Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [144]
As usual, they could not follow him, but they nodded gravely and politely.
“The skull,” continued Werther, stroking the side of his air car (which was in the shape of a large flying reptile) to make it circle and head for the left eye-socket, “is a Symbol not only of our Mortality, but also of our Fruitless Ambitions.”
“Fruit?” Bishop Castle, drowsing at the rear of the vehicle, became interested. His hobby was currently orchards. “Less? My pine trees, you know, are proving a problem. The apples are much smaller than I was led to believe.”
“The skull is lovely,” said Mistress Christia with valiant enthusiasm. “Well, now that we have seen it…”
“The outward shell,” Werther told her. “It is what it hides which is more important. Man’s Foolish Yearnings are all encompassed therein. His Greed, his Need for the Impossible, the Heat of his Passions, the Coldness which must Finally Overtake him. Through this eye-socket you will encounter a little invention of my own called The Bargain Basement of the Mind…”
He broke off in astonishment.
On the top edge of the eye-socket a tiny figure had emerged.
“What’s that?” enquired the Duke of Queens, craning his head back. “A random thought?”
“It is not mine at all!”
The figure launched itself into the sky and seemed to fly, with flailing limbs, towards the sun.
Werther frowned, watching the tiny man disappear. “The gravity field is reversed there,” he said absently, “in order to make the most of the paradox, you understand. There is a snowscape, a desert…” But he was much more interested in the newcomer. “How do you think he got into my skull?”
“At least he’s enjoying himself. He seems to be laughing.” Mistress Christia bent an ear towards the thin sound, which grew fainter and fainter at first, but became louder again. “He’s coming back.”
Werther nodded. “Yes. The field’s no longer reversed.” He touched a power ring.
The laughter stopped and became a yell of rage. The figure hurtled down on them. It had a sword in one white hand and its red eyes blazed.
Hastily, Werther stroked another ring. The stranger tumbled into the bottom of the air car and lay there panting, cursing and groaning.
“How wonderful!” cried Werther. “Oh, this is a traveler from some rich, romantic past. Look at him! What else could he be? What a prize!”
The stranger rose to his feet and raised the sword high above his head, defying the amazed and delighted passengers as he screamed at the top of his voice:
“Heeshgeegrowinaz!”
“Good afternoon,” said Mistress Christia. She reached in her purse for a translation pill and found one. “I wonder if you would care to swallow this—it’s quite harmless…”
“Yakoom, oom glallio,” said the albino contemptuously.
“Aha,” said Mistress Christia. “Well, just as you please.”
The Duke of Queens pointed towards the other socket. A huge, whirring beetle came sailing from it. In its back was someone he recognized with pleasure. “Mrs. Persson!”
Una brought her air car alongside.
“Is he in your charge?” asked Werther with undisguised disappointment. “If so, I could offer you…”
“I’m afraid he means a lot to me,” she said.
“From your own age?” Mistress Christia also recognized Una. She still offered the translation pill in the palm of her hand. “He seems a mite suspicious of us.”
“I’d noticed,” said Una. “It would be useful if he would accept the pill. However, if he will not, one of us…”
“I would be happy,” offered the generous Duke of Queens. He tugged at his green and gold beard. “Werther de Goethe, Mrs. Persson.”
“Perhaps I had better,” said Una nodding to Werther. The only problem with translation pills was that they did their job so thoroughly. You could speak the language perfectly, but you could speak no other.
Werther was, for once, positive. “Let’s all take a pill,” he suggested.
Everyone at the End of Time carried translation pills, in case of meeting a visitor from Space or the Past.
Mistress Christia handed hers to Una and found another. They swallowed.
“Creatures of Chaos,” said the newcomer with cool dignity, “I demand that you