"All I have to do," he said to himself as he ate sparingly of the food provided him, "is to make sure that I am attacked at least once a day by members of the Moth Brotherhood ..." And with that he put away his figs and bread, wrapped himself in the night-cloak and prepared to sleep.

His dreams were formal and familiar. He was in Imrryr, the Dreaming City, and Cymoril sat beside him as he lay back upon the Ruby Throne, contemplating his court. Yet this was not the court which the emperors of Melnibone had kept for the thousands of years of their rule. This was a court to which had come men and women of all nations, from each of the Young Kingdoms, from Elwher and the Unmapped East, from Phum, from Quarzhasaat even. Here information and philosophies were exchanged, together with all manner of goods. This was a court whose energies were not devoted to maintaining itself unchanged for eternity, but to every kind of new idea and lively, humane discussion, which welcomed fresh thought not as a threat to its existence but as a very necessity to its continued well-being, whose wealth was devoted to experiment in the arts and sciences, to supporting those who were needy, to aiding thinkers and scholars. The Bright Empire's brightness would come no longer from the glow of putrefaction but from the light of reason and good will.

This was Elric's dream, more coherent now than it had ever been. This was his dream and it was why he traveled the world, why he refused the power which was his, why he risked his life, his mind, his love and everything else he valued, for he believed that there was no life worth living that was not risked in pursuit of knowledge and justice. And this was why his fellow countrymen feared him. Justice was not obtained, he believed, by administration but by experience. One must know what it was to suffer humiliation and powerlessness; at least to some degree, before one could entirely appreciate its effect. One must give up power if one was to achieve true justice. This was not the logic of Empire, but it was the logic of one who truly loved the world and desired to see an age dawn when all people would be free to pursue their ambitions in dignity and self-respect.

"Ah, Elric," said Yyrkoon, crawling like a serpent from behind the Ruby Throne, "thou art an enemy of your own race, an enemy of her gods and an enemy of all I worship and desire. That is why you must be destroyed and why I must possess all you own. All ..."

At this, Elric woke up. His skin was clammy. He reached for his sword. He had dreamed of Yyrkoon as a serpent and now he could swear he heard something slithering over the sand not far off. The horse smelled it and grunted, displaying increasing agitation. Elric rose, the night-cloak falling from him. The horse's breath was steaming in the air. There was a moon overhead, casting a faintly blue light over the desert.

The slithering came closer. Elric peered at the high banks of the road but could make out nothing. He was sure that the firebeetles had not returned. And what he heard next confirmed this certainty. It was a great outpouring of foetid breath, a rushing sound, almost a shriek, and he knew some gigantic beast was nearby.

Elric knew also that the beast was not of this desert, nor indeed of this world. He could sniff the stink of something supernatural, something which had been raised from the pits of hell, summoned to serve his enemies, and he knew suddenly why the Sorcerer Adventurers had called off their attack so readily, what they had planned when they had let him go.

Cursing his own euphoria, Elric drew Stormbringer and crept back into the darkness, away from the horse.

The roar came from behind him. He whirled and there it was!

It was a huge catlike thing, save that its body resembled that of a baboon with an arching tail and there were spines along its back. Its claws were extended and it reared up, reaching for him as he yelled and jumped to one side, slashing at it. The thing flickered with peculiar colours and lights, as if not quite of the material world. He was in no doubt of its origin. Such things had been summoned more than once by the sorcerers of Melnibone to help them against those they sought to destroy. He searched his mind for some spell, something which would drive it back to the regions from which it had been summoned, but it had been too long since he had practised any kind of sorcery himself.

The thing had got his scent now and was moving in pursuit as he ran rapidly and erratically away from it across the desert, attempting to put as much space between himself and the creature as possible.

The beast screamed. It was hungry for more than Elric's flesh. Those who had summoned it had promised it his soul at very least. It was the usual reward to a supernatural beast of that kind. He felt its claws whistle in the air behind him as it again attempted to seize him and he turned, slashing at the creature's forepaws with his sword. Stormbringer caught one of the pads and drew something like blood. Elric felt a sickening wave of energy pour into him. He stabbed this time and the beast shrieked, opening a red mouth in which rainbow-coloured teeth glittered.

