The Weird of the White Wolf - Michael Moorcock [47]
“As I remember, the one who dwelt in the citadel when I passed through the Chaos Realm in my youth—he was no Lord of Chaos, but a kind of servant to the Lords. Yet,” he frowned, “not exactly a servant....”
“Ach! You speak in riddles.” Theleb K'aarna turned his horse to ride down the hills, away from the citadel. “I know you Melnibonéans! Starving, you'd rather have a paradox than food!”
Elric and Yishana followed him some distance, then Elric stopped. Elric pointed behind him.
“The one who dwells yonder is a paradoxical sort of fellow. He's a kind of Jester to the Court of Chaos. The Lords of Chaos respect him—perhaps fear him slightly—even though he entertains them. He delights them with cosmic riddles, with farcical satires purporting to explain the nature of the Cosmic Hand that holds both Chaos and Law in balance, he juggles enigmas like baubles, laughs at what Chaos holds dear, takes seriously that which they mock at . . .” He paused and shrugged. “So I have heard, at least.”
“Why should he be here?”
“Why should he be anywhere? I could guess at the motives of Chaos or Law and probably be right. But not even the Lords of the Higher Worlds can understand the motives of Balo the Jester. It is said that he is the only one allowed to move between the Realms of Chaos and Law at will, though I have never heard of him coming to the Realm of Earth before. Neither, for that matter, have I ever heard him credited with such acts of destruction as that which we've witnessed. It is a puzzle to me—one which would no doubt please him if he knew.”
“There would be one way of discovering the purpose of his visit,” Theleb K'aarna said with a faint smile. “If someone entered the citadel...”
“Come now, sorcerer,” Elric mocked. “I've little love for life, to be sure, but there are some things of value to me—my soul, for one!”
Theleb K'aarna began to ride on down the hill, but Elric remained thoughtfully where he was, Yishana beside him.
“You seem more troubled by this than you should be, Elric,” she said.
“It is disturbing. There is a hint here that, if we investigate the citadel further, we should become embroiled in some dispute between Balo and his masters—perhaps even the Lords of Law, too. To become so involved could easily mean our destruction, since the forces at work are more dangerous and powerful than anything we are familiar with on Earth.”
“But we cannot simply watch this Balo laying our cities waste, carrying off our fairest, threatening to rule Jharkor himself within a short time!”
Elric sighed, but did not reply.
“Have you no sorcery, Elric, to send Balo back to Chaos where he belongs, to seal the breach he has made in our Realm?”
“Even Melnibonéans cannot match the power of the Lords of the Higher Worlds—and my forefathers knew much more of sorcery than do I. My best allies serve neither Chaos nor Law, they are elementals: lords of fire, earth, air, and water, entities with affinities with beasts and plants. Good allies in an earthly battle—but of no great use when matched against one such as Balo. I must think. . . . At least, if I opposed Balo it would not necessarily incur the wrath of my patron Lords. Something, I suppose. . . .”
The hills rolled green and lush to the grasslands at their feet, the sun beat down from a clear sky on the infinity of grass stretching to the horizon. Above them a large predatory bird wheeled; and Theleb K'aarna was a tiny figure, turning in the saddle to call to them in a thin voice, but his words could not be heard.
Yishana seemed dispirited. Her shoulders slightly slumped, and she did not look at Elric as she began to guide her horse slowly down towards the sorcerer of Pan Tang. Elric followed, conscious of his own indecision, yet half-careless of it. What did it matter to him if . . . ?
The music began, faintly at first, but beginning to swell with an attractive, poignant sweetness, evoking nostalgic memories, offering peace and giving life a sharp meaning, all at once. If the music came from instruments, then they were not earthly.