As they rode a little distance behind Raik Na Seem, Gone told Elric something more of what the Holy Girl meant to the Bauradim.
"As you perhaps have already realised, the child holds in trust the history and the aspirations of the Bauradim-their collected wisdom. Everything they know to be true and of value is contained within her. She is the living representation of her people's learning-what is the essence of their history-of a time before they became desert dwellers even. If they lose her, there is every chance, they believe, that they must begin their history all over again-relearn hard-won lessons, relive experience and make the mistakes and blunders which so painfully informed their people's understanding down the centuries. She is Tune, if you like-their library, museum, religion and culture personified in a single human being. Can you imagine, Prince Elric, what her loss means to them? She is the very soul of the Bauradim. And that soul is imprisoned where only those of a certain skill can even find her, let alone free her."
Elric fingered the dreamwand which now replaced his runesword at his hip. "If she were only an ordinary child, bringing sorrow to her family through her condition, I would be inclined to help if I could," he said. "For I like this people and their leader."
"Her fate and yours are intertwined," said Gone. "Whatever your sentiments, my lord, you probably have little real choice in the matter."
He did not wish to hear this. "It seems to me, madam, that you dreamthieves are altogether too familiar with myself, my family, my people and my destiny. It makes me somewhat uncomfortable. Yet I cannot deny you know more than anyone, save my betrothed, about my inner conflicts. How come you by this power of divination and prophecy?"
She spoke almost casually. "There is a land all dreamthieves have visited. It is a place where all dreams intersect, where all that we have in common meets. And we call that land the Birthplace of the Bone, where mankind first assumed reality."
"This is legend! And primitive legend at that!"
"Legend to you. Truth to us. As one day you'll discover."
"If Alnac could foretell the future, why did he not wait for you to come to help him?"
"We rarely know our own destinies, only the general movements of the tides and of the figures who stand out in their world's histories. All dreamthieves, it is true, know the future, for half their lives are spent without Time. For us there is no past or future, only a changing present. We are free of those particular chains while bound as strongly by others."
"I have read of such ideas, but they mean very little to me." "Because you lack experience to make sense of them." "You have already spoken of the Land of Dreams-in-Common. Is that the same as the Birthplace of the Bone?" "Perhaps. Our people are undecided on the point." Temporarily invigorated by the drug, Elric began to enjoy the conversation, much of which he saw as mere pleasant abstraction. Free of his runesword he knew a kind of lightness of spirit which he had not experienced since the first months of his courtship of Cymoril in those relatively untroubled years before Yyrkoon's growing ambition had begun to contaminate life at the Melnibonéan Court.
He recalled something from one of his own people's histories. "I have seen it said that the world is no more than what its denizens agree it is. I remember reading something to that effect in The Gabbling Sphere which said, 'For who is to say which is the inner world and which the outer? What we make reality may be what will alone decides, and what we define as dreams may be the greater truth.' Is that a philosophy close to your own, Lady Gone?" "Close enough," she said. "Though it seems a little airy." They rode like this, almost like two children on a picnic, until they reached the Bronze Tent when the sun was setting and were led, once more, into the place where men and women sat or lay around the great raised bed on which rested the little girl who symbolised their entire existence.
It seemed to Elric that the illuminating braziers and lamps were burning lower than when last he was here, and that the child looked even paler than before, but he forced an expression of confidence when he turned to Raik Na Seem. "This time we shall not fail her," he said.
Oone appeared to approve of Elric's words and watched carefully as, on her instructions, Varadia's frail body was lifted from the bed and placed this time upon a huge cushion which, in its turn, was set between two other cushions, also of great size. She signed to the albino to lay his body down on the far side of the child while she herself took up her position on the girl's left.
"Grasp her hand, my lord Emperor," said Oone ironically, "and place the crook of the dreamwand over both yours and hers, as you saw Alnac do."
