Michael Moorcock: The Weird of the White Wolf

'You sneer at my questions and then proffer lame lies to cover your own cowardly deed, ' Yolan said bitterly. 'If I had my way you'd be fed to your hellblade there I've heard what happened earlier.'

Elric rose slowly. 'Your taunts tire me. When you feel ready to deliver your message, give it to the inn-keeper.'

He walked around the table, moving towards the stairs, but stopped as Yolan turned and plucked at his sleeve.

Elric's corpse-white face stared down at the young noble. His crimson eyes flickered with a dangerous emotion. 'I am not used to such familiarity, young man.'

Yolan's hand fell away. 'Forgive me. I was self-indulgent and should not have let my emotions override diplomacy. I came on a matter of discretion a message from Queen Yishana. She seeks your help.'

'I'm as disinclined to help others as I am to explain my actions, ' Elric spoke impatiently. 'In the past my help has not always been to the advantage of those who've sought it. Darmit, your queen's halfbrother; discovered that.'

Yolan said sullenly: 'You echo my own warnings to the queen, sir. For all that, she desires to see you in private tonight...' he scowled and looked away. 'I would point out that I could have you arrested should you refuse.'

'Perhaps.' Elric moved again towards the steps.

'Tell Yishana that I stay the night here and move on at dawn. She may visit me if her request is so urgent.' He climbed the stairs, leaving a gape-mouthed Yolan sitting alone in the quiet of the tavern.

Theleb K'aarna scowled. For all his skill in the black arts, he was a fool in love; and Yishana, sprawled on her fur-rich bed, knew it. It pleased her to have power over a man who could destroy her with a simple incantation if it were not for his love weakness. Though Theleb K'aarna stood high in the hierarchy of Pan Tang, it was clear to her that she was in no danger from the sorcerer. Indeed, her intuition informed her that this man who loved to dominate others also needed to be dominated. She filled this need for him with relish.

Theleb K'aarna continued to scowl at her. 'How can that decadent spell-singer help you where I cannot?' he muttered, sitting down on the bed and stroking her bejewelled foot.

Yishana was pot a young woman, neither was she pretty. Yet there was an hypnotic quality about her tall, full body, her lush black hair, and her wholly sensuous face. Few of the men she had singled out for her pleasure had been able to resist her.

Neither was she sweet-natured, just, wise, nor self-sacrificing. The historians would append no noble soubriquet to her name. Still, there was something so self-sufficient about her, something denying the usual standards by which a person was judged, that all who knew her admired her, and she was well-loved by those she ruled loved rather as a willful child is loved, yet loved with firm loyalty. Now she laughed quietly, mockingly at her sorcerer lover.

'You're probably right, Theleb K'aarna, but Elric is a legend the most spoken-of, least-known man in the world. This is my opportunity to discover what others have only speculated on his true character.'

Theleb K'aarna made a pettish gesture. He stroked his long black beard and got up, walking to a table bearing fruit and wine. He poured wine for them both. 'if you seek to make me jealous again, you are succeeding, of course. I hold little hope for your ambition. Elric's ancestors were half-demons-his race is not human and cannot be judged by our yardsticks. To us, sorcery is learned after years of study and sacrifice to Elric's kind, sorcery is intuitive-natural, You may not live to learn his secrets. Cymoril, his beloved cousin, died on his blade and she was his betrothed! '

'Your concern is touching.' She lazily accepted the goblet he handed to her. 'But I'll continue with my plan, none the less. After all, you can hardly claim to have had much success in discovering the nature of this citadel! '

'There are subtleties I have not properly plumbed as yet! '

'Then perhaps Elric's intuition will provide answers where you fail, ' she smiled. Then he got up and looked through the window at the sky where the full moon hung in a clear sky over the spires of Dhakos. 'Yolan is late. If-all went properly, he should have brought Elric here by now.'

'Yolan was a mistake, You should not have sent such a close friend of Darmit's. For all we know, he's challenged Elric and killed him! '

Again she couldn't resist laughter. 'Oh, you wish too hard it clouds your reason. I sent Yolan because I knew he would be rude to the albino and perhaps weaken his usual insouciance arouse his curiosity. Yolan was a kind of bait to bring Elric to us! ' 'Then possibly Elric sensed this?'

'I am not overly intelligent, my love-but I think my instincts rarely betray, me. We shall see soon.'

A little later there was a discreet scratch at the door and a handmaiden entered.

'Your Highness, Count Yolan has returned.'

'Only Count Yolan?' There was a smile on Theleb K'aarna's face. It was to disappear in a short while as Yishana left the room, garbed for the street. 'You are a fool! ' he snarled as the door slammed.

He flung down his goblet. Already he had been unsuccessful in the matter of the citadel and, if Elric displaced him, he could lose everything. He began to think very deeply, ' very carefully.

Though he claimed lack of conscience, Elric's tormented eyes belied the claim as he sat at his window, drinking strong wine and thinking on the past. Since the sack of Imrryr, he had quested the world, seeking some purpose to his existence, some meaning to his life.

He had failed to find the answer in the Dead God's Book. He had failed to love Shaarilla, the wingless woman of Myyrrhn, failed to forget Cymoril, who still inhabited his nightmares. And there were memories of other dreams-of a fate he dare not think upon.

Peace, he thought, was all he sought. Yet even peace in death was denied him. It was in this mood that he continued to brood until his reverie was broken by a soft scratching at the door. Immediately his expression hardened. His crimson eyes took on a guarded look, his shoulders lifted so that when he stood up he was all cool arrogance. He placed the cup on the table and said lightly:

'Enter! '

A woman entered, swathed in a dark red cloak, unrecognizable in the gloom of the room. She closed the door behind her and stood there, motionless and unspeaking.

When at length she spoke, her voice was almost hesitant, though there was some irony in it, too.

'You sit in darkness, Lord Elric, I had thought to find you asleep ...'

'Sleep, madam, is the occupation that bores me most. But I will light a torch if you find the darkness unattractive.' He went to the table and removed the cover from the small bowl of charcoal which lay there. He reached for a thin wooden spill and placed one end in the bowl, blowing gently. Soon the charcoal glowed, and the taper caught, and he touched it to a reed torch that hung in a bracket on the wall above the table.

The torch flared and sent shadows skipping around the small chamber. The woman drew back her cowl and the light caught her dark, heavy features and the masses of black hair which framed them. She contrasted strongly with the slender, aesthetic albino who stood a head taller, looking at her impassively.

She was unused to impassive looks and the novelty pleased her.

'You sent for me, Lord Elric and you see I am here.' She made a mock curtsey.

'Queen Yishana, ' he acknowledged the curtsey with a slight bow. Now that she confronted him, she sensed his power a power that perhaps attracted even more strongly than her own. And yet, he gave no hint that he responded to her. She reflected that a situation she had expected to be interesting might, ironically, become frustrating. Even this amused her. Elric, in turn, was intrigued by this woman in spite of himself. His jaded emotions’hinted that Yishana might restore their edge. This excited him and perturbed him at once.