Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [57]
“Yes. You fell. IT WAS MASHABAK!”
Elric knew mindless relief that the rage was directed away from him. And he, too, understood what had occurred—that Gaynor the Damned had served Arioch’s arch rival, Count Mashabak of Chaos …
“You had servants in the Gypsy Nation, lord?”
“It was mine, that near-limbo. A useful device that many sought to control. And because he could not possess it for himself, Mashabak destroyed it …”
“Upon a whim, lord?”
“Oh, he served some creature’s petty ends, I believe …”
“It was Gaynor, lord.”
“Ah, Gaynor. He has become a politician, eh?”
Elric grew aware of his patron’s brooding silence. After what might have been a year, the Duke of Hell murmured, with better humour, “Very well, sweetmeat, go upon thy way. But recollect that thou art mine and thy father’s soul is mine. Both are mine. Both must be delivered up to me, for that is our ancient compact.”
“Go where, patron?”
“Why, to Ulshinir, of course, where the three sisters have escaped their captor. And could be returning home.”
“To Ulshinir, my lord?”
“Fear not, thou shalt travel like a gentleman. I shall send thy slave after thee.” The Lord of the Higher Worlds had his attention upon other affairs now. It was not in the nature of a Duke of Chaos to dwell too long upon one matter, unless it was of monumental importance.
The fires went out.
Elric still stood upon that spur of rock, but now it was attached to a substantial hill, from which he could look down into a rugged valley, full of sparse grass and limestone crags across which a thin powder of snow blew. The air was cold and sharp and good to his senses and, though he was cold, he brushed vigorously at his naked arms and face as if to rid them of the grime of hell. At his feet something murmured. He looked down to see the runesword where he had dropped it during his audience with Arioch. He wondered at the power of his patron, that even Stormbringer felt compelled to acknowledge. He raised the blade almost lovingly, cradling it like a child. “We have need of each other still, thee and I.”
The blade was sheathed, the terrain inspected again, and he thought he saw a thread of smoke rising over the next hill. From there he might begin his search for Ulshinir.
He thanked chance that he had drawn on his boots before rushing in pursuit of the Rose, for he needed them now, against the jagged stones and treacherous turf down which he made his way. The cold was resisted with the expediency of dragon venom, again painfully absorbed, and in less than an hour he was striding down a narrow path to a stone cottage, thatched with peat and straw, which gave off the smell of earth, warmth and a wholesome fecundity, and was the first of several such dwellings, all as comfortably settled into the landscape as if they had grown naturally from it.
In answer to Elric’s polite knock upon the gnarled oak door, a fair-skinned young woman opened it and smiled at him uncertainly, eyeing his appearance with a curiosity she attempted to disguise. She blushed as she pointed along the road to Ulshinir and told him it was less than three hours’ easy walking from there, to the sea.
Gentle hills and shallow dales, a white limestone road through the mellow greens, coppers and purples of the grasses and heathers; Elric was glad to be walking. He wished to clear his head, to consider Arioch’s demands, to wonder how Gaynor had come to lose the mysterious three sisters. And he wondered what he must find in Ulshinir.
And he wondered if the Rose still lived.
Indeed, he thought with some surprise, he cared if the Rose still lived. He was curious, he assured himself, to hear more of her story.
Ulshinir was a harbour town of steep-roofed houses and narrow spires, all with a scattering of early snow. The smell of woodsmoke, drifting through the autumnal air, somehow consoled him a little.
Within his belt he still had tucked a few gold coins which Moonglum had long ago insisted he carry and he hoped that gold was acceptable currency in Ulshinir.