RED PEARLS by Michael Moorcock

Author:Michael Moorcock [Ismeretlen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy
ISBN: 978-0-06-200028-6 (eISBN)
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-06-01T22:00:00+00:00

A Question of Ancestry

That evening, when the sun was still high enough in the sky to burn a bright orange, and she told him of her plans, Prince Elric and Lady Fernrath made their way along a hard-beaten red earthen road towards the unsuspected magnificence of the White Fort, which rose like a fantastic cloud of clear-edged smoke from the sharp green of the almost impenetrable forest.

Reaching the six-foot-thick ironbound timber of the white-painted gates, she called out with such authority that the gates swung open at once, the huge iron bars rising on balancing machinery. They were recognised by their race and this gave them unquestioned admission.

The fort was formed as a series of large towers, one inside the other, to be defended to the death. Each tower had land, which could, if necessary, grow its own food. Elric realised it existed on the same principles as Imrryr, built to impress and to be impregnable at the same time. His people had used an island and an ocean for this. Addric Heed used a trackless forest.

She led him through one walled area after another, through towers and halls and finally up a flight of steps to a short gallery and out into the upper tiers of an amphitheatre, the stone seats arranged to look down onto a long oval green where targets had been arranged for an archery contest. Elric recognised this as something his own ancestors used to play. At Fernrath’s signal, he sat down with her well above the occupied tiers. She began to tell him again what she planned and what he must do. From the archery green, drifting in on the light, late-morning air, came the distant screams of the targets, the heavy thunk of arrows into bodies, and the applause as an archer made a good score in one of the marked parts of the slave’s upper body.

Sitting in a tall, carved chair was the slender pirate slaver Addric Heed, clad in light-yellow robes, an orange scarf swathing his head and shoulders. Surrounded by his captains, of his own kind as well as human, and by others, lightly armed or bearing no weapons at all, he was unmistakeably Elric’s and Fernrath’s kin. Elric recognized one of the men as the saturnine trader on the ship. Fernrath nodded when he murmured this information to her. “He raids up and down this coast, as he has done for two centuries. The slaves will be sold in Hizss, which depends upon the trade for her subsistence. Those traders inspect the stock here and know roughly what they’ll bid when they return to Hizss. They keep their own bands of soldiers in Hizss. You know the place of which I told you?”

“Aye. On the far side and in the furthest tower.”

“He’ll expect no attack if I work my Phoorn sorcery, but you must hurry, Nephew, for it will be hard for me to keep so many engaged.”

Then, as a lull came in the tournament, Lady Fernrath rose in

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