see bun. With his other hand he brought up the dreamwand
so that the hook passed over their clasped hands, as if to secure
them, to bind them together.
To his surprise, Elric saw that the dreamwand was beginning to
glow faintly and to pulse a little. Alnac's breathing grew deeper
still, his lips opening, his eyes staring directly above him, just
as Varadia's ; stared.
. Elric thought he heard the child murmur and it was no illusion ,
that a tremor passed between Alnac and the Holy Girl while the
dreamwand pulsed in tempo with their mutual breathing and glowed
brighter.
Then suddenly the dreamwand was curling and writhing, moving with
astonishing speed between the two, as if it had entered their very


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veins and was following the blood itself. Elric had the impression
of a tangle of arteries and nerves, all touched by the strange
light from the dreamwand, then Alnac gave a single cry and his
breathing was no longer the steady movement it had been. Instead
it had become shallow, almost non-existent, while the child
continued to breathe with the same slow, deep, steady rhythm.
The dreamwand had returned to Alnac. It seemed to bum from within
his body, almost as if it had become fused with his spine and
cortex. The hooked end appeared to glow from within his brain,
flooding his flesh with indescribable luminance, displaying every
bone, every organ, every vein.
The child herself seemed unchanged until Elric looked at her more
closely, seeing almost with horror that her eyes had turned from
vibrant blue to jet black. Reluctantly he looked from Varadia's
face to Alnac's and saw what he had not wished to see: The
dreamthief's own eyes now bright blue. It was as if the two of
them had exchanged souls.
The albino, with all his experience of sorcery, had never
witnessed anything like this and he found it disturbing. Gradually
he was beginning to understand the strange nature of a
dreamthief's calling, why it could be so dangerous, why there were
so few who could practise the trade and why fewer still would wish
to.
Now a further change began to take place. The crooked staff seemed
to writhe again and begin to absorb the dreamthief's very
substance, taking the blood and the vitality of flesh and bones
and brain into itself.
Raik Na Seem groaned with terror. He stepped backward, unable to
control himself. "Ah, my son! What have I asked of thee!"
Soon all that remained of Alnac Kreb's splendid body seemed little
more than a husk, like the discarded skin of some transmuted
dragonfly. But the dreamwand lay where Alnac had first placed it
upon his own hand and Varadia's, though it seemed larger and
glowed with an impossible brilliance, its colours constantly
moving through a spectrum part natural, part supernatural.
"I think he is giving much in his attempt to save my daughter,"
said Raik Na Seem. "Perhaps more than anyone should give."
"He would give everything," Elric said. "I think that it is in his
nature. That is why you call him your son and why you trust him."
"Aye," said Raik Na Seem. "But now I fear that I lose a son as


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well as a daughter." And he sighed and was troubled, perhaps
wondering, if, after all, he had been wise in begging this service
of Alnac Kreb.
For more than a day and a night Elric sat with Raik Na Seem and
the men and women of the Bauradim within the shelter of the Bronze
Tent, their eyes fixed upon the strangely wizened body of Alnac
the Dreamthief which occasionally stirred and murmured yet still
seemed as lifeless as the mummified goats which the sand-dunes
sometimes revealed. Once Elric thought he heard the Holy Girl make
a sound and once Raik Na Seem rose to put his hand on his
daughter's brow, then returned shaking his head.
"This is not the time to despair, father of my friend," said
Elric.
"Aye." The First Elder of the Bauradim drew himself up, then
settled down again beside Elric. "We set high store by prophecies
here in the desert. It seems that our longing for help might have
coloured our reason."
They looked out of the tent into the morning. Smoke from the still
burning brands drifted across the lilac-coloured sky, borne upward
and to the north by the light breeze. Elric found the smell almost
sickening now, but his concern for his new friend made bun
forgetful of his own health. Occasionally he drank sparingly of
Lord Gho's elixir, unable to do more than control his craving, and
when Raik Na Seem offered him water from his own flask Elric shook
his head. Within him there were still many conflicts. He felt a
strong comradeship with these people, a liking for Raik Na Seem
which he valued. He had grown to care for Alnac Kreb, who had
helped save his life in an action clearly as generous as the man's
general character. Elric was grateful for the Bauradim's trust of
him. Having heard his tale,; they would have been within their
rights to banish him at very least from the Silver Flower Oasis.
Rather, they had taken him to the Bronze Tent when the Blood Moon
burned, allowing him to follow Lord Gho's instructions, trusting
him not to abuse their action. He was bound to them now by a
loyalty he could never break. Perhaps they knew this. Perhaps they
read his character as easily as they read Alnac's. This sense of
their trust heartened him, though it made his task all the more
difficult, and he was determined hi no way, however inadvertently,
to betray it.
Raik Na Seem sniffed the wind and looked back towards the distant


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oasis. A column of black smoke marched into the sky, growing
taller and taller, mingling with the smoke closer at hand: some
released afrit joining its fellows. Elric would not have been
surprised if it had taken shape before his eyes, so familiar had
he become with strange events in past days.
"There has been another attack," said Raik Na Seem. He spoke
unconcernedly. "Let us hope it is the last. They are burning the
bodies."
"Who attacks you?"
"More men of the Sorcerer Adventurer societies. I suspect their
decisions have something to do with the internal politics of the
city. Dozens of them are battling for some favour or other-perhaps
the seat on the Council you mentioned. From tune to tune their
machinations involve us. This is familiar to us. But I suppose the
Pearl at the Heart of the World has become the only price which
will pay for the seat, eh? So as the story spreads, more and more
of these warriors are sent here to find it!" Raik Na Seem spoke
with fierce humour. "Let us hope they must soon run out of
inhabitants and eventually only the scheming lords themselves will
be left, squabbling for nonexistent power over a non-existent
people!"
Elric watched as a whole tribe of nomads rode past, keeping some
distance away from the Bronze Tent in order to show their respect.
These tanned, white-skinned people had burning blue eyes as bright
as those which stared into nothing within the tent and, when their
hoods were thrown back, startlingly blond hair, also like
Varadia's. Their clothing distinguished them, however, from the
Bauradim. It was predominantly of a rich lavender shade with gold
and dark green trimming. They were heading towards the Silver
Flower Oasis, driving herds of sheep and riding the odd humped
bull-like beasts which, as Alnac had declared, were so well
adapted to the desert.
"The Waued Nii," said Raik Na Seem. "They are amongst the last at
any gathering. They come from the very edge of the desert and they
trade with Elwher, bringing that lapis lazuli and jade carving we
all value so much. In the winter, when the storms grow too intense
for them, they even raid across the plains and into the cities.
Once, they boast, they looted Phum, but we believe it was some
other, smaller place which they mistook for Phum." This was
clearly a joke the desert peoples enjoyed at the expense of the


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Waued Nii.
"I had a friend who was once of Phum," said Elric. "His name was
Rackhir and he sought Tanelorn."
"Rackhir I know. A good bowman. He travelled with us for a few
weeks last year."
Elric was strangely pleased by this news. "He was well?"
"In excellent health." Raik Na Seem was glad of a subject to draw
his mind away from the fate of his daughter and his adoptive son.
"He was a welcome guest and hunted for us when we went close to
the Ragged Pillars, for there's game there which we lack the skill
to find. He spoke of his friend. A friend who had many thoughts
and whose thoughts led him to many quandaries. That was you, no
doubt. I remember now. He must have been joking. He said that you
were a little on the pale side. He wondered what had become of
you. He cared for you, I think."
"And I for him. We had something in common. As I feel a bond with
your folk and with Alnac Kreb."
"You shared dangers together, I gather."
"We had many strange experiences. He, however, was tired of the
quest for such things and hoped to retire, to find peace. Know you
where he went from here?"
"Aye. As you say, he was searching for legendary Tanelorn. When he
had learned all he could from us, he bade us farewell and rode on
to the West. We counselled him not to waste himself in pursuit of
a myth, but he believed he knew enough to continue. Did you not
wish to journey with your friend?"
"I have other duties which call me, though I, too, have sought
Tanelorn." He would have added more but thought better of it. Any
further explanation would have led him into memories and problems
he had no wish to contemplate at present. His main concern was for
Alnac Kreb and the girl.
"Ah, yes. Now I recall. You are a king in your own country, of
course. But a reluctant one, eh? The duties are hard for a young
man. Much is expected of you and you bear upon your shoulders the
weight of the past, the ideals and loyalties of an entire people.
It is difficult to rule well, to make good judgements, to dispense
justice fairly. We have no kings here amongst the Bauradim, merely
a group of men and women elected to speak for the whole clan, and
I think it is better to share those burdens. If all share the
burden, if all are responsible for themselves, then no single


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individual has to carry a weight that is too much for them."
"The reason I travel is to learn more of such means of
administering justice," said Elric. "But I will tell you this,
Raik Na Seem, my people are as cruel as any in Quarzhasaat, and
have more real power. We have a scanty notion of justice, and the
obligations of rule involve little more than inventing new terrors
by which we may cow and control others. Power, I think, is a habit
as terrible as the potion I must now sip in order to sustain
myself. It feeds upon itself. It is a hungry beast, devouring
those who would possess it and those who hate it-devouring even
those who own it."
"The hungry beast is not power itself," said the old man. "Power
is neither good nor evil. It is the use one makes of it which is
good or evil. I know that Melniboné once ruled the world, or that
part of it she could find and the part she did not destroy."
"You seem to know more of my nation than my nation knows of you!"
The albino smiled.
"It is said by our folk that we all came to the desert because we
fled first Melniboné and then Quarzhasaat. Each was as cruel as
the other, each as corrupting, and it did not matter to us which
destroyed which. We had hoped they would extinguish each other, of
course, but that was not to be. The second best thing occurred:
Quarzhasaat almost destroyed herself and Melniboné forgot all
about her-and us! I believe that soon after their war, Melniboné
became bored with expansion and withdrew to rule only the Young
Kingdoms. Now I hear she rules even less."
"Only the Dragon Isle now." Elric found that his thoughts were
going back to Cymoril and he tried to stop himself from thinking
of her. "But many a reaver's sought to sail against her and loot
her wealth. They discover, however, that she remains too powerful
for them. They must continue to trade with her instead."
'Trade was ever War's superior," said Raik Na Seem, and looked
suddenly back over his shoulder at Alnac's withered body. The
golden outline of the dreamwand was glowing again and throbbing,
as it had done from time to time since Alnac had first lain down
beside the girl.
"Tis a strange organ," said Raik Na Seem softly. "Almost a second
spine."
He was about to say more when there was a faint movement in
Alnac's features and a dreadful, desolate groan escaped the


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bloodless lips.
They turned and went to kneel beside him. Alnac's eyes still
blazed blue and Varadia's were still black.
"He is dying," whispered the First Elder. "Is it so, Prince
Elric?"
Elric knew no more than the Bauradi.
"What can we do for him?" asked Raik Na Seem.
Elric touched the cold, leathery carcass. He lifted an almost
weightless wrist and could hear no pulse beating. It was at this
moment, startlingly, that Alnac's eyes turned from blue to black
and looked at Elric with all their old intelligence. "Ah, you have
come to help me. I have learned where the Pearl lies. But it is
too well protected."
The voice was a whisper from the dust-dry mouth.
Elric cradled the dreamthief in his arms. "I will help you, Alnac.
Tell me how."
"You cannot. There are caverns... These dreams are defeating me.
They are drowning me. They are drawing me in. I am doomed to join
those already doomed. Poor company for one such as me, Prince
Elric. Poor company..."
The dreamwand pulsed and glowed white as bleached bones. The
dreamthief's eyes turned to blue again, then back to black. The
thin air stirred in the leathery remains of his throat. Suddenly
there was horror in his face. "Ah, no! I must find the will!"
The dreamwand moved like a snake through his body, then slithered
into Varadia, then returned. "Oh, Elric," said the tiny voice,
"help me if you can. Oh, I am trapped. This is the worst I have
ever known..."
His words seemed to Elric to call to him directly from the grave,
as if his friend were already dead. "Elric, if there is some
way..."
Then the body shuddered, filled as if with a single huge breath,
while the dreamwand flickered and writhed again and then grew
still, lying as it had first done with the crook upon the two
clasped hands.
"Ah, my friend, I was a fool even to consider myself able to
survive this..." The tiny voice faded. "Would that I had
understood the nature of her mind. It is so strong! So strong!"
"Who does he speak of?" asked Raik Na Seem. "My child? That which
holds her? My daughter is of the Sarangli women. Her grandmother


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could charm whole tribes to believe they died of disease. I told
him as much. What does he not understand?"
"Oh, Elric, she has destroyed me!" There was a tremor in the frail
hand as it reached towards the albino.
Then, suddenly, all the colour and life came flooding back into
Alnac's body. It seemed to expand to its former size and vitality.
The hooked staff became nothing more than the artefact Elric had
originally seen at Alnac's belt.
The handsome dreamthief grinned. He was surprised. "I live! Elric,
I live!"
He took a firmer grip on his staff and made to rise. Then he
coughed and something disgusting oozed from his lips, like a
gigantic, half-digested worm. It was as if he regurgitated his own
rotten organs. He wiped the stuff away. For a moment he was
bewildered, the terror returning to his eyes.
"No." Abac seemed reconciled suddenly. "I was too proud. I die, of
course." He collapsed backward onto the sheet as Elric again tried
to hold him. With his old irony the dreamthief shook his head. "A
little too late, I think. It's not my fate, after all, to be your
companion, Sir Champion, in this plane."
Elric, to whom the words made no sense, believed Alnac to be
raving and sought to quieten him.
Then the staff fell from the dreamthief's grasp and he rolled onto
his side before a wavering, sickly scream came out of him, then a
stink which threatened to drive Elric and Raik Na Seem from the
Bronze Tent. It was as if his body putrefied before their eyes
even as the dreamthief tried to speak again and failed.
And then Alnac Kreb was dead.
Elric, mourning a brave, good man, felt then that his own doom and
that of Anigh had been determined. The dreamthief's death
suggested forces at work of which the albino understood nothing,
for all his sorcerous wisdom. He had come across no grimoire which
even hinted of such a fate. He had seen worse befall those who
meddled with sorcery, but here was a sorcery which he could not
begin to interpret.
"He is gone, then," said Raik Na Seem.
"Aye." Elric's own breath shuddered in his throat. "Aye. His
courage was greater than any of us suspected. Including, I think,
himself."
The First Elder walked slowly to where his child still slept in


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her terrible trance. He looked down into her blue eyes as if he
almost hoped to see the black eyes somewhere there within her.
"Varadia?"
She did not respond.
Solemnly Raik Na Seem took the Holy Girl and placed her back upon
the raised block, settling her into the cushions as if she merely
slept a natural sleep and he, her father, laid her down for her
nightly rest.
Elric stared at the remains of the dreamthief. He had doubtless
understood the cost of failure and perhaps that was the secret he
had refused to share.
"It is over," said Raik Na Seem gently. "Now I can think of
nothing to do for her. He gave too much." He was fighting not to
lose himself in either self-mortification or despair. "We must try
to think what to do. Will you help me in this, friend of my son?"
"If I can."
As Elric rose, shaking, to his feet he heard a sound behind him.
He thought at first it was some Bauradi woman come to mourn. He
looked back at the light which streamed in through the tent and
saw only her outline.
It was a young woman, but she was not of the Bauradim. She entered
the tent slowly and there were tears in her eyes as she stared
down at Alnac Kreb's ruined body.
"I am too late, then?"
Her musical voice was full of the most intense sorrow. She reached
a hand to her face. "He should not have attempted such a task.
They told me at the Silver Flower Oasis that you had come here.
Why could you not have waited a little longer? Just a day more?"
It was with great effort that she controlled her grief and Elric
felt a sudden, obscure kinship with her.
She took another step towards the body. She was an inch or so
shorter than Elric, with a heart-shaped face framed by thick,
brown hair. Slender and well-muscled, she wore a padded jerkin
slashed to show its red silk lining. She had soft velvet breeches,
embroidered felt riding boots and over all this an almost
transparent cotton dust-cloak pushed back from her shoulders. At
her belt was a sword, and cradled above her left shoulder was a
hooked staff of gold and ebony, a more elaborate version of the
one which lay on the carpet beside Alnac's corpse.
"I taught him all he knew of his craft," she said. "But it was not


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enough for this. How could he ever have thought that it would be!
He could never have achieved such a goal. He had not the character
for it." She turned away, brushing at her face. When she looked
back her tears had gone and she stared directly back into Elric's
eyes.
"I am Oone," she said. She bowed briefly to Raik Na Seem. "I am
the dreamthief you sent for."

PART TWO

Is there a daughter born in dreams
Whose flesh is snow, whose ruby eyes
Stare into realms whose substance seems
Strong as agony, soft as lies?
Is there a girlchild born of dreams
Who carries blood as old as Time,
Destined one day to blend with mine
And give new lands a newer queen?
The Chronicle of the Black Sword

1
How a Thief May Instruct an Emperor

Oone removed a date stone from her mouth and dropped it into the
sand of the Silver Flower Oasis. She reached her hand towards one
of the brilliant cactus flowers which gave the place its name. She
stroked the petals with long, delicate fingers. She sang to
herself and it seemed to Elric that her words were a lament.
Respectfully he remained silent, sitting with his back to a palm
tree looking to the distant camp and its continuing activity. She
had asked bun to accompany her but had said little to him. He
heard a calling from the kashbeh high above but when he peered in
that direction he saw nothing. The breeze blew over the desert and
red dust raced like water towards the Ragged Pillars on the
horizon.
It was almost noon. They had returned to the Silver Flower Oasis
that morning and the few remains of Alnac Kreb were to be burned
with honour according to the customs of the Bauradim that night.
Oone's staff was no longer slung on her back. Now she held the
dreamwand in both hands, turning it over and over, watching the


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light on its burnish and polish as if she had only now seen it for
the first time. The other wand, Alnac's, she had tucked into her
belt.
"It would have made my task a little easier," she said suddenly,
"if Alnac had not acted so precipitously. He did not realise I was
coming and was doing his best to save the child, I know. But a few
more hours and I could have used his help, perhaps successfully.
Certainly I might have saved him."
"I do not understand what happened to him," said Elric.
"Even I do not know the exact cause of his fall," she said. "But I
will explain what I can. That is why I asked you to come with me.
I would not wish to be overheard. And I must demand your word that
you will be discreet."
"I am ever that, madam."
"Forever," she said.
"Forever?"
"You must promise never to tell another soul what I tell you
today, nor recount any event which results from the telling. You
must agree to be bound by a dreamthief s code even though you are
not of our kind."
Elric was baffled. "For what reason?"
"Would you save their Holy Girl? Avenge Alnac? Free yourself from
the drug's slavery? Adjust certain wrongs in Quarzhasaat?"
"You know I would."
"Then we may reach an agreement, for it is certain that, unless we
help each other, you and the girl and perhaps myself, too, will
all be dead before the Blood Moon fades."
"Certain?" Elric was grimly amused. "Are you an oracle, too, then,
madam?"
"All dreamthieves are that, to some degree." She was almost
impatient, as if she spoke to a slow child. She caught herself.
"Forgive me. I forget that our craft is unknown in the Young
Kingdoms. Indeed, it's rarely that we travel to this plane at
all."
"I have met many supernatural in my life, my lady, but few who
seem so human as yourself."
"Human? Of course I am human!" She seemed puzzled. Then her brow
cleared. "Ah. I forget that you are at once more sophisticated and
less learned than those of my own persuasion." She smiled at him.
"I am still not recovered from Alnac's unnecessary dissolution."


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"He need not have died." Elric's tone was flat, unquestioning. He
had known Alnac long enough to care for him as a Mend. He
understood something of Oone's loss. "And there is no way to
revive him?"
"He lost all essence," said Gone. "Instead of stealing a dream, he
was robbed of his own." She paused, then spoke quickly, as if she
feared she would regret her words. "Will you help me, Prince
Elric?"
"Yes." He spoke without hesitation. "If it is to avenge Alnac and
save the child."
"Even if you risk Alnac's fate? The fate which you witnessed?"
"Even that. Can it be worse than dying in Lord Gho's power?"
"Yes," she said simply.
Elric laughed aloud at her frankness. "Ah, well. Just so, madam!
Just so! What's your bargain?"
She moved her hand again towards the silver petals, balancing her
wand between her fingers. She was frowning, still not wholly
certain of the rightness of her decision. "I think that you are
one of the few mortals on this earth who could understand the
nature of my profession, who'll know what I mean when I speak of
the nature of dreams and reality and how they intersect. I think,
too, that you have habits of mind which would make you, if not a
perfect ally, then an ally on whom I could to some extent depend.
We dreamthieves have made something of a science of a trade which
logically can tolerate no consistent laws. It has enabled us to
pursue our craft with some success, largely, I suspect, because we
are able, to a degree, to impose our wills upon the chaos we
encounter. Does this make sense to you, Prince?"
"I think so. There are philosophers of my own people who claim
that much of our magic is actually the imposition of powerful will
upon the fundamental stuff of reality, an ability, if you like, to
make dreams come true. Some claim our whole world was created
thus."
Gone seemed pleased. "Good. I knew there were certain ideas I
would not have to explain."
"But what would you have me do, lady?"
"I want you to help me. Together we can find a way to what the
Sorcerer Adventurers call the Fortress of the Pearl and by so
doing one or both of us might steal the dream which binds the
child to perpetual sleep and free her to wakefulness, return her


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to her people to be their seeress and their pride."
"The two are linked, then?" Elric began to rise to his feet,
ignoring the call of his ever-present craving. "The child and the
Pearl?"
"I think so."
"What is the link?"
"In discovering that, we shall doubtless discover how to free
her."
"Forgive me Lady Oone," said Elric gently, "but you sound almost
as ignorant as I!"
"In some ways it is true that I am. Before I go further, I must
ask you to swear to abide by the Dreamthief's Code."
"I swear," said Elric, and he held up the hand on which his
Actorios glowed to show that he swore by one of his people's most
revered artefacts. "I swear by the Rings of Kings."
"Then I will tell you what I know and what I desire of you," said
Oone. She linked her free hand in his arm and led him further into
the groves of palms and cypress. Sensing the shuddering hunger in
him which yearned for Lord Gho's terrible drug, she seemed to show
some sympathy.
"A dreamthief," she began, "does exactly what the title implies.
We steal dreams. Originally our guild were true thieves. We
learned the trick of entering the worlds of other peoples' dreams
and stealing those which were most magnificent or exotic.
Gradually, however, people began to call upon us to steal unwanted
dreams-or rather the dreams which entrapped or plagued friends or
relatives. So we stole those. Frequently the dreams themselves
were in no way harmful to another, only to the one who was in
their power..."
Elric interrupted. "Are you saying that a dream has some material
reality? That it can be seized, like a volume of verse, say, or
money purse, and slipped free of its owner?"
"Essentially, yes. Or, I should say, our guild learned the trick
of making a dream sufficiently real for it to be handled thus!"
She now laughed openly at his confusion and some of the care went
away from her for a moment. "There is a certain talent needed and
a great deal of training."
"But what do you do with these stolen dreams?"
"Why, Prince Elric, we sell them ft the Dream Market, twice a
year. There's a fine trade in almost any sort of dream, no matter


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how bizarre or terrifying. There are merchants who purchase them
and customers who would buy them. We distill them, of course, into
a form which can be transported and later translated. And because
we make the dreams take substance, we are threatened by them. That
substance can destroy us. You see what happened to Alnac. It takes
a certain character, a certain cast of mind, a certain attitude of
spirit, all combining, to protect oneself in the Dream Realms. But
because we have codified these realms we have also to a degree
made them our own to manipulate."
"You must explain more to me," said Elric, "if I am to follow you
at all, madam!"
"Very well." She paused at the edge of the grove, where the earth
grew dustier and formed a territory between oasis and desert that
was a little of both and was neither. She studied the cracked
earth as if the cracks were the outlines of a singularly
complicated map, a geometry which only she could understand.
"We have made rules," she said. Her voice was distant, almost as
if she spoke to herself. "And codified what we have discovered
over the centuries. And yet we are still subject to the most
unimaginable hazards..."
"Wait, madam. Are you suggesting that Alnac Kreb, by some wizardry
known only to your guild, entered the world of the Holy Girl's
dreams and there suffered adventures such as you or I might suffer
in this material world?"
"Well put." She turned with a strange smile on her lips. "Aye. And
his substance went into that world and was absorbed by it,
strengthening the substance of her dreams..."
"The dreams he hoped to steal."
"He hoped to steal only one. The one which imprisons her in that
perpetual slumber."
"And then he would sell it, you say, at your Dream Market?"
"Perhaps." She was clearly unwilling to discuss this aspect of the
matter.
"Where is that market held?"
"In a realm beyond this one, in a place where only those of our
profession, or those who attend upon us, may travel."
"You'd take me there?" Elric spoke from curiosity.
Her glance was a mixture of amusement and caution. "Possibly. But
first we must be successful. We must steal a dream so that we may
trade it there. Know you, Elric, I have every desire to inform you


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of all you wish to learn, but there are many things hard to
explain to one who has not studied with our guild. They can only
be demonstrated or experienced. I am not a native of your world,
nor are most dreamthieves from this sphere. We are wanderers-
nomads, you might say-between many times and many places. We have
learned that a dream in one realm can be an undeniable reality hi
another, while what is utterly prosaic in that realm can elsewhere
be the stuff of the most fantastic nightmare."
"Is all creation so malleable?" Elric asked with a shudder.
"What we create must ever be, lest it die," she said, her tone one
of ironical finality.
"The struggle between Law and Chaos echoes that struggle within
ourselves between unbridled emotion and too much caution, I
suppose," Elric mused, aware that she did not wish to pursue this
particular conversation.
With her foot Gone traced the cracks in the red earth. 'To learn
more you must become an apprentice dreamthief..."
"Willingly," said Elric. "I'm sufficiently curious now, madam. You
spoke of your laws. What are they?"
"Some are instructive, some are descriptive. First I'll tell you
that we have determined that every Dream Realm shall have seven
aspects, which we have named. By naming and describing we hope to
shape that which has no shape and control that which few can begin
to control. By such impositions we have learned to survive in
worlds where others would be destroyed within minutes. Yet even
when we perform such impositions, even that which our own wills
define can become transmuted beyond our control. If you would
accompany me and aid me in this adventure, you must know that I
have determined we shall pass through seven lands. The first land
we call Sadanor, or the Land of Dreams-in-Common. The second land
is Marador, which we call the Land of Old Desires, while the third
is Paranor, the Land of Lost Beliefs. The fourth land is known to
dreamthieves as Celador, which is the Land of Forgotten Love. The
fifth is Imador, the Land of New Ambition, and the sixth is
Falador, the Land of Madness..."
"Fanciful names indeed, madam. The Guild of Dreamthieves has a
penchant for poetry, I think. And the seventh? What is that
named?"
She paused before she replied. Her wonderful eyes peered into his,
as if exploring the recesses of his own skull. "That has no name,"


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she said quietly, "save any name the inhabitants shall give it.
But there, if anywhere, you will find the Fortress of the Pearl,"
Elric felt himself trapped by that gentle yet determined gaze.
"And how may we enter these lands?" The albino forced himself to
engage with these questions though by now his whole body was
crying out for a draft of Lord Gho's elixir.
She sensed his tension, and her hand on his arm was meant to calm
and reassure him. "Through the child," said Oone.
Elric remembered what he had witnessed in the Bronze Tent and he
shuddered. "How is such a thing achieved?"
Oone frowned and the pressure of her hand increased. "She is our
gateway and the dreamwands are our keys. There is no way hi which
I will harm her, Elric. Once we have reached the seventh aspect,
the Nameless Land, there we might in turn find the key to her
particular prison."
"She is a medium, then? Is that what has happened to her? Did the
Sorcerer Adventurers know something of her power and in attempting
to use her put her into this trance?"
Again she hesitated, then she nodded. "Close enough, Prince Elric.
It is written in our histories, of which we have many, though most
are inaccessible to us in the libraries of Tanelorn, 'What lies
within always has a form without and that which is without takes a
shape within.' Put another way, we sometimes say that what is
visible must always have an invisible aspect, just as everything
invisible must be represented by the visible."
Elric found this too cryptic for him, though he was familiar
enough with such mysterious utterances from his own grimoires. He
did not dismiss them, but he knew they frequently required much
pondering and certain experience before they made complete sense.
"You speak of supernatural realms, madam. The worlds inhabited by
the Lords of Chaos and of Law, by the elementals, by immortals and
the like. I know something of such realms and have even journeyed
in them some little way. But I have never heard of leaving part of
one's physical substance behind and travelling into those realms
by means of a sleeping child!"
She looked at him for a long moment as if she thought he was
deliberately disingenuous, then she shrugged. "You will find the
realms of the dreamthief very similar. And you would do well to
memorise and obey our code."
"You are a strict order, then, madam..."


