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Elric_ The Sleeping Sorceress - Michael Moorcock [75]

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Yyrkoon’s motives and arguments were relatively straightforward. He knew Elric’s character too well, however, to believe that Elric acted from weakness or lassitude. The paradox was that Elric tolerated Yyrkoon’s treachery because he was strong, because he had the power to destroy Yyrkoon whenever he cared. And Yyrkoon’s own character was such that he must constantly be testing that strength of Elric’s, for he knew instinctively that if Elric did weaken and order him slain, then he would have won. It was a complicated situation and Dyvim Tvar dearly wished that he was not embroiled in it. But his loyalty to the royal line of Melniboné was strong and his personal loyalty to Elric was great. He considered the idea of having Yyrkoon secretly assassinated, but he knew that such a plan would almost certainly come to nothing. Yyrkoon was a sorcerer of immense power and doubtless would be forewarned of any attempt on his life.

“Princess Cymoril,” said Dyvim Tvar, “I can only pray that your brother swallows so much of his rage that it eventually poisons him.”

“I will join you in that prayer, Lord of the Dragon Caves.”

Together, they left the hall.

CHAPTER THREE

Riding Through the Morning: A Moment of Tranquility

The light of the early morning touched the tall towers of Imrryr and made them scintillate. Each tower was of a different hue; there were a thousand soft colours. There were rose pinks and pollen yellows, there were purples and pale greens, mauves and browns and oranges, hazy blues, whites and powdery golds, all lovely in the sunlight. Two riders left the Dreaming City behind them and rode away from the walls, over the green turf towards a pine forest where, amongst the shadowy trunks, a little of the night seemed to remain. Squirrels were stirring and foxes crept homeward; birds were singing and forest flowers opened their petals and filled the air with delicate scent. A few insects wandered sluggishly aloft. The contrast between life in the nearby city and this lazy rusticity was very great and seemed to mirror some of the contrasts existing in the mind of at least one of the riders who now dismounted and led his horse, walking knee-deep through a mass of blue flowers. The other rider, a girl, brought her own horse to a halt but did not dismount. Instead, she leaned casually on her high Melnibonéan pommel and smiled at the man, her lover.

“Elric? Would you stop so near to Imrryr?”

He smiled back at her, over his shoulder. “For the moment. Our flight was hasty. I would collect my thoughts before we ride on.”

“How did you sleep last night?”

“Well enough, Cymoril, though I must have dreamed without knowing it, for there were—there were little intimations in my head when I awoke. But then, the meeting with Yyrkoon was not pleasant . . .”

“Do you think he plots to use sorcery against you?”

Elric shrugged. “I would know if he brought a large sorcery against me. And he knows my power. I doubt if he would dare employ wizardry.”

“He has reason to believe you might not use your power. He has worried at your personality for so long—is there not a danger he will begin to worry at your skills? Testing your sorcery as he has tested your patience?”

Elric frowned. “Yes, I suppose there is that danger. But not yet, I should have thought.”

“He will not be happy until you are destroyed, Elric.”

“Or is destroyed himself, Cymoril.” Elric stooped and picked one of the flowers. He smiled. “Your brother is inclined to absolutes, is he not? How the weak hate weakness.”

Cymoril took his meaning. She dismounted and came towards him. Her thin gown matched, almost perfectly, the colour of the flowers through which she moved. He handed her the flower and she accepted it, touching its petals with her perfect lips. “And how the strong hate strength, my love. Yyrkoon is my kin and yet I give you this advice—use your strength against him.”

“I could not slay him. I have not the right.” Elric’s face fell into familiar, brooding lines.

“You could exile him.”

“Is not exile the same as death to a Melnibonéan?”

“You, yourself, have talked

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