Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [29]
“You were brave to make the attempt. Did they find you this side of the Divide?”
“It would seem so.”
“And stripped you of everything. You are lucky to have your clothing and weapons. And ’tis as well they did not catch you crossing the Divide.”
“We waited a season before we were sure of our chance.” This from Wheldrake, entering the spirit of it, as if in a childish game, a knowing grin upon his broad lips.
“Aye. Others have waited longer.” The door opened silently and they entered a passage lit by glowing yellow lamps, its walls as twisted inside as they were without; its staircases rising in unlikely places and going where none could guess, its passages and chambers appearing suddenly and always of peculiar shapes and angles, sometimes brilliant with candles, sometimes gloomy and musty, as their host led them on, deeper and deeper into the house until they came at last to a large, cheerful hall in the centre of which was a great oaken table, lined with benches—enough space for two score of hungry travelers. There was, however, only one other guest, already helping herself to the rich stew steaming in a pot over the hearth. She was dressed in simple clothes of russet and green, a slender sword on her hip, a dagger to balance it, a muscular, full-hipped figure, broad shoulders and a face of brooding beauty beneath a mass of red-gold hair. She nodded to them as she swung her legs back over the bench and began to eat, clearly showing she did not wish to talk.
Their host dropped his voice. “I understand your fellow traveler to have experienced exceptional inconvenience to her person and her ambitions just recently. She has expressed some wish not to engage in conversation today. You will find all you need here, gentlemen. There is a servant about somewhere who will see to any particular needs, and I will return in a couple of hours to see what other aid we can supply. We do not discourage failed venturers in Agnesh-Val or we should never trade! It is our policy to help the failed ones just as we profit from the successful ones. This appears both fair and sane to us.”
“And so it is, sir,” said Wheldrake with approval. “You are of the Liberal persuasion, evidently. One hears so much Toryism as one travels throughout the rea—that is, the world.”
“We believe in enlightened self-interest, sir, as I think do all civilized peoples. It is in the interest of the community and that larger community beyond to ensure that all are courteously and properly enabled to make what they wish of themselves. Will you eat, sir? Will you eat?”
Elric was aware of the woman’s moody eyes regarding them as they spoke together and remarked to himself that he had not seen a face more lovely and more determined since Cymoril had lived. Her wide blue eyes were steady and unselfconscious as she chewed slowly, her thoughts unreadable. And then, suddenly, she smiled once before she gave her full attention to her food, leaving Elric with more of a mystery than before.
Having helped their deep plates to the stew, which gave off a delicious smell, they found themselves places at the table and ate for a while in silence until at last the woman spoke. There was unexpected warm humour in her voice and a certain heartiness which Elric found attractive. “What lie brought you this free meal, boys?”
“A misunderstanding, lady, rather than a lie,” said Wheldrake diplomatically, licking his spoon and wondering whether to take a second trip to the cauldron.
“You are no more traders than am I,” she said.
“That was the chief misunderstanding. Apparently they can imagine no other kind of traveler here.”
“Apparently so. And you are recently here in this realm. By the river, no doubt.”
“I do not understand the means,” said Elric, still cautious.
“But you both seek the three sisters, of course.”
“It seems that everyone does that,” Elric told her, letting her believe whatever she wished. “I am Elric of Melniboné and this is my friend Master Wheldrake, the poet.”
“Of Master Wheldrake I have heard.” There was