Lord Gho Fhaazi had offered no further illumination and it was evident the ambitious politician knew no more than he had repeated.

"The Blood Moon must make fire of the Bronze Tent before the Pathway to the Pearl shall be revealed."

Knowing nothing of Quarzhasaat's legends or history and very little of her geography, Elric had decided to follow the map he had been given. It was simple enough. It showed a trail stretching for at least a hundred miles between Quarzhasaat and the oddly named oasis. Beyond this were the Ragged Pillars, a range of low mountains. The Bronze Tent was not named and neither was there any reference to the Pearl.

Lord Gho believed the nomads to be better informed but had not been able to guarantee that they would be prepared to talk to Elric. He hoped that, once they understood who he was, and with a little of Lord Gho's gold to reassure them, they would be friendly, but he knew nothing of the Sighing Desert's hinterland, nor its people. He knew only that Lord Gho despised the nomads as primitives and resented occasionally admitting them into the city to trade. Elric hoped the nomads would be better mannered than those who still believed this whole continent to be under their rule.

The Red Road was well-named, dark as half-dried blood, cutting through the desert between high banks which suggested it had once been the river on whose sides Quarzhasaat had originally been built. Every few miles the banks descended to reveal the great desert in all directions-a sea of rolling dunes which stirred in a breeze whose voice was faint here but still resembled the sighing of some imprisoned lover.

The sun climbed slowly into a glaring indigo sky as still as an actor's backdrop and Elric was grateful for the local costume provided him by Raafi as-Keeme before he left, a white cowl, loose white jerkin and britches, white linen shoes to the knee and a visor which protected his eyes. His horse, a bulky, graceful beast capable of great speed and endurance, was similarly clothed in linen, to protect it from both the sun and the sand which blew in constant gentle drifts across the landscape. Clearly some effort was made to keep the Red Road free of the drifts which gathered against its banks and gradually built them into walls.

Elric had lost none of his hatred either of his situation or of Lord Gho Fhaazi; neither had he lost his determination to remain alive and rescue Anigh, return to Melnibone and be reunited with Cymoril. Lord Gho's elixir had proved as addictive as he had claimed and Elric carried two flasks of it in his saddle-bags. Now he truly believed it must indeed kill him eventually and that only Lord Gho possessed an antidote. This belief reinforced his determination to be revenged upon that nobleman at the earliest possible opportunity.

The Red Road seemed endless. The sky shivered with heat as the sun climbed higher. And Elric, who disapproved of useless regret, found himself wishing he had never been foolish enough to buy the map from the Ilmioran sailor or to venture so badly prepared into the desert.

"To summon supernaturals to aid me now would compound the folly," he said aloud to the wilderness. "What's more I might need that aid when I reach the Fortress of the Pearl." He knew that his self-disgust had not merely caused him to commit further foolishness, but still dictated his actions. Without it, his thoughts might have been clearer and he might better have anticipated Lord Gho's trickery.

Even now he doubted his own instincts. For the past hour he had guessed that he was being followed but had seen no-one behind him on the Red Road. He had taken to glancing back suddenly, to stopping without warning, to riding back a few yards. But he was apparently as alone now as he had been when he began the journey.

"Perhaps that damned elixir addles my senses also," he said, patting the dusty cloth of his horse's neck. The great bulwarks of the road were falling away here, becoming little more than mounds on either side of him. He reined in the horse, for he fancied he could see movement that was more than drifting sand. Little figures ran here and there on long legs, upright like so many tiny manikins. He peered hard at them but then they were gone. Other, larger, creatures moving with far slower speeds, seemed to creep just below the surface of the sand while a cloud of something black hovered over them, following them as they made their ponderous way across the desert.

Elric was learning that, in this part of the Sighing Desert at least, what appeared to be a lifeless wilderness was actually no such thing. He hoped that the large creatures he detected did not regard Man as a worthwhile prey.

Again he received a sense of something behind him and turning suddenly thought he glimpsed a flash of yellow, perhaps a cloak, but it had disappeared in a slight bend behind him. His temptation was to stop, to rest for an hour or two before continuing, but he was anxious to reach the Silver Flower Oasis as soon as possible. There was little time to achieve his goal and return with the Pearl to Quarzhasaat.

