The Bane of the Black Sword - Michael Moorcock [10]
"Oh—my hero has returned to me at last. But I'd rather he'd come at his own volition, not dragged here by the back of his neck like a puppy. The wolf's teeth have all been drawn and there's no one to savage me at nights." She turned away, disgust on her painted face. "Take him away, Theleb K'aarna. You have proved your point."
The sorcerer nodded.
"And now," he said, "to visit Nikorn—I think he should be expecting us by this time . . ."
FOUR
Nikorn of Ilmar was not a young man. He was well past fifty but had preserved his youth. His face was that of a peasant, firm-boned but not fleshy. His eyes were keen and hard as he stared at Elric who had been mockingly propped in a chair.
"So you are Elric of Melniboné, the Wolf of the Snarling Sea, spoiler, reaver and woman-slayer. I think that you could hardly slay a child now. However, I will say that it discomforts me to see any man in such a position—particularly one who has been so active as you. Is it true what the spell-maker says? Were you sent here by my enemies to assassinate me?"
Elric was concerned for his men. What would they do? Wait—or go on. If they stormed the palace now they were doomed—and so was he.
"Is it true?" Nikorn was insistent.
"No," whispered Elric. "My quarrel was with Theleb K'aarna. I have an old score to settle with him."
"I am not interested in old scores, my friend," Nikorn said, not unkindly. "I am interested in preserving my life. Who sent you here?"
"Theleb K'aarna speaks falsely if he told you I was sent," Elric lied. "I was interested only in paying my debt."
"It is not only the sorcerer who told me, I'm afraid," Nikorn said. "I have many spies in the city and two of them independently informed me of a plot by local merchants to employ you to kill me."
Elric smiled faintly. "Very well," he agreed. "It was true, but I had no intention of doing what they asked."
Nikorn said: "I might believe you, Elric of Melniboné. But now I do not know what to do with you. I would not turn anyone over to Theleb K'aarna's mercies. May I have your word that you will not make an attempt on my life again?"
"Are we bargaining, Master Nikorn?" Elric said faintly.
"We are."
"Then what do I give my word in return for, sir?"
"Your life and freedom, Lord Elric."
"And my sword?"
Nikorn shrugged regretfully. "I'm sorry—not your sword."
"Then take my life," said Elric brokenly.
"Come now—my bargain's good. Have your life and freedom and give your word that you will not plague me again."
Elric breathed deeply. "Very well."
Nikorn moved away. Theleb K'aarna who had been standing in the shadows put a hand on the merchant's arm. "You're going to release him?"
"Aye," Nikorn said. "He's no threat to either of us now."
Elric was aware of a certain feeling of friendship in Nikorn's attitude towards him. He, too, felt something of the same. Here was a man both courageous and clever. But—Elric fought madness—without Stormbringer, what could he do to fight back?
The two hundred Imrryrian warriors lay hidden in the undergrowth as dusk gave way to night. They watched and wondered. What had happened to Elric? Was he now in the castle as Dyvim Tvar thought? The Dragon Master knew something of the art of divining, as did all members of the royal line of Melniboné. From what small spells he had conjured, it seemed that Elric now lay within the castle walls.
But without Elric to battle Theleb K'aarna's power, how could they take it?
Nikorn's palace was also a fortress, bleak and unlovely. It was surrounded by a deep moat of dark, stagnant water. It stood high above the surrounding forest, built into rather than on to the rock. Much of it had been carved out of the living stone. It was sprawling and rambling and covered a large area, surrounded by natural buttresses. The rock was porous in places, and slimy water ran down the walls of the lower parts, spreading through dark moss. It