"The Fortress of the Pearl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

4 The Intervention of a Navigator

Surprised by his own lack of confusion, filled with an apparent clarity, Elric stepped, side by side with Gone, through the shimmering silver gateway into Imador, called mysteriously by the dreamthieves the Land of New Ambition, and found himself at the top of an heroic flight of steps which curved downward towards a plain which stretched towards a horizon turned a pale, misty blue and which he could almost have mistaken for the sky. For a moment he thought that he and Gone were alone on that vast stairway and then he saw that it was crowded with people. Some were engaged in hectic conversation, some bartering, some embracing, while others were gathered around holy men, speech-makers, priestesses, story-tellers, either listening avidly or arguing.

The steps down to the plain were alive with every manner of human intercourse. Elric saw snake-charmers, bear-baiters, jugglers and acrobats. They were dressed in costumes typical of the desert lands-enormous silk pantaloons of green, blue, gold, vermilion and amber; coats of brocade or velvet; turbans, burnooses and caps of the most intricate needlework; burnished metal and silver, gold, precious jewels of every kind. And there was an abundance of animals, stalls, baskets overflowing with produce, with fabrics, with goods of leather and copper and brass.

"How handsome they are!" he remarked. It was true that though they were of all shapes and sizes the people had a beauty which was not easily defined. Their skins were all healthy, their eyes bright, their movements dignified and easy. They bore themselves with confidence and good humour and while it was clear they noticed Oone and Elric walking down the steps, they acknowledged them without making any great effort to greet them or ask them their business. Dogs, cats and monkeys ran about in the crowd and children played the cryptic games all children play. The air was warm and balmy and full of the scents of fruit, flowers and the other goods being sold. "Would that all worlds were like this," Elric added, smiling at a young woman who offered him embroidered cloth.

Oone bought oranges from a boy who ran up to her. She handed one to Elric. "This is a sweet realm indeed. I had not expected it to be so pleasant." But when she bit into the fruit she spat it into her hand. "It has no taste!"

Elric tried his own orange and he, too, found it a dry, flavourless thing.

The disappointment he felt at this was out of all proportion to the occurrence. He threw the orange from him. It struck a step below and bounced until it was out of sight.

The grey-green plain appeared unpopulated. There was a road sweeping across it, wide and well-paved, but there was not a single traveller visible, in spite of the great crowd. "I wonder why the road is empty," he said to Oone. "Do all these people sleep at nights on these steps? Or do they disappear into another realm when then-business here is done?"

"Doubtless that question will be answered for us soon enough, my lord."

She linked her arm in his own. Since their love-making in the wood, a sense of considerable comradeship and mutual liking had grown up between them. He knew no guilt; he knew in his heart that he had betrayed no one and it was clear Oone was equally untroubled. In some strange way they had restored each other, making their combined energy something more than the sum. This was the kind of friendship he had never really known before and he was grateful for it. He believed that he had learned much from Oone and that the dreamthief would teach him more that would be valuable to him when he returned to Melniboné to claim his throne back from Yyrkoon.

As they descended the steps it seemed to Elric that the costumes became more and more elaborate, the jewels and headdresses and weapons richer and more exotic, while the stature of the people increased and they grew still more handsome.

From curiosity he stopped to listen to a story-teller who held a crowd entranced, but the man spoke in an unfamiliar language- high and flat-which meant nothing to him. He and Gone paused again, beside a bead-seller, whom he asked politely if those gathered on the steps were all of the same nation.

The woman frowned at him and shook her head, replying in still another language. There seemed few words in it. She repeated much. Only when they were stopped by a sherbet-seller, a young boy, could they ask their question and be understood.

The lad frowned, as if translating their words in his head. "Aye, we are the people of the steps. Each of us has a place here, one below the other."

"You grow richer and more important as you descend, eh?" asked Gone.

He was puzzled by this. "Each of us has a place here," he said again, and, as if alarmed by their questions, he ran off up into the dense crowd above. Here, too, there were fewer people and Elric could see that their numbers thinned increasingly as the steps neared the plain. "Is this an illusion?" he murmured to Oone. "It has the air of a dream."

