Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [156]
The child led them deeper and deeper up the twisting, cobbled lanes of the port away from the sea until they looked back at the dark, crowded masts below and the glinting water, like ebony, beyond. To their left they followed the silhouettes of warehouses and other buildings on both sides of the river as it wormed out of sight into the distant jungle, seemingly impenetrably dense. They would have to go to those upriver docks in the morning, either alone or in company, depending on what transpired at the Council House.
The night stank of wine, burning wood and moss, of sweating bodies, roasting meat and other less identifiable things. Men and women linked arms and stumbled past singing. Although they had to pause occasionally while Elric rested, the three ignored the crowds and their friendly invitations, walking until the child brought them in sight of the gates of a vast and beautiful building, low and wide, with a tall irregular roof topped by masses of miscellaneous towers, drawbridges and battlements, all in different styles yet strangely unified, each patrolled and guarded.
“There,” the child pointed to tall towers framing glittering gates. “The entrance to the Council House.”
As they approached they saw that the entrance was festooned with a thousand flags and coats of arms. Again, Moonglum found himself marveling at the wealth and strength displayed. Before he could call out in Low Melnibonéan, to announce themselves, the child shouted something in the local dialect and instantly received a reply. A further exchange, followed by the slow rising of a great gate. At which point a liveried officer strode forward to receive the letter handed him by the child. The mismatched trio were left to stand in a circle of brandlight while the officer took the letter away.
A short while later a voice spoke from the darkness, asking their names and business.
“I am Moonglum of Elwher. This lord’s companion. And he is Prince Elric, Sadric’s son, of Melniboné. We seek audience with the Republican Council concerning a proposed expedition to the ruins of Soom.”
And then the child had vanished. Surrounded by soldiers in rather intricate and impractical armour, with plumed helmets hiding all but their disciplined eyes, they were led into the depths of the great palace. They allowed themselves to be marched into a great hall. A celebratory banquet was clearly just ending. Diners fell silent as the two entered. The women in particular found them interesting. Male curiosity was warier. Rows of tables bore the remains of the elaborate meal. At the head of each table sat a man or a woman wearing identical blue-and-yellow robes. These were evidently members of the Council. A table at the far end of the hall was set cross-wise to the others. At its middle a tall, burly man, in the same livery but wearing a conical black cap, rose to greet them. “Good evening, Prince Elric. Forgive our hesitation. We heard you were either a legend or a ghost. Two such distinguished travelers are most welcome here. I am Juffa, privileged to be this city’s Chief Councilor. Please come and be comfortable at our table. We’ll have fresh meat and wine brought. Tonight we are graced with not a few people of high degree. Our nation, being a republic, still recognizes those of rank. You are not the first of ancient blood to honour us.” He spoke as an habitual diplomat.
Two women sat to Juffa’s right and two men to his left. From their clothing, they were clearly visitors. But it was not their dress which impressed the newcomers. For a long moment Elric stared into the face of the stranger furthest on the Chief Councilor’s left. The man had risen from his seat, his face pale and his lips pursed, a gleam of hatred in his eyes. From his high cheekbones, slanting eyes and ears almost coming to points, he was clearly of Elric’s unhuman folk.
Elric bowed first to the women, then to the Chief Councilor, then to the bearded man and lastly to the one who directed a look of terrible