Elric Swords and Roses - Michael Moorcock [95]
“You are the Daughters of the Garden,” said Wheldrake, breaking in and then stopping apologetically. “There is an old Persian tale which speaks of you, I think. Or perhaps it is from Baghdad. The Daughters of Justice was another name … But you were Martyred … Forgive me, madam. There was a tale …
“Came cruel Count Malcolm to that land,
With fire and steel in either hand,
And a curse which fouled his breath;
I seek the Flowers of Bannon Brae;
I bring them pain and death.
“Good heavens, madam, sometimes I feel I am trapped in some vast, unending epic of my own invention!”
“You recall the old ballad’s ending, Master Wheldrake?”
“There are one or two,” said Wheldrake diplomatically.
“You recall a certain ending, however, do you not?”
“I recall it, madam,” said Wheldrake in dawning horror. “Oh, madam! No!”
“Aye,” said the Rose. And she spoke slowly, with great, weary strength …
“Each brand that burn’d in Bannon Brae,
Was a soul in cruel torment.
Count Malcolm who cut the bright flowers down,
Left but one to sing Lament.
“I,” said the Rose, “was the only flower not, eventually, cut down by him whom the ballad calls ‘Count Malcolm’. The one whom Gaynor had preceded, with his lies to us concerning his own heroic struggles against the forces of the Dark.” And she paused, as if she stilled a tear. “That was how we were caught unawares of the invasion. We trusted Gaynor. Indeed, I spoke for him! He is economical in his methods, I learned. He deceives us all with the same few tales. Our valley was a wasteland within hours. You can imagine the upheavals, for we were unprepared for Chaos, which could only enter our realm through mortal agency. Through Gaynor’s agency. And that of the unwitting fools he deceived …”
“Oh, madam!” says Wheldrake again. At which she reaches out a friendly hand to comfort him. But he would comfort her. “The only flower …”
“Save one,” she said, “but she resorted to desperate sorcery and died an unholy death …”
“The sisters are not your kinswomen, then?” murmured Fallogard Phatt. “I had assumed …”
“Sisters in spirit, perhaps, though they are not of my vocation. They seek to resist a common enemy, which is why I have aided them until now. For they, among others, possess the key to my own particular goal.”
“But where has Gaynor taken them?” Charion Phatt wished to know. “His stronghold is only fifty miles from here, you say?”
“And it is surrounded by a Chaos army awaiting only his order to march against us. But I do not know yet if he has the sisters.”
“He took them, surely?” Charion Phatt said.
But the Rose shook her head. Gradually, she was restoring herself and was now able to walk unaided. “I had to hide them from him. There was so little time. I could not hide their treasures with them. But I do not know if I acted swiftly enough.”
It was evident she did not want to be asked further questions about that incident, so they asked her and Koropith what had happened on the Gypsy causeway. She told them how she had found Gaynor and the sisters at the very moment Mashabak was about to cut the bridge. He had been summoned, of course, by Gaynor. “I sought to stop Mashabak and save as many lives as I could. But in so doing I allowed Gaynor to escape—though not with the sisters, who had managed to free themselves from him. I had tried to warn the gypsies and when that failed I went in search of Gaynor—or Mashabak. We have come close, Koropith and I, to finding them at different times, but now we know they have returned here, as have the sisters. Chaos gathers strength. This realm is almost theirs, save for the resistance provided by ourselves, and the sisters.”
“I have little stomach for a journey to a Court of Chaos, madam,” said Wheldrake slowly, “but if I can be of any assistance to you in this matter, please feel free to make use of me however you wish.” He offered her a grave little bow.
And Charion, at her intended’s side, donated her own sword and wits in the Rose’s