Elric felt some trepidation as he obeyed her, but he knew no fear for himself, only for the child and her people, for Cymoril waiting for him in Melniboné, for the boy who prayed in Quarzhasaat that he would return with the jewel his jailer had demanded. His hand locked to the girl's by the dreamwand, he knew a sense of fusion that was not unpleasant, yet seemed to burn as hot as any flame. He watched as Oone did the same thing.
Immediately Elric felt a power possess him and for a moment it was as if his body grew lighter and lighter until it threatened to drift away on the slightest breeze. His vision faded, yet dimly he could still see Oone. She seemed to be concentrating.
He looked into the face of the Holy Girl and for a second thought he saw her skin turn still whiter, her eyes glow as crimson as his own, and a strange thought came and went in his mind: If I had a daughter she would look thus...
And then it was as if his bones were melting, his flesh dissolving, his whole mind and spirit dissipating. He gave himself up to this sensation as he had determined he must, since he now served Oone's purpose, and now the flesh became flowing water, the veins and blood were coloured strands of air, his skeleton flowed like molten silver, mingling with the Holy Girl's, becoming hers, then flowing on beyond her, into caverns and tunnels and dark places, into places where whole worlds existed in hollowed rock, where voices called to him and knew bun and sought to comfort him or frighten him or tell him truths he did not wish to learn; and then the air grew bright again and he felt Oone beside him, guiding him, her hand on his, her body almost his body, her voice confident and even cheerful, like one who moves towards familiar danger; danger which she had overcome many times. Yet there was an edge to her voice which made him believe she had never faced a danger as great as this one and that there was every chance neither of them would return to the Bronze Tent or the Silver Flower Oasis.
And there was music which he understood was the very soul of this child turned into sound. Sweet, sad, lonely music. Music so beautiful he would have wept had he anything more than the airiest substance.
Then he saw blue sky before him, a red desert stretching away towards red mountains on the horizon, and he had the strangest of sensations, as if he were coming home to a land he had somehow lost in his childhood and then forgotten.
2 In the Marches at the Heart's Edge
As Elric felt his bones re-form and the flesh resume its familiar weight and contour he saw that the land they had entered seemed scarcely any different from that which they had left. Red desert stretched before them, red mountains lay beyond. So familiar was the landscape that Elric looked back, expecting to see the Bronze Tent, but immediately behind him now yawned a chasm so vast that no further side could be seen. He knew sudden vertigo and checked his balance, somewhat to Oone's amusement
The dreamthief was dressed in her same functional velvets and silks and seemed a little amused by his response. "Aye, Prince Elric! Now we are indeed at the very edge of the world! We have only certain choices here and they do not include retreat!"
"I had not considered it, madam." Looking more closely, he realised that the mountains were considerably taller and were all leaning in the same direction, as if bent by a tremendous wind.
"They are like the teeth of some ancient predator," said Oone with a shudder of one who might actually have stared into such a maw at some time in their career. "Doubtless the first stage of our journey takes us there. This is th
e land we dreamtnieves call Sadanor. The Land of Dreams-in-Common."
"Yet you seem unfamiliar with the scenery."
"The scenery varies. We know only the nature of the land. It may change in its details. But where we travel is frequently dangerous not because it is unfamiliar but because of its familiarity. That is the second rule of the dreamthief."
"Beware the familiar."
"You learn well." She seemed unduly pleased by his response, as if she had doubted her own description of his qualities and was glad to have them confirmed. Elric began to realise the degree of desperation involved in this adventure and was seized by that wild carelessness, that willingness to give himself up to the moment, to any experience, which so set him apart from the other lords of Melniboné, whose lives were ruled by tradition and a desire to maintain their power at any cost.
Smiling, his eyes alight with all their old vitality, he bowed ironically. "Then lead on, madam! Let us begin our journey towards the mountains."
Gone, a little startled by his mood, frowned. But she began to walk through sand so light it stirred like water around her feet. And the albino followed.
"I must admit," he said, after they had walked for perhaps an hour, without noting any shift in the position of the light, "the more I am in this place, the more it begins to disturb me. I thought the sun obscured, but now I realise there is no sun hi the sky at all."