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"If we are to survive. Alnac had the instincts of a good
dreamthief but he had not acquired the full discipline. That was
one of the chief reasons for his dissolution. You on the other
hand are familiar with the necessary disciplines, for they were
how you came by your knowledge of sorcery. Without those
disciplines you, too, would have perished."
"I have rejected much of that, Lady Gone."
"Aye. So I believe. But you have not lost the habit, I think. Or
so I hope. The first law the dreamthief obeys says, Offers of
guidance must always be accepted but never trusted. The second
says, Beware the familiar, and the third tells us, What is strange
should be cautiously welcomed. There are many others, but it is
those three which encompass the fundamentals by which a dreamthief
survives." She smiled. Her smile was oddly sweet and vulnerable
and Elric realised she was weary. Perhaps her grief had exhausted
her.
The Melnibonéan spoke gently, looking back to the great red rocks
of the Silver Flower's protection and sanctuary. The voices were
stilled now. Thin lines of smoke ascended the rich blue of the
sky. "How long does it take to instruct and train one of your
calling?"
She recognised his irony now. "Five years or more," she said.
"Alnac had been a full member of the guild for perhaps six years."
"And he failed to survive in the realm where the Holy Girl's
spirit is held prisoner?"
"He was, for all his skills, only an ordinary mortal, Prince
Elric."
"And you think I'm more than that?"
She laughed openly. "You are the last Emperor of Melniboné. You
are the most powerful of your race, which is a race whose
familiarity with sorcery is legendary. True, you have left your
bride to be waiting for you while you place your cousin Yyrkoon on
the Ruby Throne to reign as Regent until you return-a decision
only an idealist would make-but nonetheless, my lord, you cannot
pretend to me that you are in any way ordinary!"
In spite of his craving for the poisonous elixir, Elric found
himself laughing back at her. "If I am such a man of qualities,
madam, how is it that I find myself in this position,
contemplating death from the tricks of a second-rate provincial
politician?"


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"I did not say you admired yourself, my lord. But it would be
foolish to deny what you have been and what you could become."
"I prefer to consider the latter, my lady."
"Consider, if you will, the fate of Raik Na Seem's daughter.
Consider the fate of his people deprived of then: history and
their oracle. Consider your own doom, to perish for no good reason
in a distant land, your destiny unfulfilled."
Elric accepted this.
She continued. "It is probable, too, that you have no rival as a
sorcerer in your world. While your specific skills might be of
little use to you in the adventure I propose, your experience,
knowledge and understanding might make the difference between
success and failure."
Elric had become impatient as his body's demand for the drug grew
unbearable. "Very well, Lady Gone. Whatever you decide, I shall
agree to."
She took a step back from him and looked at him coolly. "You had
best return to your tent and find your elixir," she said softly.
Familiar desperation filled the albino's mind. "I shall, madam. I
shall." And turning he strode swiftly back towards the gathered
tents of the Bauradim.
He scarcely spoke to any of those who greeted him as he passed.
Raik Na Seem had moved nothing from the tent Elric had last shared
with Alnac Kreb, and the albino hastily drew the flask from his
saddle-bag, taking a deep draft and feeling, for a short while at
least, the relief, the resurgence of energy, the illusion of
health which the Quarzhasaati's drug gave him. He sighed and
turned towards the entrance of the tent as Raik Na Seem came up,
his brow furrowed, his eyes full of pain which he tried to
disguise. "Have you agreed to help the dreamthief, Elric? Will you
attempt to achieve what the prophecy predicted? Bring our Holy
Girl back to us? There is now less time than there ever was. Soon
the Blood Moon will be gone."
Elric dropped the flask onto the carpet which covered the ground.
He bent and picked up the Black Sword, which he had unbuckled
while he walked with Oone. The thing thrilled in his fingers and
he felt vaguely nauseated. "I will do whatever is required of me,"
the albino said.
"Good." The older man gripped Elric by the shoulders. "Oone has
told me that you are a great man with a great destiny and that


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this time is one of considerable moment in your life. We are
honoured to be part of that destiny and grateful for your
concern..."
Elric accepted Raik Na Seem's words with all his old grace. He
bowed. "I believe that the health of your Holy Girl is more
important than any fate of mine. I will do whatever is possible to
bring her back to you."
Oone had entered behind the Bauradim's First Elder. She smiled at
the albino. "You are ready now?"
Elric nodded and began to buckle on the Black Sword, but Oone
stopped him with a gesture. "You'll find the weapons you need
where we travel."
"But the sword is more than a weapon, Lady Oone!" The albino knew
a kind of panic.
She held out Alnac's dreamwand to him. "This is all you need for
our venture, my lord Emperor."
Stormbringer murmured violently as Elric let the sword fall back
to the cushions of the tent. It seemed almost to threaten him.
"I am dependent..." he began.
She shook her head gently. "You are not. You believe that sword to
be part of your identity but it is not. It is your nemesis. It is
the part of you which represents your weakness, not your
strength."
Elric sighed. "I do not understand you, my lady, but if you do not
wish me to bring the sword, I'll leave it."
Another sound, a peculiar growl, from the blade, but Elric ignored
it. He left both flask and sword in the tent and strode to where
horses awaited them to carry them from the Silver Flower Oasis
back to the Bronze Tent.
As they rode a little distance behind Raik Na Seem, Gone told
Elric something more of what the Holy Girl meant to the Bauradim.
"As you perhaps have already realised, the child holds in trust
the history and the aspirations of the Bauradim-their collected
wisdom. Everything they know to be true and of value is contained
within her. She is the living representation of her people's
learning-what is the essence of their history-of a time before
they became desert dwellers even. If they lose her, there is every
chance, they believe, that they must begin their history all over
again-relearn hard-won lessons, relive experience and make the
mistakes and blunders which so painfully informed their people's


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understanding down the centuries. She is Tune, if you like-their
library, museum, religion and culture personified in a single
human being. Can you imagine, Prince Elric, what her loss means to
them? She is the very soul of the Bauradim. And that soul is
imprisoned where only those of a certain skill can even find her,
let alone free her."
Elric fingered the dreamwand which now replaced his runesword at
his hip. "If she were only an ordinary child, bringing sorrow to
her family through her condition, I would be inclined to help if I
could," he said. "For I like this people and their leader."
"Her fate and yours are intertwined," said Gone. "Whatever your
sentiments, my lord, you probably have little real choice in the
matter."
He did not wish to hear this. "It seems to me, madam, that you
dreamthieves are altogether too familiar with myself, my family,
my people and my destiny. It makes me somewhat uncomfortable. Yet
I cannot deny you know more than anyone, save my betrothed, about
my inner conflicts. How come you by this power of divination and
prophecy?"
She spoke almost casually. "There is a land all dreamthieves have
visited. It is a place where all dreams intersect, where all that
we have in common meets. And we call that land the Birthplace of
the Bone, where mankind first assumed reality."
"This is legend! And primitive legend at that!"
"Legend to you. Truth to us. As one day you'll discover."
"If Alnac could foretell the future, why did he not wait for you
to come to help him?"
"We rarely know our own destinies, only the general movements of
the tides and of the figures who stand out in their world's
histories. All dreamthieves, it is true, know the future, for half
their lives are spent without Time. For us there is no past or
future, only a changing present. We are free of those particular
chains while bound as strongly by others."
"I have read of such ideas, but they mean very little to me."
"Because you lack experience to make sense of them." "You have
already spoken of the Land of Dreams-in-Common. Is that the same
as the Birthplace of the Bone?" "Perhaps. Our people are undecided
on the point." Temporarily invigorated by the drug, Elric began to
enjoy the conversation, much of which he saw as mere pleasant
abstraction. Free of his runesword he knew a kind of lightness of


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spirit which he had not experienced since the first months of his
courtship of Cymoril in those relatively untroubled years before
Yyrkoon's growing ambition had begun to contaminate life at the
Melnibonéan Court.
He recalled something from one of his own people's histories. "I
have seen it said that the world is no more than what its denizens
agree it is. I remember reading something to that effect in The
Gabbling Sphere which said, 'For who is to say which is the inner
world and which the outer? What we make reality may be what will
alone decides, and what we define as dreams may be the greater
truth.' Is that a philosophy close to your own, Lady Gone?" "Close
enough," she said. "Though it seems a little airy." They rode like
this, almost like two children on a picnic, until they reached the
Bronze Tent when the sun was setting and were led, once more, into
the place where men and women sat or lay around the great raised
bed on which rested the little girl who symbolised their entire
existence.
It seemed to Elric that the illuminating braziers and lamps were
burning lower than when last he was here, and that the child
looked even paler than before, but he forced an expression of
confidence when he turned to Raik Na Seem. "This time we shall not
fail her," he said.
Oone appeared to approve of Elric's words and watched carefully
as, on her instructions, Varadia's frail body was lifted from the
bed and placed this time upon a huge cushion which, in its turn,
was set between two other cushions, also of great size. She signed
to the albino to lay his body down on the far side of the child
while she herself took up her position on the girl's left.
"Grasp her hand, my lord Emperor," said Oone ironically, "and
place the crook of the dreamwand over both yours and hers, as you
saw Alnac do."
Elric felt some trepidation as he obeyed her, but he knew no fear
for himself, only for the child and her people, for Cymoril
waiting for him in Melniboné, for the boy who prayed in
Quarzhasaat that he would return with the jewel his jailer had
demanded. His hand locked to the girl's by the dreamwand, he knew
a sense of fusion that was not unpleasant, yet seemed to burn as
hot as any flame. He watched as Oone did the same thing.
Immediately Elric felt a power possess him and for a moment it was
as if his body grew lighter and lighter until it threatened to


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drift away on the slightest breeze. His vision faded, yet dimly he
could still see Oone. She seemed to be concentrating.
He looked into the face of the Holy Girl and for a second thought
he saw her skin turn still whiter, her eyes glow as crimson as his
own, and a strange thought came and went in his mind: If I had a
daughter she would look thus...
And then it was as if his bones were melting, his flesh
dissolving, his whole mind and spirit dissipating. He gave himself
up to this sensation as he had determined he must, since he now
served Oone's purpose, and now the flesh became flowing water, the
veins and blood were coloured strands of air, his skeleton flowed
like molten silver, mingling with the Holy Girl's, becoming hers,
then flowing on beyond her, into caverns and tunnels and dark
places, into places where whole worlds existed in hollowed rock,
where voices called to him and knew bun and sought to comfort him
or frighten him or tell him truths he did not wish to learn; and
then the air grew bright again and he felt Oone beside him,
guiding him, her hand on his, her body almost his body, her voice
confident and even cheerful, like one who moves towards familiar
danger; danger which she had overcome many times. Yet there was an
edge to her voice which made him believe she had never faced a
danger as great as this one and that there was every chance
neither of them would return to the Bronze Tent or the Silver
Flower Oasis.
And there was music which he understood was the very soul of this
child turned into sound. Sweet, sad, lonely music. Music so
beautiful he would have wept had he anything more than the airiest
substance.
Then he saw blue sky before him, a red desert stretching away
towards red mountains on the horizon, and he had the strangest of
sensations, as if he were coming home to a land he had somehow
lost in his childhood and then forgotten.

2
In the Marches at the Heart's Edge

As Elric felt his bones re-form and the flesh resume its familiar
weight and contour he saw that the land they had entered seemed
scarcely any different from that which they had left. Red desert
stretched before them, red mountains lay beyond. So familiar was


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the landscape that Elric looked back, expecting to see the Bronze
Tent, but immediately behind him now yawned a chasm so vast that
no further side could be seen. He knew sudden vertigo and checked
his balance, somewhat to Oone's amusement
The dreamthief was dressed in her same functional velvets and
silks and seemed a little amused by his response. "Aye, Prince
Elric! Now we are indeed at the very edge of the world! We have
only certain choices here and they do not include retreat!"
"I had not considered it, madam." Looking more closely, he
realised that the mountains were considerably taller and were all
leaning in the same direction, as if bent by a tremendous wind.
"They are like the teeth of some ancient predator," said Oone with
a shudder of one who might actually have stared into such a maw at
some time in their career. "Doubtless the first stage of our
journey takes us there. This is the land we dreamtnieves call
Sadanor. The Land of Dreams-in-Common."
"Yet you seem unfamiliar with the scenery."
"The scenery varies. We know only the nature of the land. It may
change in its details. But where we travel is frequently dangerous
not because it is unfamiliar but because of its familiarity. That
is the second rule of the dreamthief."
"Beware the familiar."
"You learn well." She seemed unduly pleased by his response, as if
she had doubted her own description of his qualities and was glad
to have them confirmed. Elric began to realise the degree of
desperation involved in this adventure and was seized by that wild
carelessness, that willingness to give himself up to the moment,
to any experience, which so set him apart from the other lords of
Melniboné, whose lives were ruled by tradition and a desire to
maintain their power at any cost.
Smiling, his eyes alight with all their old vitality, he bowed
ironically. "Then lead on, madam! Let us begin our journey towards
the mountains."
Gone, a little startled by his mood, frowned. But she began to
walk through sand so light it stirred like water around her feet.
And the albino followed.
"I must admit," he said, after they had walked for perhaps an
hour, without noting any shift in the position of the light, "the
more I am in this place, the more it begins to disturb me. I
thought the sun obscured, but now I realise there is no sun hi the


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sky at all."
"Such normalities come and go in the Land of Dreams-in-Common,"
said Gone.
"I would feel more secure with my sword at my side."
"Swords are easily come by here," she said.
"Drinkers of souls?"
"Perhaps. But do you feel the need for that peculiar form of
sustenance? Do you crave Lord Gho's drug?"
Elric admitted to his own surprise that he had lost no energy. For
perhaps the first time in his adult life he had the sense that he
was physically as other people, able to sustain himself without
calling on any form of artifice. "It occurs to me," he said, "that
I might be well-advised to make my home here."
"Ah, now you begin to fall into another of this realm's traps,"
she said, lightly enough. "First there is suspicion and maybe
fear. Then there is relaxation, a feeling that you have always
belonged here, that this is your natural home, or your spiritual
home. These are all illusions common to the traveller, as I am
sure you know. Here those illusions must be resisted, for they are
more than sentiment. They may be traps set to snare you and
destroy you. Be grateful that you have more apparent energy than
that which you normally know, but remember another rule of the
dreamthief: Every gain is paid for, either before or after the
event. Every apparent benefit could well have its contrary
disadvantage."
Privately Elric still thought the price for such a sense of well-
being might be worth the paying.
It was at that moment that he saw the leaf.
It drifted down from over his head, a broad, red-gold oak leaf,
falling gently as any ordinary autumn shedding, and landed upon
the sand at his feet. Without at first finding this extraordinary,
he bent to pick the leaf up.
Oone had seen it, too, and made as if to caution bun, then changed
her mind.
Elric laid the leaf on the palm of his hand. There was nothing
unusual about it, save that there was not a tree visible in any
direction. He was about to ask Oone to explain this phenomenon
when he noticed that she was staring beyond him, over his
shoulder.
"Good afternoon to you," said a jaunty voice. "This is luck


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indeed, to find some fellow mortals in such a miserable
wilderness. What trick of the Wheel brought us here, do you
think?"
"Greetings," said Oone, her smile growing broad. "You're ill-
dressed, sir, for this desert."
"I was told neither of my destination nor of the fact that I was
leaving..."
Elric turned and to his surprise saw a small man whose sharp,
merry features were shadowed by an enormous turban of yellow silk.
This headdress, at least as wide as the man's shoulders, was
decorated with a pin containing a great green gem and from it
sprouted several peacock feathers. He seemed to be wearing many
layers of clothing, all highly coloured, of silk and linen,
including an embroidered waistcoat and a long jacket of
beautifully stitched blue patchwork, each shade subtly different
from the one next to it. On his legs were baggy trousers of red
silk and his feet sported curling slippers of green and yellow
leather. The man was unarmed, but hi his hands he held a startled
black and white cat upon whose back were folded a pair of silky
black wings.
The man bowed when he saw Elric. "Greetings, sir. You would be the
incarnation of the Champion on this plane, I take it. I am-" He
frowned as if he had for a second forgotten his own name. "I am
something beginning with 'J' and something beginning with 'C.' It
will return to me in a moment. Or another name or event will
occur, I'm sure. I am your-what?-amanuensis, eh?" He peered up
into the sky. "Is this one of those sunless worlds? Are we to have
no night at all?"
Elric looked to Gone, who did not seem wary of this apparition. "I
did not ask for a secretary, sir," he said to the small man. "Nor
did I expect to be assigned one. My companion and I are on a quest
in this world..."
"A quest, naturally. It is your role, as it is mine to accompany
you. That's in order, sir. My name is-" But again his own name
eluded him. "Yours is?"
"I am Elric of Melniboné and this is Oone the Dreamthief."
"Then this is the Land the dreamthieves call Sadanor, I take it.
Good, then I am called Jaspar Colinadous. And my cat's name is
Whiskers, as always."
At this, the cat gave voice to a small, intelligent noise, to


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which its owner listened carefully and nodded.
"I recognise this land now," he said. "You'll be seeking the
Marador Gate, eh? For the Land of Old Desires."
"You are a dreamthief yourself, Sir Jaspar?" Gone asked in some
surprise.
"I have relatives who are."
"But how came you here?" Elric asked. "Through a medium? Did you
use a mortal child, as we did?"
"Your words are mysterious to me, sir." Jaspar Colinadous adjusted
his turban, the little cat tucked carefully under one voluminous
silk sleeve. "I travel between the worlds, apparently at random,
usually at the behest of some force I do not understand,
frequently to find myself guiding or accompanying venturers such
as yourselves. Not," he added feelingly, "always dressed
appropriately for the realm or the moment of my arrival. I
dreamed, I think, I was the sultan of some fabulous city, where I
possessed the most astonishing variety of treasures. Where I was
waited upon..." Here he coloured and looked away from Gone.
"Forgive me. It was a dream. I have awakened from it now.
Unfortunately the clothes followed me from the dream..."
Elric believed the man's words were close to nonsense, but Gone
had no difficulty with them. "You know a road, then, to the
Marador Gate?"
"Surely I must, if this is the Land of Dreams-in-Common."
Carefully he placed the cat on his shoulder and then began to
rummage in his sleeves, within his shirt, in the pockets of his
several garments, producing all manner of scrolls and papers and
little books, boxes, compacts, writing instruments, lengths of
cord and reels of thread, until one of the rolled pieces of vellum
caused him to cry out in relief. "Here it is, I think! Our map."
He replaced all the other items in exactly the places he had drawn
them from and unrolled the parchment. "Indeed, indeed! This shows
us the road through yonder mountains."
"Offers of guidance..." began Elric.
"And beware the familiar," said Oone softly. Then she made a
dismissive gesture. "Here we have conflict already, you see, for
what is unfamiliar to you is highly familiar to me. That is part
of the nature of this land." She turned to Jaspar Colinadous.
"Sir? May I see your map?"
Without hesitation, the small man handed it to her. "A straight


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road. It's always a straightish road, eh? And only one. That's the
joy of these Dream Realms. One can interpret and control them so
simply. Unless, of course, they swallow one up completely. Which
they are wont to do."
"You have the advantage of me," said Elric, "for I know nothing of
this world. Neither was I aware that there are others like it."
"Aha! Then you have so much wonder to anticipate, sir! So many
marvels yet to witness. I would tell you of them, but my own
memory is not what it should be. I frequently have only the
vaguest of recollections. But there is an infinity of worlds and
some are yet unborn, some so old they have grown senile, some born
of dreams, some destroyed by nightmares." Jaspar Colinadous paused
apologetically. "I grow over-enthusiastic. I do not intend to
confuse you, sir. Just know you that I am a little confused
myself. I am ever that. Does my map make sense to you, Lady
Dreamthief ?"
"Aye." Gone was frowning over the parchment. "There is only one
pass through those mountains, which are called the Shark's Jaws.
If we assume that the mountains are lying to our north, then we
must bear to the north-east and there find the Shark's Gullet, as
it's named here. We are much obliged to you, Master Jaspar
Colinadous." She rolled up the map and returned it to him. It
disappeared into one of his sleeves and the cat crept down to lie,
purring, in the crook of his arm.
For a moment, Elric had the strongest instinct that this likable
individual had been called up by Oone from her own imagination,
though it was impossible to believe he did not exist in his own
right, such a self-confident personality was he. Indeed, Elric had
the passing fancy that perhaps he, himself, was the phantasy.
"You'll note there are dangers hi that pass," said Jaspar
Colinadous casually, as he fell in beside them. "I'll let Whiskers
scout for us, if you like, when we get closer."
"We should be much obliged to you, sir," said Oone.
They continued their journey across the bleak landscape, with
Jaspar Colinadous telling tales of previous adventures, most of
which he could only half recall, of people he had known, whose
names escaped nun, and of great moments in the histories of a
thousand worlds whose importance now eluded him. To hear him was
like coming upon the old halls of Imrryr, on the Dragon Isle,
where once huge series of windows had told hi pictures the tales


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of the first Melnibonéans and how they had come to then- present
home. Now they were mere shards, small fragments of the story,
brilliant details whose context was only barely imaginable and
whose information was gone forever. Elric ceased trying to follow
Jaspar Colinadous's conversation but, as he had learned to do with
the fragments of glass, let himself enjoy them for then- texture
and then: colour instead.
The consistency of the light had begun to disturb nun and
eventually he interrupted the little man in his flow and asked him
if he, too, was not made uncomfortable by it.
Jaspar Colinadous took this opportunity to stop and remove his
slippers, shaking sand from them as Oone waited ahead of them, her
stance impatient. "No, sir. Supernatural worlds are frequently
sunless, for they obey none of the laws we are familiar with in
our own. They may be flat, half-spheres, oval, circular, even
shaped like cubes. They exist only as satellites to those realms
we call 'real,' and therefore are dependent not upon any sun or
moon or planetary system for their ordering, but upon the demands-
spiritual, imaginative, philosophical and so on-of worlds which
do, in fact, require a sun to heat them and a moon to move their
tides. There is even a theory that our worlds are the satellites
and that these supernatural worlds are the birthplaces of all our
realities." His shoes again free from sand, Jaspar Colinadous
began to follow Oone, who was some distance on, having refused to
wait upon them.
"Perhaps this is the land ruled by Arioch, my patron Duke of
Hell," said Elric. "The land from which the Black Sword sprung."
"Oh, quite possibly, Prince Elric. For, see, there's a hellish
sort of creature stooping on your friend at this very moment and
us without a weapon between us!"
The three-headed bird must have flown at such a great height it
had not been seen to approach, but now it was dropping at
terrifying speed from above and Oone, alerted by Elric's cry of
warning, began to run, perhaps hoping to divert it in its descent
upon her. It was like a gigantic crow, with two of its heads
tucked deep into its neck, while the other stretched out to help
its downward flight, its wings spread behind it, its claws
extended, ready to seize the woman.
Elric began to run forward, screaming at the thing. He, too, hoped
that this activity would disturb the creature enough to make it


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lose its momentum.
With a terrible cawing which seemed to fill the entire heavens,
the monster slowed its descent a trifle in order to make a more
accurate strike on the woman.
It was then that Jaspar Colinadous cried from behind Elric:
"Jack Three Beaks, thou naughty bird!" t The beast wavered in the
air, turning all heads towards the turbanned figure who strode
decisively towards it across the sand, his cat alert on his arm.
"What's this, Jack? I thought you were forbidden living meat!"
Jaspar Colinadous's voice was contemptuous, familiar. Whiskers
growled and gibbered at the thing, though it was many times larger
than the little cat.
With a croak of defiance the bird flopped onto the sand and began
to run at some considerable speed towards Oone, who had stopped to
witness this bizarre event. Now she took to her heels again, the
three-headed crow in pursuit.
"Jack! Jack! Remember the punishment."
The bird's cry was almost mocking. Elric began to stumble through
the desert in its track, hoping to find means of saving the
dreamthief.
It was then that he felt something cut through the air above his
head, fanning him with unexpected coolness, and a dark shape sped
in pursuit of the thing Jaspar Colinadous had called Jack Three
Beaks.
It was the black and white cat. The beast flung his little body at
the bird's central neck and sank all four sets of claws into the
feathers. With a shrill scream the gigantic three-headed crow
whirled round, its other heads trying to peck at the tenacious cat
and just failing to reach it.
To Elric's astonishment the cat seemed to swell larger and larger
as if feeding on the life-stuff of the crow, while the crow
appeared to grow smaller.
"Bad Jack Three Beaks! Wicked Jack!" The almost ridiculous figure
of Jaspar Colinadous strutted up to the thing now, wagging a
finger, at which beaks snapped but dared not bite. "You were
warned. And now you must perish. How came you here at all? You
followed me, I suppose, when I left my palace." He scratched his
head. "Not that I recall leaving the palace. Ah, well..."
Jack Three Beaks cawed again, glaring with mad, frightened eyes in
the direction of his original prey. Oone was approaching again.


