Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [145]
“It’s actually more orderly than you’d think,” said Werther apologetically. “Your first experience, you see, was the world of my skull, which was deliberately muddled. I meant to show what Confusion was the Mind of Man…”
“May I introduce Mistress Christia, the Everlasting Concubine,” said the Duke of Queens, on his best manners. “This is Mrs. Persson, Bishop Castle, Gaf the Horse in Tears. Werther de Goethe—your unwitting host—and I am the Duke of Queens. We welcome you to our world. Your name, sir…?”
“You must know me, my lord Duke,” said Elric. “For I am Elric of Melniboné, Emperor by Right of Birth, Inheritor of the Ruby Throne, Bearer of the Actorios, Wielder of the Black Sword…”
“Indeed!” said Werther de Goethe. In a whispered aside to Mrs. Persson: “What a marvelous scowl! What a noble sneer!”
“You are an important personage in your world, then?” said Mistress Christia, fluttering the eyelashes she had just extended by half an inch. “Perhaps you would allow me…”
“I think he wishes to be returned to his home,” said Mrs. Persson hastily.
“Returned?” Werther was astonished. “But the Morphail Effect! It is impossible.”
“Not in this case, I think,” she said. “For if he is not returned there is no telling the fluctuations which will take place throughout the dimensions…”
They could not follow her, but they accepted her tone.
“Aye,” said Elric darkly, “return me to my realm, so that I may fulfill my own doom-laden destiny…”
Werther looked upon the albino with affectionate delight. “Aha! A fellow spirit! I, too, have a doom-laden destiny.”
“I doubt it is as doom-laden as mine.” Elric peered moodily back at the skull as the two air cars fled away towards a gentle horizon where exotic trees bloomed.
“Well,” said Werther with an effort, “perhaps it is not, though I assure you…”
“I have looked upon hellborn horror,” said Elric, “and communicated with the very Gods of the Uttermost Darkness. I have seen things which would turn other men’s minds to useless jelly…”
“Jelly?” interrupted Bishop Castle. “Do you, in your turn, have any expertise with, for instance, blackbird trees?”
“Your words are meaningless,” Elric told him, glowering. “Why do you torment me so, my lords? I did not ask to visit your world. I belong in the world of men, in the Young Kingdoms, where I seek my weird. Why, I have but lately experienced adventures…”
“I do think we have one of those bores,” murmured Bishop Castle to the Duke of Queens, “so common amongst time-travelers. They all believe themselves unique.”
But the Duke of Queens refused to be drawn. He had developed a liking for the frowning albino. Gaf the Horse in Tears was also plainly impressed, for he had fashioned his own features into a rough likeness of Elric’s. The Prince of Melniboné pretended insouciance, but it was evident to Una that he was frightened. She tried to calm him.
“People here at the End of Time…” she began.
“No soft words, my lady.” A cynical smile played about the albino’s lips. “I know you for that great unholy temptress, Queen of the Swords, Xiombarg herself.”
“I assure you, I am as human as you, sir…”
“Human? I, human? I am not human, madam—though I be a mortal, ’tis true. I am of older blood, the blood of the Bright Empire itself, the Blood of R’lin K’ren A’a which Cran Liret mocked, not understanding what it was he laughed at. Aye, though forced to summon aid from Chaos, I made no bargain to become a slave in your realm…”
“I assure you—um—your majesty,” said Una, “that we had not meant to insult you and your presence here was no doing of ours. I am, as it happens, a stranger here myself. I came especially to see you, to help you escape…”
“Ha!” said the albino. “I have heard such words before. You would lure me into some worse trap than this. Tell me, where is Duke Arioch? He, at least, I owe some allegiance to.”
“We have no-one of that name,” apologized Mistress Christia. She enquired