He sniffed the air. The breeze brought a new smell. If he had not known better he would have thought someone was burning kitchen waste; it was the same acrid stink. Then he peered into the middle-distance and detected a faint plume of smoke. Were there nomads so close to Quarzhasaat? He had understood that they did not like coming within a hundred miles or more of the city unless they had specific reasons to do so. And if people were camped here, why did they not set their tents closer to the road? Nothing had been said of bandits, so he did not fear attack, but he remained curious, continuing his journey with a certain caution.

The walls rose up again and blocked his view of the desert, but the stink of burning grew stronger and stronger until it was almost unbearable. He felt the stuff clogging his lungs. His eyes began to stream. It was a most noxious smell, almost as if someone were burning putrefying corpses.

Again the walls sank a little until he could see over them. Less than a mile away, as best he could judge, he saw about twenty plumes of smoke, darker now, while other clouds danced and zig-zagged about them. He began to suspect that he had come upon a tribe who kept their cooking fires alight as they traveled in wagons of some kind. Yet it was hard to know what kind of wagons would easily cross the deep drifts. And again he wondered why they were not on the Red Road.

Tempted to investigate he knew he would be a fool to leave the road. He might again become lost and be in even worse condition than when Anigh had found him all those days ago on the far side of Quarzhasaat.

He was about to dismount and rest his mind and eyes, if not his body, for an hour, when the wall nearest him began to heave and quake and large cracks appeared in it. The terrible smell of burning was even closer now and he cleared his throat, coughing to rid himself of the stench while his horse began to whinny and refuse the rein as Elric tried to drive him forward.

Suddenly a flock of creatures ran directly across his path, bursting from the newly made holes in the walls. These were what he had mistaken for tiny men. Now that he saw them more closely he realized they were some kind of rat, but a rat which ran on long hind-legs, its forelegs short and held up high against its chest, its long, grey face full of sharp little teeth, its huge ears making it seem like some flying creature attempting to leave the ground.

There came a great rumbling and cracking. Black smoke blinded Elric and his horse reared. He saw a shape moving out of the broken banks-a massive, flesh-coloured body on a dozen legs, its mandibles clattering as it chased the rats, which were clearly its natural prey. Elric let the horse have its head and looked back to get a clearer view of a creature he had thought existed only in ancient times. He had read of such beasts but had believed them extinct. They were called firebeetles. By some trick of biology the gigantic beetles secreted oily pools in their heavy carapaces. These pools, exposed to the sunlight and the flames already burning on other backs, would catch fire so that sometimes as many as twenty spots on the beetles' impervious backs would be burning at any one time and would only be extinguished when a beast dug its way deep underground during its breeding season. This was what he had seen in the distance.

The firebeetles were hunting.

They moved with awful speed now. At least a dozen of the gigantic insects were closing in on the road and Elric realized to his horror that he and his horse were about to be trapped in a sweep designed to catch the man-rats. He knew that the firebeetles would not discriminate where flesh was concerned and he could well be eaten by purest accident by a beast which was not known for making prey of men. The horse continued to rear and snort and only put all hoofs on the ground when Elric forced it under his control, drawing Stormbringer and considering how useless even that sorcerous sword would be against the pink-grey carapaces from which flames now leapt and guttered. Stormbringer drew scant energy from natural creatures like these. He could only hope for a lucky blow splitting a back, perhaps, and breaking through the tightening circle before he was completely trapped.

He swung the great black battle-blade down and severed a waving appendage. The beetle hardly noticed and did not pause for a second in its progress. Elric yelled and swung again and fire scattered. Hot oil was flung into the air as he struck the firebeetle's back and again failed to do it any significant harm. The shrieking of the horse and the wailing of the blade now mingled and Elric found himself yelling as he turned the horse this way and that in search of escape while all around his horse's feet the man-rats scurried in terror, unable to burrow easily into the hard clay of that much-traveled road. Blood spattered against Elric's legs and arms, against the linen which clad his horse to below its knees. Little spots of flaming oil flared on cloth and burned holes. The beetles were feasting, moving more slowly as they ate. There was nowhere in the circle a gap large enough for horse and rider to escape.

Elric considered trying to ride the horse over the backs of the great beetles, though it seemed their shells would be too slippery for purchase. There was no other hope. He was about to force the horse forward when he heard a peculiar humming in the air around him, saw the air suddenly fill with flies and knew that these were the scavengers which always followed the firebeetles, feeding off whatever scraps they left and upon the dung they scattered as they traveled. Now they were beginning to settle on him and his horse, adding to his horror. He slapped at the things, but they formed a thick coat, crawling on every part of him, their noise both sickening and deafening, their bodies half-blinding him.