"By Arioch," gasped Elric, "you're an ugly creature. 'Tis almost a duty to send you back to hell ..." And Stormbringer leapt out again, slashing at the same wounded paw. But this time the cat-thing saved itself and began to gather itself for a spring which Elric knew he had little chance of surviving. A supernatural beast was not as easily slain as the warriors of the Moth Brotherhood.

It was then he heard a yell and turning saw an apparition moving towards him in the moonlight. It was manlike, riding on an oddly humped animal which galloped more rapidly than any horse.

The cat-creature paused uncertainly and turned, spitting and growling, to deal with this distraction before finishing the albino.

Realizing that this was not a further threat but some passing traveler attempting to come to his assistance, Elric shouted: "Best save yourself, sir. That beast is supernatural and cannot easily be killed by familiar means!"

The voice which replied was deep and vibrant, full of good humour. "I'm aware of that, sir, and would be obliged if you would deal with the thing while I draw its attention to myself." Whereupon the rider turned his odd mount and began to ride at a reduced pace in the opposite direction. The supernatural creature was not, however, deceived. Clearly those who had raised it had instructed it as to its prey. It scented at the air, seeking out Elric again.

The albino lay behind a dune, gathering his strength. He remembered a minor spell which, given the extra energy he had drawn already from the demon, he might be able to employ. He began to sing in the old, beautiful, musical language they called High Melnibonean, and as he did so he took up a handful of sand and passed it through the air with strange, graceful movements. Gradually, from the grains of the dunes, a spiral of sand began to move upwards, whistling as it spun faster and faster in the oddly coloured moonlight.

The cat-beast growled and rushed forward. But Elric stood between it and the whirling spiral. Then, at the last moment, he moved aside. The spiral's voice rose still higher. It was no more than a simple trick taught to young sorcerers by way of encouragement, but it had the effect of blinding the cat-thing long enough for Elric to charge and with his sword duck under the claws to plunge the blade deep into the beast's vitals.

At once the energy began to drain into the blade and from the blade into Elric. The albino screamed and raved as the stuff filled him. Demon-energy was not unfamiliar to him, but it threatened to make a demon of him, too, for it was all but impossible to control.

"Aah! It is too much. Too much!" He writhed in agony while the demonic life-essence poured into him and the cat-thing roared and died.

Then it was gone and Elric lay gasping on the sand as the beast's corpse gradually faded into nothingness, returning to the realm from which it had been summoned. For a few seconds Elric wanted to follow the thing into its home regions, for the stolen energy threatened to spill out of his body, burst its way from his blood and his bones; but old habits fought to control this lust until at last he once again had a rein upon himself. He began slowly to rise from the ground only to hear the approach of hoofs.

He whirled, the sword ready, but saw it was the traveler who had earlier sought to help him. Stormbringer felt no sentiment in the matter and stirred in his hand, ready to take the soul of this friend as readily as it had stolen the souls of Elric's enemies.

"No!" The albino forced the blade back into its scabbard. He felt almost sick with the energy leeched from the demon but he made himself take a grave bow as the rider joined him. "I thank you for your help, stranger. I had not expected to find a friend this close to Quarzhasaat."

The young man regarded him with some sympathy and good will. He had startlingly handsome features with dark, humorous eyes in his gleaming black flesh. On his short, curly hair he wore a skull-cap decorated with peacock feathers and his jacket and breeches seemed to be of black velvet stitched with gold thread, over which was thrown a pale-coloured hooded cloak of the pattern usually worn by desert peoples in these parts. He rode up slowly on the loping, bovine mount which had cloven hoofs and a broad head, a massive hump above its shoulders, like that of certain cattle Elric had seen in scrolls depicting the Southern Continent.

At the young man's belt was a richly carved stick of some kind with a crooked handle, about half his height, and on his other hip he wore a simple flat-hilted sword.

"I had not expected to find an emperor of Melnibone in these parts, either!" said the man with some amusement. "Greetings, Prince Elric. I am honoured to make your acquaintance."

"We have not met? How do you know my name?"

"Oh, such tricks are nothing to one of my craft, Prince Elric. My name is Alnac Kreb and I am making my way to the oasis they call the Silver Flower. Shall we return to your camp and your horse? I am glad to say he is unharmed. What powerful enemies you have, to send such a foul demon against you! Have you given offense to the Sorcerer Adventurers of Quarzhasaat?"

