Duke Elric - Michael Moorcock [55]
“Enough of that,” Elric said bitterly. “Let's talk of this expedition. Where is the map?”
“You will accompany me?”
“Show me the map.”
Duke Avan drew a scroll from his pouch. “Here it is.”
“Where did you find it?”
“On Melnibone.”
“You have been there recently?” Elric felt anger rise in him.
Duke Avan raised a hand. “I went there with a group of traders and I gave much for a particular casket which had been sealed, it seemed, for an eternity. Within that casket was this map.” He spread out the scroll on the table. Elric recognized the style and the script—the old High Speech of Melnibone. It was a map of part of the Western Continent—more than he had ever seen on any other map. It showed a great river winding into the interior for a hundred miles or more. The river appeared to flow through a jungle and then divide into two rivers which later rejoined. The “island” of land thus formed had a black circle marked on it. Against this circle, in the involved writing of ancient Melnibone, was the name R'lin K'ren A'a. Elric inspected the scroll carefully. It did not seem to be a forgery.
“Is this all you found?” he asked.
“The scroll was sealed and this was embedded in the seal,” Duke Avan said, handing something to Elric.
Elric held the object in his palm. It was a tiny ruby of a red so deep as to seem black at first, but when he turned it into the light he saw an image at the centre of the ruby and he recognized that image. He frowned, then he said, “I will agree to your proposal, Duke Avan. Will you let me keep this?”
“Do you know what it is?”
“No. But I should like to find out. There is a memory somewhere in my head …”
“Very well, take it. I will keep the map.”
“When did you have it in mind to set off?”
Duke Avan's smile was sardonic. “We are already sailing around the southern coast to the Boiling Sea.”
“There are few who have returned from that ocean,” Elric murmured bitterly. He glanced across the table and saw that Smiorgan was imploring with his eyes for Elric not to have any part of Duke Avan's scheme. Elric smiled at his friend. “The adventure is to my taste.”
Miserably, Smiorgan shrugged. “It seems it will be a little longer before I return to the Purple Towns.”
CHAPTER TWO
The coast of Lormyr had disappeared in warm mist and Duke Avan Astran's schooner dipped its graceful prow towards the West and the Boiling Sea.
The Vilmirian crew of the schooner were used to a less demanding climate and more casual work than this and they went about their tasks, it seemed to Elric, with something of an aggrieved air.
Standing beside Elric on the ship's poop deck, Count Smiorgan Baldhead wiped sweat from his pate and growled: “Vilmirians are à lazy lot, Prince Elric. Duke Avan needs real sailors for a voyage of this kind. I could have picked him a crew, given the chance …”
Elric smiled. “Neither of us was given the chance, Count Smiorgan. It was a. fait accompli. He's a clever man, Duke Astran.”
“It is not a cleverness I entirely respect, for he offered us no real choice. A free man is a better companion than a slave, says the old aphorism.”
“Why did you not disembark when you had the chance, then, Count Smiorgan?”
“Because of the promise of treasure,” said the black-bearded man frankly. “I would return with honour to the Purple Towns. Forget you not that I commanded the fleet that was lost…”
Elric understood.
“My motives are straightforward,” said Smiorgan. “Yours are much more complicated. You seem to desire danger as other men desire love-making or drinking—as if in danger you find forgetful-ness.”
“Is that not true of many professional soldiers?”
“You are not a mere professional