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"This creature is your pet, Master Jaspar?"
"Certainly not, madam. It is my enemy. He knew he'd had his last
warning. But I think he did not expect to find me here and
believed he could attack living prey with impunity. Not so, Jack,
eh?"
The answering croak was almost pathetic now. The little black and
white cat resembled nothing so much as a feeding vampire bat as it
sucked and sucked of the monster's life-stuff.
Oone watched in horror as gradually the crow shrank to a tiny,
wizened thing and Whiskers at last sat back, huge and round, and
began to clean himself, purring with considerable pleasure.
Clearly pleased with his pet, Jaspar Colinadous reached up to pat
his head. "Good lad, Whiskers. Now poor Jack's not even gravy for
an old man's bread." He smiled proudly at his two new Mends. "This
cat has saved my life on many an occasion."
"How had you the name of that monster?" Oone wished to know. Her
lovely features were flushed and she was out of breath. Elric was
reminded suddenly of Cymoril, though he could not exactly identify
the similarity.
"Why, it was Jack frightened the principality I visited before
this." Jaspar Colinadous displayed his rich clothing. "And how I
came to be so favoured by the folk of that place. Jack Three Beaks
always knew the power of Whiskers and was afraid of him. He had
been terrorising the people when I arrived. I tamed Jack-or
strictly speaking, Whiskers did-but let him live, since he was a
useful carrion eater and the province was given to terrible heat
in the summer. When I fell through that particular rent hi the
fabric of the mul-tiverse he must have come with me, without
realising I was already here with Whiskers. There's little mystery
to it, Lady Oone."
She drew a deep breath. "Well, I'm grateful for your aid, sir."
He inclined his head. "Now, had we better not move on toward the
Marador Gate? There are more, if less unexpected, dangers ahead of
us hi the Shark's Gullet. The map marks 'em."
"Would that I had a weapon at my side," said Elric feelingly. "I
would be more confident, whether it were an illusion or no!" But
he marched beside the others as they moved on towards the
mountain.
The cat remained behind, licking his paws and cleaning himself,
for all the world like an ordinary domestic creature which had


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killed a pantry-raiding mouse.
At last the ground began to rise as they reached the shallow
foothills of the Shark's Jaws and saw ahead of them a great, dark
fissure in the mountains, the Gullet which would lead them through
to the next land of their journey. In the heat of the barren
wilderness the pass looked cool and almost welcoming, though even
from here Elric thought he could see shapes moving in it. White
shadows flickered against the black.
"What manner of people live here?" he asked Gone, who had not
shown him the map.
"Chiefly those who have either lost their way or become too
fearful to continue the journey inward. The other name for the
pass is the Valley of Timid Souls." Gone shrugged. "But I suspect
it is not from them that we shall be in danger. At least, not
greatly. They'll ally themselves with whatever power rules the
pass."
"And the map says nothing of its nature?"
"Only that we should be wary."
There came a noise from behind them and Elric turned, expecting a
threat, but it was only Whiskers, looking a little plumper, a
little sleeker, but back to his normal size, who had at last
caught up with them.
Jaspar Colinadous laughed and bent to let the cat leap onto his
shoulder. "We have no need of weapons, eh? Not with such a
handsome beast to defend us!"
The cat licked his face.
Elric was peering into the dark pass, trying to determine what he
might find there. For a moment he thought he saw a rider at the
entrance, a man mounted on a silvery grey horse, wearing strange
armour of different shades of white and grey and yellow. The
warrior's horse reared as he turned it and rode back into the
blackness and Elric knew a sensation of foreboding, though he had
never seen the figure before.
Oone and Jaspar Colinadous were apparently unaware of the
apparition and continued with untiring stride in the direction of
the
Elric said nothing of the rider but instead asked Gone how it was
that they had all walked for hours and felt neither hungry nor
weary.
"It is one of the advantages of this realm," she said. "The


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disadvantages are considerable, however, since a sense of time is
easily lost and one can forget direction and goals. Moreover, it's
wise to bear in mind that while one does not appear to lose
physical energy or experience hunger, other forms of energy are
being expended. Psychic and spiritual they may be, but they are
just as valuable, as I'm sure you appreciate. Conserve those
particular resources, Prince Elric, for you'll have urgent need of
them soon enough!"
Elric wondered if she, too, had caught sight of the pale warrior
but, for a reason he could not understand, was reluctant to ask
her.
The hills were growing taller and taller around them as, subtly,
they moved into the Shark's Gullet. The light was dimmer already,
blocked by the mountains, and Elric felt a chill which was not
altogether the result of the shade.
He became aware of a rushing sound and Jaspar Colinadous ran
towards a high bank of rocks to peer over them and look down. He
turned, a little baffled. "A deep chasm. A river. We must find a
bridge before we can go on." He murmured to his winged cat, which
immediately took flight over the abyss and was soon lost in the
gloom beyond.
Forced to pause, Elric knew sudden gloom. Unable to gauge his
physical needs, uncertain of what events took place in the world
he had left, perturbed by the knowledge that their time was
running short and that Lord Gho would certainly keep his word to
torture young Anigh to death, he began to believe that he could
well be on a fool's errand, embarked on an adventure which could
only end in disaster for all. He wondered why he had trusted Gone
so completely. Perhaps because he had been so desperate, so
shocked by the death of Alnac Kreb...
She touched him on the shoulder. "Remember what I told you. Your
weariness is not physical here, but it manifests itself in your
moods. One must seek spiritual sustenance as assiduously as you
would normally seek food and water."
He looked into her eyes, seeing warmth and kindness there.
Immediately his despair began to dissipate. "I must admit I was
beginning to know strong doubt..."
"When that feeling overwhelms you, try to tell me," she said. "I
am familiar with it and might be able to help you..."
"So I am entirely in your hands, madam." He spoke without irony.


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"I thought you understood that when you agreed to accompany me,"
she said softly.
"Aye." He turned in time to see the little cat coming back and
alighting on Jaspar Colinadous's shoulder. The turbanned man
listened carefully and intelligently and Elric was certain that
the cat was speaking.
At last Jaspar Colinadous nodded. "There's a good bridge not a
quarter of a mile from here and it leads to a trail winding
directly into the pass. Whiskers tells me that the bridge is
guarded by a single mounted warrior. We can hope, I suppose, that
he will let us cross."
They followed the course of the river as the sky overhead grew
darker and darker and Elric wished that, together with his lack of
hunger and tiredness, he did not feel the rapid drop in
temperature which made his body shake. Only Jaspar Colinadous was
unaffected by the cold.
The rough wall of rocks at the chasm's edge gradually fell away,
curving inward towards the pass, and very soon they saw the bridge
ahead of them, a narrow spur of natural stone pushing outward over
the foaming river below. And they heard the echo of the water as
it plunged yet deeper down the gorge. Yet nowhere was there the
guard which the little cat had reported.
Elric moved cautiously in the lead now, again wishing he had a
weapon to give him reassurance. He reached the bridge and set a
foot upon it. Far down at the foot of the chasm's granite walls
grey foam leapt and danced and the river gave voice to its own
peculiar song, half triumph, half despair, almost as if it were a
living thing.
Elric shivered and took another step. Still he saw no figure in
that deepening gloom. Another step and he was high above the
water, refusing to look down lest the water call him to it. He
knew the fascination of such torrents and how one could be drawn
into them, hypnotised by their rush and noise.
"See you any guard, Prince Elric?" called Jaspar Colinadous.
"Nothing," the albino cried back. And he took two more steps.
Gone was behind him now, moving as cautiously as he. He peered to
the bridge's further side. Great slabs of dank rock, covered in
lichen and oddly coloured creepers, rose up and disappeared into
the dark air above. The sound of the river made him think he heard
voices, little skittering sounds, the scuffle of threatening


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limbs, but still he saw nothing.
Elric was half-way across the bridge before he detected the
suggestion of a horse in the shadows of the gorge, the barest hint
of a rider, perhaps wearing armour which was the colour of his own
bone-white skin.
"Who's that?" The albino raised his voice. "We come in peace. We
mean no harm to anyone here."
Again it might have been that the water made him believe he heard
a faint, unpleasant chuckle.
Then it seemed the rush of water grew louder and he realised he
heard the sound of hooves on rock. Formed as if by the spray, a
figure suddenly appeared on the far side of the bridge, bearing
down on him, its long, pale sword poised to strike.
There was nowhere to turn. The only way of avoiding the warrior
was to jump from the bridge into the torrent below. Elric found
his vision dimmed even as he prepared to spring forward, hoping to
catch the horse's bridle and at least halt the rider in his
tracks.
Then again there was a whirring of wings and something fixed
itself on the attacker's helm, slashing at the face within. It was
Whiskers, spitting and yowling like any ordinary alley cat engaged
in a brawl over a piece of ripe fish.
The horse reared. The rider gave out a shriek of rage and pain and
released the bridle hi order to try to pull the little cat from
him. Whiskers rushed upward into the air, out of reach. Elric
glimpsed glaring, silvery eyes, a skin which glowed with the
leper's mark, and then the horse, out of control, had slipped on
the wet rock and fallen sideways. For a moment it tried to get
back to its feet, the rider yelling and roaring as if demented,
the long, white sword still hi his hand. And then both had tumbled
over the edge of the bridge and went falling, a chaotic mixture of
arms and hooves, down into the echoing chasm to be swallowed by
the distant, murky waters.
Elric was gasping for breath. Jaspar Colinadous came to grip his
arm and steady him, helping him and Gone cross to the far side of
the rocky slab and stand upon the bank, still scarcely aware of
what had happened to them.
"I'm grateful again to Whiskers," said Elric with an unstable
grin. "That's a valuable pet you have, Master Colinadous."
"More valuable than you know," said the little man feelingly. "He


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has played a crucial part in more than one world's history." He
patted the cat as the beast returned to his arms, purring and
pleased with himself. "I'm glad we were able to be of service to
you."
"We're well rid of the bridge's guardian." Elric peered down into
the foam. "Are we to encounter more such attacks, my lady?"
"Most certainly," she said. She was frowning as if lost in some
conundrum only she perceived.
Jaspar Colinadous pursed his lips. "Here," he said. "Look how the
gorge narrows. It becomes a tunnel."
It was true. They could now see how the rocks leaned in upon one
another so that the pass was little more than a cave barely large
enough to let Elric enter without bending his head. A set of crude
steps led up to it and from time to time a little flicker of
yellow fire appeared within, as if the place were lit by torches.
Jaspar Colinadous sighed. "I had hoped to journey with you further
than this, but I must turn back now. I can go no further than the
Marador Gate, which is what this seems to be. To do so would be to
destroy me. I must find other companions now, in the Land of
Dreams-in-Common." He seemed genuinely regretful. "Farewell,
Prince Elric, Lady Gone. I wish you success in your adventure."
And suddenly the little man had turned and walked swiftly back
over the bridge, not looking behind him. He left them almost as
suddenly as he had arrived and was gone back into the darkness
before either could speak, his cat with him.
Gone seemed to accept this and, at Elric's questioning glance,
said: "Such people come and go here. Another rule the dreamthief
learns is Hold on to nothing but your own soul. Do you
understand?"
"I understand that it must be a lonely thing to be a dreamthief,
madam."
And with that Elric began to climb the great rough-hewn steps
which led into the Marador Gate.

3
Of Beauty Found in Deep Caverns

The tunnel began to descend almost as soon as they had entered it.
Where it had first been cool, now the air became hot and humid so
that sometimes it seemed to Elric he was wading through water. The


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little lights which gave faint illumination were not, as he had
first thought, lamps or brands, but seemed naturally luminescent,
delicate nodes of soft, glowing substance, almost fleshlike in
appearance. He and Oone found that they were whispering, as if
unwilling to disturb any denizens of this place. Yet Elric did not
feel afraid here. The tunnel had the atmosphere of a sanctuary and
he noticed that Oone, too, had lost some of her normal caution,
though her experience had taught her to be wary of anything as a
potentially dangerous illusion.
There was no obvious transition from Sadanor to Marador, save
perhaps a slight change of mood before the tunnel opened up into a
vast natural hall of richly glowing blues and greens and golden
yellows and dark pinks, all flowing one to the other, like lava
which had only recently cooled, more like exotic plants than the
rock they were. Scents, like those of the loveliest, headiest
flowers, made Elric feel as though he walked in a garden, not
unlike the gardens he had known as a child, places of the greatest
security and tranquility; yet there was no doubt that the place
was a cavern and that they had travelled underground to reach it.
At first delighted by the sight, Elric began to feel a certain
sadness, for until now he had not remembered those gardens of
childhood, the innocent happiness which conies so rarely to a
Melnibonéan, no matter what their age. He thought of his mother,
dead in childbirth, of his infinitely mourning father, who had
refused to acknowledge the son who, in his opinion, had killed his
wife.
A movement from the depths of this natural hall and Elric again
feared danger, but the people who began to emerge were unarmed and
they had faces full of restrained melancholy.
"We have arrived in Marador," whispered Gone with certainty.
"You are here to join us?" A woman spoke. She wore flowing robes
of myriad, glistening colour, mirroring the colours of the rock on
walls and roof. She had long hair of faded gold and her eyes were
the shade of old pewter. She reached to touch Elric-a greeting-
and her hand was cold on his. He felt himself becoming infected
with the same sad tranquility and it seemed to him that there
could be worse fates than remaining here, recalling the desires
and pleasures of his past, when life had been so much simpler and
the world had seemed easily conquered, easily improved.
Behind him Oone said in a voice which sounded unduly harsh to his


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ear: "We are travellers in your land, my lady. We mean you no
harm, but we cannot stay."
A man spoke. "Travellers? What do you seek?"
"We seek," said Elric, "the Fortress of the Pearl."
Oone was clearly displeased by his frankness. "We have no desire
to tarry in Marador. We wish only to learn the location of the
next gate, the Paranor Crate."
The man smiled wistfully. "It is lost, I fear. Lost to all of us.
Yet there is no harm in loss. There is comfort in it, even, don't
you feel?" He turned dreaming, distant eyes on them. "Better not
to seek that which can only disappoint. Here we prefer to remember
what we most wanted and how it was to want it..."
"Better, surely, to continue looking for it?" Elric was surprised
by his own blunt tone.
"Why so, sir, when the reality can only prove inadequate when
compared against the hope?"
"Think you so, sir?" Elric was prepared to consider this notion,
but Oone's grip on his arm tightened.
"Remember the name that dreamthieves give this land," she
murmured.
Elric reflected that it was truly the Land of Old Desires. All of
his own forgotten yearnings were returning to him, bringing a
sense of simplicity and peace. Now he remembered how those
sensations had been replaced by anger as he began to realise that
there was little likelihood of his dreams ever coming true. He had
raged at the injustice of the world. He had flung himself into his
sorcerous studies. He had become determined to change the balance
of things and introduce greater liberty, greater justice by means
of the power he had in the world. Yet his fellow Melnibonéans had
refused to accept his logic. The early dreams had begun to fade
and with them the hope which had at first lifted his heart. Now
here was the hope offered him again. Perhaps there were realms
where all he desired was true? Perhaps Marador was such a world.
"If I went back and found Cymoril and brought her here, we could
live in harmony with these people, I think," he said to Oone.
The dreamthief was almost contemptuous.
"This is called the Land of Old Desires-not the Land of Fulfilled
Desire! There is a difference. The emotions you feel are easy and
easily maintained-while the reality remains out of your reach,
while you merely long for the unattainable. When you set out to


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discover fulfillment, Elric of Melniboné, then you achieved
stature in the world. Turn your back on that determination-your
own determination to help build a world where justice reigns-and
you'll lose my respect. You'll lose respect for yourself. You'll
prove yourself a liar and you'll prove me a fool for believing you
could help me save the Holy Girl!"
Elric was shocked by her outburst, which seemed offensive hi that
particular atmosphere of serenity. "But I think it is impossible
to build such a world. Better to have the prospect, surely, than
the knowledge of failure?"
"That is what all hi this realm believe. Remain here, if you will,
and believe what they believe forever. But I think one must always
make an attempt at justice, no matter how poor the prospect of
success!"
Elric felt tired and wished to settle down and rest. He yawned and
stretched. "These people seem to have a secret I would learn. I
think I will talk to them for a while before continuing."
"Do so and Anigh dies. The Holy Girl dies. And everything of
yourself that you value, that dies also." Gone did not raise her
voice. She spoke almost in a matter-of-fact tone. But her words
had an urgency which broke Elric's mood. It was not for the first
time that he had considered retreating into dreams. Had he done
so, his people would now be ruled by him, and Yyrkoon would be
dead or exiled.
Thought of his cousin and his cousin's ambition, of Cymoril
waiting for him to return so that they might be married, helped
remind Elric of his purpose here and he shook off the mood of
reconciliation, of retreat. He bowed to the people of the cavern.
"I thank you for your generosity, but my own path lies forward,
through the Paranor Gate."
Oone drew a deep breath, perhaps in relief. "Tune's not measured
in any familiar way here, Prince Elric, but be assured it's
passing more rapidly than I would like..."
It was with a sense of deep regret that Elric left the melancholy
people behind him and followed her further into the glowing
caverns.
Oone added: "These lands are well-called. Be wary of the
familiar."
"Perhaps we could have rested there? Restored our energies?" said
Elric.


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"Aye. And died full of sweet melancholy."
He looked at her in surprise and saw that she had not been
unaffected by the atmosphere. "Is that what befell Alnac Kreb?"
"Of course not!" She recovered herself. "He was fully able to
resist so obvious a trap."
Elric now felt ashamed. "I almost failed the first real test of my
determination and my discipline."
"We dreamthieves have the advantage of having been tested thus
many times," she told him. "It gets easier to confront, though the
lure remains as strong."
"For you, too."
"Why not? You think I have no forgotten desires, nothing I would
not wish to dream of? No childhood which had its sweet moments?"
"Forgive me, madam."
She shrugged. "There's an attraction to that aspect of the past.
To the past in general, I suppose. But we forget the other aspects-
those things which forced us into fantasy in the first place."
"You're a believer in the future, then, madam?" Elric tried to
joke. The rock beneath their feet became slippery and they were
forced to make the gentle descent with more caution. Ahead Elric
thought he heard again the sound of the river, perhaps where it
now raced underground.
"The future holds as many traps as the past," she said with a
smile. "I am a believer in the present, my lord. In the eternal
present." And there was an edge to her voice, as if she had not
always held this view.
"Speculation and regret offer many temptations, I suppose," said
Elric; then he gasped at what he saw ahead.
Molten gold was cascading down two well-worn channels in the rock,
forming a gigantic V-shaped edifice. The metal flowed unchecked
and yet as they approached it became obvious that it was not hot.
Some other agent had caused the effect, perhaps a chemical in the
rock itself. As the gold reached the floor of the cavern it spread
into a pool and the pool in turn fed a brook which bubbled,
brilliant with the precious stuff, down towards another stream
which seemed at first to contain ordinary water, but when Elric
looked more carefully he saw that that stream was, in turn,
comprised of silver and the two elements blended as they met.
Following the course of this stream with his eyes, he saw that
they met, some distance away, with a further river, this one of


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glistening scarlet, which might be liquid rubies. In all his
travels, in the Young Kingdoms and the realms of the supernatural,
Elric had seen nothing like it. He made to move towards it, to
inspect it further, but she checked him.
"We have reached the next gate," she said. "Ignore that particular
wonder, my lord. Look."
She pointed between twin streams of gold and he could just make
out something shadowy beyond. "There is Paranor. Are you ready to
enter that land?"
Remembering the dreamthieves' term for it, Elric allowed himself
an ironic smile. "As ready as I shall ever be, madam."
Then, just as he stepped towards the portal, there came the sound
of galloping hooves behind them. They rang sharply on the rock of
the cavern. They echoed through the gloomy roof, through a
thousand chambers, and Elric had no time to turn before something
heavy struck his shoulder and he was flung to one side. He had the
impression of a deathly white horse, of a rider wearing armour of
ivory, mother-of-pearl and pale tortoiseshell, and then it was
gone through the gate of molten gold and disappearing into the
shadows beyond. But there was no doubt in EIric's mind that he had
encountered one of the warriors who had already attacked him on
the bridge. He had the impression of the same mocking chuckle as
the hooves faded and the sound was absorbed by whatever lay beyond
the gate.
"We have an enemy," said Oone. Her face was grim and she clenched
her hands to her sides, clearly taking a grip on herself. "We have
been identified already. The Fortress of the Pearl does not merely
defend. She attacks."
"You know those riders? You have seen them before?"
She shook her head. "I know their kind, that's all."
"And we've no means of avoiding them?"
"Very few." She was frowning to herself again, considering some
problem she was not prepared to discuss. Then she seemed to
dismiss it and taking his arm led him under the twin cascades of
cool gold into a further cavern, which this time suddenly filled
with a gentle green glow, as if they walked beneath a canopy of
leaves in autumn sunlight. And Elric was reminded of Old
Melniboné, at the height of her power, when his people were proud
enough to take the whole world for granted, when entire nations
had been remoulded for their passing pleasure. As they emerged


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into a further cavern, so vast he did not at first realise they
were still underground, he saw the spires and minarets of a city,
glowing with the same warm green, which was as beautiful as his
own beloved Imrryr, the Dreaming City, which he had explored
throughout his boyhood.
"It is like Imrryr and yet it is not like Imrryr at all," he said
in surprise.
"No," she said, "it is like London. It is like Tanelorn. It is
like Ras-Paloom-Atai." And she did not speak sarcastically. She
spoke as if she really did believe the city resembled those other
cities, only one of which Elric recognised.
"But you have seen it before. What is it called?"
"It has no name," she said. "It has all names. It is called
whatever you desire to call it." And she turned away, as if
resting herself, before she led him onward down the road past the
city.
"Should we not visit it? There may be people there who can help us
find our way."
Gone gestured. "And there may be those who would hamper us. It is
now clear, Prince Elric, that our mission is suspected and that
certain forces could well have the intention of stopping us at any
cost."
"You think the Sorcerer Adventurers have followed us?"
"Or preceded us. Leaving at least something of themselves here."
She was peering cautiously towards the city.
"It seems such a peaceful place," said Elric. The more he looked
at the city the more he was impressed by the architecture, all of
the same greenish stone but varying from yellow to blue. There
were vast buttresses and curving bridges between one tower and
another; there were spires as delicate as cobwebs yet so tall they
almost disappeared into the roofs of the cavern. It seemed to
reflect some part of him which he could not at once recall. He
longed to go there. He grew resentful of Oone's guidance, though
he had sworn to follow it, and began to believe that she herself
was lost, that she was no better suited to discover their goal
than was he.
"We must continue," she said. She was speaking more urgently now.
"I know I would find something within that city which would make
Imrryr great again. And in her greatness I could lead her to
dominate the world. But this tune, instead of bringing cruelty and


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terror, we could bring beauty and good will."
"You are more prone to illusion than I thought, Prince Elric,"
said Oone.
He turned to her angrily. "What's wrong with such ambitions?"
"They are unrealistic. As unreal as that city."
"The city looks solid enough to me."
"Solid? Aye, in its way. Once you enter its gate it will embrace
you as thoroughly as any long-lost lover! Come then, sir. Come!"
She seemed seized by an equally poor temper and strode on up an
obsidian road which twisted along the hill towards the city.
Startled by her sudden change, Elric followed. But now his own
anger was dissipating. "I'll abide, madam, by your judgement. I am
sorry..."
She was not listening to him. Moment by moment the city came
closer until soon they were overshadowed by it, looking up at
walls and domes and towers whose size was so tremendous it was
almost impossible to guess at their true extent.
"There's a gate," she said. "There! Go through and I'll say
farewell. I'll try to save the child myself and you can give
yourself up to lost beliefs and so lose the beliefs you currently
hold!"
And now Elric looked closer at the walls, which were like jade,
and he saw dark shapes within the walls and he saw that the dark
shapes were the figures of men, women and children. He gasped as
he stepped forward to peer at them, observing living faces, eyes
which were undying, lips frozen in expressions of terror, of
anguish, of misery. They were like so many flies in amber.
"That's the unchanging past, Prince Elric," said Gone. "That's the
fate of those who seek to reclaim their lost beliefs without first
experiencing the search for new ones. This city has another name.
Dreamthieves call it the City of Inventive Cowardice. You would
not understand the twists of logic which brought so many to this
pass! Which made them force those they loved to share their fate.
Would you stay with them, Prince Elric, and nurse your lost
beliefs?"
The albino turned away with a shudder. "But if they could see what
had happened to earlier travellers, why did they continue into the
city?"
"They blinded themselves to the obvious. That is the great triumph
of mindless need over intelligence and the human spirit."


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Together the two returned to the path below the city and Elric was
relieved when the beautiful towers were far behind and they had
passed through several more great caverns, each with its own city,
though none as magnificent as the first. These he had felt no
desire to visit, though he had detected movement in some and Oone
had said she suspected not all were as dangerous as the City of
Inventive Cowardice.
"You called this world the Dream Realm," he said, "and indeed it's
well-named, madam, for it seems to contain a catalogue of dreams,
and not a few nightmares. It's almost as if the place were born of
a poet's brain, so strange are some of the sights."
"I told you," she said, speaking more warmly now that he had
acknowledged the danger, "much of what you witness here is the
semi-formed stuff of realities that other worlds, such as yours
and mine, are yet to witness. To what extent they will come to
exist elsewhere I do not know. These places have been fashioned
over centuries by a succession of dreamthieves, imposing form on
what is otherwise formless."
Elric was now beginning to understand better what he had been told
by Oone. "Rather than making a map of what exists, you impose your
own map upon it!"
"To a degree. We do not invent. We merely describe in a particular
way. By that means we can make pathways through each of the myriad
Dream Realms, for, in this alone, the realms comply one with the
other."
"In reality there could be a thousand different lands in each
realm?"
"If you would see it so. Or an infinity of lands. Or one with an
infinity of aspects. Roads are made so that the traveller without
a compass may not wander too far from their destination." She
laughed almost gaily. "The fanciful names we give these places are
not from any poetical impulse, nor from whim, but from a certain
necessity. Our survival depends on accurate descriptions!"
"Your words have a profundity to them, madam. Though my survival
has also tended to depend on a good, sharp blade!"
"While you depend upon your blade, Prince Elric, you condemn
yourself to a singular fate."
"You predict my death, eh, madam?"
Oone shook her head, her beautiful lips forming an expression of
utmost sympathy and tenderness. "Death is inevitable to almost all


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of us, in some shape or another. And I'll admit, if Chaos ever
conquered Chaos, then you will be the instrument of that
remarkable conquest. It would be sad, indeed, Prince Elric, if in
taming Chaos you destroyed yourself and all you loved into the
bargain!"
"I promise you, Lady Gone, to do my best to avoid such a fate."
And Elric wondered at the look in the dreamthief's eyes and then
chose not to speculate further.
They walked through a forest of stalagmites and stalactites now,
all of the same glowing colours, dark greens and dark blues and
rich reds, and there was a musical sound as water splashed from
roof to floor. Every so often a huge drop would fall on one or the
other of them but such was the nature of the caverns that they
were soon dry again. They had begun to relax and walked arm in
arm, almost merry, and it was only then that they saw the figures
flitting between the upward-thrusting fangs of rock.
"Swordsmen," murmured Elric. He added ironically, "This is when a
weapon would be useful..." His mind was half with the situation,
half feeling its way out through the worlds of the elementals,
seeking some kind of spell, some supernatural aid, but he was
baffled. It seemed that the mental paths he was used to following
were blocked to him.
The warriors were veiled. They were dressed in heavy flowing
cloaks and their heads were protected by helms of metal and
leather. Elric had the impression of cold, hard eyes with tattooed
lids and knew at once that these were members of the Sorcerer
Assassin guild from Quarzhasaat, left behind when their fellows
had retreated from the Dream Realms. Doubtless they were trapped
here. It was clear, however, that they did not intend to parley
with Elric and Gone, but were closing in, following a familiar
pattern of attack.
Elric was struck by a strangeness about these men. They lacked a
certain fluidity of movement and, the closer they came, the more
he realised that it was almost possible to see past their eyes and
into the hollows of their skulls. These were not ordinary mortals.
He had seen men like them in Imrryr once, when he had gone with
his father on one of those rare times when Sadric chose to take
him upon some local expedition, out to an old arena whose high
walls imprisoned certain Melnibonéans who had lost their souls in
pursuit of sorcerous knowledge, but whose bodies still lived.


