Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [14]
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, travelers 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 grain 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 kind are welcomed in Nadsokor. It takes 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 Fhaazi did not recognize 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 realized that so thoroughly had Quarzhasaat explained away her defeat and provided herself with 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 overhead. “The 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 realized that he was here under false pretenses.
“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