"It would seem so." Elric walked beside the newcomer as they made their way back towards the Red Road. "I am grateful to you, Master Alnac Kreb. Without your help, I should now be absorbed body and soul in that creature and borne back to whatever hell gave birth to it. But I must warn you, there is some danger that I shall be attacked again by those who sent it."

"I think not, Prince Elric. They were doubtless confident of their success and, what's more, wanted no further business with you, once they realized that you were no ordinary mortal. I saw a pack of them-from three separate sects of that unpleasant guild-riding rapidly back to Quarzhasaat not an hour since. Curious as to what they fled from, I came this way. And so found you. I was glad to be of some minor service."

"I, too, am riding for the Silver Flower Oasis, though I know not what to expect there." Elric had taken a strong liking to this young man. "I would be glad of your company on the journey."

"Honoured, sir. Honoured!" Smiling, Alnac Kreb dismounted from his odd beast and tethered it close to Elric's horse which was yet to recover from its terror, though it was now quieter.

"I will not ask you to weary yourself further tonight, sir," Elric added, "but I'm mightily curious to know how you guessed my name and my race. You spoke of a trick of your craft. What would that trade be, may I ask?"

"Why, sir," said Alnac Kreb, dusting sand from his velvet breeches, "I'd thought you guessed. I am a dreamthief."

CHAPTER FOUR.

A Funeral at the Oasis.

"The Silver Flower Oasis is rather more than a simple clearing in the desert as you'll discover," said Alnac Kreb, dabbing delicately at his beautiful face with a kerchief trimmed with glittering lace. "It is a great meeting place for all the nomad nations and much wealth comes to it to be traded. It is frequented by kings and princes. Marriages are arranged and often take place there, as do other ceremonies. Great political decisions are made. Alliances are maintained and fresh ones struck. News is exchanged. Every manner of thing is bartered. Not everything is conventional, not everything-material. It is a vital place, unlike Quarzhasaat, which the nomads visit reluctantly only when necessity-or greed-demands."

"Why have we seen none of these nomads, friend Alnac?" Elric asked.

"They avoid Quarzhasaat. For them the place and its people are the equivalent of hell. Some even believe that the souls of the damned are sent to Quarzhasaat. The city represents everything they fear and everything that is at odds with what they most value."

"I'd be inclined to see eye to eye with those nomads." Elric allowed himself a smile. Still free of the elixir, his body was again craving it. The energy his sword had given him would normally have sustained him for a considerably longer time. This was further proof that the elixir, as explained by Manag Iss, fed off his very life-force to give him temporary physical strength. He was beginning to suspect that as well as feeding his own vitality he was also feeding the elixir. The distillation had come almost to represent a sentient creature, like the sword. Yet the Black Sword had never given him the same sense of being invaded. He kept his mind free of such thoughts as much as he could. "I feel a certain kinship with them already," he added.

"Your hope, Prince Elric, is that they find you acceptable!" And Alnac laughed. "Though an ancient enemy of the lords of Quarzhasaat must have certain credentials. I have acquaintances amongst some of the clans. You must let me introduce you, when the time comes."

"Willingly," said Elric, "though you have yet to explain how you came to know me."

Alnac nodded as if he had forgotten the matter. "It is not complicated and yet it is remarkably complex, if you do not understand the fundamental workings of the multiverse. As I told you, I'm a dreamthief. I know more than most because I am familiar with so many dreams. Let's merely say that I heard of you in a dream and that it is sometimes my destiny to be your companion-though not for long, I'd guess, in my present guise."

"In a dream? You have yet to tell me what a dreamthief does."

"Why, steal dreams, of course. Twice a year we take our booty to a certain market to trade, just as the nomads trade."

"You trade in dreams?" Elric was disbelieving.

Alnac enjoyed his astonishment. "There are dealers at the market who'll pay for certain dreams. In turn they sell them to those unfortunates who either cannot dream or who have such banal dreams they desire something better."

Elric shook his head. "You speak in parables, surely?"

"No, Prince Elric, I speak the exact truth." He dragged the oddly hooked staff from his belt. It reminded Elric of a shepherd's crook, though it was shorter. "One does not acquire this without having studied the basic skills of the dreamthief's craft. I am not the best in my trade, nor am I likely ever to be, but in this realm, in this time, this is my destiny. There are few in this realm, for reasons you shall no doubt learn, and only the nomads and the folk of Elwher recognize our craft. We are not known, save to a few wise people, in the Young Kingdoms."