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They, too, had seemed to be possessed by a cold, raging hatred
against any not like themselves.
Oone cried out and moved rapidly, dropping to one knee as a sword
struck at her, then clattered against one of the great pointed
pillars. So close together were the stalagmites that it was
difficult for the swordsmen to swing or to stab and for a while
both the albino and the dreamthief ducked and dodged the blades
until one cut Elric's arm and he saw, almost in surprise, that the
man had drawn blood.
The Prince of Melniboné knew that it was just a matter of time
before they were both killed and, as he fell back against one of
the great rocky teeth, he felt the stalagmite move behind him.
Some trick of the cavern had weakened the rock and it was loose.
He flung all of his weight forward against it. It began to topple.
Quickly he got his body in front of it, supporting the thing on
his shoulder, then with all his energy he ran with the great rocky
spear at his nearest assailant.
The point of the rock drove full into the veiled man's chest. The
Sorcerer Assassin uttered a bleak, agonised shout, and strange,
unnatural blood began to well up around the stone, gushing down
and soaking into the warrior's bones, almost reabsorbed by him.
Elric sprang forward and dragged the sabre and the poignard from
his hands even as another of the attackers came upon him from the
rear. All his battle cunning, all his war skills, returned to
Elric. Long before he had come by Stormbringer he had learned the
arts of the sword and the dagger, of the bow and the lance, and
now he had no need of an enchanted blade to make short work of the
second Sorcerer Assassin, then a third. Shouting to Oone to help
herself to weapons, he darted from rock to rock, taking the
warriors one at a time. They moved sluggishly, uncertainly now,
yet none ran from him.
Soon Oone had joined him, showing that she was as accomplished a
fighter as he. He admired the delicacy of her technique, the
sureness of her hands as she parried and thrust, striking with the
utmost efficiency and piling up her corpses with all the economy
of a cat in a nest of rats.
Elric took time to grin over his shoulder. "For one who so
recently extolled the virtues of words over the sword, you show
yourself well-accomplished with a blade, madam!"
"It is often as well to have the experience of both before one


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makes the choice," she said. She despatched another of their
assailants. "And there are times, Prince Elric, I'll admit, when a
decent piece of steel has a certain advantage over a neatly turned
phrase!"
They fought together like two old friends. Their techniques were
complementary but not dissimilar. Both fought as the best soldiers
fight, with neither cruelty nor pleasure in the killing, but with
the intention of winning as quickly as possible, while causing as
little pain to their opponents.
These opponents appeared to suffer no pain, as such, but every
tune one died he offered up the same disturbing wail of anguish,
and the blood which poured from the wounds was strange stuff
indeed.
At last the man and woman were done and stood leaning on their
borrowed blades panting and seeking to control that nausea which
so often follows a battle.
Then, as Elric watched, the corpses around them swiftly faded,
leaving only a few swords behind. The blood, too, disappeared.
There was virtually nothing to say that a fight had taken place in
the great cavern.
"Where have they gone?"
Oone picked up a sheath and fitted her new sabre into it. For all
her words, she clearly had no intention of proceeding any further
without arms. She placed two daggers in her belt. "Gone? Ah." She
hesitated. "To whatever pool of half-living ectoplasm they came
from." She shook her head. "They were almost phantasms, Prince
Elric, but not quite. They were, as I told you, what the Sorcerer
Adventurers left behind."
"You mean part of them returned to our own world, as part of Alnac
returned?"
"Exactly." She drew a breath and made as if to continue.
"Then why shall we not find Alnac here? Still alive?"
"Because we do not seek him," she said. And she spoke with all her
old firmness; enough to make Elric proceed only a degree further
with the subject.
"And perhaps anyway we would not find him here, as we found the
Sorcerer Adventurers, in the Land of Lost Beliefs," said the
albino quietly.
"True," she said.
Then Elric took her in his arms for a moment and they remained,


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embracing, for a few seconds, until they were ready to continue
forward seeking the Celador Gate.
Later, as Elric helped his ally across another natural bridge,
below which flowed a river of dull brown stuff, Gone said to him:
"This is no ordinary adventure for me, Prince Elric. That is why I
needed you to come with me."
A little puzzled as to why she should, after all, say something
which they had both taken for granted, Elric did not reply.
When the snout-faced women attacked them, with nets and spikes, it
did not take them long to cut their way free and drive the
cowardly creatures off, and neither were they greatly
inconvenienced by the vulpine things which loped on their hindlegs
and had claws like birds. They even joked together as they
despatched packs of snapping beasts which resembled nothing so
much as horses the size of dogs and spoke a few words of a human
tongue, though without any sense of the meaning.
Now at least they were reaching the borders of Paranor and saw
looming ahead of them two enormous towers of carved rock, with
little balconies and windows and terraces and crenellations, all
covered in old ivy and climbing brambles bearing light yellow
fruit.
"It is the Celador Gate," said Gone. She seemed reluctant to
approach it. Her hand on the hilt of her sword, her other arm
linked with Elric's, she stopped and drew a deep, slow breath. "It
is the land of forests."
"You called it the Land of Forgotten Love," said Elric.
"Aye. That's the dreamthieves' name." She laughed a little
sardonically.
Elric, uncertain of her mood and not wishing to intrude upon her,
held back also, looking from her to the gate and back again.
She reached a hand to his bone-white features. Her own skin was
golden, still full of enormous vitality. She stared into his face.
Then, with a sigh, she turned away and stepped towards the gate,
taking his hand and pulling him after her.
They passed between the towers and here Elric's nostrils
immediately were filled with the rich smells of leaf and turf. All
around them were massive oak trees and elms and birches and every
other kind of tree, yet all of them, though they formed a canopy,
grew not beneath the light of the open sky but were nurtured by
the oddly glowing rocks in the cavern ceilings. Elric had thought


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it impossible for trees to grow underground and he marvelled at
the health, the very ordinariness, of everything.
It was therefore with some astonishment that he observed a
creature emerge from the wood and plant itself firmly on the path
along which they must move.
"Halt! I must know your business!" His face was covered in brown
fur and his teeth were so prominent, his ears so large, his eyes
so doelike, he resembled nothing so much as an overgrown rabbit,
though he was armoured solidly in battered brass, with a brass cap
upon his head, and his weapons, a sword and spear of workmanlike
steel, were also bound in brass.
"We seek merely to pass through this land without doing harm or
being harmed," said Oone.
The rabbit-warrior shook his head. "Too vague," he said, and
suddenly he hefted his spear and plunged the point deep into the
bole of an oak. The oak tree screamed. "That's what he told me.
And many more of these."
"The trees were travellers?" said Elric.
"Your name, sir?"
"I am Elric of Melniboné and, like my lady Oone here, I mean you
no disturbance. We travel on to Imador."
"I know no 'Elric' or 'Oone.' I am the Count of Magnes Doar and I
hold this land as my own. By my conquest. By my ancient right. You
must go back through the gate."
"We cannot," said Gone. "To retreat would mean our destruction."
"To proceed, madam, would mean the same thing. What? Shall you
camp at the gates forever?"
"No, sir," she said. She put her hand to the hilt of her sword.
"We will hack our way through your forest if need be. We are on
urgent business and will accept no halt."
The rabbit-warrior pulled the spear from the oak, which ceased to
scream, and flung it into another tree. This, in turn, set up a
wailing and a moaning until even the Count of Magnes Doar shook
his head in irritation and drew his weapon out of the trunk. "You
must fight me, I think," he said.
It was then that they heard a yell from the other side of the
right pillar and something white and rearing appeared there. It
was another of the pale riders in armour of bone, tortoiseshell
and mother-of-pearl, his horrible eyes slitted with hatred, his
horse's hooves beating at a barrier which had not been there when


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Oone and Elric passed through.
Then it was down and the warrior was charging.
The albino and the dreamthief made to defend themselves, but it
was the Count of Magnes Doar who moved ahead of them and jabbed
his spear up at the warrior's body. Steel was deflected by an
armour stronger than it looked and the sword rose and fell, almost
contemptuously, slicing down through the brass helm into the brain
of the rabbit-warrior. He staggered backward, his hands clutching
at his head, his sword and spear abandoned. His round brown eyes
seemed to grow still wider and he began to squeal. He turned
slowly, round and round, then fell to his knees.
Elric and Oone had positioned themselves behind the bole of one of
the oaks, ready to defend themselves when the rider attacked.
The horse reared again, snorting with the same mindless fury as
its master, and Elric darted from his cover, seized the dropped
spear and stabbed up to where the breastplate and gorget joined,
sliding the spearhead expertly into the warrior's throat.
There came a choking sound which in turn grew to a familiar
chuckling and the rider had turned his horse and was riding ahead
of them again, along the path through the forest, his body swaying
and jerking as if in its death agonies, yet still borne on by the
horse.
They watched it disappear.
Elric was trembling. "If I had not already seen him die on the
bridge from Sadanor I would swear that was the same man who
attacked me there. He has a puzzling familiarity."
"You did not see him die," said Oone. "You saw him plunge into the
river."
"Well, I think he is dead now, after that stroke. I almost severed
his head."
"I doubt if he is," she said. "It's my belief he is our most
powerful enemy and we shall not have to deal with him in any
serious way until we near the Fortress of the Pearl itself."
"He protects the Fortress?"
"Many do." She embraced him again, swiftly, then sank to one knee
to inspect the dead Count of Magnes Doar. In death he more
resembled a man, for already the hair on his face and hands was
fading to grey and even his flesh seemed on the point of
disappearance. The brass helm, too, had turned an ugly shade of
silver. Elric was reminded of Alnac's dying. He averted his eyes.


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Oone, too, stood up quickly and there were tears in her eyes. The
tears were not for the Count of Magnes Doar. Elric took her in his
arms. He was suddenly full of longing for someone he barely
remembered from old dreams, the dreams of his youth; someone who,
perhaps, had never existed.
He thought he felt a slight shudder run through Oone as he
embraced her. He reached out for a memory of a little boat, of a
fair-haired girl sleeping at the bottom of the vessel as it
drifted out to open sea, of himself sailing a skiff towards her,
full of pride that he might be her rescuer. Yet he had never known
such a girl, he was sure, though Oone reminded him of that girl
grown up.
With a gasp Oone moved away from him. "I thought you were... It's
as if I'd always known you..." She put her hands to her face. "Oh,
this damned land is well-called, Elric!"
Elric could only agree.
"Yet what danger is there to us?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Who knows? Much or little. None? The
dreamthieves say that it is in the Land of Forgotten Love that the
most important decisions are made. Decisions which can have the
most monumental consequences."
"So one should do nothing here? Make no decisions?"
She passed her fingers through her hair. "At least we should be
aware that the consequences might not manifest themselves for a
long while yet."
Together they left the dead rabbit-warrior behind them and
continued down the tunnel of trees. Now from time to time Elric
thought he saw faces peering at bun from the green shadows. Once
he was sure he saw the figure of his dead father, Sadric, mourning
for Elric's mother, the only creature he had ever truly loved. So
strong was the image that Elric called out:
"Sadric! Father! Is this your Limbo?"
At this Oone cried urgently. "No! Do not address him. Do not bring
him to you. Do not make him real! It is a trap, Elric. Another
trap."
"My father?"
"Did you love him?"
"Aye. Though it was an unhappy land of love."
"Remember that. Do not bring him here. It would be obscene to
recall him to this gallery of illusions."


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Elric understood her and used all his habits of self-discipline to
rid himself of his father's shade. "I tried to tell him, Oone, how
much I grieved for him in his loss and his sorrow." He was
weeping. His body was shaking with an emotion from which he
believed he had long since freed himself. "Ah, Oone. I would have
died myself to let him have his wife returned to him. Is there no
way...?"
"Such sacrifices are meaningless," she said, gripping him hi both
her hands and holding him to her. "Especially here. Remember your
quest. We have already crossed three of the seven lands which will
bring us to the Fortress of the Pearl. We have crossed half this.
That means we have already accomplished more than most. Hold on to
yourself, Prince of Melniboné. Remember who and what depends upon
your success!"
"But if I have the opportunity to make something right that was so
wrong...?"
"That is to do with your own feelings, not what is and what can
be. Would you invent shadows and make them play out your dreams?
Would that bring happiness to your tragic mother and father?"
Elric looked over his shoulder into the forest. There was no sign
of his father now. "He seemed so real. Of such solid flesh!"
"You must believe that you and I are the only solid flesh in this
entire land. And even we are-" She stopped herself. She reached up
to his face and kissed it. "We will rest for a little, if only to
restore our psychic strength."
And Oone drew Elric down into the soft leaves at the side of the
path. And she kissed him and she moved her lovely hands over his
body and slowly she became all that he had lost in his love of
women and he knew that he, in turn, became everything she had ever
refused to allow herself to desire hi a man. And he knew, without
guilt or regret, that their love-making had no past and that its
only future lay somewhere beyond their own lives, beyond any realm
they would ever visit, and that neither would ever witness the
consequences.
And in spite of this knowledge they were careless and they were
happy and they gave each other the strength they would need if
they ever hoped to fulfill their quest and reach the Fortress of
the Pearl.

4


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And when Elric had told his three lies to Cymoril, his betrothed, and had set his ambitious cousin Yyrkoon as Regent on the Ru

The Intervention of a Navigator

Surprised by his own lack of confusion, filled with an apparent
clarity, Elric stepped, side by side with Gone, through the
shimmering silver gateway into Imador, called mysteriously by the
dreamthieves the Land of New Ambition, and found himself at the
top of an heroic flight of steps which curved downward towards a
plain which stretched towards a horizon turned a pale, misty blue
and which he could almost have mistaken for the sky. For a moment
he thought that he and Gone were alone on that vast stairway and
then he saw that it was crowded with people. Some were engaged in
hectic conversation, some bartering, some embracing, while others
were gathered around holy men, speech-makers, priestesses, story-
tellers, either listening avidly or arguing.
The steps down to the plain were alive with every manner of human
intercourse. Elric saw snake-charmers, bear-baiters, jugglers and
acrobats. They were dressed in costumes typical of the desert
lands-enormous silk pantaloons of green, blue, gold, vermilion and
amber; coats of brocade or velvet; turbans, burnooses and caps of
the most intricate needlework; burnished metal and silver, gold,
precious jewels of every kind. And there was an abundance of
animals, stalls, baskets overflowing with produce, with fabrics,
with goods of leather and copper and brass.
"How handsome they are!" he remarked. It was true that though they
were of all shapes and sizes the people had a beauty which was not
easily defined. Their skins were all healthy, their eyes bright,
their movements dignified and easy. They bore themselves with
confidence and good humour and while it was clear they noticed
Oone and Elric walking down the steps, they acknowledged them
without making any great effort to greet them or ask them their
business. Dogs, cats and monkeys ran about in the crowd and
children played the cryptic games all children play. The air was
warm and balmy and full of the scents of fruit, flowers and the
other goods being sold. "Would that all worlds were like this,"
Elric added, smiling at a young woman who offered him embroidered
cloth.
Oone bought oranges from a boy who ran up to her. She handed one
to Elric. "This is a sweet realm indeed. I had not expected it to
be so pleasant." But when she bit into the fruit she spat it into
her hand. "It has no taste!"


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Elric tried his own orange and he, too, found it a dry,
flavourless thing.
The disappointment he felt at this was out of all proportion to
the occurrence. He threw the orange from him. It struck a step
below and bounced until it was out of sight.
The grey-green plain appeared unpopulated. There was a road
sweeping across it, wide and well-paved, but there was not a
single traveller visible, in spite of the great crowd. "I wonder
why the road is empty," he said to Oone. "Do all these people
sleep at nights on these steps? Or do they disappear into another
realm when then-business here is done?"
"Doubtless that question will be answered for us soon enough, my
lord."
She linked her arm in his own. Since their love-making in the
wood, a sense of considerable comradeship and mutual liking had
grown up between them. He knew no guilt; he knew in his heart that
he had betrayed no one and it was clear Oone was equally
untroubled. In some strange way they had restored each other,
making their combined energy something more than the sum. This was
the kind of friendship he had never really known before and he was
grateful for it. He believed that he had learned much from Oone
and that the dreamthief would teach him more that would be
valuable to him when he returned to Melniboné to claim his throne
back from Yyrkoon.
As they descended the steps it seemed to Elric that the costumes
became more and more elaborate, the jewels and headdresses and
weapons richer and more exotic, while the stature of the people
increased and they grew still more handsome.
From curiosity he stopped to listen to a story-teller who held a
crowd entranced, but the man spoke in an unfamiliar language- high
and flat-which meant nothing to him. He and Gone paused again,
beside a bead-seller, whom he asked politely if those gathered on
the steps were all of the same nation.
The woman frowned at him and shook her head, replying in still
another language. There seemed few words in it. She repeated much.
Only when they were stopped by a sherbet-seller, a young boy,
could they ask their question and be understood.
The lad frowned, as if translating their words in his head. "Aye,
we are the people of the steps. Each of us has a place here, one
below the other."


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"You grow richer and more important as you descend, eh?" asked
Gone.
He was puzzled by this. "Each of us has a place here," he said
again, and, as if alarmed by their questions, he ran off up into
the dense crowd above. Here, too, there were fewer people and
Elric could see that their numbers thinned increasingly as the
steps neared the plain. "Is this an illusion?" he murmured to
Oone. "It has the air of a dream."
"It is our sense of what should be that intrudes here," she said,
"and it colours our perception of the place, I think."
"It is not an illusion?"
"It is not what you would call an illusion." She made an effort to
find words but eventually shook her head. "The more it seems an
illusion to us, the more it becomes one. Does that make sense?"
"I think so."
At last they were nearing the bottom of the stairway. They were on
the last few steps when they looked up to see a horseman riding
towards them across the plain, creating a huge pillar of dust as
he came.
There was a cry from the people behind them. Elric looked back and
saw them all rushing rapidly up the stairs and his impulse was to
join them, but Oone stayed him. "Remember we cannot go back," she
said. "We must meet this danger as best we can."
Gradually the figure on the horse became distinguishable. It was
either the same warrior in the armour of mother-of-pearl, ivory
and tortoiseshell or one who was identical. He bore a white lance
tipped with a point of sharpened bone and the thing was aimed
directly at Elric's heart.
The albino jumped forward in a manoeuvre designed to confuse his
attacker. He was almost under the horse's hooves when he struck
upward with his swiftly drawn sword and cut at the lance. The
force of the blow sent him reeling to one side while Oone,
reacting with almost telepathic coordination, almost as if they
were controlled by a single brain, leapt and thrust beneath the
raised left arm, seeking their assailant's heart.
Her thrust was parried by a sudden movement of the rider's
gauntletted right hand and he kicked out at her. Now, for the
first time, Elric saw his face clearly. It was thin, bloodless,
with eyes like the flesh of long-dead fish and a sneering gash of
a mouth, opening now in a grimace of contempt. Yet with a shock he


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saw, too, something of Alnac Kreb! The lance swung to strike
Oone's shoulder and send her, too, to the ground.
Elric was up again before the lance could return, his sword
slashing at the horse's girth-strap in an old trick learned from
the Vilmirian bandits, but he was blocked by an armoured leg and
the lance returned to thrust at him while he darted clear, giving
Oone her opportunity.
Though Elric and Oone fought as a single entity, their attacker
was almost prescient, seeming to guess their every move.
Elric began to believe the rider to be wholly supernatural hi
origin and even as he feinted again he sent his mind out into the
realms of the elementals, seeking any aid which might possibly be
available to him. But there was none. It was as if every realm
were deserted, as if, overnight, the entire world of elementals,
demons and spirits, had been banished to Limbo. Arioch would not
aid him. His sorcery was completely useless here.
Gone cried out sharply and Elric saw that she had been flung back
against the lowest step. She tried to climb to her feet but
something was paralysed. She could hardly move her limbs.
Again the pale rider chuckled and began to advance for the kill.
Elric roared out his old battle-shout and raced towards their
opponent, trying to distract him. The albino was horrified at the
possibility of harm coming to the woman for whom he felt both
profound love and comradeship and was willing to die to save her.
"Arioch! Arioch! Blood and souls!"
But he had no runesword to aid him here. Nothing save his own wits
and skills.
"Alnac Kreb. Is this what remains of you?"
The rider turned, almost impatiently, and flung the lance at the
running man. His answer.
Elric had not anticipated this. He tried to throw, his body aside
but the haft of the lance struck his shoulder and he fell heavily
into the dust, losing his grip on the unfamiliar sabre. He began
to scrabble towards it even as he saw the rider draw his own long
blade and continue towards the helpless Gone. He raised himself to
one knee and threw his poignard with desperate accuracy. The blade
went true, between the plates of the rider's back armour, and the
lifted sword fell suddenly.
Elric reached his sabre, got to his feet and saw to his horror
that the rider was rearing over Gone, the sword again raised,


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ignoring the wound in his shoulder.
"Alnac?"
Again Elric tried to appeal to whatever part of Alnac Kreb was
there, but this time he was completely ignored. That same hideous,
inhuman chuckling filled the air, the horse snorted, its hooves
pawing at the woman as she struggled on the step.
Scarcely aware of his own movement, Elric reached the rider and
leapt upward, dragging at his back, trying to haul him from the
horse. The rider growled and managed to turn. His whistling sword
was parried by Elric's and the albino unseated him. Together the
pair fell to the sand, a few inches from where Oone lay. Elric's
sword-hand was crushed under his attacker's armoured back, but he
managed to tug the poignard free with his left hand and would have
struck at those hideous dead eyes had not the man's fingers closed
on his wrist.
"You'll kill me before you harm her!" Elric's normally melodic
voice was a snarl of hatred. But the warrior merely laughed again,
the ghost of Alnac fading from his eyes.
They fought thus for several moments, neither gaining any true
advantage. Elric could hear his own breathing, the grunting of the
armoured man, the whinnying of the horse and Oone's gasp as she
tried to get to her feet.
"Pearl Warrior!"
It was another voice. Not Oone's, but a woman's; and it carried
considerable authority.
"Pearl Warrior! You must do no further violence to these
travellers!"
The warrior grunted but ignored the woman. His teeth snapped at
Elric's throat. He tried to turn the poignard towards the albino's
heart. There were drops of foaming saliva on his lips now-beads of
white rimming his mouth.
"Pearl Warrior!"
Suddenly the warrior began to speak, whispering to Elric as if to
a fellow conspirator. "Don't listen to her. I can aid thee. Why do
you not come with us and learn to explore the Great Steppe, where
all the hunting is rich? And there are melons, tasting like the
most delicate cherries. I can give thee such wonderful clothing.
Do not listen. Do not listen. Yes, I am Alnac, thy friend. Yes!"
Elric was repelled by the insane babble, more than he had been by
the creature's horrible appearance and his violence.


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"Think of all the power there is. They fear thee. They fear me.
Elric. I know thee. Let us not be rivals. Together we can succeed.
I am not free, but thou couldst journey for us both. I am not
free, but them wouldst never bear responsibilities. I am not free,
but, Elric, I have so many slaves at my disposal. They are thine.
I offer thee new wealth and new philosophies, new ways of
fulfilling every desire. I fear thee and thou fearest me. So we
will bind us together, one to the other. It is the only tie that
ever means anything. They dream of thee, all of them. Even I, who
do not dream. Thou are the only enemy..."
"Pearl Warrior!"
With a rattle of bone and ivory, of tortoiseshell and mother-of-
pearl, the leprous-skinned warrior disentangled himself from
Elric. 'Together we can defeat her," he mumbled urgently. "There
would be no force to resist us. I will give thee my ferocity!"
Nauseated by all this, Elric climbed slowly to his feet, turning
to stare in the same direction as Oone, who now sat on the step,
nursing limbs to which life seemed to be restored.
A woman, taller than either Elric or Oone, stood there. She was
veiled and hooded. Her eyes moved steadily from them to the one
she called Pearl Warrior and then she raised the great staff she
held in her right hand and struck at the ground with it.
"Pearl Warrior! You must obey me!"
The Pearl Warrior was furious. "I do not wish this!" He snarled
and, clattering, brushed at his breastplate. "You anger me, Lady
Sough."
"These are my charges and under my protection. Go, Pearl Warrior.
Kill elsewhere. Kill the true enemies of the Pearl."
"I do not want you to order me!" He was surly, sulking like a
child. "All are enemies of the Pearl. You, too, Lady Sough."
"You are a silly creature! Begone!" And she lifted the staff to
point beyond the stairway, where hazy rock could be seen, rising
up forever.
He spoke again, warningly. "You make me angry, Lady Sough. I am
the Pearl Warrior. I have the strength from the Fortress." He
turned to Elric as if to a comrade. "Ally yourself with me and
we'll kill her now. Then we shall rule-thou in thine freedom, me
in my slavery. All of this and many other realms beside, unknown
to dreamthieves. Safety is there forever. Be mine. We shall be
married. Yes, yes, yes..."


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Elric shuddered and turned his back on the Pearl Warrior. He went
to help Oone to her feet.
Oone was able to move all her limbs but she was still dazed. She
looked back at the steps which disappeared above them. Not a
single one of the people who had occupied that vast staircase was
visible.
Troubled, Elric glanced at the newcomer. Her robes were of
different shades of blue, with silver threads running through
them, hemmed with gold and dark green. She carried herself with
extraordinary grace and dignity and stared back at Oone and Elric
with an air of amusement. Meanwhile the Pearl Warrior climbed to
his feet and stood defiantly to one side, alternately glaring at
Lady Sough and offering Elric a hideous conspiratorial smile.
"Where are all the folk of the steps gone?" Elric asked her.
"They have merely returned to their home, my lord," said Lady
Sough. Her voice, when she addressed him, was warm and full, yet
retained all the authority with which she had ordered the Pearl
Warrior to stop his attack. "I am Lady Sough and I bid you welcome
to this land."
"We are grateful for your intervention, my lady." Oone spoke for
the first time, though with a degree of suspicion. "Are you the
ruler here?"
"I am merely a guide and a navigator."
"That mad thing there accepts your command." Oone rose, rubbing at
her arms and legs, glaring at the Pearl Warrior, who sneered,
becoming shifty as Lady Sough gave him her attention.
"He is incomplete." Lady Sough was dismissive. "He guards the
Pearl. But he has such an insubstantial intelligence, he cannot
understand the nature of his task, nor who is friend or who foe.
He can make only the most limited choices, poor corrupt thing. The
ones who put him to this work had, themselves, only the faintest
understanding of what was required in such a warrior."
"Bad! I will not!" The Pearl Warrior began to utter his chuckle
again. "Never! It is why! It is why!"
"Go!" cried Lady Sough, gesturing once more with her staff, her
eyes glaring above her veil. "You have no business with these."
"Dying is unwise, madam," said the Pearl Warrior, lifting his
shoulder hi a gesture of defiant arrogance. "Beware thine own
corruption. We may all dissolve if this achieves that resolution."
"Go, stupid brute!" She pointed at his horse. "And leave that


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spear behind you. Destructive, insensate grotesque that you are."
"Am I mistaken," said Elric, "or does he speak gibberish?"
"Possibly," murmured Gone. "But it could be he speaks more of the
truth than those who would protect us."
"Anything will come and anything will have to be resisted!" said
the Pearl Warrior darkly as he mounted. He began to ride to where
his lance had fallen after he had thrown it at Elric. "This is why
we are to be!"
"Begone! Begone!"
He leaned from his saddle, reaching towards the lance.
"No," she said firmly, as if to a silly child. "I told you that
you should not have it. Look what you have done, Pearl Warrior!
You are forbidden to attack these people again."
"No alliance, then. Not now! But soon this freedom will be
exchanged and all shall come together!" Another appalling chuckle
from the half-crazed rider and he was digging his spurs into his
horse's flanks, going at a gallop in the direction he had come.
"There shall be bonds! Oh, yes!"
"Do his words make sense to you, Lady Sough?" Elric asked
politely, when the warrior had disappeared.
"Some of them," she said. It seemed that she was smiling behind
her veil. "It is not his fault that his brain is malformed. There
are few warriors in this world, you know. He is perhaps the best."
"Best?"
Oone's sardonic question went unanswered. Lady Sough reached out a
hand on which delicately coloured jewels glowed and she beckoned
to them. "I am a navigator here. I can bear you to sweet islands
where two lovers could be happy forever. I have a place that is
hidden and safe. Can I take you there?"
Elric glanced at Gone, wondering if perhaps she was attracted by
Lady Sough's invitation. For a second he forgot their purpose
here. It would be wonderful to spend a short idyll in Oone's
company.
"This is Imador, is it not, Lady Sough?"
"It is the place the dreamthieves call Imador, aye. We do not call
it by that name." She seemed disapproving.
"We are grateful for your help in this matter, my lady," said
Elric, thinking Oone a little brusque and seeking to apologise for
his friend's manner. "I am Elric of Melniboné and this is Lady
Oone of the Dreamthieves' Guild. Do you know that we seek the


