Elric fumed as he was hefted up between the two. The men were dark-skinned, bearded and their eyes were deep-set beneath shaggy brows. They wore the heavy wool-trimmed metal caps of their race, and their armour was not of iron but of thick, leather-covered wood. Down a long corridor they lugged Elric's weakened body and one of them rapped sharply on a door.
Elric recognised Yishana's voice bid them enter. Behind the desert-men and their burden came the tittering, fussing sorcerer. "A present for you, Yishana," he called.
The desert men entered. Elric could not see Yishana but he heard her gasp. "On the couch," directed the sorcerer. Elric was deposited on yielding fabric. He lay completely exhausted on the couch, staring up at a bright, lewd mural which had been painted on the ceiling.
Yishana bent over him. Elric could smell her erotic perfume. He said hoarsely: "An unprecedented reunion, Queen." Yishana's eyes were, for a moment, concerned, then they hardened and she laughed cynically.
"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 Melnibone 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 Melnibone. 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 Melnibone. 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 was not a pleasant place, judging from the outside, but it was almost certainly impregnable. Two hundred men could not take it, without the aid of magic.
Some of the Melnibonean warriors were becoming impatient. There were a few who muttered that Elric had, once again, betrayed them. Dyvim Tvar and Moonglum did not believe this. They had seen the signs of conflict-and heard them-in the forest.
They waited: Hoping for a signal from the castle itself.
They watched the castle's great main gate-and their patience at last proved of value. The huge wood and metal gate swung inwards on chains and a white-faced man in the tattered regalia of Melnibone appeared between two desert warriors. They were supporting him, it seemed. They pushed him forward-he staggered a few yards along the causeway of slimy stone which bridged the moat.
Then he fell. He began to crawl wearily, painfully, forward.
Moonglum growled. "What have they done to him? I must help him." But Dyvim Tvar held him back.
"No-it would not do to betray our presence here. Let him reach the forest first, then we can help him."
Even those who had cursed Elric, now felt pity for the albino as, staggering and crawling alternately, he dragged his body slowly towards them. From the battlements of the fortress a tittering laugh was borne down to the ears of those below. They also caught a few words.
"What now, wolf?" said the voice. "What now?"
Moonglum clenched his hands and trembled with rage, hating to see his proud friend so mocked in his weakness. "What's happened to him? What have they done?"
"Patience," Dyvim Tvar said. "We'll find out in a short while."
It was an agony to wait until Elric finally crawled on his knees into the undergrowth.
Moonglum went forward to aid his friend. He put a Supporting arm around Elric's shoulders but the albino snarled and shook it off, his whole countenance aflame with terrible hate-made more terrible because it was impotent. Elric could do nothing to destroy that which he hated. Nothing.
Dyvim Tvar said urgently: "Elric, you must tell us What happened. If we're to help you-we must know what happened."
Elric breathed heavily and nodded his agreement. His face partially cleared of the emotion he felt and weakly he stuttered out the story.
"So," Moonglum growled, "our plans come to nothing-and you have lost your strength for ever."
Elric shook his head. "There must be a way," he gasped. "There must! "
"What? How? If you have a plan, Elric-let me hear it now,"
Elric swallowed thickly and mumbled. "Very well,
Moonglum, you shall hear it. But listen carefully, for I have not the strength to repeat it."
Moonglum was a lover of the night, but only when it was lit by the torches found in cities. He did not like the night when it came to open countryside and he was not fond of it when it surrounded a castle such as Nikorn's, but he pressed on and hoped for the best.