"It is our sense of what should be that intrudes here," she said, "and it colours our perception of the place, I think."

"It is not an illusion?"

"It is not what you would call an illusion." She made an effort to find words but eventually shook her head. "The more it seems an illusion to us, the more it becomes one. Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

At last they were nearing the bottom of the stairway. They were on the last few steps when they looked up to see a horseman riding towards them across the plain, creating a huge pillar of dust as he came.

There was a cry from the people behind them. Elric looked back and saw them all rushing rapidly up the stairs and his impulse was to join them, but Oone stayed him. "Remember we cannot go back," she said. "We must meet this danger as best we can."

Gradually the figure on the horse became distinguishable. It was either the same warrior in the armour of mother-of-pearl, ivory and tortoiseshell or one who was identical. He bore a white lance tipped with a point of sharpened bone and the thing was aimed directly at Elric's heart.

The albino jumped forward in a manoeuvre designed to confuse his attacker. He was almost under the horse's hooves when he struck upward with his swiftly drawn sword and cut at the lance. The force of the blow sent him reeling to one side while Oone, reacting with almost telepathic coordination, almost as if they were controlled by a single brain, leapt and thrust beneath the raised left arm, seeking their assailant's heart.

Her thrust was parried by a sudden movement of the rider's gauntletted right hand and he kicked out at her. Now, for the first time, Elric saw his face clearly. It was thin, bloodless, with eyes like the flesh of long-dead fish and a sneering gash of a mouth, opening now in a grimace of contempt. Yet with a shock he saw, too, something of Alnac Kreb! The lance swung to strike Oone's shoulder and send her, too, to the ground.

Elric was up again before the lance could return, his sword slashing at the horse's girth-strap in an old trick learned from the Vilmirian bandits, but he was blocked by an armoured leg and the lance returned to thrust at him while he darted clear, giving Oone her opportunity.

Though Elric and Oone fought as a single entity, their attacker was almost prescient, seeming to guess their every move.

Elric began to believe the rider to be wholly supernatural hi origin and even as he feinted again he sent his mind out into the realms of the elementals, seeking any aid which might possibly be available to him. But there was none. It was as if every realm were deserted, as if, overnight, the entire world of elementals, demons and spirits, had been banished to Limbo. Arioch would not aid him. His sorcery was completely useless here.

Gone cried out sharply and Elric saw that she had been flung back against the lowest step. She tried to climb to her feet but something was paralysed. She could hardly move her limbs.

Again the pale rider chuckled and began to advance for the kill.

Elric roared out his old battle-shout and raced towards their opponent, trying to distract him. The albino was horrified at the possibility of harm coming to the woman for whom he felt both profound love and comradeship and was willing to die to save her.

"Arioch! Arioch! Blood and souls!"

But he had no runesword to aid him here. Nothing save his own wits and skills.

"Alnac Kreb. Is this what remains of you?"

The rider turned, almost impatiently, and flung the lance at the running man. His answer.

Elric had not anticipated this. He tried to throw, his body aside but the haft of the lance struck his shoulder and he fell heavily into the dust, losing his grip on the unfamiliar sabre. He began to scrabble towards it even as he saw the rider draw his own long blade and continue towards the helpless Gone. He raised himself to one knee and threw his poignard with desperate accuracy. The blade went true, between the plates of the rider's back armour, and the lifted sword fell suddenly.

Elric reached his sabre, got to his feet and saw to his horror that the rider was rearing over Gone, the sword again raised, ignoring the wound in his shoulder.

"Alnac?"

Again Elric tried to appeal to whatever part of Alnac Kreb was there, but this time he was completely ignored. That same hideous, inhuman chuckling filled the air, the horse snorted, its hooves pawing at the woman as she struggled on the step.

Scarcely aware of his own movement, Elric reached the rider and leapt upward, dragging at his back, trying to haul him from the horse. The rider growled and managed to turn. His whistling sword was parried by Elric's and the albino unseated him. Together the pair fell to the sand, a few inches from where Oone lay. Elric's sword-hand was crushed under his attacker's armoured back, but he managed to tug the poignard free with his left hand and would have struck at those hideous dead eyes had not the man's fingers closed on his wrist.