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Fortress of the Pearl?"
"Aye. And this road is a straight one for you. It can lead you
forward to the Fortress. But it might not lead you by the best
route. I will guide you by whatever route you wish." She sounded a
little distant, almost as if she were half-asleep herself. Her
tone had become dreamy and Elric guessed she was offended.
"We owe you much, Lady Sough, and your advice is of value to us.
What would you suggest?"
"That you raise an army first, I think. For your own safety. There
are such terrible defences at the Fortress of the Pearl. Why, and
before that, too. You are brave, the both of you. There are
several roads to success. Death lies at the end of many other
paths. Of this, you are, I am sure, aware..."
"Where could we recruit such an army?" Elric ignored Oone's
warning look. He felt that she was being obstinate, overly
suspicious of this dignified woman.
"There is an ocean not far from here. There is an island in it.
The people of that island long to fight. They will follow anyone
who promises them danger. Will you come there? It is very good.
There is warmth and secure walls. Gardens and much to eat."
"Your words have a strong degree of common-sense," said Elric. "It
would be worth, perhaps, pausing in our quest to recruit those ;
soldiers. And I was offered alliance by the Pearl Warrior. Will he
help us? Can he be trusted?"
"For what you wish to do? Yes, I think." Her forehead furrowed.
"Yes, I think."
"No, Lady Sough." Gone spoke suddenly and with considerable force.
"We are grateful for your guidance. Will you take us to the
Falador Gate? Do you know it?"
"I know what you call the Falador Gate, young woman. And whatever
your questions or your desires, they are mine to answer and
fulfill."
"What is your own name for this land?"
"None." She seemed confused by Oone's question. "There is not one.
It is this place. It is here. But I can guide you through it."
"I believe you, my lady." Oone's voice softened. She took Elric by
the arm. "Our other name for this land is the Land of New
Ambition. But new ambitions can mislead. We invent them when the
old ambition seems too hard to achieve, eh?"
Elric understood her. He felt foolish. "You offer a diversion,


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Lady Sough?"
"Not so." The veiled woman shook her head. The movement had all
her gracefulness in it and she seemed a little wounded by the
directness of his question. "A fresh goal is sometimes preferable
when the road becomes impassable."
"But the road is not impassable, Lady Sough," said Oone. "Not
yet."
"That is true." Lady Sough bowed her head a fraction. "I offer you
all truth in this matter. Every aspect of it."
"We shall retain the aspect of which we are most sure," Oone
continued softly, "and thank you greatly for your help."
"It is yours to take, Lady Oone. Come." The woman whirled, her
draperies lifting like clouds in a gale, and led them away from
the steps to a place where the ground dipped and revealed, when
they were closer, a shallow river. There a boat was moored. The
boat had a curling prow of gilded wood, not unlike the crook of
Oone's dreamwand, and its sides were covered with a thin layer of
beaten gold, and bronze, and silver. Brass gleamed on rails, on
the single mast, and a sail, blue with threads of silver, like
Lady Sough's robes, was furled upon the yardarm. There was no
visible crew. Lady Sough pointed with her staff. "Here is the boat
with which we shall find the gate you seek. I have a vocation,
Lady Oone, Prince Elric, to protect you. Do not fear me."
"My lady, we do not," said Oone with great sincerity. Still, her
voice was gentle. Elric was mystified by her manner but accepted
that she had a clear notion of their situation.
"What does this mean?" Elric murmured as Lady Sough descended
towards her boat.
"I think it means we are close to the Fortress of the Pearl," said
Oone. "She tries to help us but is not altogether sure how best to
do it."
"You trust her?"
"If we trust ourselves, we can trust her, I think. We must know
what are the right questions to ask her."
"I'll trust you, Oone, to trust her." Elric smiled.
At Lady Sough's insistent beckoning they clambered into the
beautiful boat, which rocked only slightly on the dark waters of
what seemed to Elric an entirely artificial canal, straight and
deep, moving in a sweeping curve until it disappeared from sight a
mile or two from them. He peered upward, still not sure if he


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looked upon a strange sky or the roof of the largest cavern of
all. He could just see the stairs stretching away in the distance
and wondered again what had happened to the inhabitants when they
had fled at the Pearl Warrior's attack.
Lady Sough took the great tiller of the boat. With a single
movement she guided the craft onto the centre of the waterway.
Almost at once the ground levelled out so that it was possible to
see the grey desert on all sides, while ahead was foliage,
greenery, the suggestion of hills. There was a quality about the
light which reminded Elric of a September evening. He could almost
smell the early autumn roses, the turning trees, the orchards of
Imrryr. Seated near the front of the boat with Oone beside him,
leaning on his shoulder, he sighed with pleasure, enjoying the
moment. "If the rest of our quest is to be conducted in such a
way, I shall be glad to accompany you on many such adventures,
Lady Oone."
She, too, was in good humour. "Aye. Then all the world would
desire to be dreamthieves."
The boat rounded a bend of the canal and they were alerted by
figures standing on both banks. These sad, silent people, dressed
in white and yellow, regarded the sailing barge with tear-filled
eyes, as if they witnessed a funeral. Elric was sure they did'not
weep for himself or Oone. He called out to them, but they did not
seem to hear him. They were gone almost at once and they passed by
gently rising terraces, cultivated for vines and figs and almonds.
The air was sweet with ripening harvests and once a small, foxlike
creature ran along beside them for a while before veering off into
a clump of shrubs. A little later, naked, brown-skinned men
prowled on all fours until they, too, grew bored and disappeared
into the undergrowth. The canal began to twist more and more and
Lady Sough was forced to throw all her weight upon the tiller to
keep the boat on course.
"Why would a canal be built so?" Elric asked her when they were
once more upon a straight stretch of water.
"What was above us is now ahead and what was below is now behind,"
she replied. "That is the nature of this. I am the navigator and I
know. But ahead, where it grows darker, the river is unbending.
This is made to help understanding, I think."
Her words were almost as confusing as the Pearl Warrior's, and
Elric tried to make sense by asking her further questions. "The


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river helps us understand what, Lady Sough?"
"Their nature-her nature-what you must encounter-ah, look!"
The river was widening rapidly into a lake. There were reeds
growing on the banks now, silver herons flying against the soft
sky.
"It is no great distance to the island I spoke of," said Lady
Sough. "I fear for you."
"No," said Oone with determined kindness. "Take the boat across
the lake towards the Falador Gate. I thank you."
"This thanks is ..." Lady Sough shook her head. "I would not have
you die."
"We shall not. We are here to save her."
"She is afraid."
"We know."
"Those others said they would save her. But they made her-they
made it dark and she was trapped..."
"We know," said Oone, and laid a comforting hand on Lady Sough's
arm as the veiled woman guided the boat out onto the open lake.
Elric said: "Do you speak of the Holy Girl and the Sorcerer
Adventurers? What imprisons her, Lady Sough? How can we release
her? Bring her back to her father and her people?"
"Oh, it is a lie!" Lady Sough almost shouted, pointing to where,
swimming directly towards them, came a child. But the boy's skin
was metallic, of glaring silver, and his silver eyes were begging
them for help. Then the child grinned, reached to pull off its own
head and submerged. "We near the Falador Gate," said Oone grimly.
"Those who would possess her also guard her," said Lady Sough
suddenly. "But she is not theirs."
"I know," said Oone. Her gaze was fixed on what lay ahead of them.
There was a mist on the lake. It was like the finest haze which
forms on water in an autumn morning. There was an air of
tranquilly which, clearly, she mistrusted. Elric looked back at
Lady Sough but the navigator's eyes were expressionless, offering
no clue to what dangers they might soon be facing.
The boat turned a little and there was land just visible through
the mist. Elric saw tall trees rising above a tumble of rocks.
There were white pillars of limestone, shimmering faintly in that
lovely light. He saw hummocks of grass and below them little
coves. He wondered if Lady Sough had, after all, brought them to
the island she had mentioned and was about to question her when he


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saw what appeared to be a massive door of carved stone and
intricate mosaic bearing an air of considerable age.
"The Falador Gate," said Lady Sough, not without a hint of
trepidation.
Then the gate had opened and a horrible wind rushed out of it,
tearing at their hair and clothing, clawing at their skins,
shrieking and wailing in their ears. The boat rocked and Elric
feared it must capsize. He ran to the stern to help Lady Sough
with the tiller. Her veil had been ripped from her face. She was
not a young woman, but she bore an astonishing resemblance to the
little girl they had left in the Bronze Tent, the Holy Girl of the
Bauradim. And Elric, taking the tiller while Lady Sough replaced
her veil, remembered that no mention had ever been made of
Varadia's mother.
Oone was lowering the sail. The wind's initial strength had died
and it was possible to tack gradually towards the dark, strangely
smelling entrance which had been revealed as the mosaic door had
blown down.
Three horses appeared there. Hooves flailed at the air. Tails
lashed. Then they were galloping across the water in the direction
of the boat. Then they had passed it and vanished into the mist.
Not one of the beasts had possessed a head.
Now Elric knew terror. But it was a familiar terror and within
seconds he had regained control of himself. He knew that, whatever
its name, he was about to enter a land where Chaos ruled.
It was only as the boat sailed under the carved rocks and into the
grotto beyond that he recalled he had none of his familiar spells
and enchantments; not one of his allies, nor his patron Duke of
Hell, was available to him here. He had only experience and
courage and his ordinary sensibilities. And at that moment he
doubted if they were enough.

5
The Sadness
of a Queen
Who Cannot Rule

The mighty barrier of obsidian rock suddenly started to flow. A
mass of glassy green flooded down into the water which hissed and
began to stink and mountains of steam rose ahead of them. As the


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steam gradually dissipated, another river was revealed. This one,
flowing through the narrow walls of a deep canyon, appeared of
natural origin and Elric, his mind now keyed to interpretation,
wondered if it was not the same river they had crossed earlier,
when he had fought the Pearl Warrior on the bridge.
Then the barge, which had seemed so sturdy, appeared all at once
fragile as the waters tossed it, roaring steadily downward until
Elric thought they must eventually reach the very core of the
world.
Standing with Lady Sough in the prow of the boat, Oone and Elric
helped her use the tiller to hold a course that was almost steady.
And then, ahead, the river ended without warning and they had
tipped over a waterfall and before they knew it were landing
heavily in calmer water, the barge bobbing like a scrap of bread
on a pond, and overhead they could see a sky like diseased pewter
in which dark, leathery things flew and communicated with desolate
cries above palms whose leaves resembled nothing so much as
viridian skins stretched out to await a sun which never rose.
There was a rich, rotten smell about the place and the constant
splashing and distant roaring of the water filled a silence broken
only by the flying creatures above the rocks and the foliage which
surrounded them.
It was warm, yet Elric shivered. Oone drew up the collar of her
doublet and even Lady Sough gathered her robes more tightly about
herself.
"Are you familiar with this land, Lady Oone?" Elric asked. "You
have visited this realm before, I know, but you seem as surprised
as I."
"There are always new aspects. It is in the nature of the realm.
Perhaps Lady Sough can tell us more." And Oone turned courteously
to their navigator.
Lady Sough had secured her veils more firmly. She seemed unhappy
that Elric had seen her face. "I am the Queen of this land," she
said, exhibiting no pride or any other emotion.
"Then you have minions who can assist us?"
"It was a Queen for me, so that I had no power over it, only the
land's protection. This is where you call Falador."
"And is it mad?" is
"It has many defences."
"They keep out what might also wish to leave," said Oone, almost


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to herself. "Are you afraid of those who protect Falador, Lady
Sough?"
"I am Queen Sough now." A drawing up of the graceful body, but
whether hi parody or in earnest Elric could not tell. "I am
protected. You are not. Even I am not so able to guard you here."
The barge continued to float slowly along the water-course. The
slime of the rocks appeared to shift and move as if alive and
there were shapes in the water which disturbed Elric. He would
have drawn his sword if it had not seemed ill-mannered.
"What must we fear here?" he asked the Queen.
Now they floated below a great spur of rock on which a horseman
had positioned himself. It was the Pearl Warrior, glaring down
with the same mixture of mockery and mindlessness. He lifted a
long stick to which he had tied some animal's sharp, twisted horn.
Queen Sough shook her hand at him. "Pearl Warrior shall not do
this! Pearl Warrior cannot defy, even here!"
The warrior let out his hideous chuckle and turned his horse back
from the rock. Then he was gone.
"Will he attack us?" Oone asked the Queen.
Queen Sough was concentrating on her tiller, steering the boat
subtly along a smaller water-course, away from the main river.
Perhaps she already aimed to avoid any conflict. "He is
unpermitted," she said. "Ah!"
The water had turned a ruby red and there were now banks of
glistening brown moss, gently rising towards the walls of rock.
Elric was convinced he saw ancient faces staring at him both from
the banks and from the cliffs, but he did not feel threatened. The
red liquid looked like wine and there was a heady sweetness here.
Did Queen Sough know all the secret, tranquil places of this world
and was she guiding them through so as to avoid its dangers?
"Here my friend Edif has influence," she told them. "He is a ruler
whose chief interest is poetry. Will it be now? I do not know."
They had quickly become used to her strange speech forms and were
finding her more easily understood, though they had no idea who
Edif might be and had passed through his land into a place where
the desert appeared suddenly on both sides of them, beyond
flanking lines of palms, as if they moved towards an oasis. Yet no
oasis materialised.
Soon the sky was the colour of bad liver again and the rocky walls
had risen around them and there was the sticky, oppressive odour


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which reminded Elric of some decadent court's anterooms. Perfume
which had once been sweet but had now grown stale; food which had
once made the mouth water but which was now too old; flowers which
no longer enhanced but reminded one only of death.
The walls on either side now had great jagged caves in them where
the water echoed and tumbled. Queen Sough seemed nervous of these
and kept the barge carefully in the centre of the river. Elric saw
shadows moving within the caves, both above and below the water.
He saw red mouths opening and closing and saw pale, unblinking
eyes staring. They bad the air of Chaos-born creatures and he
wished mightily then for his runesword, for his patron Duke of
Hell, for his repertoire of spells and incantations.
The albino was not altogether surprised when at last a voice spoke
from one of the caverns.
"I am Balis Jamon, Lord of the Blood, and I wish to have some
kidneys."
"We sail on!" cried Queen Sough in response. "I am not your food
nor shall I ever be."
"Their kidneys! Theirs!" the voice demanded implacably. "I have
fed on no true grub for so long. Some kidneys! Some kidneys!"
Elric drew his sword and his dagger. Oone did the same.
"You'll not have mine, sir," said the albino.
"Nor mine," said Oone, seeking the source of the voice. They could
not be sure which of the many caves sheltered the speaker.
"I am Balis Jamon, Lord of the Blood. You'll pay a toll here in my
land. Two kidneys for me!"
"I'll take yours instead, sir, if you like!" said Elric defiantly.
"Will you, now?"
There was a great movement from the furthest cave and water foamed
in and out. Then something stooped and came wading into midstream,
its fleshy body festooned with half-decayed plants and ruined
blooms, its horned snout lifted so that it could stare at them
from two tiny black eyes. The fangs in the snout were broken,
yellow and black, and a red tongue licked at them, flicking little
pieces of rotten meat into the water. It held one great paw over
its chest and when the paw was lowered it revealed a dark, gaping
hole where the heart would have been.
"I am Balis Jamon, Lord of the Blood. Look what I must fill for me
to live! Have mercy, little creatures. A kidney or two and I'll
let you pass. I have nothing here, while you are complete. You


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must make justice and share with me."
"This is my only justice for you, Lord Balis," said Elric,
gesturing with a sword, which seemed a feeble thing even to him.
"You will never be complete, Balis Jamon!" called out Queen Sough.
"Not until you know more of mercy!"
"I am fair! One kidney will do!" The paw began to reach towards
Elric, who cut at it but missed, then cut again and felt the sword
strike the creature's hide, which scarcely showed a mark. The paw
grabbed at the sword. Elric withdrew it. Balis Jamon growled with
a mixture of frustration and self-pity and reached both paws
towards the albino.
"Stop! Here's your kidney!" Oone held up something which dripped.
"Here it is, Balis Jamon. Now let us pass. We are agreed."
"Agreed." He turned, evidently mollified, delicately took what she
handed up to him and popped it into the hole in his chest. "Good.
Go!" And he waded passively back towards his cave, honour and
hunger both satisfied.
Elric was baffled, though grateful that she had saved his life.
"What did you do, Lady Oone?"
She smiled. "A large bean. Some of the provisions I still carried
in my purse. It looked similar to a kidney, especially when dipped
in water. And I doubt if he knows the difference. He seemed a
simple creature."
Queen Sough's eyes were lifted upward even as she steered the
barge past the caves and into a wider stretch of water where
buffalo lifted their heads from where they drank and stared at
them with wary curiosity.
Elric followed the navigator's gaze but saw only the same lead-
coloured sky. He sheathed his sword. "These creatures of Chaos
seem simple enough. Less intelligent in some ways than others I've
encountered."
"Aye." Oone was unsurprised. "That's likely, I think. She would be-
"
The boat was lifted suddenly and for a second Elric thought Lord
Balis had returned to take vengeance on them for tricking him. But
they appeared to be on the crest of a huge wave. The water level
rose rapidly between the slimy walls and now, on the cliffs' edges
figures appeared. They were of every kind of distorted shape and
unlikely size and Elric was reminded a little of the beggar
populace of Nadsokor, for these, too, were dressed in rags and


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bore the evidence of self-mutilation, as well as disease, wounding
and ordinary neglect. They were filthy. They moaned. They looked
greedily at the boat and they licked their lips.
Now, more than ever before, Elric wished he had Stormbringer with
him. The runesword and a little elemental aid would have driven
this rabble away in terror. But he had only the blades captured
from the Sorcerer Adventurers. He must rely upon those, his
alliance with Oone and their naturally complementary fighting
skills. There came a juddering from the bottom of the barge and
the wave receded as suddenly as it had risen, but now they were
stranded on the very top of the cliff, with the misshapen horde
all around them, panting and grunting and sniffing at their prey.
Elric wasted no time with parleying but jumped at once from the
boat's prow and cut at the first two who grabbed for him. The
blade, still sharp enough, severed their heads and he stood over
their bodies grinning at them like the wolf he was sometimes
called. "I want you all," he said. He used the battle bravado he
had learned from the pirates of the Vilmirian Straits. He moved
forward again and thrust, catching still another Chaos-creature in
the chest. "I must kill every one of you before I am satisfied!"
They had not expected this. They shuffled. They looked at each
other. They turned their weapons in their hands, they adjusted
their rags and tugged at their limbs.
Now Oone was beside Elric. "I want my fair share of these," she
cried. "Save them for me, Elric." Then she, too, darted forward
and cut down an ape-faced thing which carried a jewelled axe of
beautiful workmanship, clearly stolen from an earlier victim.
Queen Sough called from behind them. "They have not attacked you.
They only threaten. Is this the true thing you must do?"
"It's our only choice, Queen Sough!" cried Elric over his
shoulder, and feinted at two more of the half-human things.
"No! No! It is not heroic. What can the guardian do, who is no
longer a hero?"
Even Oone could not follow this and when Elric met her eye in a
question she shook her head.
The rabble was gaining some confidence now, closing in. Snouts
sniffed at them. Tongues licked saliva from slack lips. Hot, duly
eyes full of blood and pus squinted their hatred.
Then they had begun to close and Elric felt his blade meet
resistance, for he had already blunted it on the first two


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creatures. Yet still the neck split and the head fell to one side,
glaring the while, hands clutching. Oone had her back to his and
together they moved so that they were protected from one side by
the boat, which the rabble did not seem to wish to touch. Queen
Sough, in obvious distress, wept as she watched but clearly had no
authority over the Chaos-creatures. "No! No! This does not help
her to sleep! No! No! She is in need of them, I know!"
It was at that point that Elric heard the sound of hooves and saw,
over the heads of the closing crowd, the white armour of the Pearl
Warrior.
"They are his creatures!" he said in sudden understanding. "This
is his own army and he is to be revenged on us!"
"No!" Queen Sough's voice was distant now, as if very far away.
"This cannot be useful! It is your army. They'll be loyal. Yes."
Hearing her, Elric knew unexpected clarity. Was it that she was
not really human? Were all of these creatures merely shape-
changers of some kind, disguising themselves as humans? It would
explain their strange cast of mind, the peculiar logic, the
strange phrasing.
But there was no time for speculation, for now the creatures were
hard about him and Oone, so that it was hardly possible to swing
their blades to keep them back. Blood flowed, sticky and foetid,
splashing on blades and arms and making them gag. Elric felt he
might be overwhelmed by the stench before he was defeated by their
weapons.
It was clear they could not resist the mob and Elric was bitter,
feeling that they had come very close to the object of their quest
only to be cut down by the most wretched of the denizens of Chaos.
Then more bodies fell at his feet and he realised that he had not
killed them. Oone, too, was astonished by this turn of events.
They looked up. They could not understand what was happening.
The Pearl Warrior was riding through the ranks of the rabble
cutting this way and that, jabbing with his makeshift spear,
slicing with his sword, cackling and crowing at every fresh life
he took. His horrible eyes were alight with some sort of amusement
and even his horse was slashing at the rabble with its hooves,
nipping at them with its teeth.
"This is the proper thing!" Queen Sough clapped her hands. "This
is true. This is to ensure honour for you!"
Gradually driven back by the Pearl Warrior, by Elric and Gone as


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they resumed their attack, the rabble began to break up.
Soon the whole awful mob was running for the cliff edge, leaping
into the abyss rather than die by the Pearl Warrior's bone spear
and his silver sword.
His laughter continued as he herded the remainder to their doom.
He screamed his mockery at them. He raved at them for cowards and
fools. "Ugly things. Ugly! Ugly! Go! Perish! Go! Go! Go! Banished
now, they are. Banished to that! Yes!"
Elric and Gone leaned against the barge trying to catch their
breaths.
"I am grateful to you, Pearl Warrior," said the albino as the
armoured rider approached. "You have saved our lives."
"Yes." The Pearl Warrior nodded gravely, his eyes unusually
thoughtful. "That is so. Now we shall be equal. Then we shall know
the truth. I am not free, as you. You believe this?" His last
question was addressed to Oone.
She nodded. "I believe that, Pearl Warrior. I, too, am glad you
helped us."
"I am the one who protects. This must be done. You go on? I was
your friend."
Oone looked back to where Queen Sough was nodding, her arms
outstretched in some kind of offering.
"Here I am not your enemy," said the Pearl Warrior, as if
instructing the simple-minded. "If I were complete, we three would
be a trinity of greatness! Aye! Thou knowest it! I have not the
personal. These words are hers, you see. I think."
And with that particularly mystifying pronouncement he wheeled his
horse and rode away over the grassy milestone.
"Too many defenders, not enough protectors, perhaps." Gone sounded
as odd as the others. Before Elric could quiz her on this she had
given her attention back to Queen Sough. "My lady? Did you summon
the Pearl Warrior to our aid?"
"She called him to you, I think." Queen Sough seemed almost in a
trance. It was odd to hear her speaking of herself in the third
person. Elric wondered if this was the normal mode here and again
it occurred to him that all the people of this realm were not
human but had assumed human shape.
They were now stranded high above the river. Going to the edge of
the abyss, Elric stared down. He saw only some bodies which had
been caught on the rocks, others drifting downstream. He was glad


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then that their boat was not having to negotiate waters clogged
with so many corpses.
"How can we continue?" he asked Oone. He had a vision of himself
and her in the Bronze Tent, of the child between them. All were
dying. He knew a pang of need, as if the drug were calling to him,
reminding him of his addiction. He remembered Anigh in Quarzhasaat
and Cymoril, his betrothed, waiting in Imrryr. Had he been right
to let Yyrkoon rule in his place? Every one of his decisions
seemed now to be foolish. His self-esteem, never high, was lower
than he could remember. His lack of forethought, his failures, his
follies, all reminded him that not only was he physically
deficient, he was also lacking hi ordinary common-sense.
"It is in the nature of the hero," said Queen Sough in relation to
nothing. Then she looked at them and her eyes were maternal,
kindly. "You are safe!"
"I think there is some urgency," said Oone. "I sense it. Do you?"
"Aye. Is there danger in the realm we left?"
"Perhaps. Queen Sough, are we far from the Nameless Gate? How can
we continue?"
"By means of the moth-steeds," she said. "The waters always rise
here and I have my moths. We have only to wait for them. They are
on their way." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "It was that rabble
which could have been yours. No more. But I cannot anticipate, you
see. Every new trap is mysterious to me, as it is to you. I can
navigate, as you navigate. This is together, you know."
Against the horizon there were rainbow lights winking and
shimmering, like an aurora. Queen Sough sighed when she saw them.
She was content.
"Good. Good. That is not late! Just the other."
The colours filled the sky now. As they came closer Elric realised
that they belonged to huge, filmy wings supporting slender bodies,
more butterfly than moth, of enormous size. Without hesitation the
beasts began to descend until the three of them as well as the
barge were engulfed by soft wings.
"Into the boat!" cried Queen Sough. "Quickly. We fly."
They hurried to obey her and at once the barge was rising into the
air, apparently carried on the backs of the great moths who flew
beside the canyon for a while before plunging down into the abyss.
"I watched but there was nothing," said Queen Sough by way of
explanation to Elric and Gone. "Now we shall resume."


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With astonishing gentleness the creatures had deposited the barge
on the river and were flying back up between the walls of the
canyon again, filling the whole gloomy place with brilliant multi-
coloured light before they vanished. Elric rubbed at his brow.
"This is truly the Land of Madness," he said. "I believe it is I
who am mad, Lady Oone."
"You are losing confidence in yourself, Prince Elric." She spoke
firmly. "That is the particular trap of this land. You come to
believe that it is yourself, not what surrounds you, that has
little logic. Already we have imposed our sanity on Falador. Do
not despair. It cannot be much longer before we reach the final
gate."
"And what is there?" He was sardonic. "Sublime reason?" He felt
the same strange sense of exhaustion. Physically he was still
capable of continuing, but his mind and his spirit were depleted.
"I cannot begin to anticipate what we shall find in the Nameless
Land," she said. "Dreamthieves have little power over what occurs
beyond the seventh gate."
"I've noticed your considerable influence here!" But he did not
mean to hurt her. He smiled to show that he joked.
From ahead they beard a howling, so painful that even Queen Sough
covered her ears. It was like the baying of some monstrous hound,
echoing up and down the abyss and threatening to shake the very
boulders loose from the walls. As the river bore them round the
bend they saw the beast standing there, a great shaggy wolflike
beast, its head lifted as it howled again. The water rushed around
its huge legs, foamed against its body. As it turned its gaze upon
them the beast vanished completely. They heard only the echo of
its howling. The speed of the water increased. Queen Sough had
removed her hands from the tiller to block her ears. The boat
swung in the water and bounced as it struck a rock. She made no
attempt to steer it Elric seized the long arm but in spite of
using all his strength he could do nothing with the boat.
Eventually he, too, gave up.
Down and down the river ran. Down into a gorge growing so deep
that soon there was scarcely any light at all. They saw faces
grinning at them. They felt hands reach out to touch them. Elric
became convinced that every mortal creature who had ever died had
come here to haunt him. In the dark rock he saw his own face many
times, and that of Cymoril and Yyrkoon. Old battles were fought as


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he watched. And old, agonising emotions came back to him. He felt
the loss of all he had ever loved, the despair of death and
desertion, and soon his own voice joined the general babble and he
howled as loudly as the hound had howled until Oone shook him and
yelled at him and brought him back from the madness which had
threatened to engulf him.
"Elric! The last gate! We are almost there! Hold on, Prince of
Melniboné. You have been courageous and resourceful until now.
This will require still more of you, and you must be ready!"
And Elric began to laugh. He laughed at his own fate, at the fate
of the Holy Girl, at Anigh's fate and at Oone's. He laughed when
he thought of Cymoril waiting for him on the Dragon Isle, not
knowing even now if he lived or died, if he was free or a slave.
When Oone shouted at him again, he laughed in her face.
"Elric! You betray us all!"
He paused in his laughter long enough to say softly, almost in
triumph, "Aye, madam, that is so. I betray you all. Have you not
heard? It is my destiny to betray!"
"You shall not betray me, sir!" She slapped at his face. She
punched him. She kicked his legs. "You shall not betray me and you
shall not betray the Holy Girl!"
He knew intense pain, not from her blows but from his own mind. He
cried out and then he began to sob. "Oh, Oone. What is happening
to me?"
"This is Falador," she said simply. "Are you recovered, Prince
Elric?"
The faces still gibbered at him from the rock. The air was still
alive with all he feared, all he most misliked in himself.
He was trembling. He could not meet her gaze. He realised he was
weeping. "I am Elric, last of Melniboné's royal line," he said. "I
have looked upon horror and I have courted the Dukes of Hell. Why
should I know fear now?"
She did not answer and he expected no answer from her.
The boat surged, swung again, lifted and dipped.
Suddenly he was calm. He took hold of Oone's hand in a gesture of
simple affection.
"I am myself again, I think," he said.
"There is the gateway," said Queen Sough from behind them. She had
her grip on the tiller again and with her other hand was pointing
ahead.


