CHAPTER TWO
The Stolen Ring

On the other side of the tavern the young dandy pretended to order another skin of wine while actually taking a sly look towards the corner where Elric sat.

Then the dandy leaned towards his compatriots merchants and young nobles of several nations and continued his murmured discourse.

The subject of that discourse, Elric knew, was Elric. Normally he was disdainful of such behaviour, but he was weary and he was impatient for Moonglum to return. He was almost tempted to order the young dandy to desist, if only to pass the time.

Elric was beginning to regret his decision to visit Old Hrolmar.

This rich city was a great meeting place for all the imaginative people of the Young Kingdoms. To it came explorers, adventurers, mercenaries, craftsmen, merchants, painters and poets for, under the rule of the famous Duke Avan Astran, this Vilmirian city state was undergoing a transformation in its character.

Duke Avan was himself a man who had explored most of the world and had brought back great wealth and knowledge to Old Hrolmar. Its riches and its intellectual life attracted more riches, more intellectuals and so Old Hrolmar flourished.

But where riches are and where intellectuals are, then gossip also flourishes, for if there is any breed of man who gossips more than the merchant or the sailor then it is the poet and the painter. And, naturally enough, there was much gossip concerning the doom-driven albino, Elric, already a hero of several ballads by poets not over-talented.

Elric had allowed himself to be brought to the city because Moonglum had said it was the best place to find an income. Elric’s carelessness with their wealth had made near-paupers of them, not for the first time, and they were in need of provisions and fresh steeds.

Elric had been for skirting Old Hrolmar and riding on towards Tanelorn, where they had decided to go, but Moonglum had argued reasonably that they would need better horses and more food and equipment for the long ride across the Vilmirian and Ilmioran plains to the edge of the Sighing Desert, where mysterious Tanelorn was situated. So Elric had at last agreed, though, after his encounter with Myshella and his witnessing of the destruction of the Noose of Flesh, he had become weary and craved for the peace which Tanelorn offered.

What made things worse was that this tavern was rather too well-lit and catering too much to the better end of the trade for Elric’s taste. He would have preferred a lowlier sort of inn which would have been cheaper and where men were used to holding back their questions and their gossip. But Moonglum had thought it wise to spend the last of their wealth on a good inn, in case they should need to entertain someone. . . .

Elric left the business of raising treasure to Moonglum. Doubtless he intended to get it by thievery or trickery, but Elric did not care.

He sighed and suffered the sidelong looks of the other guests and tried not to overhear the young dandy. He sipped his cup of wine and picked at the flesh of the cold fowl Moonglum had ordered before he went off. He drew his head into the high collar of his black cloak, but succeeded only in emphasising the bone-white pallor of his face and the milky whiteness of his long hair. He looked around him at the silks and furs and tapestries swirling about the tavern as their owners moved from table to table and he longed with all his heart to be on his way to Tanelorn, where men spoke little because they had experienced so much.

“. . . killed mother and father, too and the mother’s lover, it is said. . . .”

“. . . and they say he lies with corpses for preference. ...”

“. , . and because of that the Lords of the Higher Worlds cursed him with the face of a corpse. . . .”

“Incest, was it not? I got it from one who sailed with him that . . .”

“. . . and his mother had congress with Arioch himself, thus producing . . .”

“. . . shortly before he betrayed his own people to Smiorgan and the rest!”

“He looks a gloomy fellow, right enough. Not one to enjoy a jest. . . .”

Laughter.

Elric made himself relax in his chair and swallow more wine. But the gossip went on.

“They say also that he is an imposter. That the real Elric died at Imrryr. . . .”

“A true prince of Melnibone would dress in more lavish style. And he would ...”

More laughter.

Elric stood up, pushing back his cloak so that the great black broadsword at his hip was fully displayed. Most people in Old Hrolmar had heard of the runesword Stormbringer and its terrible power.

Elric crossed to the table where the young dandy sat.

“I pray you, gentlemen, to improve your sport! You can do much better now for here is one who would offer you proof of certain things of which you speak. What of his penchant for vampirism of a particular sort? I did not hear you touch upon that in your conversation.”

The young dandy cleared his throat and made a nervous little flirt of his shoulder.

“Well?” Elric feigned an innocent expression. “Cannot I be of assistance?”

The gossips had become dumb, pretending to be absorbed in their eating and drinking.

Elric smiled a smile which set their hands to shaking.

“I desire only to know what you wish to hear, gentlemen. Then I will demonstrate that I am truly the one you have called Elric Kinslayer.”

The merchants and the nobles gathered their rich robes about them and, avoiding his eye, got up. The young dandy minced towards the exit a parody of bravado.

But now Elric stood laughing in the doorway, his hand on the hilt of Stormbringer. “Will you not join me as my guests, gentlemen? Think how you could tell your friends of the meeting. . . .”

“Gods, how boorish!” lisped the young dandy and then shivered.

“Sir, we meant no harm . . .” thickly said a fat Shazarian herb trader.

“We spoke of another.” A young noble with only the hint of a chin, but with an emphatic moustache, offered a feeble, placatory grin.

