Elric of Melnibone - Michael Moorcock [4]
‘A hypothetical question, cousin.’ Elric had recovered his composure and his voice was an icy drawl. ‘For such an emperor has never sat upon the Ruby Throne and such an emperor never shall.’
Dyvim Tvar came up, touching Yyrkoon on the shoulder. ‘Prince, if you value your dignity and your life...’
Elric raised his hand. ‘There is no need for that, Dyvim Tvar. Prince Yyrkoon merely entertains us with an intellectual debate. Fearing that I was bored by the music and the dance—which I am not—he thought he would provide the subject for a stimulating discourse. I am certain that we are most stimulated, Prince Yyrkoon.’ Elric allowed a patronising warmth to colour his last sentence.
Yyrkoon flushed with anger and bit his lip.
‘But go on, dear cousin Yyrkoon,’ Elric said. ‘I am interested. Enlarge further on your argument.’
Yyrkoon looked around him, as if for support. But all his supporters were on the floor of the hall. Only Elric’s friends, Dyvim Tvar and Cymoril, were nearby. Yet Yyrkoon knew that his supporters were hearing every word and that he would lose face if he did not retaliate. Elric could tell that Yyrkoon would have preferred to have retired from this confrontation and choose another day and another ground on which to continue the battle, but that was not possible. Elric, himself, had no wish to continue the foolish banter which was, no matter how disguised, a little better than the quarrelling of two little girls over who should play with the slaves first. He decided to make an end to it.
Yyrkoon began: ‘Then let me suggest that an emperor who was physically weak might also be weak in his will to rule as befitted...’
And Elric raised his hand. ‘You have done enough, dear cousin. More than enough. You have wearied yourself with this conversation when you would have preferred to dance. I am touched by your concern. But now I, too, feel weariness steal upon me.’ Elric signaled for his old servant Tanglebones who stood on the far side of the throne dais, amongst the soldiers: ‘Tanglebones! My cloak.’
Elric stood up. ‘I thank you again for your thoughtfulness, cousin.’ He addressed the court in general. ‘I was entertained. Now I retire.’
Tanglebones brought the cloak of white fox fur and placed it around his master’s shoulders. Tanglebones was very old and much taller than Elric, though his back was stooped and all his limbs seemed knotted and twisted back on themselves, like the limbs of a strong, old tree.
Elric walked across the dais and through the door which opened onto a corridor which led to his private apartments.
Yyrkoon was left fuming. He whirled round on the dais and opened his mouth as if to address the watching courtiers. Some, who did not support him, were smiling quite openly. Yyrkoon clenched his fists at his sides and glowered. He glared at Dyvim Tvar and opened his thin lips to speak. Dyvim Tvar coolly returned the glare, daring Yyrkoon to say more.
Then Yyrkoon flung back his head so that the locks of his hair, all curled and oiled, swayed against his back. And Yyrkoon laughed.
The harsh sound filled the hall. The music stopped. The laughter continued.
Yyrkoon stepped up so that he stood on the dais. He dragged his heavy cloak round him so that it engulfed his body.
Cymoril came forward. ‘Yyrkoon, please do not...’ He pushed her back with a motion of his shoulder.
Yyrkoon walked stiffly towards the Ruby Throne. It became plain that he was about to seat himself in it and thus perform one of the most traitorous actions possible in the code of Melniboné. Cymoril ran the few steps to him and pulled at his arm.
Yyrkoon’s laughter grew. ‘It is Yyrkoon they would wish to see on the Ruby Throne,’ he told his sister. She gasped and looked in horror at Dyvim Tvar whose face was grim and angry.
Dyvim Tvar signed to the guards and suddenly there were two ranks of armoured men between Yyrkoon and the throne.
Yyrkoon glared back at the Lord of