Duke Elric - Michael Moorcock [122]
“Illusion though it might be, my friends,” said Commissaire Lapointe softly, “it seems to me that our world is about to embark upon a new era of peace and prosperity. Call me optimistic, if you will, but I believe our defeat of the Nazi gang achieved something lasting. Do you follow my meaning, Sir Seaton?”
Begg permitted himself a small smile. “We can only hope you are right, my dear commissioner. But you are of another opinion, I think, Taffy?”
Dr. Sinclair did his best to make light of his own thoughts. “It was that balance,” he said. “Something going on down there terrified me. And the manner of Klosterheim's death—well, I still have difficulty sleeping when I think about it.” He glanced shyly at Monsieur Zenith who leaned back, taking a long puff on his Turkish oval.
“I am sorry you were forced to witness that, Dr. Sinclair. If I had had any other choice, of course I would not have conducted matters in that way. But Klosterheim was the force behind Hitler and his men. He has lived for a very long time. Some will tell you he counseled Martin Luther. Others say he was the angel who stood with Duke Arioch at Lucifer's right hand during the great war in heaven. Having no soul, he was almost impossible to destroy. Thus only by conferring a soul upon him could I kill him. Or, at least, I hope I killed him …”
“But I think what is concerning my old friend, Sinclair,” interrupted LeBec, “is a very important question.”
“Which is?” Zenith seemed genuinely puzzled.
“Taffy and I have both wondered about it.” Begg leaned forward to address his cousin. “Our question would be—where did that soul come from? Whose did you use? You can surely see why we would be curious …”
“Aha!” Monsieur Zenith turned, laughing, to Mrs. Persson, who clearly knew the answer. She leaned down and petted her two Orientals, who lay, perfectly behaved, at her feet. “I think I will leave that explanation to you, Mrs. Persson.”
The exquisitely beautiful adventuress reached for her glass of absinthe. “It was the last soul the sword drank on another plane than this one, n'est-ce pas? It has been many years, if I am not mistaken, since you have unsheathed that particular weapon on this particular plane, eh, Monsieur Zenith?”
“Oh, many. I suppose, my friends, I will let you into a secret I have kept for rather a long time. While I have in the course of the past two thousand years sired children and indeed founded a dynasty which is familiar to anyone who knows the history of the province of Walden-stein and her capital Mirenburg, I am not truly of this world or indeed this universe. It is fair to say that I have, in the way some of you will know, been dreaming myself. I have another body, as solid as this one, which as I speak lies on a ‘dream couch’ in a city more ancient than the world it inhabits.” He paused in sympathy as he observed their expressions.
“The civilization to which I belong is neither truly human nor of this universe. Its rulers are men and women capable of manipulating the forces of nature and, if you like, super-nature to serve their own ends. People sometimes call them sorcerers. They learn all manner of arcane wisdom by making use of their dream couches, sleeping sometimes for thousands of years while experiencing other lives. Upon waking, they forget most of the dreams save for the skills they employ to rule their world. I am one of those sorcerous aristocrats. The island where I dwell is called, as far as I can pronounce it in your language, Melnibone. We are not natives of its world, either, but were driven to inhabit it during a terrible upheaval which ultimately forced us to become the cruel rulers of another planet.
“The demonic archangel Arioch, upon whom Klosterheim called to aid him, is our people's patron. Both your Bible and the poet Milton mention him. On occasions he inhabits the black blade you saw me use. On other occasions the sword contains the souls of those its wielder has killed. Some parts of those souls are transferred