The horse cried out again and stumbled. Elric desperately tried to see ahead. The smoke and the flies were too much for either himself or his horse. Flies filled his mouth and nostrils. He gagged, trying to brush them from him, spitting them down to where the little man-rats squealed and died.

Another sound came dimly to him and miraculously the flies began to rise. Through watering eyes he saw the beetles start to move all in one direction, leaving a space through which he might ride. Without another thought he spurred his horse towards the gap, dragging great gasps of air into his lungs, as yet unsure if he had escaped or whether he had merely moved into a wider circle of firebeetles, for the smoke and the noise were still confusing him.

Spitting more flies from his mouth, he adjusted his visor and peered ahead. The beetles were no longer in sight, though he could hear them behind him. There were new shapes in the dust and smoke.

They were riders, moving on either side of the Red Road, driving the beetles back with long spears which they hooked under the carapaces and used as goads, doing the creatures no real harm but giving them enough pain to make them move, where Elric's blade had failed. The riders wore flowing yellow robes which were caught by the breeze of their own movement and lifted about them like wings as, systematically, they herded the firebeetles away from the road and out into the desert while the remainder of the man-rats, perhaps grateful for this unexpected salvation, scattered and found burrows in the sand.

Elric did not sheath Stormbringer. He knew enough to understand that these warriors might well be saving him only incidentally and might even blame him for being in their way. The other possibility, which was stronger, was that these men had been following him for some time and did not wish the firebeetles to cheat them of their prey.

Now one of the yellow-clad riders detached himself from the throng and galloped up to Elric, hailing him with spear raised.

"I thank you mightily," the albino said. "You have saved my life, sir. I trust I did not disrupt your hunt too much."

The rider was taller than Elric, very thin, with a gaunt dark face and black eyes. His head was shaved and both his lips were decorated, apparently with tiny tattoos, as if he wore a mask of fine, multicoloured lace across his mouth. The spear was not sheathed and Elric prepared to defend himself, knowing that his chances against even so many human beings were greater than they had been against the firebeetles.

The man frowned at Elric's statement, puzzled for a moment. Then his brow cleared. "We did not hunt the firebeetles. We saw what was happening and realized that you did not know enough to get out of the creatures' way. We came as quickly as we could. I am Manag Iss of the Yellow Sect, kinsman to Councilor Iss. I am of the Sorcerer Adventurers."

Elric had heard of these sects, who had been the chief warrior caste of Quarzhasaat and had been largely responsible for the spells which inundated the empire with sand. Had Lord Gho, not trusting him completely, set them to following him? Or were they assassins instructed to kill him?

"I thank you, nonetheless, Manag Iss, for your intervention. I owe you my life. I am honoured to meet one of your sect. I am Elric of Nadsokor in the Young Kingdoms."

"Aye, we know of you. We were trailing you, waiting until we were far enough from the city to speak to you safely."

"Safely? You're in no danger from me, Master Sorcerer Adventurer."

Manag Iss was evidently not a man who smiled often and when he smiled now it was a strange contortion of the face. Behind them, other members of the sect were beginning to ride back, rehousing their long spears in the scabbards attached to their saddles. "I did not think we were, Master Elric. We come to you in peace and we are your friends, if you will have us. My kinswoman sends her greetings. She is the wife of Councilor Iss. Iss remains, however, our family name. We all tend to marry the same blood, our clan."

"I am glad to make your acquaintance." Elric waited for the man to speak further.

Manag Iss waved a long, brown hand whose nails had been removed and replaced with the same tattoos as those on his mouth. "Would you dismount and talk, for we come with messages and the offer of gifts."

Elric slipped Stormbringer back into the scabbard and swung his leg over his saddle, sliding to the dust of the Red Road. He watched as the beetles lurched slowly away, perhaps in search of more man-rats, their smoking backs reminding him of the fires of the leper camps on the outskirts of Jadmar.

"My kinswoman wishes you to know that she, as well as the Yellow Sect, are all at your service, Master Elric. We are prepared to give you whatever aid you require in seeking out the Pearl at the Heart of the World."

Now Elric felt a certain amusement. "I fear you have me at a disadvantage, Sir Manag Iss. Do you journey in quest of treasure?"