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"There is the land you call the Nameless Land," she said. She
spoke plainly now, not in the cryptic phrasing she had used since
they had met her. "There you will find the Fortress of the Pearl.
She cannot welcome you."
"Who?" said Elric. The waters were calm again. They ran slowly
towards a great archway of alabaster, its edges trimmed by soft
leaves and shrubs. "The Holy Girl?"
"She can be saved," said Queen Sough. "Only by you two, I think. I
have helped her remain here, awaiting rescue. But it is all I can
do. I am afraid, you see."
"We are all that, madam," said Elric feelingly.
The boat was caught by new currents and travelled still more
slowly, as if reluctant to enter the last gate of the Dream Realm.
"But I am of no help," said Queen Sough. "I might even have
conspired. It was those men. They came. Then more came. There was
only retreat thereafter. I wish I could know such words. You would
understand them if I had them. Ah, it is hard here!"
Elric, looking into her agonised eyes, realised that she was
probably more of a prisoner in this world than he and Gone. It
seemed to him that she longed to escape and was only kept here by
her love of the Holy Girl, her protective emotions. Yet surely she
had been here long before Varadia had come?
The boat had begun to pass under the alabaster arch now. There was
a salty, pleasant taste to the air, as if they approached the
ocean.
Elric decided he must ask the question which was on his mind.
"Queen Sough," he said. "Are you Varadia's mother?"
The pain in the eyes grew even more intense as the veiled woman
turned away from him. Her voice was a sob of anguish and he was
shocked by it.
"Oh, who knows?" she cried. "Who knows?"

PART THREE

Is there a brave lord birthed by Fate
To wield old weapons, win new estates
And tear down walls Time sanctifies,
Raze ancient temples as hallowed lies,
His pride to break, his love to lose,
Destroying his race, his history, his muse,


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And, relinquishing peace for a life of strife,
Leave only a corpse that the flies refuse?
The Chronicle of the Black Sword

1
At the Court of the Pearl

Again Elric experienced that strange frisson of recognition at the
landscape before bun, though he could not remember ever seeing
anything like it. Pale blue mist rose around cypresses, date
palms, orange trees and poplars whose shades of green were equally
pale; flowing meadows occasionally revealed the rounded white of
boulders and in the far distance were snow-peaked mountains. It
was as if an artist had painted the scenery with the most delicate
of washes, the finest of brushstrokes. It was a vision of Paradise
and completely unexpected after the insanity of Falador.
Queen Sough had remained silent since she had answered Elric's
question and a peculiar atmosphere had developed among the three
of them. Yet all the uneasiness failed to affect Elric's delight
at the world they had entered. The skies (if skies they were) were
full of pearly cloud, tinged by pink and the faintest yellow, and
a little white smoke rose up from a flat-roofed house some
distance away. The barge had come to rest in a pool of still,
sparkling water and Queen Sough gestured for them to disembark.
"You will come with us to the Fortress?" asked Gone.
"She does not know. I do not know if it is permitted," said the
Queen, her eyes hooded above her veil.
"Then I shall say farewell now," and Elric bowed and kissed the
woman's soft hand. "I thank you for your assistance, madam, and
trust you will forgive me for the crudeness of my manners."
"Forgiven, yes." Elric, looking up, thought Queen Sough smiled.
"I thank you also, my lady." Done spoke almost intimately, as to
one with whom she might share a secret. "Know you how we shall
find the Fortress of the Pearl?"
"That one will know." The Queen pointed towards the distant
cottage. "Farewell, as you say. You can save her. Only you."
"I am grateful for your confidence also," said Elric. He stepped
almost jauntily onto the turf and followed Gone as they made their
way across the fields to the little house. "This is a great
relief, my lady. A contrast, indeed, to the Land of Madness!"


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"Aye." She responded a trifle cautiously, and her hand went to the
hilt of her sword. "But remember, Prince Elric, that madness takes
many forms in all worlds."
He did not allow her wariness to let him lose his enjoyment. He
was determined to restore himself to the peak of his energies, in
preparation for whatever might lie ahead.
Gone was first to reach the door of the white house. Outside were
two chickens scratching in the gravel, an old dog, tethered to a
barrel, who looked up at them over a grey muzzle and grinned, a
pair of short-coated cats cleaning their silvery fur on the roof
over the lintel. Gone knocked and the door was opened almost
immediately. A tall, handsome young man stood there, his head
covered by an old bur-noose, his body clad in a light brown robe
with long sleeves. He seemed pleased to see visitors.
"Greetings to you," he said. "I am Chamog Borm, currently in
exile. Have you come with good news from the Court?"
"We have no news at all, I fear," said Gone. "We are travellers
and we seek the Fortress of the Pearl. Is it close by here?"
"At the heart and the centre of those mountains." He waved with
his hand towards the peaks. "Will you join me for some
refreshment?"
The name the young man had given, together with his extraordinary
looks, caused Elric again to rack his brains, trying to recall why
all this was so familiar to him. He knew that he had only recently
heard the name.
Within the cool house, Chamog Borm brewed them a herbal drink. He
seemed proud of his domestic skills and it was clear he was no
simple farmer. In one corner of the room was heaped a pile of rich
armour, steel chased with silver and gold, a helm decorated with a
tall spike, that spike decorated with ornamental snakes and
falcons locked hi conflict. There were spears, a long, curved
sword, daggers -weapons and accoutrements of every description.
"You are a warrior by trade?" said Elric as he sipped the hot
liquid. "Your armour is very handsome."
"I was once a hero," said Chamog Borm sadly, "until I was
dismissed from the Court of the Pearl."
"Dismissed?" Gone was thoughtful. "On what charge?"
Chamog Borm lowered his eyes. "I was charged with cowardice. Yet I
believe that I was not guilty, that I was subject to an
enchantment."


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And now Elric recalled where he had heard the name. When he had
arrived in Quarzhasaat he had in his fever wandered hi the market
places and listened to the story-tellers. At least three of the
stories he had heard had concerned Chamog Borm, hero of legend,
the last brave knight of the Empire. His name was venerated
everywhere, even hi the camps of the nomads. Yet Elric was sure
Chamog Borm had existed-if he had ever existed-at least a thousand
years earlier!
"What was the action of which you were accused?" he asked.
"I failed to save the Pearl, which now lies under an enchantment,
imprisoning us all in perpetual suffering."
"What was that enchantment?" Oone asked quickly.
"It became impossible for our monarch and many of the retainers to
leave the Fortress. It was for me to free them. Instead I brought
a worse enchantment upon us. And my punishment is contrary to
theirs. They may not leave, and I may not return." As he spoke he
became increasingly melancholy.
Elric, still astonished at this conversation with a hero who
should have been dead centuries before, could say little, but Oone
seemed to understand completely. She made a sympathetic gesture.
"Can the Pearl be found there?" Elric asked, conscious of the
bargain he had made with Lord Gho, of Anigh's impending torture
and death, of Oone's predictions.
"Of course." Chamog Bonn was surprised. "Some believe it rules the
whole Court, perhaps the world."
"Was this always so?" Oone asked softly.
"I have told you that it was not." He looked at them both as if
they were simpletons. Then he lowered his eyes, lost in his own
dishonour and humiliation.
"We hope to free her," said Oone. "Would you come with us, to help
us?"
"I cannot help. She no longer trusts me. I am banished," he said.
"But I can let you have my armour and my weapons so that part of
me, at least, can fight for her."
"Thank you," said Oone. "You are generous."
Chamog Borm grew more animated as he helped them choose from his
store. Elric found that the breastplate and greaves fitted him
perfectly, as did the helmet. Similar equipment was found for Oone
and the straps tightened to adjust to her slightly smaller body.
They looked almost identical in then- new armour and something in


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Elric was again struck, some deep sense of satisfaction that he
could hardly understand but which he welcomed. The armour gave him
not only a greater sense of security but a sense of deep
recognition of his own inner strength, a strength which he knew he
must call upon to the utmost in the encounter to come. Oone had
warned him of subtler dangers at the Fortress of the Pearl.
Chamog Borm's gifts continued, in the shape of two grey horses
which he led from their stable at the back of the house. "These
are Taron and Tadia. Brother and sister, they were twin foals.
They have never been separated. Once I rode them into battle. Once
I took up arms against the Bright Empire. Now the last Emperor of
Melniboné will ride in my place to fulfill my destiny and end the
siege of the Fortress of the Pearl."
"You know me?" Elric looked hard at the handsome youth, seeking
deception or even irony, but there was none in those steady eyes.
"A hero knows another, Prince Elric." And Chamog Borm reached out
to grip Elric's forearm in the gesture of friendship of the desert
peoples. "May you gain all you wish to gain and may you do so with
honour. You, too, Lady Oone. Your courage is the greatest of all.
Farewell."
The exile watched them from the roof of his little house until
they were out of sight. Now the great mountains were close, almost
embracing them, and they could see a wide, white road stretching
through them. The light was like that of a late summer afternoon,
though Elric could still not be sure if it was sky above them or
the distant roof of a vast cavern, for the sun was still not in
evidence. Was the Dream Realm a limitless series of such caverns
or had the dreamthief mapped the entire world? Could they cross
the mountains, or the Nameless Land beyond and begin again to
travel through the seven gates, ultimately arriving back at the
Land of Dreams-in-Common? And would they find Jaspar Colinadous
waiting for them where they had left him?
The road, when they reached it, proved to be of pure marble, but
the horses' hooves were so well shod they did not slip once. The
noise of their galloping began to echo through the wide pass and
herds of gazelles and wild sheep looked up from their grazing to
watch them pass, two silver riders on silver horses on their way
to do battle with the forces who had seized power at the Fortress
of the Pearl.
"You have understood these people better than I," he said to Oone,


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as the road began to twist upward towards the centre of the range
and the light had grown colder, the sky a bright, hard grey. "Do
you know what we might expect to find at the Fortress of the
Pearl?"
She shook her head in regret. "It is like understanding a code
without knowing what the words actually relate to," she told him.
"The force is powerful enough to banish a hero as potent as Chamog
Borm."
"I know only the legend, and that from a little I heard in the
Slave Market at Quarzhasaat."
"He was summoned by the Holy Girl as soon as she realised that she
was under further attack. That is what I believe, at any rate. She
did not expect him to fail her. Somehow, indeed, he made matters
worse. She felt betrayed by him and banished him to the edge of
the Nameless Land, there perhaps to greet and assist others who
might come to help her. That is no doubt why we are given all the
appurtenances of the hero, so that we may be as much like heroes
as he."
"Yet we know this world less well. How may we succeed where he
failed?"
"Perhaps because of our ignorance," she said. "Perhaps not. I
cannot answer you, Elric." She rode close to him, leaning from her
saddle to kiss that part of his cheek exposed by the helmet. "Only
know this. I will betray neither her nor, if I can help it, you.
Yet if I must betray one of you, I suppose it will be you."
Elric looked at her in bafflement. "Is that likely to be an
issue?"
She shrugged and then she sighed. "I do not know, Elric. Look. I
think we have come to the Fortress of the Pearl!"
It was like a palace carved from the most delicate ivory. White
against the silver sky, it rose above the snows of the mountain, a
great multitude of slender spires and turretted towers, of
cupolas, of mysterious structures which seemed almost as if they
had been arrested in mid-Sight. There were bridges and stairways,
curving walls and galleries, balconies and roof-gardens whose
colours were a spectrum of pastel shades, a myriad of different
plants, flowers, shrubs and trees. In all his travels Elric had
only seen one place that was the equal to the Fortress of the
Pearl and that was his own city, Imrryr. Yet the Dreaming City was
exotic, rich, even vulgar-a romantic fancy compared to the


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complicated austerity of this palace.
As they approached on the marble road, Elric realised that the
Fortress was not pure white, but contained shades of blue, silver,
grey and pink, sometimes a little yellow or green, and he had the
notion that the entire thing had been carved from a single
gigantic pearl. Soon they had reached the Fortress's only gate, a
great circular opening protected by spiked grilles which came from
above and below and both sides to meet at the centre. The Fortress
was vast but even its gate dwarfed them.
Elric could think of nothing to do but cry out. "Open in the name
of the Holy Girl! We come to do battle with those who imprison her
spirit here!"
His words echoed through the towers of the Fortress and through
the jagged peaks of the mountains beyond and seemed to lose
themselves in the heights of a cavern's roof. In the shadows
beyond the gateway he saw something scarlet move and then vanish
again. There came the smell of delicious perfume, mixed with the
same strange ocean scent they had noticed when they first reached
the Nameless Land.
Then the gates had parted, so swiftly that they seemed to melt
into the air, and a rider confronted them, his humourless
chuckling by now all too familiar.
"This is what should be, I think," said the Pearl Warrior.
"League yourself with us again, Pearl Warrior," said Oone, with
all her considerable authority. "It is what she desires!"
"No. It is so that she shall not be betrayed. You must dissolve.
Now! Now! Now!" His head was flung back as he screamed these last
words, for all the world like a dog gone rabid.
Elric drew a sword from its scabbard. It shone with the same
silver light that poured from the Pearl Warrior's blade. Gone
followed his example, though more reluctantly.
"We shall pass now, Pearl Warrior."
"Nothing will here! I want your freedom."
"She shall have it!" said Oone. "It is not yours, not unless she
bestows it upon you herself."
"She says it is mine. I will be that. I will be that!"
Elric could not follow this strange conversation and he chose not
to waste time with it. He urged his silver horse forward, the
blade glaring in his hand. So balanced was this sword, so familiar
to his grip, that he felt for a moment that it was somehow the


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natural contrast to his runesword. Was this a sword forged by Law
to serve its purposes, just as Stormbringer had, by all accounts,
been forged by Chaos?
The Pearl Warrior guffawed and widened his awful eyes. Death was
in them. The death of the world. He lowered the same misshapen
lance he had brandished at them before and Elric saw it was
encrusted with old blood. The warrior held his ground and the
lance was suddenly threatening Elric's eyes so that the albino had
to throw himself to one side to avoid its points, striking upward
as he did so and feeling a greater resistance to his blow than
anything he had felt before. The Pearl Warrior seemed to have
gained strength since their last encounter.
"Ordinary soul!" The lips twisted in this insult, clearly as
disgusting as any the Pearl Warrior could conceive. And he began
to chuckle again, this time because Oone was riding at him, her
sword stretched out full before her, a spear held in her other
hand, her reins between her teeth. The sword drove forward, the
spear swung back as she poised to throw. Then sword and spear
struck the Pearl Warrior at the exact same moment so that his
breastplate cracked like the shell of some great crustacean and
was pierced by the sword.
Elric marvelled at this strategy which he had never witnessed
before. Oone's strength and coordination were almost beyond
credibility. It was a feat of arms warriors would speak of for a
thousand years to come, which many would try to emulate and would
die in the trying.
The spear had done its work in breaking open the Pearl Warrior's
armour and the sword had completed the action. But the Pearl
Warrior had not been killed.
He groaned. He cackled. He floundered. His sword came up as if to
protect his chest from the blow already struck. His great horse
reared and its nostrils flared with fury. Oone turned her own
mount away. Her sword had left its tip in the Pearl Warrior's
body. She was reaching for a second spear, for her dagger.
Elric drove forward again, his own spear aimed at the cracked
armour, hoping to follow her example, but the blade struck the
ivory and was turned. Elric lost balance long enough for the Pearl
Warrior to take the advantage. The sword struck the steel of
Elric's armour with a noise that made a cacophony within his
helmet and brought bright sparks flashing like a fire. He fell


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onto his horse's neck, barely able to block the next thrust. Then
the Pearl Warrior shrieked, the eyes growing still wider, the
mouth gaping red and the foul breath steaming from it, while blood
poured from under the gorget between his helmet and his
breastplate. He fell towards Elric and the albino realised that
the haft of a spear was sticking from his chest in exactly the
same place where Oone had broken the creature's armour. , "This
will not remain so!" cried the Pearl Warrior. It was a threat. "I
cannot do that thing!"
Then he tumbled in a heap from his horse and clattered like old
bones onto the flagstones of the courtyard. From behind him an
ornamental fountain, representing a fig tree in full fruit, began
to spurt water, filling the surrounding trough and overflowing
until it touched the body of the Pearl Warrior. The riderless
horse began to scream, turning round and round, rearing, foaming,
then it galloped out through the gate and back down the marble
road.
Elric turned the heavy corpse over to make sure that no life was
left in the Pearl Warrior and to inspect the shattered armour. He
remained admiring of Oone's manoeuvre. "I have never seen that
done before," he said, "and I have fought beside and against
famous warriors."
"A dreamthief must know many things," she said, by way of
acknowledgement of his praise. "I learned such tactics from my
mother, who was a greater battle-woman than I shall ever be."
"Your mother was a dreamthief?"
"No," said Gone absently as she inspected her ruined sword and
then picked up the Pearl Warrior's, "she was a queen." She tested
the weight of the dead creature's blade and discarded her own,
trying it in her scabbard and finding that it was a little too
wide. Carelessly she stuck it in her belt and unhooked the
scabbard, throwing it upon the ground. The water from the fountain
was around their ankles now and was disturbing their horses.
Leading the steeds, they passed under a heart-shaped arch and into
another courtyard. Here, too, fountains played, but these were not
flooding. They seemed carved out of ivory, like so much of the
Fortress, and represented stylised herons, their beaks meeting at
a point above then- heads. Elric was reminded vaguely of the
architecture of Quarzhasaat, though this had none of the decadence
of that place, none of the look of senile old age which


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characterised the city at its worst. Had the Fortress been built
by the ancestors of the present lords of Quarzhasaat, the Council
of Six and One Other? Had some great king fled the city millennia
before and journeyed here to the Dream Realm? Was that how the
legend of the Pearl had come to Quarzhasaat?
Courtyard after courtyard, each in its own way of extraordinary
beauty, followed until Elric began to wonder if this path was
merely leading them through the Fortress to the other side.
"For such a large building it's somewhat underpopulated," he said
to Gone.
"We shall find the inhabitants soon enough, I think," Oone
murmured. Now they ascended a spiral causeway which led around a
huge central dome. Although the palace had such a mood and look of
austerity, Elric did not find its architecture cold and there was
something almost organic about it, as if it had been formed from
flesh, then petrified.
Their horses still with them, the sound now muffled by luxurious
carpet, they moved through halls and corridors whose walls were
hung with tapestries and decorated with mosaics, though they saw
no pictures of living things, only geometrical designs.
"We near the heart of the Fortress, I think," Oone told him in a
whisper. It was as if she feared to be overheard, yet they had
seen no one. She looked beyond tall columns, through a series of
rooms seemingly lit by sunshine from without. Following her gaze,
Elric had the impression of blue fabric wafting through a door and
vanishing. "Who was that?"
"All the same," said Oone to herself. "All the same." Her sword
was drawn again, however, and she signed to Elric to imitate her.
They entered another courtyard. This one seemed to be open to the
sky-the same grey sky they had first seen in the mountains.
Gallery after gallery rose up all around them, many storeys to the
top. Elric thought he saw faces peering back at him, then
something liquid struck his face and he almost inhaled the sickly
red stuff which covered his body. More of it was pouring down on
them from every part of the gallery and already the courtyard was
knee deep in what seemed to Elric to be human blood. He heard a
muttering overhead, soft laughter, a cry.
"Stop this!" he shouted, wading to the side of the chamber. "We
are here to parley. All we want is the Holy Girl! Give her spirit
back to us and we shall leave!"


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He was answered by a further shower of blood and he hauled his
horse towards the next door. There was a gate across it. He tried
to lift it. He tried to bounce it free of its mountings. He looked
to Oone, who, wiping the red liquid from herself, joined him. She
reached out her long fingers and found some kind of button. The
gate opened slowly, almost reluctantly, but it opened. She grinned
at him. "Like most men, you become a brute when you panic, my
lord."
He was hurt by her joke. "I had no idea I should find such a means
of opening the gate, my lady."
"Think of such things in future and you will stand a better chance
of survival in this Fortress," she said.
"Why will they not parley with us?"
"They probably do not believe that we are ready to bargain," she
said. Then she added: "In reality, I can only guess at their
logic. Each adventure of a dreamthief is different from the
others, Prince Elric. Come." She led them on past a series of
pools full of warm water from which a little steam rose. There
were no bathers in the pools. Then Elric thought he saw creatures,
perhaps fish, swimming in the depths. He leaned forward to look,
but Oone pulled him back. "I warned you. Your curiosity could
bring your destruction and mine."
Something threshed and bubbled in the pool and then was gone. All
at once the rooms began to shake and the water foamed. Cracks
appeared hi the marble floors. Their horses snorted with fear and
threatened to lose their footing. Elric himself almost toppled
down into one of the fissures which had opened. It was as if an
earthquake had suddenly struck the mountains. Yet as they dashed
hastily for the next gallery, which opened onto a peaceful lawn,
all signs of the earthquake had vanished.
A man approached them. In bearing, he resembled Queen Sough, but
he was shorter and older. His white beard hung upon a surcoat of
gold cloth and in his hand he held a salver on which were placed
two leather bags. "Will you accept the authority of the Fortress
of the Pearl?" he said. "I am the seneschal of this place."
"Who do you serve?" Elric asked brusquely. His sword was still hi
his hand and he made no effort to disguise his readiness to use
it.
The seneschal looked bewildered. "I serve the Pearl, of course.
This is the Fortress of the Pearl!"


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"Who rules here, old man?" Oone asked him pointedly.
"The Pearl. I have said so." .
"Does no one rule the Pearl?" Elric was mystified.
"No longer, sir. Now, will you take this gold and go? We have no
wish to expend more of our energies upon you. They flag, but they
are not exhausted. I think you will be dissolved soon."
"We have defeated all your defenders," said Gone. "Why should we
want gold?"
"Do you not desire the Pearl?"
Before Elric could answer, Oone silenced him with a warning
gesture.
"We come only to secure the release of the Holy Girl."
The seneschal smiled. "They have all made that claim, but what
they want is the Pearl. I cannot believe you, lady."
"How can we prove our words?"
"You cannot. We already know the truth."
"We have no interest in bargaining with you, Sir Seneschal. If you
serve the Pearl, who does the Pearl serve?"
"The child, I think." His brow furrowed. Her question had confused
him, yet to Elric it had seemed so simple. His admiration for the
dreamthief's skill increased.
"You see, we can help you in this," said Oone. "The child's spirit
is imprisoned. And while it is imprisoned, so are you held
captive."
The old man offered the bags of gold again. "Take this and leave
us."
"I do not think we shall," said Oone firmly, and she led her horse
forward, past the old man. "Come, Elric."
The albino hesitated. "We should question him more, Oone, surely?"
"He could not answer more."
The seneschal ran at her, swinging the heavy bags, the salver
falling to the floor with a clang. "She is not! It will hurt! This
is not to be. Pain will come! Pain!"
Elric felt sympathy for the old man. "Oone. We should listen to
him."
She would not pause. "Come. You must."
He had learned to trust her judgement. He, too, pushed past the
old man, who beat at his body with the bags of gold and wailed,
the tears pouring down his cheeks and into his beard. It took a
different courage to perform that particular action.


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There was another great curving doorway ahead of them, all
elaborate lattice-work and mosaic, bordered by bands of jade, blue
enamel and silver. Two large doors of dark wood, hinges and studs
of brass, blocked their way.
Oone did not knock. She reached gently towards the doors and
placed her fingertips against them. Gradually, just as with the
other gate, the doors began to part. They heard a faint noise from
within, almost a whimper. The doors opened wider and wider until
they were completely back on their hinges.
For a moment Elric was overwhelmed by what he saw.
A grey-gold glow filled the great chamber which had been revealed
to them. The glow came from a column about the height of a tall
man which was topped by a globe. At the centre of the globe shone
a pearl of enormous size, almost as big as Elric's fist. Short
flights of steps led up to the column from all sides, and around
these steps were what at first appeared to be ranks of statues.
Then Elric realised that they were men, women and children,
dressed in all manner of costumes, though most of them in the
styles favoured in Quarzhasaat and by the desert clans.
The old man came stumbling behind them. "Do not hurt this!"
"We defend ourselves, Sir Seneschal," Oone told him without
turning to look at him. "That is all you need to know from us."
Slowly, still leading the silver horses, still with their silver
swords in their hands, the light from the pearl touching their
silver armour and their helmets and making these, too, glow with
soft radiance, they made their way into the chamber.
'This is not to destroy. This is not to defeat. This is not to
despoil."
Elric shivered when he heard the voice. He looked over towards the
distant walls of the room and there was the Pearl Warrior, his
armour all cracked and slimed with blood, his face a terrible
bruise, the eyes seeming alternately to fade and take fire. And
sometimes they were Alnac's eyes.
The warrior's next words were almost pathetic. "I cannot fight
you. No more."
"We are not here to hurt," said Gone again. "We are here to free
you."
There was a movement amongst the still figures. A blue-gowned
veiled woman appeared. Queen Sough's own eyes had a suggestion of
tears. "With these you come?" She indicated the swords, the


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horses, the armour. "But our enemies are not here."
"They will be here soon," said Oone. "Soon, I think, my lady."
Still baffled, Elric looked behind him, as if he would see their
enemies. He made a movement towards the Pearl at the Heart of the
World, merely to admire a marvel. At once all the figures came to
life, blocking his path.
"You will steal!" The old man sounded even more wretched than
before, even more impotent.
"No," said Oone. "It is not our purpose. You must understand
that." She spoke urgently. "Raik Na Seem sent us to find her."
"She is safe. Tell him she is safe."
"She is not safe. Soon she will dissolve." Oone turned her gaze on
the whispering throng. "She is separated, as we are separated. The
Pearl is the cause."
"This is a trick," said Queen Sough.
"A trick," echoed the wounded Pearl Warrior, and there was a faint
chuckle from his spoiled throat.
"A trick," said the seneschal, and held out the bags of gold.
"We come to steal nothing. We come to defend. Look!" Oone made a
circular movement with her sword to show them what they had
evidently not yet seen.
Emerging through the walls of the chamber, their hands filled with
every imaginable weapon, came the hooded, tattooed soldiers of
Quarzhasaat. The Sorcerer Adventurers.
"We cannot fight them," said Elric quietly to his friend. "There
are too many of them." And he prepared himself for death.

2
The Destruction in the Fortress

Then Oone had mounted her silver horse and raised her silver
sword. She called out: "Elric, do as I do!" and urged the stallion
into a canter so that its hooves rattled like thunder in the
chamber.
Prepared to die with courage, even at the moment of apparent
triumph, Elric climbed into his saddle, took a spear in the hand
that held the reins and with his sword already swinging charged
against the invaders.
Only as they crowded around him, axes, maces, spears and swords
lifted to attack, did Elric understand that Oone's action had not


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been one of mere desperation. These half-shades moved sluggishly,
their eyes were misted, they stumbled and their blows were feeble.
The slaughter now became sickening to him. Following her example,
he hacked and stabbed from side to side, almost mechanically.
Heads came away from bodies like rotten fruit; limbs were sliced
as easily as leaves from a stick; torsos collapsed under the
thrust of a spear or sword. Their viscous blood, already the blood
of the dead, clung to weapons and armour and their cries of pain
were pathetic to Elric's ears. If he had not sworn to follow Oone,
he would have ridden back and let her continue the work alone.
There was little danger to them as the veiled men continued to
pour through the walls and be met by sharp steel and cunning
intelligence.
Behind them, around the column of the Pearl, the courtiers
watched. These clearly did not know what a mediocre threat the two
silver-armoured warriors confronted.
At last it was done. Decapitated, limbless bodies were piled all
around the hall. Elric and Oone rode out of that slaughter and
they were grim, unhappy, nauseated by their own actions.
"It is done," said Oone. "The Sorcerer Adventurers are slain."
"You truly are heroes!" Queen Sough came down the steps towards
them, her eyes bright with admiration, her arms outstretched.
"We are who we are," said Oone. "We are mortal fighters and we
have destroyed the threat to the Fortress of the Pearl." Her words
had taken on a ritualistic tone and Elric, trusting her, was
content to listen.
"You are the children of Chamog Borm, Brother and Sister of the
Bone Moon, Children of Water and Cool Breezes, Parents of the
Trees..." The seneschal had dropped his bags of gold and was
shaken by his weeping. He wept with relief and with joy and Elric
saw how much he resembled Raik Na Seem.
Oone, down from her horse again, was embraced by Queen Sough.
Meanwhile, a shuffling and cackling announced the approach of the
Pearl Warrior.
"This is no more for me," he said. Alnac's dead eyes had nothing
but resignation in them. "This is for dissolution..." And he fell
forward onto the marble floor, his armour all broken, his limbs
sprawling, and there was no longer any flesh on him, only bone, so
that what was left of the Pearl Warrior resembled little more than
the inedible remains of a crab, the supper of some sea-giant.


