Elric in the Dream Realms - Michael Moorcock [96]
“Farewell, Elric. I hope that we may meet again. In better circumstances.”
He was amused. “Better circumstances?”
“For me, at any rate.” She grinned, contemptuously tapping the pommel of his runesword. “And I wish you well with your attempts to become that thing’s master.”
“I am its master now, I think,” he said.
She shrugged. “I’ll ride with you a little way up the Red Road.” “I would welcome your company, my lady.”
Side by side, as they had done in the Dream Realm, Elric and Oone rode together. And, although he did not remember how he had felt before, Elric knew a certain resonance of recognition, as if he had found his soul’s satisfaction, so that it was with sadness that eventually he parted from her to go on alone towards Quarzhasaat.
“Farewell, good friend. I’ll remember how you defeated the Pearl Warrior in the Fortress of the Pearl. That is one memory I do not think will ever fade.”
“I am flattered.” There was a touch of melancholy irony in her voice. “Farewell, Prince Elric. I trust you will find all that you need and that you will know peace when you return to Melniboné.”
“It is my firm intention, madam.” A wave to her, not wishing to prolong the sadness, and he spurred his horse forward.
With eyes which refused to weep she watched him ride away up the long Red Road to Quarzhasaat.
CHAPTER FOUR
Certain Matters Resolved in Quarzhasaat
When Elric of Melniboné rode into Quarzhasaat he was limp in his saddle, hardly controlling his horse at all, and the people who gathered around him asked him if he were ill, while some feared that he brought plague to their beautiful city and would have driven him out at once.
The albino lifted his strange head long enough to gasp out the name of his patron, Lord Gho Fhaazi, and to say that all he lacked was a certain elixir which that nobleman possessed. “I must have that elixir,” he told them, “or I will be dead before I have accomplished my task…”
The old towers and minarets of Quarzhasaat were lovely in the fading rays of a huge red sun and there was a certain peace about the city which comes when the day’s business is done and before it begins to take its pleasures.
A rich water-merchant, anxious to find favour with one who might soon be elected to the Council, personally led Elric’s horse through the elegant alleys and impressive avenues until they came to the great palace, all golds and faded greens, of Lord Gho Fhaazi.
The merchant was rewarded by a steward’s promise to mention his name to the nobleman and Elric, now mumbling and whimpering to himself, sometimes groaning a little and licking anxious lips, passed through into the lovely gardens surrounding the main palace.
Lord Gho himself came to meet the albino. He was laughing heartily at the sight of Elric in such poor condition.
“Greetings, greetings, Elric of Nadsokor! Greetings, white-faced clown-thief. Oh, you are not so proud today! You were profligate with the elixir I gave you and now you return to beg for more—in worse condition than when you first arrived here!”
“The boy …” whispered Elric, as servants helped him from the horse. His arms hung limply as they carried him on their shoulders. “Does he live?”
“In better health than yourself, sir!” Lord Gho Fhaazi’s pale green eyes were full of exquisite malice. “And in perfect safety. You were most adamant about that before you set off. And I am a man of my word.” The politician stroked the ringlets of his oily beard and chuckled to himself. “And you, Sir Thief, do you also keep your word?”
“To the letter,” muttered the albino. His red eyes rolled back in his head and it appeared for a second that he died. Then he turned a painful gaze in Lord Gho’s direction. “Will you give me the antidote and all that you’ve promised? The water? The wealth? The boy?”
“No doubt, no doubt. But you have a poor bargaining position at present,