Manag Iss let an expression of mild impatience cross his strange face. "It is known that your patron Lord Gho Fhaazi has promised the Pearl at the Heart of the World to the Nameless Seventh and she, in turn, has promised him the new place on the Council in return. We have discovered enough to know that only an exceptional thief could have been commissioned to this task. And Nadsokor is famous for her exceptional thieves. It is a task which, I am sure you know, all Sorcerer Adventurers have failed in completing. For centuries members of every sect have tried to find the Pearl at the Heart of the World, whenever the Blood Moon rises. Those few who ever survived to return to Quarzhasaat were raving mad and died soon after. Only recently have we received some little knowledge and evidence that the Pearl does actually exist. We know, therefore, that you are a dreamthief, though you disguise your profession by not carrying your hooked staff, for we do know that only a dreamthief of the greatest skill could reach the Pearl and bring it back."

"You tell me more than I knew, Manag Iss," said Elric seriously. "And it is true that I am commissioned by Lord Gho Fhaazi. But know you this also-I go upon this journey reluctantly." And Elric trusted his instincts enough to reveal to Manag Iss the hold that Lord Gho had over him.

Manag Iss plainly believed him. His tattooed fingertips brushed lightly over the tattoos of his lips as he considered this information. "That elixir is well-known to the Sorcerer Adventurers. We have distilled it for millennia. It is true that it feeds the very substance of the user back to him. The antidote is much harder to prepare. I am surprised that Lord Gho claims to possess it. Only certain sects of the Sorcerer Adventurers own small quantities. If you would return with us to Quarzhasaat we shall, I know, be able to administer the antidote to you within a day at the most."

Elric considered this carefully. Manag Iss was employed by one of Lord Gho's rivals. This made him suspicious of any offer, no matter how generous it seemed. Councilor Iss, or the Lady Iss, or whoever it was desired to place their own candidate upon the Council, would no doubt be prepared to stop at nothing to achieve that end. For all Elric knew, Manag Iss's offer might merely be a means of lulling him out of his wariness so that he might be the more easily murdered.

"You'll forgive me if I am blunt," said the albino, "but I have no means of trusting you, Manag Iss. I know already that Quarzhasaat is a city whose chief sport is intrigue and I have no wish to be involved in that game of plots and counterplots which your fellow citizens seem to enjoy so thoroughly. If the antidote to the elixir exists, as you say, I would be better disposed to consider your claims if, for instance, you were to meet me at the Silver Flower Oasis in, say, six days from today. I have enough elixir to last me three weeks, which is the time of the Blood Moon plus the time of my journey from and to your city. This will convince me of your altruism."

"I shall also be frank," said Manag Iss, his voice cool. "I am commissioned and bound both by my blood oath, my sect contract and my honour as a member of our holy guild. That commission is to convince you, by any means, either to relinquish your quest or to sell the Pearl. If you will not relinquish the quest, then I will agree to purchase the Pearl from you at any price save, of course, a position on our Council. Therefore I will match Lord Gho's offer and add to it anything else you desire."

Elric spoke with some regret. "You cannot match his offer, Manag Iss. There is the matter of the boy whom he will kill."

"The boy is of little importance, surely."

"Little, doubtless, in the great scheme of things as they are played out in Quarzhasaat." Elric grew weary.

Realizing he had made a tactical mistake, Manag Iss said hastily: "We'll rescue the boy. Tell us how to find him."

"I think I'll keep to my original bargain," said Elric. "There seems little to choose between the offers."

"What if Lord Gho were assassinated?"

Elric shrugged and made to remount. "I'm grateful for your intervention, Manag Iss. I'll consider your offer as I ride. You'll appreciate I have little time to find the Fortress of the Pearl."

"Master Thief, I would warn you-" At this Manag Iss broke off. He looked behind him, along the Red Road. There was a faint cloud of dust to be seen. Out of it emerged dim shapes, their robes pale green and flowing behind them as they rode. Manag Iss cursed. But he was smiling his peculiar smile as the leaders galloped up.

It was clear to Elric, from their garb, that these men were also members of the Sorcerer Adventurers. They, too, had tattoos, but upon the eyelids and the wrists, and their billowing surcoats, which reached to their ankles, bore an embroidered flower upon them while the trimming of sleeves had the same design in miniature. The leader of these newcomers jumped from his horse and approached Manag Iss. He was a short man, handsome and clean-shaven save for a tiny goatee which was oiled in the fashion of Quarzhasaat and drawn to an exaggerated point. Unlike the Yellow Sect members, he carried a sword, unscab-barded in a simple leather harness. He made a sign which Manag Iss imitated.

