Elric_ The Stealer of Souls - Michael Moorcock [49]
Yishana, Queen of Jharkor, pushed the sorcerer away from her and rose abruptly, swinging bare, well-formed legs off the divan. She was a handsome woman, with hair as black as her soul; though her youth was fading, she had a strange quality about her which both repelled and attracted men. She wore her multicoloured silks well and they swirled about her as, with light grace, she strode to the barred window of the chamber and stared out into the dark and turbulent night. The sorcerer watched her through narrow, puzzled eyes, disappointed at this halt to their love-making.
“What’s wrong?”
The queen continued to stare out at the night. Great banks of black cloud moved like predatory monsters, swiftly across the wind-torn sky. The night was raucous and angry about Bakshaan; full of ominous portent.
Theleb K’aarna repeated his question and again received no answer. He stood up angrily, then, and joined her at the window.
“Let us leave now, Yishana, before it is too late. If Elric learns of our presence in Bakshaan, we shall both suffer.” She did not reply, but her breasts heaved beneath the flimsy fabric and her mouth tightened.
The sorcerer growled, gripping her arm. “Forget your renegade freebooter, Elric—you have me now, and I can do much more for you than any sword-swinging medicine-man from a broken and senile empire!”
Yishana laughed unpleasantly and turned on her lover. “You are a fool, Theleb K’aarna, and you’re much less of a man than Elric. Three aching years have passed since he deserted me, skulking off into the night on your trail and leaving me to pine for him! But I still remember his savage kisses and his wild love-making. Gods! I wish he had an equal. Since he left, I’ve never found one to match him—though many have tried and proved better than you—until you came skulking back and your spells drove them off or destroyed them.” She sneered, mocking and taunting him. “You’ve been too long among your parchments to be much good to me!”
The sorcerer’s face muscles tautened beneath his tanned skin and he scowled. “Then why do you let me remain? I could make you my slave with a potion—you know that!”
“But you wouldn’t—and are thus my slave, mighty wizard. When Elric threatened to displace you in my affections, you conjured that demon and Elric was forced to fight it. He won you’ll remember—but in his pride refused to compromise. You fled into hiding and he went in search of you—leaving me! That is what you did. You’re in love, Theleb K’aarna…” she laughed in his face. “And your love won’t let you use your arts against me—only my other lovers. I put up with you because you are often useful, but if Elric were to return…”
Theleb K’aarna turned away, pettishly picking at his long black beard. Yishana said: “I half hate Elric, aye! But that is better than half loving you!”
The sorcerer snarled: “Then why did you join me in Bakshaan? Why did you leave your brother’s son upon your throne as regent and come here? I sent word and you came—you must have some affection for me to do that!”
Yishana laughed again. “I heard that a pale-faced sorcerer with crimson eyes and a howling runesword was traveling in the north-east. That is why I came, Theleb K’aarna.”
Theleb K’aarna’s face twisted with anger as he bent forward and gripped the woman’s shoulder in his taloned hand.
“You’ll remember that this same pale-faced sorcerer was responsible for your own brother’s death,” he spat. “You lay with a man who was a slayer of his kin and yours. He deserted the fleet, which he had led to pillage in his own land, when the Dragon Masters retaliated. Dharmit, your brother, was aboard one of those ships and he now lies scorched and rotting on the ocean bed.”
Yishana shook her head wearily. “You always mention this and hope to shame me. Yes, I entertained one who was virtually my brother’s murderer—but Elric had ghastlier crimes on his conscience and I still loved him, in spite or because of them. Your