“We said how much we admired you . . .” stuttered a Vilmirian knight whose eyes appeared but recently to have crossed and whose face was now almost as pale as Elric’s.

A merchant in the dark brocades of Tarkesh licked his red lips and attempted to conduct himself with more dignity than his friends. “Sir, Old Hrolmar is a civilised city. Gentlemen do not brawl amongst themselves here. . . .”

“But like peasant women prefer to gossip,” said Elric.

“Yes,” said the youth with the abundance of moustache. “Ah no. ...”

The dandy arranged his cloak about him and glowered at the floor.

Elric stepped aside. Uncertainly the Tarkeshite merchant moved forward and then ran for the darkness of the street, his companions tumbling behind him. Elric heard their footsteps running on the cobbles and he began to laugh. At the sound of his laugh the footfalls became a scamper and the party had soon reached the quayside where the water gleamed, turned a corner and disappeared.

Elric smiled and looked up beyond Old Hrolmar’s baroque skyline at the stars. Now there were more footsteps coming from the other end of the street. He turned and saw the newcomers step into a pool of light thrown from the window of a nearby office.

It was Moonglum. The stocky Eastlander was returning in the company of two women who were scantily dressed and heavily painted and who were without doubt Vilmirian whores from the other side of city. Moonglum had an arm about each waist and he was singing some obscure but evidently disgraceful ballad, pausing frequently to have one of the laughing girls pour wine down his throat. Both the whores had large stone flasks in their free hands and they were matching Moonglum drink for drink.

As Moonglum stepped unsteadily nearer he recognised Elric and hailed him, winking. “You see I have not forgotten you, Prince of Melnibone. One of these beauties is for you!”

Elric made an exaggerated bow. “You are very good to me. But I thought you planned to find some gold for us. Was that not the reason for coming to Old Hrolmar?”

“Aye!” Moonglum kissed the cheeks of the girls. They snorted with laughter. “Indeed! Gold it is or something as good as gold. I have rescued these young ladies from a cruel whoremaster on the other side of town. I have promised to sell them to a kinder master and they are grateful to me!”

“You stole these slaves?”

“If you wish to say so I ‘stole’ them. Aye, then, ‘steal’ I did. I stole in with my steel and I released them from a life of degradation. A humanitarian deed. Their miserable life is no more! They may look forward to ...”

“Their miserable lives will be no more as, Indeed, will be ours when the whoremaster discovers the crime and alerts the watch. How found you these ladies?”

“They found me! I had made my swords available to an old merchant, a stranger to the city. I was to escort him about the murkier regions of Old Hrolmar in return for a good purse of gold (better, I think, than he expected to give me). While he whored above, as he could, I had a drink or two below in the public rooms. These two beauties look a liking to me and told me of their unhappiness. It was enough. I rescued them.”

“A cunning plan,” Elric said sardonically.

“ ‘Twas theirs! They have brains as well as “

“I’ll help you carry them back to their master before the city guards descend upon us.”

“But Elric!”

“But first . . .” Elric seized his friend and threw him over his shoulder, staggering with him to the quay at the end of the street, taking a good hold on his collar and lowering him suddenly into the reeking water. Then he hauled him up and stood him down. Moonglum shivered and looked sadly at Elric.

“I am prone to colds, as you know.”

“And prone to drunken plans, too! We are not liked here, Moonglum. The watch needs only one excuse to set upon us. At best we should have to flee the city before our business was done. At worst we shall be disarmed, imprisoned, perhaps slain.”

They began to walk back to where the two girls still stood. One of the girls ran forward and knelt to take Elric’s hand and press her lips against his thigh. “Master, I have a message. . . .”

Elric bent to raise her to her feet.

She screamed. Her painted eyes widened. He stared at her in astonishment and then, following her gaze, turned and saw the pack of bravos who had stolen round the corner and were now rushing at himself and Moonglum. Behind the bravos Elric thought he saw the young dandy he had earlier chased from the tavern. The dandy wished for revenge. Poignards glit tered in the darkness and their owners wore the black hoods of professional assassins. There were at least a dozen of them. The young dandy must therefore be extremely rich, for assassins were expensive in Old Hrolmar.

Moonglum had already drawn both his swords and was engaging the leader. Elric pushed the frightened girl behind him and put his hand to Stormbringer’s pommel. Almost at its own volition the huge runesword sprang from its scabbard and black light poured from its blade as it began to hum its own strange battle-cry.

He heard one of the assassins gasp “Elric!” and guessed that the dandy had not made it plain whom they were to slay. He blocked the thrust of the slim longsword, turned it and chopped with a kind of delicacy at the owner’s wrist. Wrist and sword flew into the shadows and the owner staggered back screaming.

More swords now and more cold eyes glittering from the black hoods. Stormbringer sang its peculiar song half-lament, half-victory shout. Elric’s own face was alive with battle-lust and his crimson eyes blazed from his bone-white face as he swung this way and that.

Shouts, curses, the screams of women and the groans of men, steel striking steel, boots on cobbles, the sounds of swords in flesh, of blades scraping bone. A confusion through which Elric fought, his broadsword clapped in both pale hands. He had lost sight of Moonglum and prayed that the Eastlander still stood. From time to time he glimpsed one of the girls and wondered why she had not run for safety.