"Such normalities come and go in the Land of Dreams-in-Common," said Gone.
"I would feel more secure with my sword at my side."
"Swords are easily come by here," she said.
"Drinkers of souls?"
"Perhaps. But do you feel the need for that peculiar form of sustenance? Do you crave Lord Gho's drug?"
Elric admitted to his own surprise that he had lost no energy. For perhaps the first time in his adult life he had the sense that he was physically as other people, able to sustain himself without calling on any form of artifice. "It occurs to me," he said, "that I might be well-advised to make my home here."
"Ah, now you begin to fall into another of this realm's traps," she said, lightly enough. "First there is suspicion and maybe fear. Then there is relaxation, a feeling that you have always belonged here, that this is your natural home, or your spiritual home. These are all illusions common to the traveller, as I am sure you know. Here those illusions must be resisted, for they are more than sentiment. They may be traps set to snare you and destroy you. Be grateful that you have more apparent energy than that which you normally know, but remember another rule of the dreamthief: Every gain is paid for, either before or after the event. Every apparent benefit could well have its contrary disadvantage."
Privately Elric still thought the price for such a sense of well-being might be worth the paying.
It was at that moment that he saw the leaf.
It drifted down from over his head, a broad, red-gold oak leaf, falling gently as any ordinary autumn shedding, and landed upon the sand at his feet. Without at first finding this extraordinary, he bent to pick the leaf up.
Oone had seen it, too, and made as if to caution bun, then changed her mind.
Elric laid the leaf on the palm of his hand. There was nothing unusual about it, save that there was not a tree visible in any direction. He was about to ask Oone to explain this phenomenon when he noticed that she was staring beyond him, over his shoulder.
"Good afternoon to you," said a jaunty voice. "This is luck indeed, to find some fellow mortals in such a miserable wilderness. What trick of the Wheel brought us here, do you think?"
"Greetings," said Oone, her smile growing broad. "You're ill-dressed, sir, for this desert."
"I was told neither of my destination nor of the fact that I was leaving..."
Elric turned and to his surprise saw a small man whose sharp, merry features were shadowed by an enormous turban of yellow silk. This headdress, at least as wide as the man's shoulders, was decorated with a pin containing a great green gem and from it sprouted several peacock feathers. He seemed to be wearing many layers of clothing, all highly coloured, of silk and linen, including an embroidered waistcoat and a long jacket of beautifully stitched blue patchwork, each shade subtly different from the one next to it. On his legs were baggy trousers of red silk and his feet sported curling slippers of green and yellow leather. The man was unarmed, but hi his hands he held a startled black and white cat upon whose back were folded a pair of silky black wings.
The man bowed when he saw Elric. "Greetings, sir. You would be the incarnation of the Champion on this plane, I take it. I am-" He frowned as if he had for a second forgotten his own name. "I am something beginning with 'J' and something beginning with 'C.' It will return to me in a moment. Or another name or event will occur, I'm sure. I am your-what?-amanuensis, eh?" He peered up into the sky. "Is this one of those sunless worlds? Are we to have no night at all?"
Elric looked to Gone, who did not seem wary of this apparition. "I did not ask for a secretary, sir," he said to the small man. "Nor did I expect to be assigned one. My companion and I are on a quest in this world..."
"A quest, naturally. It is your role, as it is mine to accompany you. That's in order, sir. My name is-" But again his own name eluded him. "Yours is?"
"I am Elric of Melniboné and this is Oone the Dreamthief."
"Then this is the Land the dreamthieves call Sadanor, I take it. Good, then I am called Jaspar Colinadous. And my cat's name is Whiskers, as always."
At this, the cat gave voice to a small, intelligent noise, to which its owner listened carefully and nodded.
"I recognise this land now," he said. "You'll be seeking the Marador Gate, eh? For the Land of Old Desires."
"You are a dreamthief yourself, Sir Jaspar?" Gone asked in some surprise.
"I have relatives who are."
"But how came you here?" Elric asked. "Through a medium? Did you use a mortal child, as we did?"
