Ancestral Memories
Moonglum had not expected to find such subtle beauty in the port of Hizss. Until now, the ports on this side of the world had been somewhat gloomy, massive fortifications as if they had once fought long battles. But not Hizss. Her pastel terraces formed slender ziggurats over which poured all manner of flowers. On her terraces lounged brightly dressed, brown-skinned citizens, lazing in the warm, easy air, cupping their hands to call down into her streets to vendors and messengers or merchants on their way to inspect the broad-beamed galleon’s cargo and greet her traders. Artefacts which were common on his side of the world, the captain had warned them, might be highly valuable to people on this side, and so, should he be offered something for, say, his belt buckle, he should be prepared to spend some time bartering. The tavern girl, Cita Tine, had brought a whole sack of goods she planned to trade. To his chagrin, Moonglum understood that it was not wholly out of blind passion that she had decided to accompany him to the World Below (or, as the locals preferred, Above). Indeed, almost as soon as they had berthed, Cita had raced down the gangplank to the quay, telling him she would see him back at the ship around suppertime. The last he glimpsed of her was, sack over her shoulder, her pushing through a crowd of men and women and entering a narrow side street between two warehouses. Clearly, she knew exactly where she wanted to go. Moonglum rather resented the fact that she had not thought to include him in her confidence. Once again, they were running out of money. Elric disdained such considerations, but they needed treasure, not close encounters with pirates. Moonglum watched the group of merchants as they made for a couple of dockside inns, saw the priestesses met by two of their own in a canvas-covered carriage, and the saturnine trader sign for a rickshaw to take him up the hill into the city’s centre. Then Moonglum glanced at Elric and followed his friend’s gaze down to the quay.
Separated from the others, hanging back somewhat in the shadows, stood a tall woman. She was dressed in several shades of green silk, a wide-brimmed green hat hiding the upper part of her face. A small slave boy held a long-handled parasol to protect her from the noonday heat and she rested one slender hand on his shoulder. That hand attracted the Eastlander’s attention most. There was a familiar pallor to it. He knew at once that, like his friend, the woman was an albino; and, when she turned to avoid a lumbering merchant anxious to reach the ship ahead of his fellows, the Eastlander’s observation was confirmed. Her face was as white as Elric’s, her eyes protected by a mask of fine gauze through which, no doubt, she could see, but through which the sun’s rays could not entirely penetrate. She had the same languid insouciance in her manner. She could be the albino’s sister. Was this Elric’s motive for being here? Was Moonglum the only one risking the voyage from simple curiosity? He sighed and began to wonder about the quality of the local wine.
But when Elric, guiding his princess towards the gangplank, indicated that he would be glad of Moonglum’s presence, the little Elwherite hitched his two swords about his waist and went with them, glad, after a moment, to feel solid land beneath his feet, even if he had some slight difficulty in standing upright.
“Another of your Melnibonéan relatives,” murmured Nauha, as they approached the green-clad woman. “Is she blind?”
“I don’t think so. And she is not Melnibonéan.”
The princess frowned, looking up into his face in the hope of learning something more from his expression. “Then—what—?”
Elric might have shrugged, even smiled, as he said: “She’s Phoorn.”
“Phoorn?”
“At any rate more Phoorn than I am.”
“But what is Phoorn?”
For the first time since she had known him, the albino seemed ill at ease. “Oh, we are closely related. But I’m not sure. I don’t…” Now he recalled that this was not the kind of thing his people discussed too frequently, and probably never with humans.
“You don’t remember…” She was sceptical.
“I remember her. She might not know me.”
He had told her enough about the nature of his dreamquests for her to understand at least the gist of what he said. He might have met this particular woman before or after that moment. She might not even be the same woman Elric remembered. Dreamquests usually took place in his plane’s past or in utterly alien periods of time; but in the other worlds, where his quests had taken him as a youth, lying on the dream-couches of Melniboné, time became more flexible, more chaotic even. Drawing closer, however, it was obvious that this woman knew Elric. She looked up expectantly as he approached. And began to smile.
“Lady—Fernrath?” To Nauha’s surprise, his voice was again a little hesitant. But the woman smiled and held her hand to be touched in that odd way Melnibonéans used for greeting. “Prince Elric,” she said. Her voice was unlike Elric’s, somewhat sibilant and strangely accented, as if she used an unfamiliar language.
Pushing back his long white hair, he offered her a short bow. “At your service, my lady.” He introduced the others. Princess Nauha was a little overenthusiastic in her response while Moonglum’s bow was swaggering and deep.
“You knew we were coming?” asked the albino, while her slave struck at the oncoming crowd with his rolled parasol. She led the little party to where a carriage, drawn by two lively but unhappy striped horses, waited for her at the top of the quay.
She answered: “How could I have known? I always meet such ships.”
He helped first Fernrath, then Nauha into the carriage. Moonglum, comparing his traveller’s cloak to the fine linen and silk, chose to join the driver on his seat. This clearly gave the driver no particular pleasure.
