Duke Elric - Michael Moorcock [53]
“Eat your fill, Prince Elric. I am honoured to have you as a guest.”
“You have saved my life, sir. I have never had it saved so courteously!”
Duke Avan smiled. “I have never before had the pleasure of, let us say, catching so courteous a fish. If I were a superstitious man, Prince Elric, I should guess that some other force threw us together in this way.”
“I prefer to think of it as coincidence,” said the albino, beginning to eat. “Now, sir, tell me how I can aid you.”
“I shall not hold you to any bargain, merely because I have been lucky enough to save your life,” said Duke Avan Astran. “Please bear that in mind.”
“I shall, sir.”
Duke Avan stroked the feathers of his helmet. “I have explored most of the world, as Count Smiorgan rightly says. I have been to your own Melnibone and I have even ventured east, to Elwher and the Unmapped East. I have been to Myyrrhn, where the Winged Folk live. I have traveled as far as World's Edge and hope one day to go beyond. But I have never crossed the Boiling Sea and I know only a small stretch of coast along the Western Continent—the continent that has no name. Have you been there, Elric, in your travels?”
The albino shook his head. “I seek experience of other cultures, other civilizations—that is why I travel. There has been nothing, so far, to take me there. The continent is inhabited only by savages, is it not?”
“So we are told.”
“You have other intelligence?”
“You know that there is some evidence,” said Duke Avan in a deliberate tone, “that your own ancestors came originally from that mainland?”
“Evidence?” Elric pretended lack of interest. “A few legends, that is all.”
“One of those legends speaks of a city older than dreaming Imrryr. A city that still exists in the deep jungles of the West.”
Elric recalled his conversation with Earl Saxif D'Aan, and he smiled to himself. “You mean R'lin K'ren Aa?”
“Aye. A strange name.” Duke Avan Astran leaned forward, his eyes alight with delighted curiosity. “You pronounce it more fluently than could I. You speak the secret tongue, the High Tongue, the Speech of Kings …”
“Of course.”
“You are forbidden to teach it to any but your own children, are you not?”
“You appear conversant with the customs of Melnibone, Duke Avan,” Elric said, his lids falling so that they half covered his eyes. He leaned back in his seat as he bit into a piece of fresh bread with relish. “Do you know what the words mean?”
“I have been told that they mean simply ‘Where the High Ones Meet’ in the ancient speech of Melnibone,” Duke Avan Astran told him.
Elric inclined his head. “That is so. Doubtless only a small town, in reality. Where local chiefs gathered, perhaps once a year, to discuss the price of grain.”
“You believe that, Prince Elric?”
Elric inspected a covered dish. He helped himself to veal in a rich, sweet sauce. “No,” he said.
“You believe, then, that there was an ancient civilization even before your own, from which your own culture sprang? You believe that R'lin K'ren A'a is still there, somewhere in the jungles of the West?”
Elric waited until he had swallowed. He shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I believe that it does not exist at all.”
“You are not curious about your ancestors?”
“Should I be?”
“They were said to be different in character from those who founded Melnibone. Gentler …” Duke Avan Astran looked deep into Elric's face.
Elric laughed. “You are an intelligent man, Duke Avan of Old Hrolmar. You are a perceptive man. Oh, and indeed you are a cunning man, sir!”
Duke Avan grinned at the compliment. “And you know much more of the legends than you are admitting, if I am not mistaken.”
“Possibly.” Elric sighed as the food warmed him. “We are known as a secretive people, we of Melnibone.”
“Yet,” said Duke Avan, “you seem untypical. Who else would desert an empire to travel in lands where his very race was hated?”
“An emperor rules better, Duke Avan Astran, if he has close knowledge of the world in which he rules.”
“Melnibone rules the Young Kingdoms no longer.”
“Her power is still great. But that,