"Why do you not venture there?"

"We are not asked to do so. Have you ever heard of anyone seeking the services of a dreamthief in the Young Kingdoms?"

"Never. But why should that be?"

"Perhaps because Chaos has so much influence in the West and South. There, the most terrible nightmares can readily become reality."

"You fear Chaos?"

"What rational being does not? I fear the dreams of those who serve her." Alnac Kreb looked away towards the desert. "Elwher and what you call 'the Unmapped East' have in the main less complicated inhabitants, Melnibone's influence was never so strong. Nor was it, of course, in the Sighing Desert."

"So it is my folk whom you fear?"

"I fear any race which gives itself over to Chaos, which makes pacts with the most powerful of supernaturals, with the very Dukes of Chaos, with the Sword Rulers themselves! I do not regard such dealings as wholesome or sane. I am opposed to Chaos."

"You serve Law?"

"I serve myself. I serve, I suppose, the Balance. I believe that one can live and let live and celebrate the world's variety."

"Such philosophy is enviable, Master Alnac. I aspire to it myself, though I suppose you do not believe me."

"Aye, I believe you, Prince Elric. I am party to many dreams and you occur in some of them. And dreams are reality and vice versa in other realms." The dreamthief glanced sympathetically at the albino. "It must be hard for one who has known millennia of power to attempt a relinquishing of such power."

"You understand me well, Sir Dreamthief."

"Oh, my understanding is only ever of the broadest kind in such matters." Alnac Kreb shrugged and made a self-deprecating gesture.

"I have spent much time in seeking the meaning of justice, in visiting lands where it is said to exist, in trying to discover how best it may be accomplished, how it may be established so that all the world shall benefit. Have you heard of Tanelorn, Alnac Kreb? There justice is said to rule. There the Grey Lords, those who keep charge of the world's equilibrium, are said to have their greatest influence."

"Tanelorn exists," said the dreamthief quietly. "And it has many names. Yet in some realms, I fear, it is no more than an idea of perfection. Such ideas are what maintain us in hope and fuel our urge to make reality of dreams. Sometimes we are successful."

"Justice exists?"

"Of course it does. But it is not an abstraction. It must be worked for. Justice is your demon, I think, Prince Elric, more than any Lord of Chaos. You have chosen a cruel and an unhappy road." He smiled delicately as he stared ahead of them at the long, red trail stretching out to the horizon. "Crueler, I think, than the Red Road to the Silver Flower Oasis."

"You're not encouraging, Master Alnac."

"You must know yourself that there's precious little justice in the world that is not hard fought for, hard won and hard held. It is in our mortal nature to give that responsibility to others. Yet poor creatures like yourself continue to try to relinquish power while acquiring more and more responsibility. Some would say that it is admirable to do as you do, that it builds character and strength of purpose, that it reaches towards a higher form of sanity ..."

"Aye. And some would say it is the purest form of madness, at odds with all natural impulses. I do not know what it is I long for, Sir Dreamthief, but I know I hope for a world where the strong do not prey on the weak like mindless insects, where mortal creatures may attain their greatest possible fulfillment, where all are dignified and healthy, never victims of a few stronger than themselves ..."

"Then you serve the wrong masters in Chaos, prince. For the only justice recognized by the Dukes of Hell is the justice of their own unchallenged existence. They are like fresh-born babes in this. They are opposed to your every ideal."

Elric grew disturbed and spoke softly when he replied. "But can one not use such forces to defeat them-or at least challenge their power and adjust the Balance?"

"Only the Balance gives you the power you desire. And it is a subtle, sometimes exceptionally delicate power."

"Not strong enough in my world, I fear."

"Strong only when sufficient numbers believe in it. Then it is stronger than Chaos and Law combined."

"Well, I shall work for that day when the power of the Balance holds sway, Master Alnac Kreb, but I am not sure I will live to see it."

"If you live," said Alnac quietly, "I suspect it will not come. But it will be many years before you are called upon to blow Roland's horn."

"A horn? What horn is that?" But Elric's question was casual. He believed that the dreamthief was making another allegorical allusion.