"You'll kill me before you harm her!" Elric's normally melodic voice was a snarl of hatred. But the warrior merely laughed again, the ghost of Alnac fading from his eyes.

They fought thus for several moments, neither gaining any true advantage. Elric could hear his own breathing, the grunting of the armoured man, the whinnying of the horse and Oone's gasp as she tried to get to her feet.

"Pearl Warrior!"

It was another voice. Not Oone's, but a woman's; and it carried considerable authority.

"Pearl Warrior! You must do no further violence to these travellers!"

The warrior grunted but ignored the woman. His teeth snapped at Elric's throat. He tried to turn the poignard towards the albino's heart. There were drops of foaming saliva on his lips now-beads of white rimming his mouth.

"Pearl Warrior!"

Suddenly the warrior began to speak, whispering to Elric as if to a fellow conspirator. "Don't listen to her. I can aid thee. Why do you not come with us and learn to explore the Great Steppe, where all the hunting is rich? And there are melons, tasting like the most delicate cherries. I can give thee such wonderful clothing. Do not listen. Do not listen. Yes, I am Alnac, thy friend. Yes!"

Elric was repelled by the insane babble, more than he had been by the creature's horrible appearance and his violence.

"Think of all the power there is. They fear thee. They fear me. Elric. I know thee. Let us not be rivals. Together we can succeed. I am not free, but thou couldst journey for us both. I am not free, but them wouldst never bear responsibilities. I am not free, but, Elric, I have so many slaves at my disposal. They are thine. I offer thee new wealth and new philosophies, new ways of fulfilling every desire. I fear thee and thou fearest me. So we will bind us together, one to the other. It is the only tie that ever means anything. They dream of thee, all of them. Even I, who do not dream. Thou are the only enemy..."

"Pearl Warrior!"

With a rattle of bone and ivory, of tortoiseshell and mother-of-pearl, the leprous-skinned warrior disentangled himself from Elric. 'Together we can defeat her," he mumbled urgently. "There would be no force to resist us. I will give thee my ferocity!"

Nauseated by all this, Elric climbed slowly to his feet, turning to stare in the same direction as Oone, who now sat on the step, nursing limbs to which life seemed to be restored.

A woman, taller than either Elric or Oone, stood there. She was veiled and hooded. Her eyes moved steadily from them to the one she called Pearl Warrior and then she raised the great staff she held in her right hand and struck at the ground with it.

"Pearl Warrior! You must obey me!"

The Pearl Warrior was furious. "I do not wish this!" He snarled and, clattering, brushed at his breastplate. "You anger me, Lady Sough."

"These are my charges and under my protection. Go, Pearl Warrior. Kill elsewhere. Kill the true enemies of the Pearl."

"I do not want you to order me!" He was surly, sulking like a child. "All are enemies of the Pearl. You, too, Lady Sough."

"You are a silly creature! Begone!" And she lifted the staff to point beyond the stairway, where hazy rock could be seen, rising up forever.

He spoke again, warningly. "You make me angry, Lady Sough. I am the Pearl Warrior. I have the strength from the Fortress." He turned to Elric as if to a comrade. "Ally yourself with me and we'll kill her now. Then we shall rule-thou in thine freedom, me in my slavery. All of this and many other realms beside, unknown to dreamthieves. Safety is there forever. Be mine. We shall be married. Yes, yes, yes..."

Elric shuddered and turned his back on the Pearl Warrior. He went to help Oone to her feet.

Oone was able to move all her limbs but she was still dazed. She looked back at the steps which disappeared above them. Not a single one of the people who had occupied that vast staircase was visible.

Troubled, Elric glanced at the newcomer. Her robes were of different shades of blue, with silver threads running through them, hemmed with gold and dark green. She carried herself with extraordinary grace and dignity and stared back at Oone and Elric with an air of amusement. Meanwhile the Pearl Warrior climbed to his feet and stood defiantly to one side, alternately glaring at Lady Sough and offering Elric a hideous conspiratorial smile.

"Where are all the folk of the steps gone?" Elric asked her.

"They have merely returned to their home, my lord," said Lady Sough. Her voice, when she addressed him, was warm and full, yet retained all the authority with which she had ordered the Pearl Warrior to stop his attack. "I am Lady Sough and I bid you welcome to this land."

