Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [18]
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 to 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 you both die at once!” Evidently he did not understand the can’t 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 were his mind or his body which felt the pangs. He realized 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 cruelest 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 fitting 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, whom 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 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 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