“You used your magic, perhaps?” he answered Lady Fernrath, challenging her apparent innocence.
She smiled back, but was silent on the subject. “Such a crowd today. Ships from your world are so rare.” She lifted an elegant cane and tapped the driver on the shoulder.
The narrow streets, crowded with merchants’ stalls, led away into less busy thoroughfares, becoming roads, which eventually passed between slender pines and cypresses, giving glimpses of the port below and the glittering sea beyond.
“Your city is lovely,” said Princess Nauha, by way of small talk.
“Oh, it is not mine!” Lady Fernrath laughed. “In fact I have very little communication with it at all. But I suppose it is prettier than most hereabouts.”
Thereafter they travelled mostly in silence, the visitors occasionally remarking on aspects of the city or the bay, which Lady Fernrath, as if remembering her manners, acknowledged gracefully enough. At last, they followed a white wall to tall twin pillars. Between the pillars were great bronze gates inscribed in a language they could not read but which resembled Melnibonéan. At a cry from the driver, the gates opened and they entered a long drive, which took them to the steps of a low, rather simple house, built in marble and glittering quartz.
While a servant indicated the house’s appointments, Lady Fernrath led them through high, cool rooms, sparsely decorated and furnished, to the far side of the house and a well-landscaped garden surrounded on three sides by a tall wall, offering a view directly ahead. The garden smelled sweetly of flowers and gorgeous shrubs. Summer insects flew from one to another. On the lawn, a low table and couches had been arranged, ready for a meal. The view was superb, looking out for miles over rolling, wooded hills, all the way to the indigo sea.
The architecture and design of the place was thoroughly unlike anything Moonglum remembered from Elric’s Imrryr, the Dreaming City. The capital of Melniboné had been designed, through her ten thousand years of evolution, to impress with her aesthetic magnificence, her overwhelming power. In contrast, this house and its garden were meant to soothe and welcome and afford privacy.
Almost immediately, Lady Fernrath’s servants, all of ordinary human appearance, emerged, taking their outer garments, showing them to guest rooms, helping them to bathe and put on slightly scented fresh, cool robes. Each guest was assigned at least one servant. Only Moonglum was not used to this and took considerable pleasure in the luxury.
Nauha remarked that the fountains and the walls felt to her, though she could not be sure why, like the work of a desert people. “You must think me naïve!”
Lady Fernrath bowed her head, denying this. “I believe they were from some desert place, yes.” She spoke vaguely.
It was not long, as they took wine prior to dinner, before Moonglum raised the question of the pirates and in particular their king. He laughed. “He did not make his business clear, though at first we thought he might attack and prepared for the worst.”
“You were wise to do so, Master Moonglum. Your instincts did not betray you. Oh, it’s clear enough, I would guess, what Addric Heed does for a living.” She laughed, perhaps bitterly. “He is a pirate and a slaver. A tradesman! A creature born to the highest blood of all—of all—reducing himself to such filthy work!” Her mood changed as she glared into the middle distance. Dark green-gold stars flickered in the depths of her pale eyes. “A thief; corrupt as any human you’ll find here. A betrayer and destroyer of his own kin! A slaver! A tradesman!” She spoke as a woman obsessed. “And his crew is worse. Why even that remaining ship of his is an act of cruel betrayal…”
She lifted her long head like an angry beast. Her robes seemed independently agitated. She broke off, remembering her manners. “He is—he has—” She drew a long, slow breath. “It’s said he has pacts with the Lords of the Balance. Yet why they would trust him or use him I have no idea!” Her voice took on a light, dismissive tone. She clapped her hands and ordered another decanter of wine. “Here’s one from our own vineyards I hope you’ll find palatable.”
Moonglum would have asked more about Addric Heed if he could, but no further opportunity came. Then a little later, their hostess saw him yawn discretely behind his hand. “You’ll be my guests here, I hope, while you stay in Hizss? I should have mentioned it sooner how welcome you are at my house.”
“You are kind, madam.” Before either of the others could answer, Elric accepted for them all.
“I have my lady friend,” Moonglum murmured, a little embarrassed.
“Then, of course, she must be sent for, too. It is so rare for me to receive guests at the best of times. And such rare guests! From so far away. From the exotic World Below!” She gave the servants appropriate orders. They should go with the driver to the ship and bring all their things, as well as Moonglum’s lady, back with them.
But when the servants returned with their luggage and Elric’s light armour, it was to report that the wench had indeed been waiting on the ship for Moonglum, but she had chosen to remain on board ship. She sent a message to Moonglum, saying that she was happier there and likely to remain so.
On hearing this, Moonglum flushed and turned away for a moment. Then, bowing to Lady Fernrath, he said that while he appreciated her invitation he felt he should return to the ship and see to the well-being of his friend.
“I understand,” said Lady Fernrath. “I do hope she finds our air more agreeable in the morning.”