"We are grateful for your intervention, my lady." Oone spoke for the first time, though with a degree of suspicion. "Are you the ruler here?"

"I am merely a guide and a navigator."

"That mad thing there accepts your command." Oone rose, rubbing at her arms and legs, glaring at the Pearl Warrior, who sneered, becoming shifty as Lady Sough gave him her attention.

"He is incomplete." Lady Sough was dismissive. "He guards the Pearl. But he has such an insubstantial intelligence, he cannot understand the nature of his task, nor who is friend or who foe. He can make only the most limited choices, poor corrupt thing. The ones who put him to this work had, themselves, only the faintest understanding of what was required in such a warrior."

"Bad! I will not!" The Pearl Warrior began to utter his chuckle again. "Never! It is why! It is why!"

"Go!" cried Lady Sough, gesturing once more with her staff, her eyes glaring above her veil. "You have no business with these."

"Dying is unwise, madam," said the Pearl Warrior, lifting his shoulder hi a gesture of defiant arrogance. "Beware thine own corruption. We may all dissolve if this achieves that resolution."

"Go, stupid brute!" She pointed at his horse. "And leave that spear behind you. Destructive, insensate grotesque that you are."

"Am I mistaken," said Elric, "or does he speak gibberish?"

"Possibly," murmured Gone. "But it could be he speaks more of the truth than those who would protect us."

"Anything will come and anything will have to be resisted!" said the Pearl Warrior darkly as he mounted. He began to ride to where his lance had fallen after he had thrown it at Elric. "This is why we are to be!"

"Begone! Begone!"

He leaned from his saddle, reaching towards the lance.

"No," she said firmly, as if to a silly child. "I told you that you should not have it. Look what you have done, Pearl Warrior! You are forbidden to attack these people again."

"No alliance, then. Not now! But soon this freedom will be exchanged and all shall come together!" Another appalling chuckle from the half-crazed rider and he was digging his spurs into his horse's flanks, going at a gallop in the direction he had come. "There shall be bonds! Oh, yes!"

"Do his words make sense to you, Lady Sough?" Elric asked politely, when the warrior had disappeared.

"Some of them," she said. It seemed that she was smiling behind her veil. "It is not his fault that his brain is malformed. There are few warriors in this world, you know. He is perhaps the best."

"Best?"

Oone's sardonic question went unanswered. Lady Sough reached out a hand on which delicately coloured jewels glowed and she beckoned to them. "I am a navigator here. I can bear you to sweet islands where two lovers could be happy forever. I have a place that is hidden and safe. Can I take you there?"

Elric glanced at Gone, wondering if perhaps she was attracted by Lady Sough's invitation. For a second he forgot their purpose here. It would be wonderful to spend a short idyll in Oone's company.

"This is Imador, is it not, Lady Sough?"

"It is the place the dreamthieves call Imador, aye. We do not call it by that name." She seemed disapproving.

"We are grateful for your help in this matter, my lady," said Elric, thinking Oone a little brusque and seeking to apologise for his friend's manner. "I am Elric of Melniboné and this is Lady Oone of the Dreamthieves' Guild. Do you know that we seek the Fortress of the Pearl?"

"Aye. And this road is a straight one for you. It can lead you forward to the Fortress. But it might not lead you by the best route. I will guide you by whatever route you wish." She sounded a little distant, almost as if she were half-asleep herself. Her tone had become dreamy and Elric guessed she was offended.

"We owe you much, Lady Sough, and your advice is of value to us. What would you suggest?"

"That you raise an army first, I think. For your own safety. There are such terrible defences at the Fortress of the Pearl. Why, and before that, too. You are brave, the both of you. There are several roads to success. Death lies at the end of many other paths. Of this, you are, I am sure, aware..."

"Where could we recruit such an army?" Elric ignored Oone's warning look. He felt that she was being obstinate, overly suspicious of this dignified woman.

"There is an ocean not far from here. There is an island in it. The people of that island long to fight. They will follow anyone who promises them danger. Will you come there? It is very good. There is warmth and secure walls. Gardens and much to eat."