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Queen Sough came towards Elric, her arms outstretched, and she
seemed much smaller than when he had first encountered her. Her
head hardly reached to his lowered chin. Her embrace was warm and
he knew she, too, was weeping. Then her veil fell away from her
face and he saw that she had lost years, that she was little more
than a girl.
Behind Queen Sough the Lady Oone was smiling at him as astonished
understanding filled him. Gently he touched the girl's face, the
familiar folds of her hair, and he drew in a sudden breath.
She was Varadia. She was the Holy Girl of the Bauradim. She was
the child whose spirit they had promised to free.
Oone joined him, placing a protective hand upon Varadia's
shoulder. "You know now that we are truly your friends."
Varadia nodded, looking about her at the courtiers, who had
assumed their earlier frozen stances. "The Pearl Warrior was the
best there was," she said. "I could summon none better. Chamog
Borm failed me. The Sorcerer Adventurers were too strong for him.
Now I can release him from his exile."
"We combined his strength with our own," said Gone. "Your strength
and our strength. That is how we succeeded."
"We three are not shadows," said Varadia, smiling, as if at a
revelation. "That is how we succeeded."
Oone nodded agreement. "That is how we succeeded, Holy Girl. Now
we must consider how to bring you back to the Bronze Tent, to your
people. You carry all their pride and history with you."
"I knew that. I had to protect it. I thought I had failed."
"You have not failed," said Oone.
"The Sorcerer Adventurers will not attack again?"
"Never," said Oone. "Not here, nor anywhere. Elric and I will make
sure of it."
And then Elric realised in admiration that it had been Oone, in
the end, who had summoned the Sorcerer Adventurers, summoned those
shades for the last time; summoned them so that she might
demonstrate their defeat.
Oone looked at him and warned him with her eyes not to say too
much. But now he realised that all that they had fought, save
perhaps a little of the Pearl Warrior and the Sorcerer
Adventurers, had been a child's dreams. The hero of legend, Chamog
Borm, could not save her because she knew he was not real.
Similarly, the Pearl Warrior, chiefly her own invention, could not


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save her. But he and Oone were real. As real as the child herself!
In her deep dream, in which she had disguised herself as a queen,
seeking power but failing to find it, just as she had described,
she had known the truth. Unable to escape from the dream, she had
yet recognised the difference between her own invention and that
which she had not invented-herself, Oone and Elric. But Oone had
had to show that she could defeat what remained of the original
threat, and in demonstrating the defeat, she freed the child.
And yet they were still within the dream, all three of them. The
great Pearl pulsed as powerfully as before, the Fortress with all
its mazes and intertwined passages and chambers was still their
prison.
"You understood," Elric said to Oone. "You knew what they spoke
of. The language was a child's language-a language seeking power
and failing. A child's understanding of power."
But again Oone, with a glance, cautioned him to silence. "Varadia
knows now that power is never discovered in retreat. All one can
hope to do by retreating is to let one power destroy another or
hide as one hides from a storm one cannot control, until the force
has passed. One cannot gain anything, save one's own self. And
ultimately one must always confront the evil that would destroy
one." It was almost as if she herself were in a trance and Elric
guessed that she repeated lessons learned in pursuit of her craft.
"You did not come to steal the Pearl but to save me from its
prison," said Varadia as Oone took her young hands and held them
tightly. "My father sent you to help me?"
"He asked our help and we gave it willingly," said Elric. At last
he sheathed the silver sword. He felt slightly foolish in the
armour of a fairy-tale hero.
Oone recognised his discomfort, "We shall give all this back to
Chamog Borm, my lord. Is he permitted to return to the Fortress,
Lady Varadia?"
The child grinned. "Of course!" She clapped her hands and through
the doorway to the Court of the Pearl, walking proudly, still in
the clothes of his banishment, came Chamog Borm, to kneel at the
feet of his mistress.
"My Queen," he said. There was strong emotion in his wonderful
voice.
"I return to you your armour and your weapons, your twin horses,
Tadia and Taron, and all your honour, Chamog Borm." Varadia spoke


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with warm pride.
Soon Elric and Oone had discarded the armour and again wore only
their ordinary clothes. Chamog Borm was in his silver-and-gold-
chased breastplate and greaves, his helmet of gleaming silver, his
swords and his spears in their sheaths at hip and on horse. His
other armour he bound to the back of Tadia. At last he was ready.
Again he kneeled before his Queen. "My lady. What task wouldst
thou have me accomplish for thee?"
Varadia said deliberately: "You are free to travel where you will,
great Chamog Borm. But know only this-you must continue to fight
evil wherever you find it and you must never again allow the
Sorcerer Adventurers to attack the Fortress of the Pearl."
"I swear."
With a bow to Oone and Elric, the legendary hero rode slowly from
the Court, his head high with pride and noble purpose.
Varadia was content. "I have made him again what he was before I
called him. I now know that legends in themselves have no power.
The power comes from the uses that the living make of the legend.
The legends merely represent an ideal."
"You are a wise child," said Oone admiringly.
"Should I not be, madam? I am the Holy Girl of the Bauradim."
Varadia spoke with considerable irony and good humour. "Am I not
the Oracle of the Bronze Tent?" She lowered her eyes, perhaps in
sudden melancholy. "I shall be a child only a little longer. I
think I shall miss my palace and all its kingdoms..."
"Something is always lost here." Oone placed a comforting hand on
the child's shoulder. "But much is gained also."
Varadia looked back at the Pearl. Following her gaze, Elric saw
that the entire Court had now vanished, just as the crowds had
vanished on the great staircase when they had been attacked by the
Pearl Warrior just before they first met Lady Sough. He now
realised that in that guise she herself had guided them to her own
rescue, as best she could. She had reached out to them. She had
shown them the way in which they could, with their wits and
courage, accomplish her salvation.
Varadia was ascending the steps, her hands outstretched towards
the Pearl. 'This is the cause of all our misfortune," she said.
"What can we do with it?"
"Destroy it, perhaps," said Elric.
But Oone shook her head. "While it remains an undiscovered


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treasure thieves will constantly seek it. This is the cause of
Varadia's imprisonment in the Dream Realm. This is what brought
the Sorcerer Adventurers to her. It is why they drugged and
attempted to abduct her. All the evil comes not from the Pearl
itself but what evil men have made of it."
"What shall you do?" asked Elric. "Trade it in the Dream Market
when you next go?"
"Perhaps that is what I should do. But it would not be the means
of ensuring Varadia's safety in the future. Do you understand?"
"While the Pearl is a legend, there will always be those who will
pursue the legend?"
"Exactly, Prince Elric. So we shall not destroy it, I think. Not
here."
Elric did not care. So absorbed had he become in the dream itself,
the revealing of the levels of reality existing in the Dream
Realm, that he had forgotten his original quest, the threat to his
life and that of Anigh in Quarzhasaat.
It was for Oone to remind him. "Remember, there are those in
Quarzhasaat who are not only your enemies, Elric of Melniboné.
They are the enemies of this girl. The enemies of the Bauradim.
You have still a further task to accomplish, even when we return
to the Bronze Tent."
"Then you must advise me, Lady Oone," said Elric simply, "for I am
a novice here."
"I cannot advise you with any great clarity." She turned her eyes
away from him, almost in modesty, perhaps in pain. "But I can make
a decision here. We must claim the Pearl."
"As I understand it, the Pearl did not exist before the lords of
Quarzhasaat conceived of it, before someone discovered the legend,
before the Sorcerer Adventurers came."
"But it exists now," said Oone. "Lady Varadia, would you give the
Pearl to me?"
"Willingly," said the Holy Girl, and she ran up the remaining
steps and took the globe from the plinth and threw it to the
ground so that shards of milky glass shattered everywhere,
mingling with the bones and the armour of the Pearl Warrior, and
she took the Pearl in one hand, as an ordinary child might grasp a
lost ball. And she tossed it from palm to palm in delight, fearing
it no longer. "It is very beautiful. No wonder they sought it."
"They made it, then they used it to trap you." Oone reached up and


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caught it as Varadia threw it to her. "What a shame those who
could conceive of such beauty would go to such evil lengths to own
it..." She frowned, looking about her in sudden concern.
The light was fading in the Court of the Pearl.
From all around them came an appalling noise, an anguished
groaning; a great creaking and keening, a tortured screaming, as
if all the tormented souls in all the multiverse had suddenly
given voice.
It pierced their brains. They covered their ears. They stared in
terror, watching as the floor of the Court erupted and undulated,
as the ivory walls with all their wonderful mosaics and carvings
began to rot before their eyes, crumbling and falling, like the
fabric in a tomb suddenly exposed to daylight.
And then, over all the other noises, they heard the laughter.
It was sweet laughter. It was the unaffected laughter of a child.
It was the laughter of a freed spirit. It was Varadia's.
"It is dissolving at last. It is all dissolving! Oh, my friends, I
am a slave no longer!"
Through all the falling filthy stuff, through all the decay and
dissolution which tumbled upon them, through the destroyed carcass
of the Fortress of the Pearl, Oone came towards them. She was
hasty but she was careful. She held one of Varadia's hands.
"Not yet! Too soon! We could all dissolve in this!"
She made Elric take the child's other hand and they led her
through the crashing, shrieking darkness, out of the chamber, down
through the swaying corridors, out past the courtyards where
fountains now gushed detritus and where the very walls were
constructed of putrefying flesh which began to rot to nothing even
as they went by. Then Oone made them run, until the final gateway
lay ahead of them.
They reached the causeway and the marble road. There was a bridge
ahead of them. Oone almost dragged the other two towards it,
running as fast as she could possibly run, with the Fortress of
the Pearl tumbling into nothing, roaring like a dying beast as it
did so.
The bridge seemed infinite. Elric could not see to the further
side. But at length Oone stopped running and allowed them to walk,
for they had reached a gateway.
The gateway was carved of red sandstone. It was decorated with
geometrical tiles and pictures of gazelles, leopards and wild


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camels. It had an almost prosaic appearance after so many
monumental doorways, yet Elric felt some trepidation hi passing
through it.
"I am afraid, Oone," he said.
"You fear mortality, I think." She pressed on. "You have great
courage, Prince Elric. Make use of it now, I beg you."
He quelled his terrors. His grip on the child's hand was firm and
reassuring.
"We go home, do we not?" said the Holy Girl. "What is it you do
not want to find there, Prince Elric?"
He smiled down at her, grateful for her question. "Nothing much,
Lady Varadia. Perhaps nothing more than myself."
They stepped together into the gateway.

3
Celebrations at the Silver Flower Oasis

Waking beside the still sleeping child, Elric was surprised to
feel so refreshed. The dreamwand, which had helped them attain
substance in the Dream Realm, was still hooked over their clasped
hands and, looking across the child, he saw Oone beginning to
stir.
"You have failed, then?"
It was Raik Na Seem's voice, full of resigned sadness.
"What?" Oone glanced at Varadia. Even as they watched, her skin
began to shine with ordinary health and her eyes opened to see her
anxious father staring down at her. She smiled. It was the easy,
unaffected smile with which Oone and Elric were already familiar.
The First Elder of the Bauradim Clan began to weep. He wept as the
seneschal of the Court of the Pearl had wept; he wept in relief
and he wept in joy. He took up his daughter in his arms and he
could not speak for the gladness in his heart. All he could do was
reach one hand out towards his friends, the man and woman who had
entered the Dream Realm to free his child's spirit, where it had
fled to escape the evil of Lord Gho's hirelings.
They touched his hand and they left the Bronze Tent. They walked
together into the desert and then they stood face to face, staring
into one another's eyes.
"We have a dream in common now," said Elric. His voice was gentle,
full of affection. "I think the memory will be a good one, Lady


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Gone."
She reached to hold his face hi her hands. "You are wise, Prince
Elric, and you are courageous, but there is a certain kind of
ordinary experience you lack. I hope that you are successful in
finding it."
"That is why I wander this world, my lady, and leave my cousin
Yyrkoon as Regent on the Ruby Throne. I am aware of more than one
deficiency."
"I am glad we dreamed together," she said.
"You lost your true love, I think," Elric told her. "I am glad if
I helped you ease the pain of that parting."
She was baffled for a moment, then her brow cleared. "You speak of
Alnac Kreb? I was fond of him, my lord, but he was more a brother
to me than a lover."
Elric became embarrassed. "Forgive my presumption, Lady Gone."
She looked up into the sky. The Blood Moon had not yet waned. It
cast its red rays onto the sand, onto the gleaming bronze of the
tent where Raik Na Seem welcomed his daughter back to him. "I do
not love easily in the way you mean." Her voice was significant.
She sighed. "Do you still plan to return to Melniboné and your
betrothed?"
"I must," he said. "I love her. And my duty lies in Imrryr."
"Sweet duty!" Her tone was sarcastic and she took a step or two
away from him, her head bowed, her hand on her belt. She kicked at
the dust the colour of old blood.
Elric had disciplined himself against his heart's pain for too
long. He could only stand and wait until she walked back to him.
And now she was smiling. "Well, Prince Elric, would you join the
dreamthieves and make this your living for a while?"
Elric shook his head. "It is a calling which requires too much of
me, my lady. Yet I am grateful for what this adventure has taught
me, both about myself and about the world of dreams. I still
understand only a little of it I am still not wholly sure where we
travelled or what we encountered. I do not know how much in the
Dream Realm was the Lady Varadia's creation and how much was
yours. It was as if I witnessed a battle of inventors! And did I
contribute? I do not know."
"Oh, without you, believe me, Prince Elric, I think I would have
failed. You have seen so much of other worlds! And you have read
more. It does not do to analyse too closely the creatures and


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places one encounters in the Dream Realm, but be assured that you
made your contribution. More, perhaps, than you'll ever know."
"Can reality ever be made from the fabric of those dreams?" he
wondered.
"There was an adventurer of the Young Kingdoms called Earl Aubec,"
she said. "He knew how potent a creator of reality the human mind
can be. Some say he and his kind helped make the world of the
Young Kingdoms."
Elric nodded. "I've heard that legend. But I think it is as
substantial as the story of Chamog Borm, my lady."
"You must think what you wish." She turned away from him to look
at the Bronze Tent. The old man and his daughter were emerging.
From somewhere within, the tent drums began to beat. There came a
wonderful chanting, a dozen melodies linked together, interwoven.
Slowly all the people who had remained at the Bronze Tent keeping
vigil over the body of the Holy Girl began to gather around Raik
Na Seem and Varadia. Their songs were songs of intense joy. Their
voices filled the desert with the most gorgeous life and made even
the distant mountains echo.
Oone linked her arm in Elric's, a gesture of comradeship, of
reconciliation. "Come," she said, "let us join the celebrations."
They had only walked a few more paces before they were lifted on
the shoulders of the crowd and soon they were borne, laughing and
infected by the general joyousness, over the desert towards the
Silver Flower Oasis.
The celebrations began at once, as if the Bauradim and all the
other desert clans had been preparing for this moment. Every kind
of delicious food was prepared until the air was rich with an
enormous variety of mouth-watering smells and it seemed all the
great spice warehouses of the world had been made to release their
contents. Cooking fires blazed everywhere, as did great brands and
lamps and candles, and from out of the Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz,
overlooking the great oasis, rode the Aloum'rit guardians in all
the glory of their ancient armour, their red-gold helmets and
breastplates, their weapons of bronze and brass and steel. They
had huge forked beards and massive turbans wound around the spikes
of their helms. They wore surcoats of elaborate brocade and cloth-
of-silver and their high boots were embroidered with designs
almost as intricate as those on their shirts. They were proud,
good-humoured men who rode at the sides of their wives, who were


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also armoured and carried bows and slender spears. All had soon
mingled with the enormous crowd who had erected a large platform
and placed a carved chair upon it and sat the smiling Varadia in
the chair so that all could see the Holy Girl of the Bauradim
restored to her clan, bringing back their history, their pride and
their future.
Raik Na Seem still wept. Whenever he saw Oone and Elric he grasped
them and pulled them to him, thanking them, telling them, as best
he could, what it meant to him to have such friends, such
saviours, such heroes.
"Your names will be remembered by the Bauradim for all time. And
whatever favour you shall ask of us, so long as it be honourable,
as we know it shall, then we shall grant it to you. If you are in
danger ten thousand miles away you will send a message to the
Bauradim and they will come to your aid. Meanwhile you must know
that you have freed the spirit of a good-hearted child from dark
captivity."
"And that is our reward," said Oone, smiling.
"Our wealth is yours," said the old man.
"We have no need of wealth," Oone told him. "We have discovered
better resources, I think."
Elric agreed with her. "Besides, there is a man in Quarzhasaat who
has promised me half an empire if I but do him a small service."
Oone understood Elric's reference and laughed.
Raik Na Seem was a little disturbed. "You go to Quarzhasaat? You
still have business there?"
"Aye," said Elric. "There is a boy who is anxiously awaiting my
return."
"But you have time to celebrate with us, to talk with us, to feast
with myself and Varadia? You have scarcely exchanged a word with
the child!"
"I think we know her pretty well," said Elric. "Enough to think
highly of her. She is indeed the greatest treasure of the
Bauradim, my lord."
"You were able to hold conversations in that gloomy realm where
she was held prisoner?"
Elric thought to enlighten the First Elder, but Oone was quick to
interrupt, so familiar was she with such questions.
"Some, my lord. We were impressed by her intelligence and her
courage."


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Raik Na Seem's brow furrowed as another thought occurred to him.
"My son," he said to Elric, "were you able to sustain yourself in
that realm without pain?"
"Without pain, aye," said Elric. Then he realised what had been
said. For the first time he understood what good had come about
from his adventure. "Aye, sir. There are benefits to assisting a
dreamthief. Great benefits which I had not until now appreciated!"
With relish now Elric joined in the feasting, treasuring these
hours with Oone, the Bauradim and all the other nomad clans. Again
he felt as if he had come home, so welcoming were the people, and
he wished that he could spend his life here, learning their ways,
their philosophies and enjoying their pastimes.
Later, as he lay beneath a great date palm, rolling one of the
silver flowers between his fingers, he looked up at Oone, who sat
beside him, and said: "Of all the temptations I faced in the Dream
Realm, this temptation is perhaps the greatest, Oone. This is
simple reality and I am reluctant to leave it. And you."
"We have no further destiny together, I think." She sighed. "Not
in this life, at any rate, or this world, perhaps. You shall be
first a legend, then there will be none left to remember you."
"My friends will all die? I shall be alone?"
"I believe so. While you serve Chaos."
"I serve myself and my people."
"If you would believe that, Elric, you must do more to achieve it.
You have created a little reality and perhaps will create a little
more. But Chaos cannot be a friend without it betraying you. In
the end, we have only ourselves to look to. No cause, no force, no
challenge, will ever replace that truth..."
"It is to be myself that I travel as I do, Lady Gone," he reminded
her. He looked out over the desert, over the tranquil waters of
the oasis. He breathed in the cool, scented desert air.
"And you will leave here soon?" she asked.
"Tomorrow," he said. "I must. But I am curious to know what
reality I have created."
"Oh, I think a dream or two has come true," she said cryptically,
kissing nun on the cheek. "And another will come true soon
enough."
He did not pursue the question, for she had taken the great Pearl
from the pouch at her belt and held it out to him.
"It exists! It was not the chimera we believed it to be! You still


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have it!"
"It is for you," she said. "Use it how you will. But that is what
brought you here to the Silver Flower Oasis. It is what brought
you to me. I think I will not trade it at the Dream Market. I
would like you to have it. I think it might be yours by right,
Elric. Be that as it may, the Holy Girl gave it to me and now I
give it to you. It is what Alnac Kreb died because of, what all
those assassins died to possess..."
"I thought you said that the Pearl did not exist before the
Sorcerer Assassins sought to find it."
"That is true. But it exists now. Here it is. The Pearl at the
Heart of the World. The great Pearl of legend. Have you no use for
it?"
"You must explain to me..." he began, but she cut him short.
"Ask me not how dreams take substance, Prince Elric. That is a
question that concerns philosophers in all ages and all places. I
ask you again-have you no use for it?"
He hesitated, then reached out to take the lovely thing. He held
it in his two palms, rolling it back and forth. He wondered at its
richness, its pale beauty. "Aye," he said. "I think I have a use
for it."
When he had placed the jewel in his own pouch, Oone said very
softly: "I think it is an evil thing, that Pearl."
He agreed with her. "I think so, too. But sometimes evil can be
used to counter evil."
"I cannot accept that argument" She seemed troubled.
"I know," he said, "you have already said as much." And then it
was his turn to reach towards her and kiss her tenderly upon the
lips. "Fate is cruel, Oone. It would be better if it provided us
with one unaltering path. Instead it forces us to make choices and
then never to know if those choices were for the best."
"We are mortals," she said with a shrug. "That is our particular
doom."
She stroked his forehead. "You have a troubled mind, my lord. I
think I will steal a few of the smaller dreams which make you
uneasy."
"Can you steal pain, Oone, and turn it into something to sell in
your market?"
"Oh, frequently," she said.
She took his head in her lap and began to massage his temples. Her


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look was tender.
He said sleepily: "I cannot betray Cymoril. I cannot..."
"I ask no more of you but that you sleep," she said. "One day you
will have much to regret and you will know real remorse. Until
then, I can take away a little of what is unimportant."
"Unimportant?" His voice was slurred as she gradually stroked him
into slumber.
"To you, I think, my lord. Though not to me..."
And the dreamthief began to sing. She sang a lullaby. She sang of
a sickly child and a grieving father. She sang of happiness found
in simple things.
And Elric slept. And as he slept the dreamthief performed her easy
magic and took away just a few of the half-forgotten memories
which had spoiled his nights in the past and might spoil those yet
to come.
And when Elric awoke that next morning, it was with a light heart
and an easy conscience, only the faintest memories of his
adventures in the Dream Realm, a continuing affection for Oone and
a determination to reach Quarzhasaat as soon as possible and take
to Lord Gho what Lord Gho most desired in all the world.
His farewells to the people of the Bauradim were sincere and his
sadness in parting was reciprocated. They begged him to return, to
join them on their travels, to hunt with them as Rackhir, his
Mend, had once hunted.
"I will try to return to you one day," he said. "But first I have
more than one oath to fulfill."
A nervous boy brought him his great black battle-blade. As he
buckled on Stormbringer the sword seemed to moan with considerable
satisfaction at being reunited with him.
It was Varadia, clasping his hands and kissing them, who gave him
the blessing of her clan. It was Raik Na Seem who told him that he
was now Varadia's brother, his own son, and then Oone the
Dreamthief stepped forward. She had decided to remain a while as a
guest of the Bauradim.
"Farewell, Elric. I hope that we may meet again. In better
circumstances."
He was amused. "Better circumstances?"
"For me, at any rate." She grinned, contemptuously tapping the
pommel of his runesword. "And I wish you well with your attempts
to become that thing's master."


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"I am its master now, I think," he said.
She shrugged. "I'll ride with you a little way up the Red Road."
"I would welcome your company, my lady."
Side by side, as they had done in the Dream Realm, Elric and Gone
rode together. And, although he did not remember how he had felt
before, Elric knew a certain resonance of recognition, as if he
had found his soul's satisfaction, so that it was with sadness
that eventually he parted from her to go on alone towards
Quarzhasaat.
"Farewell, good friend. I'll remember how you defeated the Pearl
Warrior in the Fortress of the Pearl. That is one memory I do not
think will ever fade."
"I am flattered." There was a touch of melancholy irony in her
voice. "Farewell, Prince Elric. I trust you will find all that you
need and that you will know peace when you return to Melniboné."
"It is my firm intention, madam." A wave to her, not wishing to
prolong the sadness, and he spurred his horse forward.
With eyes which refused to weep she watched him ride away up the
long Red Road to Quarzhasaat.