"Look!" Alnac pointed ahead. "See in the far distance? There is the first sign of the Silver Flower Oasis."

To their left the sun was going down. It cast deep shadows across the dunes and the high banks of the Red Road while the sky was darkening to a deep amber on the horizon. Yet almost at the limit of his vision Elric made out another shape, something that was neither a shadow nor a sand-dune but which might have been a group of rocks.

"What is it? What do you recognize?"

"The nomads call it 'kashbeh.' In our common tongue we would say it was a castle, perhaps, or a fortified village. We have no exact word for such a place, for we have no need of them. Here, in the desert, it is a necessity. The Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz was built long before the extinction of the Quarzhasaatim Empire and is named for a wise king, founder of the Aloum'rit dynasty which still holds the place in charge for the nomad clans and is respected above all other peoples of the desert. It is a kashbeh sheltering anyone in need. Anyone who is a fugitive may seek shelter there and there may be assured of a fair trial."

"So justice exists in this desert, if nowhere else?"

"Such places exist, as I said, throughout the realms of the multiverse. They are maintained by men and women of the purest and most humane principle ..."

"Then is this kashbeh not Tanelorn, whose legend brought me to the Sighing Desert?"

"It is not Tanelorn, for Tanelorn is eternal. The Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz must be maintained through constant vigilance. It is the antithesis of Quarzhasaat and that city's lords have made many attempts to destroy it."

Elric felt the pangs of craving and he resisted reaching for one of his silver flasks. "Is that also called The Fortress of the Pearl?"

At this, Alnac Kreb laughed suddenly. "Oh, my good prince, clearly you have only the haziest notion of the place and the thing you seek. Let me now say that the Fortress of the Pearl may well exist within that kashbeh and that the kashbeh could also have an existence within the Fortress. But they are in no way the same!"

"Please, Master Alnac, do not confuse me further! I pretended to know something of this, first because I wished to extend my own life and then because I needed to purchase the life of another. I would be grateful for some illumination. Lord Gho Fhaazi thought me a dream-thief, after all, which supposes that a dreamthief would know of the Blood Moon, the Bronze Tent and the location of the Place of the Pearl."

"Aye, well. Some dreamthieves are better informed than others. And if a dreamthief is required for this task, prince, if, as you've told me, Quarzhasaat's Sorcerer Adventurers cannot achieve it, then I would guess the Fortress of the Pearl is more than mere stones and mortar. It has to do with realms familiar only to a trained dreamthief-but one probably more sophisticated than myself."

"Know you, Master Alnac, that I have already traveled to strange realms in pursuit of my various goals. I am not completely unsophisticated in such matters ..."

"These realms are denied to most." Alnac seemed reluctant to say more but Elric pressed him.

"Where lie these realms?" He stared ahead, straining his eyes to see more of the Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz but failing, for the sun was now almost below the horizon. "In the East? Beyond Elwher? Or in another part of the multiverse altogether?"

Alnac Kreb was regretful. "We are sworn to speak as little as we can of our knowledge, save in the most crucial and specific of circumstances. But I should inform you that those realms are at once closer and more distant than Elwher. I promise you that I will not mystify you any more than I have done so already. And if I can illuminate you and help you in your quest, that I will do also." He made to laugh, to lighten his own mood. "Best ready yourself for company, prince. We shall have a great deal of it by nightfall, if I'm not mistaken."

The moon had risen before the last rays of the sun had vanished and its silver bore a pinkish sheen, like that of a rare pearl itself, as they reached a rise in the Red Road and looked down now upon a thousand fires. Silhouetted against them were as many tall tents, settled on the sand so as to resemble gigantic winged insects stretched out to catch the warmth from above. Within these tents burned lamps while men, women and children wandered in and out. A delicious smell of mingled herbs, spices, vegetables and meats drifted up towards them and the soft smoke of the fires rose and curled into the sky above the great rocks on which perched the Kashbeh Moulor Ka Riiz, a massive tower about which had grown a collection of buildings, some of wonderfully imaginative architecture, the whole surrounded by a crenelated wall of irregular but equally monumental proportions, all of the same red rock so that it seemed to grow out of the very earth and sand that surrounded it.

At intervals around those battlements great torches blazed, revealing men who were evidently guards patrolling the walls and roofs, while through tall gates a steady stream of traffic came and went across a bridge carved from the living rock.