Swords & Dark Magic - By Jonathan Strahan Page 0,82

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