4
Certain Matters
Resolved in Quarzhasaat

When Elric of Melniboné rode into Quarzhasaat he was limp in his
saddle, hardly controlling his horse at all, and the people who
gathered around him asked him if he was ill, while some feared
that he brought plague to their beautiful city and would have
driven him out at once.
The albino lifted his strange head long enough to gasp out the
name of his patron, Lord Gho Fhaazi, and to say that all he lacked
was a certain elixir which that nobleman possessed. "I must have
that elixir," he told them, "or I will be dead before I have
accomplished my task..."
The old towers and minarets of Quarzhasaat were lovely in the
fading rays of a huge red sun and there was a certain peace about
the city which comes when the day's business is done and before it
begins to take its pleasures.
A rich water-merchant, anxious to find favour with one who might
soon be elected to the Council, personally led Elric's horse


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through the elegant alleys and impressive avenues until they came
to the great palace, all golds and faded greens, of Lord Gho
Fhaazi.
The merchant was rewarded by a steward's promise to mention his
name to the nobleman, and Elric, now mumbling and whimpering to
himself, sometimes groaning a little and licking anxious lips,
passed through into the lovely gardens surrounding the main
palace.
Lord Gho himself came to meet the albino. He was laughing heartily
at the sight of Elric hi such poor condition.
"Greetings, greetings, Elric of Nadsokor! Greetings, white-faced
clown-thief. Oh, you are not so proud today! You were profligate
with the elixir I gave you and now you return to beg for more-in
worse condition than when you first arrived here!"
"The boy..." whispered Elric, as servants helped him from the
horse. His arms hung limply as they carried him on their
shoulders. "Does he live?"
"In better health than yourself, sir!" Lord Gho Fhaazi's pale
green eyes were full of exquisite malice. "And in perfect safety.
You were most adamant about that before you set off. And I am a
man of my word." The politician stroked the ringlets of his oily
beard and chuckled to himself. "And you, Sir Thief, do you also
keep your word?"
"To the letter," muttered the albino. His red eyes rolled back hi
his head and it appeared for a second that he died. Then he turned
a painful gaze in Lord Gho's direction. "Will you give me the
antidote and all that you've promised? The water? The wealth? The
boy?"
"No doubt, no doubt. But you have a poor bargaining position at
present, thief. What of the Pearl? Did you find it? Or are you
here to report failure?"
"I found it. And I have it hidden," said Elric. "The elixir
has..."
"Yes, yes. I know what the elixir does. You must have a
fundamentally strong constitution even to be able to speak by
now." The Quarzhasaati supervised the men and women who carried
Elric into the cool ulterior of the palace and placed him on great
tasselled cushions of scarlet and blue velvet and gave him water
to drink and food to eat.
"The craving grows worse, does it not?" Lord Gho took considerable


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pleasure at Elric's discomfort. "The elixir must feed off you,
just as you appear to feed off it. You are cunning, eh, Sir Thief?
You have hidden the Pearl, you say? Do you not trust me? I am a
nobleman of the greatest city in the world!"
Elric, all dusty from his long ride, sprawled on the cushions and
wiped his hands slowly on a cloth. "The antidote, my lord..."
"You know I shall not let you have the antidote until the Pearl is
in my hands..." Lord Gho was expansively condescending as he
looked down on his victim. "To tell you the truth, thief, I had
not expected you to be as coherent as you are! Would you care for
another draft of my elixir?" "Bring it if you will."
Elric appeared to be careless, but Lord Gho understood how
desperate he must actually be. He turned to give instructions to
his slaves.
Then Elric said: "But bring the boy. Bring the boy so that I may
see he has come to no harm and hear from his own lips what has
taken place while I have been gone..."
It's a small request. Very well." Lord Gho Fhaazi signed to a
slave. "Bring the boy Anigh."
The nobleman crossed to a great chair, placed on a small dais
between brocaded awnings, and slumped himself down in it while
they waited. "I had scarcely expected you to survive the journey,
Sir Thief, let alone succeed in finding the Pearl. Our Sorcerer
Adventurers are the bravest, most skillful of warriors, trained in
all the arts of sorcery and incantation. Yet those I sent, and all
their brothers, failed! Oh, this is a happy day for me. I will
revive you, I promise, so that you can tell me all that happened.
What of the Bauradim? Did you kill many? You will recount
everything so that when I present the Pearl to obtain my position
I can give the story that goes with it.
This will add to its value, you see. When I am elected, I shall be
asked to retail such a story many times, I am sure. The Council
will be so envious..." He licked his painted red lips. "Did you
have to kill that child? What was the first thing you witnessed,
for instance, when you reached the Silver Flower Oasis?"
"A funeral, as I recall..." Elric showed a little more animation.
"Aye, that was it."
Two guards brought in a wriggling boy who did not seem greatly
overjoyed when he saw Elric stretched upon the cushions. "Oh,
master! You are more wretched than before." He stopped his


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struggling and tried to hide his disappointment. There were no
marks of torture on him. He seemed not to have been harmed.
"Are you well, Anigh?"
"Aye. My chief problem has been in passing the time. Occasionally
his lordship there has come to tell me what he will do if you fail
to bring back the Pearl, but I have read such things on the walls
of the lunatic stockades and they are nothing new to me."
Lord Oho scowled. "Be careful, boy..."
"You must have returned with the Pearl," said Anigh, glancing
around him. "That is so, eh, my lord? Or you would not be here?"
He was a little more relieved. "Are we to go now?"
"Not yet!" growled Lord Oho.
"The antidote," said Elric. "Do you have it here?"
"You are too impatient, Sir Thief. And your cunning is matched by
mine." Lord Gho giggled and raised an admonishing finger. "I must
have some proof that you possess the Pearl. Would you give me your
sword as surety, perhaps? You are, after all, too weak to wield
it. It is of no further use to you." He reached a greedy hand
towards the albino's hip and Elric made a feeble movement away
from him.
"Come, come, Sir Thief. Be not afraid of me. We are partners in
this. Where is the Pearl? The Council congregates this evening at
the Great Meeting House. If I can bring them the Pearl then... Oh,
I shall be powerful by tonight!"
"The worm is so proud to be king of the dunghill," said Elric.
"Do not anger him, master!" cried Anigh in alarm. "You have still
to learn where he hides the antidote!"
"I must have the Pearl!" Lord Gho grew petulant in his impatience.
"Where have you hidden it, thief? In the desert? Somewhere in the
city?"
Slowly Elric raised his body on the cushions. "The Pearl was a
dream," he said. "It took your killers to make it real."
Lord Gho Fhaazi frowned, scratching at his whitened forehead and
showing further nervousness. He looked suspiciously at Elric. "If
you would have more elixir, you had best not insult me, thief. Nor
play any game. The boy could die in an instant, and you with him,
and I would be in no worse a position."
"But you would better yourself, my lord, I think. With the price
of a place on the Council, I think." Elric seemed to gather
strength and now he was upright on the luxurious velvet, signing


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for the boy to come towards him. The guards looked questioningly
at their master, but he shrugged. Anigh walked, his brow furrowed
with curiosity, towards the albino. "You are greedy, my lord, I
think. You would own the whole of your world. This pathetic
monument to your race's ruined pride!"
Lord Gho glared at him. "Thief, if you would recover yourself, if
you would take the antidote to make you free of the drug I gave
you, you will be more polite to me..."
"Ah, yes," said Elric thoughtfully, reaching into his jerkin. He
pulled out a leather pouch. "The elixir which was to make me your
slave!" He smiled. He opened the pouch.
Onto his extended palm now rolled the jewel for which Gho Fhaazi
had offered half his fortune, for which he had sent a hundred men
to their deaths, for which he had been prepared to abduct and kill
one child and imprison another.
The Quarzhasaati began to tremble. His painted eyes rounded. He
gasped and bent forward, almost fainting.
"It is true," he said. "You have found the Pearl at the Heart of
the World..."
"Merely a gift from a friend," said Elric. The Pearl still
displayed on his hand, he rose to his feet and put a protective
arm around the boy. "In obtaining it I found that my body lost its
demand for the elixir and therefore has no need for your antidote,
Lord Gho."
Lord Gho hardly heard him. His eyes were fixed on the great Pearl.
"It is monstrous big... Even larger than I had heard... It is
real. I can see it is real. The colour... Ah..." And he stretched
towards it.
Elric drew his hand back. Lord Gho frowned and looked up at the
albino with eyes that were hot with greed. "Did she die? Was it,
as some said, in her body?"
Anigh shivered at Elric's side.
Full of loathing, Elric's voice was still soft. "No one died at my
hand who was not already dead. As you are already dead, my lord.
It was your funeral I witnessed at the Silver Flower Oasis. I am
now the agent of the Bauradim prophecy. I am to avenge all the
grief you brought to them and their Holy Girl."
"What? The others all sent their soldiers, too! The entire Council
and half the candidates had sects of Sorcerer Adventurers seeking
the Pearl. Every one. Most of those warriors failed or were


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killed. Or were executed for their failure. You killed no one, you
said. Well, so there's no blood on your hands, eh. All's for the
best. I'll give you what I promised, Sir Thief..."
Trembling with lust, Lord Gho extended his plump hand to take the
Pearl.
Elric smiled and to Anigh's astonishment let the nobleman lift the
Pearl from his palm.
Breathing heavily, Lord Gho caressed his prize. "Oh, it is lovely.
Oh, it is so good..."
Elric spoke again, just as levelly as before. "And our reward,
Lord Gho?"
"What?" He looked up absently. "Why yes, of course. Your lives.
You no longer need the antidote, you say. Excellent. So you may
go."
"I believe you also offered me a large fortune. All manner of
wealth. Great stature amongst the lords of Quarzhasaat?"
Lord Gho dismissed this. "Nonsense. The antidote would have
sufficed. You are not the type of person to enjoy such things.
Breeding is required if they are to be used wisely and with
appropriate discretion. No, no. I will let you and the boy go..."
"You will not keep your original bargain, my lord?"
"There was talk-but no bargain. The only bargain involved the
boy's freedom and the antidote to the elixir. You were mistaken."
"You remember nothing of your promises...?"
"Promises? Certainly not." The ringletted beard and hair quivered.
"...and mine?"
"No, no. You are irritating me." His eyes were still upon the
Pearl. He fondled it as another might fondle a beloved child. "Go,
sir. While I am still pleased with you."
"I have many oaths to fulfill," said Elric, "and I do not break my
word."
Lord Gho looked up, his expression hardening. "Very well. I am
tired of this. By this evening I shall be a member of the Six and
One Other. By threatening me, you threaten the Council. You are
therefore enemies of Quarzhasaat. You are traitors to the Empire
and must be disposed of accordingly! Guards!"
"Oh, you are a foolish fellow," said Elric. Then Anigh cried out,
for unlike Lord Gho, he had not forgotten the power of the Black
Sword.
"Do as he demands, Lord Gho!" shouted Anigh, fearing as much for


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himself as for the nobleman. "I beg you, great lord! Do what he
says!"
"This is not how a member of the Council is addressed." Lord Gho's
tone was that of a baffled, reasonable individual. "Guards-take
them from my hall at once. Have them strangled or cut their
throats-I care not..."
The guards knew nothing of the runesword. They saw only a slender
man who might have been a leper and they saw a young, defenceless
boy. They grinned, as if at a joke of their master's, and then
drew their blades, advancing almost casually.
Elric pressed Anigh behind him. His hand went to Stormbringer's
hilt. "You are unwise to do this," he told the guards. "I have no
particular wish to kill you."
Behind the soldiers one of the servants opened the door and
slipped out into the corridor. Elric watched her go. "Best copy
her," he said. "She has some idea, I think, of what will happen if
you threaten us further..."
The guards laughed openly now. "This is a madman," said one. "Lord
Gho is well rid of him!"
They came at Elric in a rush and then the runesword was howling in
the cool air of that luxurious chamber-howling like a hungry wolf
freed from a cage and longing only to kill and to feed.
Elric felt the power surge through him as the blade took the first
guard, splitting him from crown to breastbone. The other tried to
change direction from attack to flight, stumbled forward and was
impaled on the blade's tip, his eyes horrified as he felt his soul
being drawn from him into the runesword.
Lord Gho cringed in his great chair, too frightened to move. In
one hand he clutched the great Pearl. His other hand was held palm
outward as if he hoped to ward off Elric's blow.
But the albino, strengthened by his borrowed energy, sheathed the
black blade and took five quick strides across the hall to mount
the dais and stare down into Lord Gho's face, which twisted in
terror.
'Take the Pearl back. For my life..." whispered the Quarzhasaati.
"For my life, thief..."
Elric accepted the offered jewel, but he did not move. He reached
into the pouch at his belt and drew forth a flask of the elixir
Lord Gho had given him. "Would you care for something to help you
wash it down?"


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Lord Gho trembled. Beneath the chalky substance on his skin his
face had gone still paler. "I do not understand you, thief."
"I want you to eat the Pearl, my lord. If you can swallow it and
live, well, it will be clear that the prophecy of your death was
premature."
"Swallow it? It is too large. I could hardly get it into my
mouth!" Lord Gho sniggered, hoping that the albino joked.
"No, my lord. I think you can. And I think you can swallow it.
After all, how else would it have got into the body of a child?"
"It was-they said it was a-a dream..."
"Aye. Perhaps you can swallow a dream. Perhaps you can enter the
Dream Realm and so escape your fate. You must try, my lord, or
else my runesword drinks your soul. Which would you prefer?"
"Oh, Elric. Spare me. This is not fair. We made a bargain."
"Open your mouth, Lord Gho. Who knows? The Pearl might shrink or
your throat expand like a snake's. A snake could easily swallow
the Pearl, my lord. And you, surely, are superior to a snake?"
Anigh whispered from the window where he had been staring with
studied gaze, unwilling to look upon a vengeance he regarded as
just but distasteful. "The servant, Lord Elric. She has alarmed
the city."
For a second a desperate hope came into Lord Gho's green eyes and
then faded as Elric placed the flask on the arm of the great chair
and drew the runesword part-way from its scabbard. "Your soul will
help me fight those new soldiers, Lord Oho."
Slowly, weeping and whimpering, the great Lord of Quarzhasaat
began to open his mouth.
"Here is the Pearl again, my lord. Put it in. Do your best, my
lord. You have some chance of life this way."
Lord Gho's hand shook. But eventually he began to force the lovely
jewel between his reddened lips. Elric took the stopper from the
elixir and poured some of the liquid into the nobleman's distorted
cheeks. "Now swallow, Lord Gho. Swallow the Pearl you would have
slain a child to own. And then I will tell you who I am..."
A few moments later the doors crashed inward and Elric recognised
the tattooed face of Manag Iss, leader of the Yellow Sect and
kinsman to the Lady Iss. Manag Iss looked from Elric to the
distorted features of Lord Gho. The nobleman had failed completely
to swallow the Pearl.
Manag Iss shuddered. "Elric. I heard that you had returned. They


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said you were close to death. Clearly this was a trick to deceive
Lord Gho."
"Aye," said Elric. "I had this boy to free."
Manag Iss gestured with his own drawn sword. "You found the
Pearl?"
"I found it."
"My Lady Iss sent me to offer you anything you desired for it."
Elric smiled. "Tell her I shall be at the Council Meeting House in
half an hour. I shall bring the Pearl with me."
"But the others will be there. She wishes to trade privately."
"Would it not be wise to auction so valuable a thing?" said Elric.
Manag Iss sheathed his sword and smiled a little. "You're a
cunning one. I do not think they know how cunning you are. Nor who
you are. I have yet to tell them that particular speculation."
"Oh, you may tell them what I have just told Lord Gho. That I am
the hereditary Emperor of Melniboné," said Elric casually. "For
that is the truth of the matter. My Empire has survived rather
more successfully than yours, I think."
"That could incense them. I am willing to be your friend,
Melnibonéan."
"Thanks, Manag Iss, but I need no more friends from Quarzhasaat.
Please do as I say."
Manag Iss looked at the slaughtered guards, at the dead Lord Gho,
who had turned a strange colour, at the nervous boy, and he
saluted Elric.
"The Meeting House in half an hour, Emperor of Melniboné." He
turned on his heel and left the chamber.
After issuing certain specific instructions to Anigh concerning
travel and the products of Kwan, Elric went out into the
courtyard. The sun had set and there were brands burning all over
Quarzhasaat as if the city were expecting an attack.
Lord Gho's house was deserted of servants. Elric went to the
stables and found his horse and his saddle. He dressed the Baraudi
stallion, carefully placing a heavy bundle over the pommel, then
he had mounted and was riding through the streets, seeking the
Meeting House where Anigh had told him it would be.
The city was unnaturally silent. Clearly some order had been given
to uphold a curfew, for there was not even a city guard on the
streets.
Elric rode at an easy canter along the wide Avenue of Military


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Success, along the Boulevard of Ancient Accomplishment and half a
dozen other grandiosely named thoroughfares until he saw the long
low building ahead of him which, in its simplicity, could only be
the seat of Quarzhasaati power.
The albino paused. At his side the black runesword crooned a
little, almost demanding a further letting of blood.
"You must be patient," said Elric. "Could be there will be no need
for battle."
He thought he saw shadows moving hi the trees and shrubberies
around the Meeting House but he paid them no attention. He did not
care what they plotted or who spied on him. He had a mission to
fulfill.
At last he had reached the doors of the building and was not
surprised to find them standing open. He dismounted, threw the
bundle over his shoulder and walked heavily into a large, plain
room, without decoration or ostentation, hi which were placed
seven tall-backed chairs and a lime-washed oak table. Standing in
a semi-circle at one end of the table were six robed figures
wearing veils not unlike certain sects of the Sorcerer
Adventurers. The seventh figure wore a tall, conical hat which
completely covered the face. It was this figure who spoke. Elric
was not unsurprised to hear a woman's tones.
"I am the Other," she said. "I believe you have brought us a
treasure to add to the glory of Quarzhasaat."
"If you believe this treasure to add to your glory, then my
journey has not been fruitless," said Elric. He dropped the bundle
to the ground. "Did Manag Iss tell you all I asked him to tell
you?"
One of the Councillors stirred and said, almost as an oath: "That
you are the progeny of sunken Melniboné, aye!"
"Melniboné is not sunken. Nor does she cut herself off from the
world's realities quite as much as do you." Elric was
contemptuous. "You challenged our power long ago, and defeated
yourselves by your own folly. Now through your greed you have
brought me back to Quarzhasaat when I would as readily have passed
through your city unnoticed."
"Do you accuse us!" A veiled woman was outraged. "You who have
caused us so much trouble? You, who are of the blood of that
degenerate unhuman race which couples with beasts for its
pleasures and produces"-she pointed at Elric-"the like of you!"


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Elric was unmoved. "Did Manag Iss tell you to be wary of me?" he
asked quietly.
"He said you had the Pearl and that you had a sorcerous sword. But
he also said you were alone." The Other cleared her throat. "He
said you brought the Pearl at the Heart of the World."
"I have brought it and that which contains it," said Elric. He
bent down and tugged the velvet free of his bundle to reveal the
corpse of Lord Gho Fhaazi, his face still contorted, the great
lump in his throat making it seem as if he had an enormously
enlarged Adam's apple. "Here is the one who first commissioned me
to find the Pearl."
"We heard you had murdered him," said the Other with disapproval.
"But that would be a normal enough action for a Melnibonéan."
Elric did not rise to this. "The Pearl is in Lord Gho Fhaazi's
gullet. Would you have me cut it out for you, my nobles?"
He saw at least one of them shudder and he smiled. "You commission
assassins to kill, to torture, to kidnap and to perform all other
forms of evil in your name, but you would not see a little spilled
blood? I gave Lord Gho a choice. He took this one. He talked so
much and ate and drank so copiously I thought he might well have
succeeded in getting the Pearl into his stomach. But he gagged a
little and I fear that was the end of him."
"You are a cruel rogue!" One of the men came forward to look at
his would-be colleague. "Aye, that's Gho. His colour has improved,
I'd say."
This jest did not meet with the leader's approval.
"We are to bid for a corpse, then?"
"Unless you wish to cut the Pearl free, aye."
"Manag Iss," said one of the veiled women, lifting her head. "Step
out, will you, sir?"
The Sorcerer Adventurer emerged from a door at the back of the
hall. He looked at Elric almost apologetically. His hand went to
his knife.
"We would not have a Melnibonéan spill more Quarzhasaati blood,"
said the Other. "Manag Iss will cut the Pearl free."
The leader of the Yellow Sect drew a deep breath and then
approached the corpse. Swiftly he did what he had been ordered to
do. Blood poured down his arm as he held up the Pearl at the Heart
of the World.
The Council was impressed. Several of the members gasped and they


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murmured amongst themselves. Elric believed they had suspected him
of lying to them, since lies and intrigues were second nature to
them.
"Hold it high, Manag Iss," said the albino. "It is this that you
all desired so greedily that you were prepared to pay for it with
what was left of your honour."
"Be careful, sir!" cried the Other. "We are patient with you now.
Name your price and then begone."
Elric laughed. It was not pleasant laughter. It was Melnibonéan
laughter. At that moment he was a pure denizen of the Dragon Isle.
"Very well," he said, "I desire this city. Not its citizens, not
any of its treasure, nor its animals, not even its water. I would
let you leave with everything you can carry. I desire only the
city itself. It is, you see, mine by hereditary right."
"What? This is nonsense. How could we agree?" *
"You must agree," said Elric, "or you must fight me."
"Fight you? There is only one of you."
"There is no question of it," said another Councillor. "He is mad.
He must be put down like a crazed dog. Manag Iss, call in your
brothers and their men."
"I do not believe it is advisable, cousin," said Manag Iss,
clearly addressing Lady Iss. "I think it would be wise to parley."
"What? Have you turned coward? Has this rogue an army with   :
hun?"
Manag Iss rubbed at his nose. "My lady..."
"Call in your brothers, Manag Iss!"
The captain of the Yellow Sect rubbed at one silk-clad arm and he
frowned. "Prince Elric, I understand that you force us to a
challenge. But we have not threatened you. The Council honestly
came here to bid for the Pearl..."
"Manag Iss, you repeat their lies," said Elric, "and that is not
an honourable thing to do. If they meant me no harm, why were you
and all your brothers standing by? I saw almost two hundred
warriors in the grounds."
"That was a precaution only," said the Other. She turned to her
fellow Councillors. "I told you I thought it was stupid to summon
so many so soon."
Elric said evenly: "Everything you have done, my nobles, has been
stupid. You have been cruel, greedy, careless of others' lives and
wills. You have been blind, thoughtless, provincial and


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unimaginative. It seems to me that a government so careless of
anything but its own gratification should be at very least
replaced. When you have all left the city I will consider electing
a governor who will know better how to serve Quarzhasaat. Then,
later perhaps, I will let you back into the city..."
"Oh, slay him!" cried the Other. "Waste no more time on this. When
that's done we can decide amongst ourselves who owns the Pearl"
Elric sighed almost regretfully and said: "Best parley with me
now, madam, before I myself lose patience. I shall not, once I
have drawn my blade, be a rational and merciful being..."
"Slay him!" she insisted. "And have done with it!"
Manag Iss had the face of a man condemned to more than death.
"Madam..."
She strode forward, her conical hat swaying, and tugged the sword
from the scabbard. She raised the blade to behead the albino.
He reached out swiftly. His arm was a striking snake. He gripped
her wrist. "No, madam! I am, I swear, giving you fair warning..."
Stormbringer murmured at his side and stirred.
She dropped the sword and turned away, nursing her bruised wrist.
Now Manag Iss reached for his fallen blade, making as if to sheath
it, and then, with a subtle movement, tried to bring the weapon up
and take Elric in the groin, an expression of resignation crossing
his terrified features as the albino, anticipating him,
sidestepped and in the same action drew the Black Sword, which
began to sing its strange demonic song and glow with a terrible
black radiance.
Manag Iss gasped as his heart was pierced. The hand that still
held the Pearl seemed to stretch out, offering it back to Elric.
Then the jewel had rolled from his fingers and rattled on the
floor. Three Councillors rushed forward, saw Manag Iss's dying
eyes and stepped backward.
"Now! Now! Now!" cried the Other, and, as Elric had expected, from
every cranny of the Meeting House, members of the various sects of
Sorcerer Adventurers came, their weapons at the ready.
And the albino began to grin his horrible battle-grin, and his red
eyes blazed and his face was the skull of Death and his sword was
the vengeance of his own people, the vengeance of the Bauradim and
all those who had suffered under the injustice of Quarzhasaat over
the millennia.
And he offered up the souls he took to his patron Duke of Hell,


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the powerful Duke Arioch who had grown sleek on many lives
dedicated to him by Elric and his black blade.
"Arioch! Arioch! Blood and souls for my lord Arioch!"
Then the true slaughter began.
It was a slaughter to make all other such events pale into
insignificance. It was a slaughter that would never be forgotten
in all the annals of the desert peoples, who would learn of it
from those who fled Quarzhasaat that night-flinging themselves
into the waterless desert rather than face the white laughing
demon on a Bauradi horse who galloped up and down their lovely
streets and taught them what the price of complacency and
unthinking cruelty could be.
"Arioch! Ariochl Blood and souls!"
They would speak of a white-faced creature from Hell whose sword
poured with unnatural radiance, whose crimson eyes blazed with
hideous rage, who seemed possessed, himself, of some supernatural
force, who was no more master of it than were his victims. He
killed without mercy, without distinction, without cruelty. He
killed as a mad wolf kills. And as he killed, he laughed.
That laughter would never leave Quarzhasaat. It would remain on
the wind which came in from the Sighing Desert, in the music of
the fountains, the clang of the metal-workers' and jewellers'
hammers as they fashioned their wares. And so would the smell of
blood remain, together with the memory of slaughter, that terrible
loss of life which left the city without a Council and an army.
But never again would Quarzhasaat foster the legend of her own
power. Never again would she treat the desert nomads as less than
beasts. Never again would she know that self-destructive pride so
familiar to all great empires in decline.
And when the slaughter was finished, Elric of Melniboné slumped in
his saddle, sheathing a sated Stormbringer, and he gasped with the
demon power which still pulsed through him and he took a great
Pearl from his belt and held it to the rising sun.
"They have paid a fair price now, I think."
He tossed the thing into a gutter where a little dog licked
congealing blood.
Above, the vultures, called from a thousand miles around by the
prospect of memorable feasting, were beginning to drop like a dark
cloud upon the beautiful towers and gardens of Quarzhasaat.
Elric's face held no pride in his achievement as he spurred his


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horse for the West and the place on the road where he had told
Anigh to await them with enough Kwani herbs, water, horses and
food to cross the Sighing Desert and seek again the more familiar
politics and sorceries of the Young Kingdoms.
He did not look back on the city which, in the name of his
ancestors, had been conquered at last.

5
An Epilogue at the Waning of the Blood Moon

The celebrations at the Silver Flower Oasis had continued long
after the news came of Elite's vengeance-taking on those who would
have harmed the Holy Girl of the Bauradim. The news was brought by
Quarzhasaatim, fleeing from the city in an action which had no
precedent in all their long history.
Oone the Dreamthief, who had stayed at the Silver Flower Oasis
longer than was necessary and who was yet reluctant to leave and
go about her proper business, learned of Elric's vengeance without
joy. The news saddened her, for she had hoped for something else
to happen.
"He serves Chaos as I serve Law," she said to herself. "And who is
to say which of us is the worse enslaved?" But she sighed and
threw herself into the festivities with a force which was less
than spontaneous.
The Bauradim and the other nomad clans did not notice, for their
own pleasure was intensified. They were rid of a tyrant, of the
only thing in the desert lands that they had ever feared.
"The cactus tears our flesh so that we shall be shown where water
is," said Raik Na Seem. "Our troubles were great, but thanks to
you, Oone, and Elric of Melniboné, our troubles turned to
triumphs. Soon some of us will visit Quarzhasaat and set out the
terms on which we intend to trade in future. There will be a
welcome equality about the transaction, I think." He was greatly
amused. "But we will wait until the dead are decently eaten."
Varadia took Oone's hand and they walked together beside the pools
of the great oasis. The Blood Moon was waning and the silver
petals of the flowers were shining brighter still. Soon the Blood
Moon must wane and the flowers shed their petals and then it would
be time for the people of the desert to go their different ways.
"You loved that white-faced man, did you not?" Varadia asked her


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friend.
"I hardly knew him, child."
"I knew you both very well, not so long ago." Varadia smiled. "And
I am growing rapidly, am I not? You said as much yourself."
Oone was forced to agree. "But there was no hope for it, Varadia.
We have such different destinies. And I have scant sympathy for
the choices he makes."
"He is driven, that one. He has little in the way of ordinary
volition." She pushed a strand of honey-coloured hair away from
her dark features.
"Perhaps," said Oone. "Yet some of us can refuse the destiny that
the Lords of Law and Chaos set out for us and still survive, still
create something which the gods are forbidden to touch."
Varadia was sympathetic. "What we create remains a mystery," she
said. "It is still hard for me to understand how I made that
Pearl, creating the very thing my enemies sought in order to
escape them. And then it became real!"
"I have known this to happen," said Oone. "It is those creations
that a dreamthief seeks and earns a living from." She laughed.
"That Pearl would bring me a good wage for a long time if I took
it to market."
"How is it that reality is formed from dreams, Oone?"
Oone paused and looked down into the water which reflected the
faint pink disc of the moon. "An oyster, threatened by intrusion
from without, seeks to isolate that threat by forming the thing
around it that eventually becomes a pearl. Sometimes that is how
it happens. At other times the will of humanity is so strong, the
desire for something so intense, that they will bring into
existence that which was thought until then to be impossible. It
is not unusual, Varadia, for a dream to be made reality. This
knowledge is one of the reasons why my respect for humanity is
maintained, in spite of all the cruelties and injustices I witness
in my travels."
"I think I understand," said the Holy Girl.
"Oh, you will understand all this very well in time," Oone assured
her. "For you are one of those capable of such creation."
A few days later Oone was ready to ride away from the Silver
Flower Oasis, towards Elwher and the Unmapped East. Varadia spoke
with her for the last time.
"I know you have a further secret," she said to the dreamthief.


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"Will you not share it with me?"
Oone was astonished. Her regard for the girl's sensitive
intelligence increased. "Do you want to talk more about the nature
of dreams and reality?"
"I think you carry a child, Oone," said Varadia directly. "Is that
not so?"
Oone folded her arms and leaned against her horse. She shook her
head in frank good humour. "It is true that all the wisdom of your
people is accumulated in you, young woman."
"The child of one you have loved and who is lost to you?"
"Aye," said Oone. "A daughter, I think. Maybe even a brother and a
sister, if the omens are properly interpreted. More than pearls
can be conceived in dreams, Varadia."
"And will the father ever know his offspring?" gently asked the
Holy Girl.
Oone tried to speak and discovered that she could not. She looked
away quickly towards distant Quarzhasaat. Then, after a few
moments, she was able to force herself to answer.
"Never," she said.




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