Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [111]
“Aye, so it might. This does not interest me. Why are you here, Lord Balo?”
Balo chuckled, his laughter rich and musical. “Oho, I am in disgrace. I quarreled with my masters, who took exception to a joke of mine about their insignificance and egotism, about their destiny and their pride. Bad taste to them, king, is any hint of their own oblivion. I made a joke in bad taste. I fled from the Higher Worlds to Earth, where, unless invoked, the Lords of Law or Chaos can rarely interfere. You will like my intention, Elric, as would any Melnibonéan—I intend to establish my own realm on Earth—the Realm of Paradox. A little from Law, a little from Chaos—a realm of opposites, of curiosities and jokes.”
“I’m thinking we already have such a world as you describe, Lord Balo, with no need for you to create it!”
“Earnest irony, King Elric, for an insouciant man of Melniboné.”
“Ah, that it may be. I am a boor on occasions such as these. Will you release Yishana and myself?”
“But you and I are giants—I have given you the status and appearance of a god. You and I could be partners in this enterprise of mine!”
“Unfortunately, Lord Balo, I do not possess your range of humour and am unfitted for such an exalted role. Besides,” Elric grinned suddenly, “it is in my mind that the Lords of the Higher Worlds will not easily let drop the matter of your ambition, since it appears to conflict so strongly with theirs.”
Balo laughed but said nothing.
Elric also smiled, but it was an attempt to hide his racing thoughts. “What do you intend to do if I refuse?”
“Why, Elric, you would not refuse! I can think of many subtle pranks that I could play on you…”
“Indeed? And the Black Swords?”
“Ah, yes…”
“Balo, in your mirth and obsessions you have not considered everything thoroughly. You should have exerted more effort to vanquish me before I came here.”
Now Elric’s eyes gleamed hot and he lifted the sword, crying:
“Arioch! Master! I invoke thee, Lord of Chaos!”
Balo started. “Cease that, King Elric!”
“Arioch—here is a soul for you to claim!”
“Quiet, I say!”
“Arioch! Hear me!” Elric’s voice was loud and desperate.
Balo let his tiny playthings fall and rose hurriedly, skipping towards Elric.
“Your invocation is unheeded!” He laughed, reaching out for Elric. But Stormbringer moaned and shuddered in Elric’s hand and Balo withdrew his hand. His face became serious and frowning.
“Arioch of the Seven Darks—your servant calls you!”
The walls of flame trembled and began to fade. Balo’s eyes widened and jerked this way and that.
“Oh, Lord Arioch—come reclaim your straying Balo!”
“You cannot!” Balo scampered across the room where one section of the flame had faded entirely, revealing darkness beyond.
“Sadly for you, little jester, he can…” The voice was sardonic and yet beautiful. From the darkness stepped a tall figure, no longer the shapeless gibbering thing that had, of late, been Arioch’s favoured manifestation when visiting the Realm of Earth. Yet the great beauty of the newcomer, filled as it was with a kind of compassion mingled with pride, cruelty, and sadness, showed at once that he could not be human. He was clad in doublet of pulsing scarlet, hose of ever-changing hue, a long golden sword at his hips. His eyes were large, but slanted high, his hair was long and as golden as the sword, his lips were full and his chin pointed like his ears.
“Arioch!” Balo stumbled backwards as the Lord of Chaos advanced.
“It was your mistake, Balo,” Elric said from behind the jester. “Did you not realize only the Kings of Melniboné may invoke Arioch and bring him to the Realm of Earth? It has been their age-old privilege.”
“And much have they abused it,” said Arioch, smiling faintly as Balo groveled. “However, this service you have done us, Elric, will make up for past misuses. I was not amused by the matter of the Mist Giant…”
Even Elric was awed by the incredibly powerful presence of the Chaos Lord. He also felt much relieved, for he had not been sure that Arioch could