"Greetings, Oled Alesham and peace upon you. The Yellow Sect wishes great successes to the Foxglove Sect and is curious as to why you travel so far along the Red Road." All this was spoken rapidly, a formality. Manag Iss doubtless was as aware as Elric why Oled Alesham and his men followed.

"We ride to give protection to this thief," said the leader of the Foxglove Sect with a nod of acknowledgment to Elric. "He is a stranger to our land and we would offer him help, as is our ancient custom."

Elric himself smiled openly at this. "And are you, Master Oled Alesham, related, by any chance, to some member of the Six and One Other?"

Oled Alesham's sense of humour was better developed than that of Manag Iss. "Oh, we are all related to everyone in Quarzhasaat, Sir Thief. We are on our way to the Silver Flower Oasis and thought you might require assistance with your quest."

"He has no quest," said Manag Iss, then instantly regretted the stupidity of the lie. "No quest, that is, save the one he shares with his friends of the Yellow Sect."

"Since we are bound by our guild loyalties not to fight, we are not, I hope, going to quarrel over who is to escort our guest to the Silver Flower Oasis," said Oled Alesham with a chuckle. He was greatly amused by the situation. "Are we all to journey together, perhaps? And each receive a little piece of the Pearl?"

"There is no Pearl," said Elric, "and shall not be if I am further hindered in my journey. I thank you, gentlemen, for your concern, and I bid you all good afternoon."

This caused some consternation amongst the two rival sects and they were attempting to decide what to do when over the rubble created by the firebeetles there rode about half-a-dozen black-clad, heavily veiled and cowled warriors, their swords already drawn.

Elric, guessing these to mean him no good, withdrew so that Manag Iss and Oled Alesham and their men were surrounding him. "More of your kind, gentlemen?" he asked, his hand on the hilt of his own sword.

"They are the Moth Brotherhood," said Oled Alesham, "and they are assassins. They do nothing but kill, Sir Thief. You would best throw in with us. Evidently someone has determined that you should be murdered before you even see the Blood Moon rising."

"Will you help me defend myself?" asked the albino, mounting and getting ready to fight.

"We cannot," said Manag Iss and he sounded genuinely regretful. "We cannot do battle with our own kind. But they will not kill us if we surround you. You would be best advised to accept our offer, Sir Thief."

Then the impatient rage which was a mark of his ancient blood took hold of Elric and he drew Stormbringer without further ado. "I am tired of these little bargains," he said. "I would ask you to stand aside from me, Manag Iss, for I mean to do battle."

"There are too many!" Oled Alesham was shocked. "You'll be butchered. These are skilled killers!"

"Oh, so am I, master Sorcerer Adventurer. So am I." And with that Elric drove his horse forward, through the startled ranks of Yellow and Foxglove Sects, directly at the leader of the Moth Brotherhood.

The runesword began to howl in unison with its master and the white face glowed with the energy of the damned while the red eyes blazed and the Sorcerer Adventurers realized for the first time that an extraordinary creature had come amongst them and that they had underestimated him.

Stormbringer rose in Elric's gloved hand, its black metal catching the rays of the glaring sun and seeming to absorb them. The black blade fell, almost as if by accident, and split the skull of the Moth Brotherhood's leader, clove him to his breastbone and howled as it sucked the man's soul from him in the very split second of his dying. Elric turned in his saddle, the sword swinging to bury its edge in the side of the assassin riding up on his left. The man shrieked. "It has me! Ah, no!" And he, too, died.

Now the other veiled riders were warier, circling the albino at some distance while they determined their strategy. They had thought they would need none, that all they must do was ride a Young Kingdom thief down and destroy him. There were five of the black riders left. They were calling on their fellow guild members for aid, but neither Manag Iss nor Oled Alesham was ready to give orders to his own people which could result in the unholy death they had already witnessed.

Elric showed no such prudence. He rode directly at the next assassin, who parried with great cleverness and even struck under Elric's guard for a second before his arm was severed and he fell back in his saddle, blood gouting from the stump. Another graceful movement, half Elric's, half his sword's, and that man, too, had his soul drawn from him. Now the others fell back amongst the yellow and green robes of their brothers. There was panic in their eyes. They recognized sorcery, even if this was something more powerful than they had ever anticipated.

"Hold! Hold!" cried Manag Iss. "There is no need for any more of us to die! We are here to make the thief an offer. Did old Duke Ral send you here?"

"He wants no more intrigue around the Pearl," growled one of the veiled men. "He said clean death was the best solution. But these deaths are not clean for us."