Now the corpses of several hooded assassins lay upon the cobbles and the remainder were beginning to falter as Elric pressed them. They knew the power of his sword and what it did to those it struck. They had seen their comrades’ faces as their souls were drawn from them by the hellblade. With every death Elric seemed to grow stronger and the black radiance from the blade seemed to burn fiercer. And now the albino was laughing.

His laughter rang over the rooftops of Old Hrolmar and those who were abed covered their ears, believing themselves in the grip of nightmares.

“Come, friends, my blade still hungers!”

An assassin made to stand his ground and Elric swept the Black Sword up. The man raised his blade to protect his head and Elric brought the Black Sword down. It sheared through the steel and cut down through the hood, through the neck, through the breastbone. It clove the assassin completely in two and it stayed in the flesh, feasting, drawing out the last traces of the man’s dark soul. And then the rest were running.

Elric drew a deep breath, avoided looking at the man his sword had slain last, sheathed the blade and turned to look for Moonglum.

It was then that the blow came on the back of his neck. He felt nausea rise in him and tried to shake it off. He felt a prick in his wrist and through the haze he saw a figure he thought at first was Moonglum. But it was another perhaps a woman. She was tugging at his left hand. Where did she want him to go?

His knees became weak and he fell to the cobbles. He tried to call out, but failed. The woman was still tugging at his hand as if she sought to take him to safety. But he could not follow her. He fell on his shoulder, then on his back, glimpsed a swimming sky . . .

... and then the dawn was rising over the crazy spires of Old Hrolmar and he realised that several hours had passed since he had fought the assassins.

Moonglum’s face appeared. It was full of concern.

“Moonglum?”

“Thank Elwher’s gentle gods! I thought you slain by that poisoned blade.”

Elric’s head was clearing rapidly now. He rose to a sitting position. “The attacker came from behind. How . . . ?”

Moonglum looked embarrassed. “I fear those girls were not all they seemed.”

Elric remembered the woman tugging at his left hand and he stretched out his fingers. “Moonglum! The Ring of Kings is gone from my hand! The Actorios has been stolen!”

The Ring of Kings had been worn by Elric’s forefathers for centuries. It had been the symbol of their power, the source of much of their supernatural strength.

Moonglum’s face clouded. “I thought I stole the girls. But they were thieves. They planned to rob us. An old trick.”

“There’s more to it, Moonglum. They stole nothing else. Just the Ring of Kings. There’s still a little gold left in my purse.” He jingled his belt pouch, climbing to his feet.

Moonglum jerked his thumb at the street’s far wall. There lay one of the girls, her finery all smeared with mud and blood.

“She got in the way of one of the assassins as we fought. She’s been dying all night mumbling your name. I had not told it to her. Therefore I fear you’re right. They were sent to steal that ring from you. I was duped by them.”

Elric walked rapidly to where the girl lay and he kneeled down beside her. Gently he touched her cheek. She opened her lids and stared at him from glazed eyes. Her lips formed Ms name.

“Why did you plan to rob me?” Elric asked. “Who is your master?”

“Urish . . .” she said in a voice that was a breeze passing through the grass. “Steal ring . . . take it to Nadsokor. . . .”

Moonglum now stood on the other side of the dying girl. He had found one of the wine flasks and he bent to give her a drink. She tried to sip the wine but failed. It ran down her little chin, down her slim neck and on to her wounded breast.

“You are one of the beggars of Nadsokor?” Moonglum said.

Faintly, she nodded,

“Urish has always been my enemy,” Elric told him.

“I once recovered some property from him and he has never forgiven me. Perhaps he sought the Actorios ring in payment.” He looked down at the girl. “Your companion has she returned to Nadsokor?”

Again the girl seemed to nod. Then all intelligence left the eyes, the lids closed and she ceased to breathe.

Elric got up. He was frowning, rubbing at the hand on which the Ring of Kings had been.

“Let him keep the ring, then,” said Moonglum hopefully. “He will be satisfied.”

Elric shook his head.

Moonglum cleared his throat. “A caravan is leaving Jadmar in a week. It is commanded by Rackhir of Tanelorn and has been purchasing provisions for the city. If we took a ship round the coast we could soon be in Jadmar, join Rackhir’s caravan and be on our way to Tanelorn in good company. As you know, it’s rare for anyone of Tanelorn to make such a journey. We are lucky, for . . .”

“No,” said Elric in a low voice. “We must forget Tanelorn for the moment, Moonglum, The Ring of Kings is my link with my fathers. More it aids my conjurings and has saved our lives more than once. We ride for Nadsokor now. I must try to reach the girl before she gets to the City of Beggars. Failing that, I must enter the city and recover my ring.”

Moonglum shuddered. “It would be more foolish than any plan of mine, Elric. Urish would destroy us.”

“None the less, to Nadsokor I must go.”

Moonglum bent and began systematically to strip the girl’s corpse of its jewellery. “We’ll need every penny we can raise if we’re to buy decent horses for our journey,” he explained.