"Your words have a strong degree of common-sense," said Elric. "It would be worth, perhaps, pausing in our quest to recruit those ; soldiers. And I was offered alliance by the Pearl Warrior. Will he help us? Can he be trusted?"

"For what you wish to do? Yes, I think." Her forehead furrowed. "Yes, I think."

"No, Lady Sough." Gone spoke suddenly and with considerable force. "We are grateful for your guidance. Will you take us to the Falador Gate? Do you know it?"

"I know what you call the Falador Gate, young woman. And whatever your questions or your desires, they are mine to answer and fulfill."

"What is your own name for this land?"

"None." She seemed confused by Oone's question. "There is not one. It is this place. It is here. But I can guide you through it."

"I believe you, my lady." Oone's voice softened. She took Elric by the arm. "Our other name for this land is the Land of New Ambition. But new ambitions can mislead. We invent them when the old ambition seems too hard to achieve, eh?"

Elric understood her. He felt foolish. "You offer a diversion, Lady Sough?"

"Not so." The veiled woman shook her head. The movement had all her gracefulness in it and she seemed a little wounded by the directness of his question. "A fresh goal is sometimes preferable when the road becomes impassable."

"But the road is not impassable, Lady Sough," said Oone. "Not yet."

"That is true." Lady Sough bowed her head a fraction. "I offer you all truth in this matter. Every aspect of it."

"We shall retain the aspect of which we are most sure," Oone continued softly, "and thank you greatly for your help."

"It is yours to take, Lady Oone. Come." The woman whirled, her draperies lifting like clouds in a gale, and led them away from the steps to a place where the ground dipped and revealed, when they were closer, a shallow river. There a boat was moored. The boat had a curling prow of gilded wood, not unlike the crook of Oone's dreamwand, and its sides were covered with a thin layer of beaten gold, and bronze, and silver. Brass gleamed on rails, on the single mast, and a sail, blue with threads of silver, like Lady Sough's robes, was furled upon the yardarm. There was no visible crew. Lady Sough pointed with her staff. "Here is the boat with which we shall find the gate you seek. I have a vocation, Lady Oone, Prince Elric, to protect you. Do not fear me."

"My lady, we do not," said Oone with great sincerity. Still, her voice was gentle. Elric was mystified by her manner but accepted that she had a clear notion of their situation.

"What does this mean?" Elric murmured as Lady Sough descended towards her boat.

"I think it means we are close to the Fortress of the Pearl," said Oone. "She tries to help us but is not altogether sure how best to do it."

"You trust her?"

"If we trust ourselves, we can trust her, I think. We must know what are the right questions to ask her."

"I'll trust you, Oone, to trust her." Elric smiled.

At Lady Sough's insistent beckoning they clambered into the beautiful boat, which rocked only slightly on the dark waters of what seemed to Elric an entirely artificial canal, straight and deep, moving in a sweeping curve until it disappeared from sight a mile or two from them. He peered upward, still not sure if he looked upon a strange sky or the roof of the largest cavern of all. He could just see the stairs stretching away in the distance and wondered again what had happened to the inhabitants when they had fled at the Pearl Warrior's attack.

Lady Sough took the great tiller of the boat. With a single movement she guided the craft onto the centre of the waterway. Almost at once the ground levelled out so that it was possible to see the grey desert on all sides, while ahead was foliage, greenery, the suggestion of hills. There was a quality about the light which reminded Elric of a September evening. He could almost smell the early autumn roses, the turning trees, the orchards of Imrryr. Seated near the front of the boat with Oone beside him, leaning on his shoulder, he sighed with pleasure, enjoying the moment. "If the rest of our quest is to be conducted in such a way, I shall be glad to accompany you on many such adventures, Lady Oone."

She, too, was in good humour. "Aye. Then all the world would desire to be dreamthieves."