The sun was setting now and Moonglum thought he saw a hint of pale scales under her neck, but it was surely no more than a trick of the light. Somewhat subdued and doing all he could to hide his emotion, the Eastlander climbed into the carriage and left again for the ship he’d hoped not to see for another few days at least. That his wench should take to pouting now was not to be tolerated. He decided to give her a piece of his mind. And he could not be wholly certain she wouldn’t try to steal something of local value from his luggage. He was in such poor temper that he almost forgot the swords he had left in his chamber above.
With Moonglum’s absence, the Princess of Uyt felt a little removed from the company, though Lady Fernrath did all that should be expected to put her at her ease.
“And how fares my brother Sadric?” asked their hostess when they were settled on the couches again. “Has his temper or his attitude towards you improved, my lord?”
Elric shook his head briefly. “The Emperor died still voicing disappointment at my failings of moral courage.” His voice held a trace of irony, but was without emotion. “The succession lay between myself and my cousin, you’ll recall. How we behaved upon our respective dreamquests would determine who ascended the throne of the Dragon Empire. I believe I was chosen not from any sense of fitness but because I made fewer mistakes—in Sadric’s eyes, at least!” Another faint, sardonic smile.
As the sun came closer to the horizon, the woman removed the gauze visor to reveal eyes of pale green-gold, but, when her milk-white hair fell from below her scarf, it was clear she was also an albino. She noticed Nauha’s look of surprise and laughed. Nauha blurted: “Forgive me, my lady, I had not realised you were related. You are the Emperor Sadric’s sister?”
“My sister married him,” she answered softly, while Elric frowned at his lover’s rather sudden interruption.
Lady Fernrath waved away any imagined rudeness but leaned towards the albino. “So, Elric, is Yyrkoon emperor now?”
“I killed him. My father named me his successor but Yyrkoon was uneasy with the decision. And he disapproved of my betrothal.”
“Your betrothed was not high-born?”
“She was his sister. I killed her also.”
“You loved her?”
“After a fashion.” His expression became unreadable. “I am surprised you had not heard. Most of my world knows the story so well…”
“I had not understood you to be such close relatives.” There was some relief in Nauha’s voice.
“Aye,” said Lady Fernrath, sipping with relish a glass of grey-green wine. “None closer. Blood relatives.”
On hearing this, a mysterious expression passed across Princess Nauha’s face but was quickly controlled. Elric, noticing this, seemed for a moment amused.
Then suddenly the princess felt as if a gate had shut against her. She followed them up onto the terrace to dine as the moon came out. The marble and alabaster took on a greenish tinge, touched with gold, and even Lady Fernrath’s features offered a faint reflection of colour, but not, Princess Nauha noticed, Elric’s.
As soon as Nauha was able, she blamed the change of environment for her tiredness. Then she, too, graciously begged their pardon, saying she was poor company and could see they had much to talk about on family matters. She did not add how the fact that they had increasingly dropped into High Melnibonéan speech as the evening grew older had decidedly helped give that impression.
All went according to the best protocol, but afterwards, in her room, the Uyt princess allowed herself one small growl of rage until her maid had gone and, weeping, she took hopelessly to her bed and lay upon it, staring at the oddly ornamented ceiling, trying to control her wounded feelings. She knew he would not even consider explaining himself when he joined her. She would be lucky, she thought, if she ever saw him again. This took her mind from her own anger and made her recall that she also feared for him.
Princess Nauha had studied the occult under Uyt’s wisest scholars and knew a witch when she smelt one. She was very glad she had brought her swords with her and that they were with her armour in her luggage. She might at least save her own life, she thought, but she was not sure she would be needed to save the albino’s. Did the fool understand he was in danger? Or—realisation came suddenly—was she the only visitor in danger here?
Was it coincidence that Elric had brought her with him to Hizss? He had told her nothing of this relative—if relative was all she was—had told her of no plans to visit. Clearly, he had known she would be here. He had hinted at something only a short time before they reached the port. Had he some disgusting plan for the three of them? Or did the sorceress mean to bewitch them both? Or had Elric been bewitched since the moment he had decided to take ship for the edge of the world?
Nauha carefully inspected the room and the garden beyond for ways out of the grounds. Then she took out her armour and laid it upon the floor. Then she polished her sword and dagger, ensuring they would slip easily from their scabbards.
Then she lay down again. She controlled her breathing, forcing herself to think as coolly as she could. A little more relaxed, she next began to wonder if the wine had not been over-strong. There was nothing sinister about the night, after all. Indeed it was beautiful, as were the city and the house. Yet why had all the ports they had seen, she wondered, been so heavily fortified? But not this one?
She drew a long, deep breath. It was stupid to brood on all this, particularly now her swords were stowed close to hand. She was perfectly well prepared to take on any danger that might present itself. She was certain that clean steel could cope with any ordinary foreign witchery.