Elric of Melnibone - Michael Moorcock [5]
‘This guard of honour will escort you from the hall,’ Dyvim Tvar said evenly. ‘We were all stimulated by your conversation this evening, Prince Yyrkoon.’
Yyrkoon paused, looked about him, then relaxed. He shrugged. ‘There’s time enough. If Elric will not abdicate, then he must be deposed.’
Cymoril’s slender body was rigid. Her eyes blazed. She said to her brother:
‘If you harm Elric in any way, I will slay you myself, Yyrkoon.’
He raised his tapering eyebrows and smiled. At that moment he seemed to hate his sister even more than he hated his cousin. ‘Your loyalty to that creature has ensured your own doom, Cymoril. I would rather you died than that you should give birth to any progeny of his. I will not have the blood of our house diluted, tainted—even touched—by his blood. Look to your own life, sister, before you threaten mine.’
And he stormed down the steps, pushing through those who came up to congratulate him. He knew that he had lost and the murmurs of his sycophants only irritated him further.
The great doors of the hall crashed together and closed. Yyrkoon was gone from the hall.
Dyvim Tvar raised both his arms. ‘Dance on, courtiers. Pleasure yourselves with all that the hall provides. It is what will please the emperor most.’
But it was plain there would be little more dancing done tonight. Courtiers were already deep in conversation as, excitedly, they debated the events.
Dyvim Tvar turned to Cymoril. ‘Elric refuses to understand the danger, Princess Cymoril. Yyrkoon’s ambition could bring disaster to all of us.’
‘Including Yyrkoon.’ Cymoril sighed.
‘Aye, including Yyrkoon. But how can we avoid this, Cymoril, if Elric will not give orders for your brother’s arrest?’
‘He believes that such as Yyrkoon should be allowed to say what they please. It is part of his philosophy. I can barely understand it, but it seems integral to his whole belief. If he destroys Yyrkoon, he destroys the basis on which his logic works. That at any rate, Dragon Master, is what he has tried to explain to me.’
Dyvim Tvar sighed and he frowned. Though unable to understand Elric, he was afraid that he could sometimes sympathise with Yyrkoon’s viewpoint. At least Yyrkoon’s motives and arguments were relatively straightforward. He knew Elric’s character too well, however, to believe that Elric acted from weakness or lassitude. The paradox was that Elric tolerated Yyrkoon’s treachery because he was strong, because he had the power to destroy Yyrkoon whenever he cared. And Yyrkoon’s own character was such that he must constantly be testing that strength of Elric’s, for he knew instinctively that if Elric did weaken and order him slain, then he would have won. It was a complicated situation and Dyvim Tvar dearly wished that he was not embroiled in it. But his loyalty to the royal line of Melniboné was strong and his personal loyalty to Elric was great. He considered the idea of having Yyrkoon secretly assassinated, but he knew that such a plan would almost certainly come to nothing. Yyrkoon was a sorcerer of immense power and doubtless would be forewarned of any attempt on his life.
‘Princess Cymoril,’ said Dyvim Tvar, ‘I can only pray that your brother swallows so much of his rage that it eventually poisons him.’
‘I will join you in that prayer, Lord of the Dragon Caves.’
Together, they left the hall.
3
Riding Through the Morning: A Moment of Tranquillity
* * *
THE LIGHT OF the early morning touched the tall towers of Imrryr and made them scintillate. Each tower was of a different hue; there were a thousand soft colours. There were rose pinks and pollen yellows, there were purples and pale greens, mauves and browns and oranges, hazy blues, whites and powdery golds, all lovely in the sunlight. Two riders left the Dreaming City behind them and rode away from the walls, over the green turf towards a pine forest where, among the shadowy trunks, a little of the night seemed to remain. Squirrels were stirring and foxes crept homeward; birds were