"We wish to destroy Nikorn's power," Pilarmo continued. "And if this means destroying Nikorn, then-" He shrugged and half-smiled, watching Elric's face.
"Common assassins are easily employed, particularly in Bakshaan," Elric pointed out softly.
"Uh-true," Pilarmo agreed. "But Nikorn employs a sorcerer-and a private army. The sorcerer protects him and his palace by means of magic. And a guard of desert men serve to ensure that if magic fails, then natural methods can be used for the purpose. Assassins have attempted to eliminate the trader, but unfortunately, they were not lucky."
Elric laughed. "How disappointing, my friends. Still, assassins are the most dispensable members of the community-are they not? And their souls probably went to placate some demon who would otherwise have plagued more honest folk."
The merchants laughed half-heartedly and, at this, Moonglum grinned, enjoying himself from his seat in the shadows.
Elric poured wine for the other five. It was of a vintage which the law in Bakshaan forbade the populace to drink. Too much drove the imbiber mad, yet Elric had already quaffed great quantities and showed no ill effects. He raised a cup of the yellow wine to his lips and drained it, breathing deeply and with satisfaction as the stuff entered his system. The others sipped theirs cautiously. The merchants were already regretting their haste in contacting the albino. They had a feeling that not only were the legends true-but they did not do justice to the strange-eyed man they wished to employ.
Elric poured more yellow wine into his goblet and his hand trembled slightly and his dry tongue moved over his lips quickly. His breathing increased as he allowed the beverage to trickle down his throat. He had taken more than enough to make other men into mewling idiots, but those few signs were the only indication that the wine had any effect upon him at all.
This was a wine for those who wished to dream of different and less tangible worlds. Elric drank it in the hope that he would, for a night or so, cease to dream.
Now he asked: "And who is this mighty sorcerer, Master Pilarmo?"
"His name is Theleb K'aarna," Pilarmo answered nervously.
Elric's scarlet eyes narrowed. "The sorcerer of Pan Tang?"
"Aye-he comes from that island."
Elric put his cup down upon the table and rose, fingering his blade of black iron, the runesword Stormbringer.
He said with conviction: "I will help you, gentlemen." He had made up his mind not to rob them, after all. A new and more important plan was forming in his brain.
Theleb K'aarna, he thought. So you have made Bakshaan your bolt-hole, eh?
Theleb K'aarna tittered. It was an obscene sound, coming as it did from the throat of a sorcerer of no mean skill. It did not fit with his sombre, black-bearded countenance, his tall, scarlet-robed frame. It was not a sound suited to one of his extreme wisdom.
Theleb K'aarna tittered and stared with dreamy eyes at the woman who lolled on the couch beside him. He whispered clumsy words of en-dearment into her ear and she smiled indulgently, stroking his long, black hair as she would stroke the coat of a dog.
"You're a fool, for all your learning, Theleb K'aarna," she murmured, her hooded eyes staring beyond him at the bright green and orange tapestries which decorated the stone walls of her bed-chamber.
She reflected lazily that a woman could not but help take advantage of any man who put himself so fully into her power.
"Yishana, you are a bitch," Theleb K'aarna breathed foolishly, "and all the learning in the world cannot combat love. I love you." He spoke simply, directly, not understanding the woman who lay beside him. He had seen into the black bowels of hell and had returned sane, he knew secrets which would turn any ordinary man's mind into quivering, jumbled jelly. But in certain arts he was as unversed as his youngest acolyte. The art of love was one of those. "I love you," he repeated, and wondered why she ignored him.
Yishana, Queen of Jharkor, pushed the sorcerer away from her and rose abruptly, swinging bare, well-formed legs off the divan. She was a handsome woman, with hair as black as her soul; though her youth was fading, she had a strange quality about her which both repelled and attracted men. She wore her multicoloured silks well and they swirled about her as, with light grace, she strode to the barred window of the chamber and stared out into the dark and turbulent night. The sorcerer watched her through narrow, puzzled eyes, disappointed at this halt to their love-making.
"What's wrong?"
The queen continued to stare out at the night. Great banks of black cloud moved like predatory monsters, swiftly across the wind-torn sky.
The night was raucous and angry about Bakshaan; full of ominous portent.
Theleb K'aarna repeated his question and again received no answer. He stood up angrily, then, and joined her at the window.
"Let us leave now, Yishana, before it is too late. If Elric learns of our presence in Bakshaan, we shall both suffer." She did not reply, but her breasts heaved beneath the flimsy fabric and her mouth tightened.
The sorcerer growled, gripping her arm. "Forget your renegade freebooter, Elric-you have me now, and I can do much more for you than any sword-swinging medicine-man from a broken and senile empire!"
Yishana laughed unpleasantly and turned on her lover. "You are a fool, Theleb K'aarna, and you're much less of a man than Elric. Three aching years have passed since he deserted me, skulking off into the night on your trail and leaving me to pine for him! But I still remember his savage kisses and his wild love-making. Gods! I wish he had an equal. Since he left, I've never found one to match him-though many have tried and proved better than you-until you came skulking back and your spells drove them off or destroyed them." She sneered, mocking and taunting him. "You've been too long among your parchments to be much good to me!"
The sorcerer's face muscles tautened beneath his tanned skin and he scowled. "Then why do you let me remain? I could make you my slave with a potion-you know that!"
"But you wouldn't-and are thus my slave, mighty wizard. When Elric threatened to displace you in my affections, you conjured that demon and Elric was forced to fight it. He won you'll remember-but in his pride refused to compromise. You fled into hiding and he went in search of you-leaving me! That is what you did. You're in love, Theleb K'aarna…" she laughed in his face. "And your love won't let you use your arts against me-only my other lovers. I put up with you because you are often useful, but if Elric were to return…"
Theleb K'aarna turned away, pettishly picking at his long black beard. Yishana said: "I half hate Elric, aye! But that is better than half loving you!"
The sorcerer snarled: "Then why did you join me in Bakshaan? Why did you leave your brother's son upon your throne as regent and come here? I sent word and you came-you must have some affection for me to do that!"
Yishana laughed again. "I heard that a pale-faced sorcerer with crimson eyes and a howling runesword was traveling in the north-east. That is why I came, Theleb K'aarna."
Theleb K'aarna's face twisted with anger as he bent forward and gripped the woman's shoulder in his taloned hand.
"You'll remember that this same pale-faced sorcerer was responsible for your own brother's death," he spat. "You lay with a man who was a slayer of his kin and yours. He deserted the fleet, which he had led to pillage in his own land, when the Dragon Masters retaliated. Dharmit, your brother, was aboard one of those ships and he now lies scorched and rotting on the ocean bed."