"Those who commission us have set the pattern," said Oled Alesham. "Thief! Put up your sword. We do not wish to fight you!"

"I believe that." Elric was grim. The blood-lust was still upon him and he fought to control it. "I believe you merely wish to slay me without a fight. You are fools all. I have already warned Lord Gho of this. I have the power to destroy you. It is your good fortune that I am sworn to myself not to use my power merely to make others perform my will to my own selfish ends. But I am not sworn to let myself die at the hands of hired slaughterers! Go back! Go back to Quarzhasaat!"

This last was almost screamed and the sword echoed it as he lifted the great black blade into the sky, to warn them of what would befall them if they did not obey.

Manag Iss said softly to Elric, "We cannot, Sir Thief. We can only pursue our commissions. It is the way of our guild, of all the Sorcerer Adventurers. Once we have agreed to perform a task, then the task must be performed. Death is the only excuse for failure."

"Then I must kill you all," said Elric simply. "Or you must kill me."

"We can still make the bargain I spoke of," said Manag Iss. "I was not deceiving you, Sir Thief."

"My offer, too, is sound," said Oled Alesham.

"But the Moth Brotherhood is sworn to kill me," Elric pointed out, almost amused, "and you cannot defend me against them. Nor, I would guess, can you do anything but aid them against me."

Manag Iss was trying to draw back from the black-robed assassins but it was clear they were determined to retain the safety of their guild ranks.

Then Oled Alesham murmured something to the leader of the Yellow Sect which made Manag Iss thoughtful. He nodded and signed to the remaining members of the Moth Brotherhood. For a few moments they were in conference, then Manag Iss looked up and addressed Elric.

"Sir Thief, we have found a formula which will leave you in peace and allow us to return with honour to Quarzhasaat. If we retreat now, will you promise not to follow us?"

"If I have your word you'll not let those Moths attack me again." Elric was calmer now. He laid the crooning runeblade across his arm.

"Put away your swords, brothers!" cried Oled Alesham and the Moths obeyed at once.

Next Elric sheathed Stormbringer. The unholy energy which he had drawn from those who sought to slay him was filling him now and he felt all the old heightened sensibility of his race, all the arrogance and all the power of his ancient blood. He laughed at his enemies. "Know you not whom you would kill, gentlemen?"

Oled Alesham scowled a little. "I am beginning to guess a little of your origins, Sir Thief. 'Tis said that the lords of the Bright Empire carried such blades as yours once, in a time before this time. In a time before history. 'Tis said those blades are living things, a race allied to your own. You have the look of our long-lost enemies. Does this mean that Melnibone did not drown?"

"I'll leave that for you to think on, Master Oled Alesham." Elric suspected that they plotted some trick but was almost careless. "If your people spent less time maintaining their own devalued myths about themselves and more upon studying the world as it is I think your city would have a greater chance of surviving. As it is, the place is crumbling beneath the weight of its own degraded fictions. The legends which offer a race their sense of pride and history eventually become putrid. If Melnibone drowns, Master Sorcerer Adventurer, it will be as Quarzhasaat drowns now ..."

"We are unconcerned with matters of philosophy," Manag Iss said with evident poor temper. "We do not question the motives or the ideas of those who employ us. That is written in our charters."

"And must therefore be obeyed!" Elric smiled. "Thus you celebrate your decadence and resist reality."

"Go now," said Oled Alesham. "It is not your business to instruct us in moral matters and not ours to listen. We have left our student days behind."

Elric accepted this mild rebuke and turned his tiring horse again towards the Silver Flower Oasis. He did not look back once at the Sorcerer Adventurers but guessed them to be deeper than ever in conversation. He began to whistle as the Red Road stretched before him and the stolen energy of his enemies filled him with euphoria. His thoughts were on Cymoril and his return to Melnibone where he hoped to ensure his nation's survival by bringing about in her the very changes he had spoken of to the Sorcerer Adventurers. At this moment, his goal seemed a little closer, his mind clearer than it had been for several months.

Night seemed to come swiftly and with it a rapid descent in temperature which left the albino shivering and robbed him of some of his good humour. He drew heavier robes from his saddle-bags and donned them as he tethered his horse and prepared to build a fire. The elixir on which he had depended had not been touched since his encounter with the Sorcerer Adventurers and he was beginning to understand its nature a little better. The craving had faded, although he was still conscious of it, and he could now hope to free himself of his dependency without need of further bargaining with Lord Gho.