Michael Moorcock: The Fortress of the Pearl

That laughter would never leave Quarzhasaat. It would remain on the wind which came in from the Sighing Desert, in the music of the fountains, the clang of the metal-workers' and jewellers' hammers as they fashioned their wares. And so would the smell of blood remain, together with the memory of slaughter, that terrible loss of life which left the city without a Council and an army.

But never again would Quarzhasaat foster the legend of her own power. Never again would she treat the desert nomads as less than beasts. Never again would she know that self-destructive pride so familiar to all great empires in decline.

And when the slaughter was finished, Elric of Melniboné slumped in his saddle, sheathing a sated Stormbringer, and he gasped with the demon power which still pulsed through him and he took a great Pearl from his belt and held it to the rising sun.

"They have paid a fair price now, I think."

He tossed the thing into a gutter where a little dog licked congealing blood.

Above, the vultures, called from a thousand miles around by the prospect of memorable feasting, were beginning to drop like a dark cloud upon the beautiful towers and gardens of Quarzhasaat.

Elric's face held no pride in his achievement as he spurred his horse for the West and the place on the road where he had told Anigh to await them with enough Kwani herbs, water, horses and food to cross the Sighing Desert and seek again the more familiar politics and sorceries of the Young Kingdoms.

He did not look back on the city which, in the name of his ancestors, had been conquered at last.

The celebrations at the Silver Flower Oasis had continued long after the news came of Elite's vengeance-taking on those who would have harmed the Holy Girl of the Bauradim. The news was brought by Quarzhasaatim, fleeing from the city in an action which had no precedent in all their long history.

Oone the Dreamthief, who had stayed at the Silver Flower Oasis longer than was necessary and who was yet reluctant to leave and go about her proper business, learned of Elric's vengeance without joy. The news saddened her, for she had hoped for something else to happen.

"He serves Chaos as I serve Law," she said to herself. "And who is to say which of us is the worse enslaved?" But she sighed and threw herself into the festivities with a force which was less than spontaneous.

The Bauradim and the other nomad clans did not notice, for their own pleasure was intensified. They were rid of a tyrant, of the only thing in the desert lands that they had ever feared.

"The cactus tears our flesh so that we shall be shown where water is," said Raik Na Seem. "Our troubles were great, but thanks to you, Oone, and Elric of Melniboné, our troubles turned to triumphs. Soon some of us will visit Quarzhasaat and set out the terms on which we intend to trade in future. There will be a welcome equality about the transaction, I think." He was greatly amused. "But we will wait until the dead are decently eaten."

Varadia took Oone's hand and they walked together beside the pools of the great oasis. The Blood Moon was waning and the silver petals of the flowers were shining brighter still. Soon the Blood Moon must wane and the flowers shed their petals and then it would be time for the people of the desert to go their different ways.

"You loved that white-faced man, did you not?" Varadia asked her friend.

"I hardly knew him, child."

"I knew you both very well, not so long ago." Varadia smiled. "And I am growing rapidly, am I not? You said as much yourself."

Oone was forced to agree. "But there was no hope for it, Varadia. We have such different destinies. And I have scant sympathy for the choices he makes."

"He is driven, that one. He has little in the way of ordinary volition." She pushed a strand of honey-coloured hair away from her dark features.

"Perhaps," said Oone. "Yet some of us can refuse the destiny that the Lords of Law and Chaos set out for us and still survive, still create something which the gods are forbidden to touch."

Varadia was sympathetic. "What we create remains a mystery," she said. "It is still hard for me to understand how I made that Pearl, creating the very thing my enemies sought in order to escape them. And then it became real!"

"I have known this to happen," said Oone. "It is those creations that a dreamthief seeks and earns a living from." She laughed. "That Pearl would bring me a good wage for a long time if I took it to market."

"How is it that reality is formed from dreams, Oone?"

Oone paused and looked down into the water which reflected the faint pink disc of the moon. "An oyster, threatened by intrusion from without, seeks to isolate that threat by forming the thing around it that eventually becomes a pearl. Sometimes that is how it happens. At other times the will of humanity is so strong, the desire for something so intense, that they will bring into existence that which was thought until then to be impossible. It is not unusual, Varadia, for a dream to be made reality. This knowledge is one of the reasons why my respect for humanity is maintained, in spite of all the cruelties and injustices I witness in my travels."

"I think I understand," said the Holy Girl.

"Oh, you will understand all this very well in time," Oone assured her. "For you are one of those capable of such creation."

A few days later Oone was ready to ride away from the Silver Flower Oasis, towards Elwher and the Unmapped East. Varadia spoke with her for the last time.

"I know you have a further secret," she said to the dreamthief. "Will you not share it with me?"

Oone was astonished. Her regard for the girl's sensitive intelligence increased. "Do you want to talk more about the nature of dreams and reality?"

"I think you carry a child, Oone," said Varadia directly. "Is that not so?"

Oone folded her arms and leaned against her horse. She shook her head in frank good humour. "It is true that all the wisdom of your people is accumulated in you, young woman."

"The child of one you have loved and who is lost to you?"

"Aye," said Oone. "A daughter, I think. Maybe even a brother and a sister, if the omens are properly interpreted. More than pearls can be conceived in dreams, Varadia."

"And will the father ever know his offspring?" gently asked the Holy Girl.

Oone tried to speak and discovered that she could not. She looked away quickly towards distant Quarzhasaat. Then, after a few moments, she was able to force herself to answer.

"Never," she said.