The boat rounded a bend of the canal and they were alerted by figures standing on both banks. These sad, silent people, dressed in white and yellow, regarded the sailing barge with tear-filled eyes, as if they witnessed a funeral. Elric was sure they did'not weep for himself or Oone. He called out to them, but they did not seem to hear him. They were gone almost at once and they passed by gently rising terraces, cultivated for vines and figs and almonds. The air was sweet with ripening harvests and once a small, foxlike creature ran along beside them for a while before veering off into a clump of shrubs. A little later, naked, brown-skinned men prowled on all fours until they, too, grew bored and disappeared into the undergrowth. The canal began to twist more and more and Lady Sough was forced to throw all her weight upon the tiller to keep the boat on course.

"Why would a canal be built so?" Elric asked her when they were once more upon a straight stretch of water.

"What was above us is now ahead and what was below is now behind," she replied. "That is the nature of this. I am the navigator and I know. But ahead, where it grows darker, the river is unbending. This is made to help understanding, I think."

Her words were almost as confusing as the Pearl Warrior's, and Elric tried to make sense by asking her further questions. "The river helps us understand what, Lady Sough?"

"Their nature-her nature-what you must encounter-ah, look!"

The river was widening rapidly into a lake. There were reeds growing on the banks now, silver herons flying against the soft sky.

"It is no great distance to the island I spoke of," said Lady Sough. "I fear for you."

"No," said Oone with determined kindness. "Take the boat across the lake towards the Falador Gate. I thank you."

"This thanks is ..." Lady Sough shook her head. "I would not have you die."

"We shall not. We are here to save her."

"She is afraid."

"We know."

"Those others said they would save her. But they made her-they made it dark and she was trapped..."

"We know," said Oone, and laid a comforting hand on Lady Sough's arm as the veiled woman guided the boat out onto the open lake.

Elric said: "Do you speak of the Holy Girl and the Sorcerer Adventurers? What imprisons her, Lady Sough? How can we release her? Bring her back to her father and her people?"

"Oh, it is a lie!" Lady Sough almost shouted, pointing to where, swimming directly towards them, came a child. But the boy's skin was metallic, of glaring silver, and his silver eyes were begging them for help. Then the child grinned, reached to pull off its own head and submerged. "We near the Falador Gate," said Oone grimly.

"Those who would possess her also guard her," said Lady Sough suddenly. "But she is not theirs."

"I know," said Oone. Her gaze was fixed on what lay ahead of them. There was a mist on the lake. It was like the finest haze which forms on water in an autumn morning. There was an air of tranquilly which, clearly, she mistrusted. Elric looked back at Lady Sough but the navigator's eyes were expressionless, offering no clue to what dangers they might soon be facing.

The boat turned a little and there was land just visible through the mist. Elric saw tall trees rising above a tumble of rocks. There were white pillars of limestone, shimmering faintly in that lovely light. He saw hummocks of grass and below them little coves. He wondered if Lady Sough had, after all, brought them to the island she had mentioned and was about to question her when he saw what appeared to be a massive door of carved stone and intricate mosaic bearing an air of considerable age.

"The Falador Gate," said Lady Sough, not without a hint of trepidation.

Then the gate had opened and a horrible wind rushed out of it, tearing at their hair and clothing, clawing at their skins, shrieking and wailing in their ears. The boat rocked and Elric feared it must capsize. He ran to the stern to help Lady Sough with the tiller. Her veil had been ripped from her face. She was not a young woman, but she bore an astonishing resemblance to the little girl they had left in the Bronze Tent, the Holy Girl of the Bauradim. And Elric, taking the tiller while Lady Sough replaced her veil, remembered that no mention had ever been made of Varadia's mother.

Oone was lowering the sail. The wind's initial strength had died and it was possible to tack gradually towards the dark, strangely smelling entrance which had been revealed as the mosaic door had blown down.

Three horses appeared there. Hooves flailed at the air. Tails lashed. Then they were galloping across the water in the direction of the boat. Then they had passed it and vanished into the mist. Not one of the beasts had possessed a head.

Now Elric knew terror. But it was a familiar terror and within seconds he had regained control of himself. He knew that, whatever its name, he was about to enter a land where Chaos ruled.

It was only as the boat sailed under the carved rocks and into the grotto beyond that he recalled he had none of his familiar spells and enchantments; not one of his allies, nor his patron Duke of Hell, was available to him here. He had only experience and courage and his ordinary sensibilities. And at that moment he doubted if they were enough.