"Michael Moorcock - Elric 1 - Elric of Melnibone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

lassitudinous and, without his drugs, would barely be able to raise his hand from his side through
most of a normal day.
If the young emperor has found any advantage in his lifelong weakness it must be in that,
perforce, he has read much. Before he was fifteen he had read every book in his father's library,
some more than once. His sorcerous powers, learned initially from Sadric, are now greater than any
possessed by his ancestors for many a generation. His knowledge of the world beyond the shores of
Melnibone is profound, though he has as yet had little direct experience of it. If he wishes he
could resurrect the Dragon Isle's former might and rule both his own land and the Young Kingdoms
as an invulnerable tyrant. But his reading has also taught him to question the uses to which power
is put, to question his motives, to question whether his own power should be used at all, in any
cause. His reading has led him to this 'morality', which, still, he barely understands. Thus, to
his subjects, he is an enigma and, to some, he is a threat, for he neither thinks nor acts in
accordance with their conception of how a true Melnibonean (and a Melnibonean emperor, at that)
should think and act. His cousin Yyrkoon, for instance, has been heard more than once to voice
strong doubts concerning the emperor's right to rule the people of Melnibone. 'This feeble scholar
will bring doom to us all,' he said one night to Dyvim Tvar, Lord of the Dragon Caves.
Dyvim Tvar is one of the emperor's few friends and he had duly reported the conversation,
but the youth had dismissed the remarks as 'only a trivial treason', whereas any of his ancestors
would have rewarded such sentiments with a very slow and exquisite public execution.
The emperor's attitude is further complicated by the fact that Yyrkoon, who is even now
making precious little secret of his feelings that he should be emperor, is the brother of
Cymoril, a girl whom the albino considers the closest of his friends, and who will one day become
his empress.

Down on the mosaic floor of the court Prince Yyrkoon can be seen in all his finest silks
and furs, his jewels and his brocades, dancing with a hundred women, all of whom are rumoured to
have been mistresses of his at one time or another. His dark features, at once handsome and
saturnine, are framed by long black hair, waved and oiled, and his expression, as ever, is
sardonic while his bearing is arrogant. The heavy brocade cloak swings this way and that, striking
other dancers with some force. He wears it almost as if it is armour or, perhaps, a weapon.
Amongst many of the courtiers there is more than a little respect for Prince Yyrkoon. Few resent
his arrogance and those who do keep silent, for Yyrkoon is known to be a considerable sorcerer


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himself. Also his behaviour is what the court expects and welcomes in a Melnibonean noble; it is
what they would welcome in their emperor.
The emperor knows this. He wishes he could please his court as it strives to honour him
with its dancing and its wit, but he cannot bring himself to take part in what he privately
considers a wearisome and irritating sequence of ritual posturings. In this he is, perhaps,
somewhat more arrogant than Yyrkoon who is, at least, a conventional boor.
From the galleries, the music grows louder and more complex as the slaves; specially
trained and surgically operated upon to sing but one perfect note each, are stimulated to more
passionate efforts. Even the young emperor is moved by the sinister harmony of their song which in
few ways resembles anything previously uttered by the human voice. Why should their pain produce
such marvellous beauty? he wonders. Or is all beauty created through pain? Is that the secret of
great art, both human and Melnibonean?
The Emperor Elric closes his eyes.