Elric to Rescue Tanelorn - Michael Moorcock [39]
The messenger gasped: “I asked Karlaak for aid but, as we supposed, they had never heard of Tanelorn and suspected that I was an emissary from the beggar army sent to lead their few forces into a trap. I pleaded with the Senators, but they would do nothing.”
“Was not Elric there—he knows Tanelorn?”
“No, he was not there. There is a rumour which says that he himself fights Chaos now, for the minions of Chaos captured his wife Zarozinia and he rides in pursuit of them. Chaos, it seems, gains strength everywhere in our realm.”
Brut was pale.
“What of Jadmar—will Jadmar send warriors?” The messenger spoke urgently, for many had been sent to the nearer cities to solicit aid.
“I do not know,” replied Brut, “and it does not matter now—for the beggar army is not three days’ march from Tanelorn and it would take two weeks for a Jadmarian force to reach us.”
“And Rackhir?”
“I have heard nothing and he has not returned. I have the feeling he’ll not return. Tanelorn is doomed.”
Rackhir and Lamsar bowed before the small men who sat in the tent, but one of them said impatiently: “Do not humble yourselves before us, friends—we who are humbler than any.” So they straightened their backs and waited to be further addressed.
The Grey Lords assumed humility, but this, it seemed, was their greatest ostentation, for it was a pride that they had. Rackhir realized that he would need to use subtle flattery and was not sure that he could, for he was a warrior, not a courtier or a diplomat. Lamsar, too, realized the situation and he said:
“In our pride, lords, we have come to learn the simpler truths which are only truths—the truths which you can teach us.”
The speaker gave a self-deprecating smile and replied: “Truth is not for us to define, guest, we can but offer our incomplete thoughts. They might interest you or help you to find your own truths.”
“Indeed, that is so,” Rackhir said, not wholly sure with what he was agreeing, but judging it best to agree. “And we wondered if you had any suggestions on a matter which concerns us—the protection of our Tanelorn.”
“We would not be so prideful as to interfere with our own comments. We are not mighty intellects,” the speaker replied blandly, “and we have no confidence in our own decisions, for who knows that they may be wrong and based on wrongly assessed information?”
“Indeed,” said Lamsar, judging that he must flatter them with their own assumed humility, “and it is lucky for us, lords, that we do not confuse pride with learning—for it is the quiet man who observes and says little who sees the most. Therefore, though we realize that you are not confident that your suggestions or help would be useful, nonetheless we, taking example from your own demeanour, humbly ask if you know of any way in which we might rescue Tanelorn?”
Rackhir had hardly been able to follow the complexities of Lamsar’s seemingly unsophisticated argument, but he saw that the Grey Lords were pleased. Out of the corner of his eye he observed Sorana. She was smiling to herself and it seemed evident, by the characteristics of that smile, that they had behaved in the right way. Now Sorana was listening intently and Rackhir cursed to himself that the Lords of Chaos would know of everything and might, even if they did gain the Grey Lords’ aid, still be able to anticipate and stop any action they took to save Tanelorn.
The speaker conferred in a liquid speech with his fellows and said finally: “Rarely do we have the privilege to entertain such brave and intelligent men. How may our insignificant minds be put to your advantage?”
Rackhir realized quite suddenly, and almost laughed, that the Grey Lords were not very clever after all. Their flattery had got them the help they required. He said:
“Narjhan of Chaos heads a huge army of human scum—a beggar army—and is sworn to tear down Tanelorn