Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [16]
“Why think you?” said I.
She laughed. It was lovely to hear—crystal and gold-strung harps, the music of heaven, not hell.
“Forgive me, I sought to trouble you, but I see you are not so prone to suggestion as others of your race. In fact,” she frowned, “there is an air about you which makes me think you are not wholly of that race.”
“I am of it,” I told her, “but not from this period of time. I have been many heroes—but always human. How I got here, I do not know. I am not sure where I am, in the far future or the far past.”
“That would depend on what period of time you came from,” she said. “For we believe that time moves in a circle, so that the past is the future and the future is the past.”
“An interesting theory,” I said.
“More than a theory, Lord Erekosë.” She came and stood by the ship’s rail, one hand resting upon it.
At that time, I felt the affection that I supposed a father might have for a daughter—a father who delights in his offspring’s assured innocence. She could not have been, I felt sure, more than nineteen. Yet her voice had a confidence that comes with knowledge of the world, her carriage was proud, also confident. I realized that King Rigenos might well have spoken truly. How, indeed, could you gauge the age of an immortal?
“I have the feeling,” I said, “that I come from your past—that this, in relation to what I call the twentieth century—is the far future.”
“This world is very ancient,” she agreed.
“Is there a record of a time when only human beings occupied the Earth?”
“No,” she smiled, “there is an echo of a myth, the thread of a legend, which says that there was a time when only the Eldren occupied the Earth. My brother has studied this—I believe he knows more.”
I shivered. I did not know why, but my vitals seemed to chill within me. I could not, easily, continue the conversation, though I wanted to. She appeared not to have noticed my discomfort.
At last I said: “A day of omens, madam. I hope to talk with you again some time.” I bowed and returned to my cabin.
CHAPTER FOUR
I saw her in the same place the next day. The sky had cleared somewhat and sunlight pushed thick beams through the clouds, the rays slanting down on the choppy sea so that the world seemed half dark, half light. A moody day.
We stood for a while in silence, leaning out over the rail, watching the surf slide by, watching the oars smash into the waters in monotonous rhythm.
Again, she was the first to speak.
“What do they plan to do with me?” she asked quietly.
“You will be a hostage against the eventuality of your brother Prince Arjavh ever attacking Necranal,” I told her. “You will be safe—King Rigenos will not be able to bargain if you are harmed.”
She sighed.
“Why did not you and the other Eldren women flee when our fleets put in to Paphanaal?” I asked. This had puzzled me.
“The Eldren do not flee,” she said. “They do not flee from cities theirs by right.”
“They fled to the Mountains of Sorrow centuries ago,” I pointed out.
“No,” she shook her head, “they were driven there. There is a difference.”
“There is a difference,” I agreed.
“Who speaks of difference?” A new, harsher voice broke in. It was Rigenos. He had come out of his cabin silently and stood behind us, feet apart on the swaying deck.
“Greetings, sire,” I said. “We were discussing the meaning of words.”
“You’ve become uncommon friendly with the Eldren bitch,” he sneered. What was it about a man who had shown himself noble and brave in many ways that when the Eldren were concerned he became an uncouth iconoclast?
“Sire,” I pointed out softly, “you speak of one who, though our enemy, is of noble blood.”
Again he sneered. “Noble blood! The vile stuff which flows in their polluted veins cannot be termed thus. Beware, Erekosë! I realize that you are not altogether versed in our ways or our knowledge, that your memory is hazy—but remember that the Eldren wanton has a tongue of liquid gold which can beguile you to your doom and ours. Pay no heed to her.”
“Sire…” I said.
“She’ll weave such