Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [38]
“There are, indeed, many ruins in these parts. Farms, small villages, whole towns, which the desert sometimes reveals, all engulfed by the sand summoned by the foolish wizards of Quarzhasaat. Many built here, even after the sands came, in the belief that they would disperse after a while. Forlorn dreams, I fear, like so many of the things built by men.”
Raik Na Seem continued to lead them across the desert, though he used no map or compass. Apparently he knew the way by habit and instinct alone.
They stopped once at a spot where a tiny growth of cacti had been all but covered by the sand and here Raik Na Seem took his long knife and sliced the plants close to their roots, peeling them swiftly and handing the juicy parts to his friends. “There was once a river here,” he said, “and a memory of it remains, far below the surface. The cactus remembers.”
The sun had reached the zenith. Elric began to feel the heat sapping him and was forced again to drink a little of the elixir, merely in order to keep pace with the other two. And it was not until evening, when the Ragged Pillars were considerably closer, that Raik pointed to something which flashed and glittered in the last rays of the sun. “There is the Bronze Tent, where the peoples of the desert go when they must meditate.”
“It is your temple?” said Elric.
“It is the nearest thing we have to a temple. And there we debate with our inner selves. It is also the nearest thing we have to the religions of the West. And it is there we keep our Holy Girl, the symbol of all our ideals, the vessel of our race’s wisdom.”
Alnac was surprised. “You keep her there always?”
Raik Na Seem shook his head, almost amused. “Only while she sleeps in this unnatural slumber, my friend. As you know, before this she was a normal little child, a joy to all who met her. Perhaps with your help she will be that child again.”
Alnac’s brow clouded. “You must not expect too much of me, Raik Na Seem. I am an inexpert dreamthief at best. There are those with whom I learned my craft who would tell you so.”
“But you are our dreamthief.” Raik Na Seem smiled sadly and put his hand on Alnac Kreb’s shoulder. “And our good friend.”
The sun had set by the time they approached the great tent, which resembled those Elric had seen at the Silver Flower Oasis but was several times the size, its walls of pure bronze.
Now the moon made its appearance in the sky almost directly overhead. It seemed that the sun’s rays reached for it even as they began to sink beneath the horizon, touching it with their colour, for it glowed with a richness Elric had never seen in Melniboné or the lands of the Young Kingdoms. He gasped in surprise, realizing the specific nature of the prophecy.
A Blood Moon had risen over the Bronze Tent. Here he would find the path to the Fortress of the Pearl.
Though it meant that his own life might now be saved, the Prince of Melniboné discovered that he was only disturbed by this revelation.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Dreamthief’s Pledge
“Here is our treasure,” said Raik Na Seem. “Here is what greedy Quarzhasaat would steal from us.” And there was sorrow as well as anger in his voice.
At the very centre of the Bronze Tent’s cool interior, in which tiny lamps burned over hundreds of heaped cushions and carpets occupied by men and women in attitudes of deep contemplation, was a raised level and on this a bed carved with intricate designs of exquisite delicacy, set with mother-of-pearl and pale turquoise, with milky jade and silver filigree and blond gold. Upon this, her little hands folded on her chest, which rose and fell with profound regularity, lay a young girl of about thirteen years. She had the strong beauty of her people and her hair was the colour of honey against her tawny skin. She might have been sleeping as naturally as any child of her