Elric of Melnibone - Michael Moorcock [63]
Dyvim Tvar said: ‘Trust Yyrkoon not at all, Elric. He will betray you again.’ The Lord of the Dragon Caves was troubled.
‘No,’ said Elric. ‘If he does not fear me, he fears the sword I now carry.’
‘And you should fear that sword,’ said Dyvim Tvar.
‘No,’ said Elric. ‘I am the master of the sword.’
Dyvim Tvar made to speak again but then shook his head almost sorrowfully, bowed and, together with Rackhir the Red Archer, left Elric and Cymoril alone.
Cymoril took Elric in her arms. They kissed. They wept.
There were celebrations in Melniboné for a week.
Now almost all the ships and men and dragons were home. And Elric was home, having proved his right to rule so well that all his strange quirks of character (this ‘mercy’ of his was perhaps the strangest) were accepted by the populace.
In the throne room there was a ball and it was the most lavish ball any of the courtiers had ever known. Elric danced with Cymoril, taking a full part in the activities. Only Yyrkoon did not dance, preferring to remain in a quiet corner below the gallery of the music-slaves; ignored by the guests. Rackhir the Red Archer danced with several Melnibonéan ladies and made assignations with them all, for he was a hero now in Melniboné. Dyvim Tvar danced, too, though his eyes were often brooding when they fell upon Prince Yyrkoon.
And later, when people ate, Elric spoke to Cymoril as they sat together on the dais of the Ruby Throne.
‘Would you be empress, Cymoril?’
‘You know I will marry you, Elric. We have both known that for many a year, have we not?’
‘So you would be my wife?’
‘Aye.’ She laughed for she thought he joked.
‘And not be empress? For a year at least?’
‘What mean you, my lord.’
‘I must go away from Melniboné, Cymoril, for a year. What I have learned in recent months has made me want to travel the Young Kingdoms—see how other nations conduct their affairs. For I think Melniboné must change if she is to survive. She could become a great force for good in the world, for she still has much power.’
‘For good?’ Cymoril was surprised and there was a little alarm in her voice, too. ‘Melniboné has never stood for good or for evil, but for herself and the satisfaction of her desires.’
‘I would see that changed.’
‘You intend to alter everything?’
‘I intend to travel the world and then decide if there is any point to such a decision. The Lords of the Higher Worlds have ambitions in our world. Though they have given me aid, of late, I fear them. I should like to see if it is possible for men to rule their own affairs.’
‘And you will go?’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow—when Rackhir leaves. We will take King Straasha’s ship and make for the Isle of the Purple Towns where Rackhir has friends. Will you come?’
‘I cannot imagine—I cannot. Oh, Elric, why spoil this happiness we now have?’
‘Because I feel that the happiness cannot last unless we know completely what we are.’
She frowned. ‘Then you must discover that, if that is what you wish,’ she said slowly. ‘But it is for you to discover alone, Elric, for I have no such desire. You must go by yourself into those barbarian lands.’
‘You will not accompany me?’
‘It is not possible. I—I am Melnibonéan...’ She sighed. ‘I love you, Elric.’
‘And I you, Cymoril.’
‘Then we shall be married when you return. In a year.’
Elric was full of sorrow, but he knew that his decision was correct. If he did not leave, he would grow restless soon enough and if he grew restless he might come to regard Cymoril as an enemy, someone who had trapped him.
‘Then you must rule as empress until I return,’ he said.
‘No, Elric I cannot take that responsibility.’
‘Then, who...? Dyvim Tvar...’
‘I know Dyvim Tvar. He will not take such power. Magum Colim, perhaps . . .’
‘No.’
‘Then you must stay, Elric.’
But Elric’s gaze had travelled through the crowd in the throne room below. It stopped when it reached a lonely figure seated by itself