"Your words are mysterious to me, sir." Jaspar Colinadous adjusted his turban, the little cat tucked carefully under one voluminous silk sleeve. "I travel between the worlds, apparently at random, usually at the behest of some force I do not understand, frequently to find myself guiding or accompanying venturers such as yourselves. Not," he added feelingly, "always dressed appropriately for the realm or the moment of my arrival. I dreamed, I think, I was the sultan of some fabulous city, where I possessed the most astonishing variety of treasures. Where I was waited upon..." Here he coloured and looked away from Gone. "Forgive me. It was a dream. I have awakened from it now. Unfortunately the clothes followed me from the dream..."
Elric believed the man's words were close to nonsense, but Gone had no difficulty with them. "You know a road, then, to the Marador Gate?"
"Surely I must, if this is the Land of Dreams-in-Common." Carefully he placed the cat on his shoulder and then began to rummage in his sleeves, within his shirt, in the pockets of his several garments, producing all manner of scrolls and papers and little books, boxes, compacts, writing instruments, lengths of cord and reels of thread, until one of the rolled pieces of vellum caused him to cry out in relief. "Here it is, I think! Our map." He replaced all the other items in exactly the places he had drawn them from and unrolled the parchment. "Indeed, indeed! This shows us the road through yonder mountains."
"Offers of guidance..." began Elric.
"And beware the familiar," said Oone softly. Then she made a dismissive gesture. "Here we have conflict already, you see, for what is unfamiliar to you is highly familiar to me. That is part of the nature of this land." She turned to Jaspar Colinadous. "Sir? May I see your map?"
Without hesitation, the small man handed it to her. "A straight road. It's always a straightish road, eh? And only one. That's the joy of these Dream Realms. One can interpret and control them so simply. Unless, of course, they swallow one up completely. Which they are wont to do."
"You have the advantage of me," said Elric, "for I know nothing of this world. Neither was I aware that the
re are others like it."
"Aha! Then you have so much wonder to anticipate, sir! So many marvels yet to witness. I would tell you of them, but my own memory is not what it should be. I frequently have only the vaguest of recollections. But there is an infinity of worlds and some are yet unborn, some so old they have grown senile, some born of dreams, some destroyed by nightmares." Jaspar Colinadous paused apologetically. "I grow over-enthusiastic. I do not intend to confuse you, sir. Just know you that I am a little confused myself. I am ever that. Does my map make sense to you, Lady Dreamthief ?"
"Aye." Gone was frowning over the parchment. "There is only one pass through those mountains, which are called the Shark's Jaws. If we assume that the mountains are lying to our north, then we must bear to the north-east and there find the Shark's Gullet, as it's named here. We are much obliged to you, Master Jaspar Colinadous." She rolled up the map and returned it to him. It disappeared into one of his sleeves and the cat crept down to lie, purring, in the crook of his arm.
For a moment, Elric had the strongest instinct that this likable individual had been called up by Oone from her own imagination, though it was impossible to believe he did not exist in his own right, such a self-confident personality was he. Indeed, Elric had the passing fancy that perhaps he, himself, was the phantasy.
"You'll note there are dangers hi that pass," said Jaspar Colinadous casually, as he fell in beside them. "I'll let Whiskers scout for us, if you like, when we get closer."
"We should be much obliged to you, sir," said Oone.
They continued their journey across the bleak landscape, with Jaspar Colinadous telling tales of previous adventures, most of which he could only half recall, of people he had known, whose names escaped nun, and of great moments in the histories of a thousand worlds whose importance now eluded him. To hear him was like coming upon the old halls of Imrryr, on the Dragon Isle, where once huge series of windows had told hi pictures the tales of the first Melnibonéans and how they had come to then- present home. Now they were mere shards, small fragments of the story, brilliant details whose context was only barely imaginable and whose information was gone forever. Elric ceased trying to follow Jaspar Colinadous's conversation but, as he had learned to do with the fragments of glass, let himself enjoy them for then- texture and then: colour instead.
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