Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [87]
He was answered by a further shower of blood and he hauled his horse towards the next door. There was a gate across it. He tried to lift it. He tried to bounce it free of its mountings. He looked to Oone who, wiping the red liquid from herself, joined him. She reached out her long fingers and found some kind of button. The gate opened slowly, almost reluctantly, but it opened. She grinned at him. “Like most men, you become a brute when you panic, my lord.”
He was hurt by her joke. “I had no idea I should find such a means of opening the gate, my lady.”
“Think of such things in future and you will stand a better chance of survival in this fortress,” she said.
“Why will they not parley with us?”
“They probably do not believe that we are ready to bargain,” she said. Then she added: “In reality, I can only guess at their logic. Each adventure of a dreamthief is different from the others, Prince Elric. Come.” She led them on past a series of pools full of warm water from which a little steam rose. There were no bathers in the pools. Then Elric thought he saw creatures, perhaps fish, swimming in the depths. He leaned forward to look, but Oone pulled him back. “I warned you. Your curiosity could bring your destruction and mine.”
Something threshed and bubbled in the pool and then was gone. All at once the rooms began to shake and the water foamed. Cracks appeared in the marble floors. Their horses snorted with fear and threatened to lose their footing. Elric himself almost toppled down into one of the fissures which had opened. It was as if an earthquake had suddenly struck the mountains. Yet as they dashed hastily for the next gallery, which opened on to a peaceful lawn, all signs of the earthquake had vanished.
A man approached them. In bearing, he resembled Queen Sough, but he was shorter and older. His white beard hung upon a surcoat of gold cloth and in his hand he held a salver on which were placed two leather bags. “Will you accept the authority of the Fortress of the Pearl?” he said. “I am the seneschal of this place.”
“Who do you serve?” Elric asked brusquely. His sword was still in his hand and he made no effort to disguise his readiness to use it.
The seneschal looked bewildered. “I serve the Pearl, of course. This is the Fortress of the Pearl!”
“Who rules here, old man?” Oone asked him pointedly.
“The Pearl. I have said so.”
“Does no-one rule the Pearl?” Elric was mystified.
“No longer, sir. Now, will you take this gold and go. We have no wish to expend more of our energies upon you. They flag, but they are not exhausted. I think you will be dissolved soon.”
“We have defeated all your defenders,” said Oone. “Why should we want gold?”
“Do you not desire the Pearl?”
Before Elric could answer, Oone silenced him with a warning gesture.
“We come only to secure the release of the Holy Girl.”
The seneschal smiled. “They have all made that claim, but what they want is the Pearl. I cannot believe you, lady.”
“How can we prove our words?”
“You cannot. We already know the truth.”
“We have no interest in bargaining with you, Sir Seneschal. If you serve the Pearl, who does the Pearl serve?”
“The child, I think.” His brow furrowed. Her question had confused him, yet to Elric it had seemed so simple. His admiration for the dreamthief’s skill increased.
“You see, we can help you in this,” said Oone. “The child’s spirit is imprisoned. And while it is imprisoned, so are you held captive.”
The old man offered the bags of gold again. “Take this and leave us.”
“I do not think we shall,” said Oone firmly and she led her horse forward, past the old man. “Come, Elric.”
The albino hesitated. “We should question him more, Oone, surely?”
“He could not answer more.”
The seneschal ran at her, swinging the heavy bags, the salver falling to the floor with a clang. “She is not! It will hurt! This is not to be. Pain will come! Pain!”
Elric felt sympathy for the old man. “Oone. We should listen to him.”
She would not pause. “Come. You must.”
He had learned to trust her judgment. He, too, pushed past the old man who beat