Jack Three Beaks cawed again, glaring with mad, frightened eyes in the direction of his original prey. Oone was approaching again.

"This creature is your pet, Master Jaspar?"

"Certainly not, madam. It is my enemy. He knew he'd had his last warning. But I think he did not expect to find me here and believed he could attack living prey with impunity. Not so, Jack, eh?"

The answering croak was almost pathetic now. The little black and white cat resembled nothing so much as a feeding vampire bat as it sucked and sucked of the monster's lifestuff.

Oone watched in horror as gradually the crow shrank to a tiny, wizened thing and Whiskers at last sat back, huge and round, and began to clean himself, purring with considerable pleasure. Clearly pleased with his pet, Jaspar Colinadous reached up to pat his head. "Good lad, Whiskers. Now poor Jack's not even gravy for an old man's bread." He smiled proudly at his two new friends. "This cat has saved my life on many an occasion."

"How had you the name of that monster?" Oone wished to know. Her lovely features were flushed and she was out of breath. Elric was reminded suddenly of Cymoril, though he could not exactly identify the similarity.

"Why, it was Jack frightened the principality I visited before this." Jaspar Colinadous displayed his rich clothing. "And how I came to be so favoured by the folk of that place. Jack Three Beaks always knew the power of Whiskers and was afraid of him. He had been terrorizing the people when I arrived. I tamed Jack-or strictly speaking Whiskers did-but let him live, since he was a useful carrion eater and the province was given to terrible heat in the summer. When I fell through that particular rent in the fabric of the multiverse he must have come after me, without realizing I was already here with Whiskers. There's little mystery to it, Lady Oone."

She drew a deep breath. "Well, I'm grateful for your aid, sir."

He inclined his head. "Now had we better not move on towards the Marador Gate? There are more, if less unexpected, dangers ahead of us in the Shark's Gullet. The map marks 'em."

"Would that I had a weapon at my side," said Elric, feelingly. "I would be more confident, whether it were an illusion or no!" But he marched beside the others as they moved on towards the mountain.

The cat remained behind, licking his paws and cleaning himself, for all the world like an ordinary domestic creature which had killed a pantry-raiding mouse.

At last the ground began to rise as they reached the shallow foothills of the Shark's Jaws and saw ahead of them a great, dark fissure in the mountains, the Gullet which would lead them through to the next land of their journey. In the heat of the barren wilderness the pass looked cool and almost welcoming, though even from here Elric thought he could see shapes moving in it. White shadows flickered against the black.

"What manner of people live here?" he asked Oone, who had not shown him the map.

"Chiefly those who have either lost their way or become too fearful to continue the journey inwards. The other name for the pass is the Valley of Timid Souls." Oone shrugged. "But I suspect it is not from them that we shall be in danger. At least, not greatly. They'll ally themselves with whatever power rules the pass."

"And the map says nothing of its nature?"

"Only that we should be wary."

There came a noise from behind them and Elric turned, expecting threat, but it was only Whiskers, looking a little plumper, a little sleeker, but back to his normal size, who had at last caught up with them.

Jaspar Colinadous laughed and bent to let the cat leap onto his shoulder. "We have no need of weapons, eh? Not with such a handsome beast to defend us!"

The cat licked his face.

Elric was peering into the dark pass, trying to determine what he might find there. For a moment he thought he saw a rider at the entrance, a man mounted on a silvery-grey horse, wearing strange armour of different shades of white and grey and yellow. The warrior's horse reared as he turned it and rode back into the blackness and Elric knew a sensation of foreboding, though he had never seen the figure before.

Oone and Jaspar Colinadous were apparently unaware of the apparition and continued with untiring stride in the direction of the pass.

Elric said nothing of the rider but instead asked Oone how it was that they had all walked for hours and felt neither hungry nor weary.

"It is one of the advantages of this realm," she said. "The disadvantages are considerable, however, since a sense of time is easily lost and one can forget direction and goals. Moreover it's wise to bear in mind that while one does not appear to lose physical energy or experience hunger, other forms of energy are being expended. Psychic and spiritual they may be, but they are just as valuable, as I'm sure you appreciate. Conserve those particular resources, Prince Elric, for you'll have urgent need of them soon enough!"

Elric wondered if she, too, had caught sight of the pale warrior but, for a reason he could not understand, was reluctant to ask her.

The hills were growing ever taller around them as, subtly, they moved into the Shark's Gullet. The light was dimmer already, blocked by the mountains, and Elric felt a chill which was not altogether the result of the shade.

He became aware of a rushing sound and Jaspar Colinadous ran towards a high bank of rocks to peer over them and look down. He turned, a little baffled. "A deep chasm. A river. We must find a bridge before we can go on." He murmured to his winged cat, which immediately took flight over the abyss and was soon lost in the shadows beyond.

Forced to pause, Elric knew sudden gloom. Unable to gauge his physical needs, uncertain of what events took place in the world he had left, perturbed by the knowledge that their time was running short and that Lord Gho would certainly keep his word to torture young Anigh to death, he began to believe that he could well be on a fool's errand, embarked on an adventure which could only end in disaster for all. He wondered why he had trusted Oone so completely. Perhaps because he had been so desperate, so shocked by the death of Alnac Kreb ...

She touched him on the shoulder. "Remember what I told you. Your weariness is not physical here, but it manifests itself in your moods. You must seek spiritual sustenance as assiduously as you would normally seek food and water."

He looked into her eyes, seeing warmth and kindness there. Immediately his despair began to dissipate. "I must admit I was beginning to know strong doubt ..."

"When that feeling overwhelms you, try to tell me," she said. "I am familiar with it and might be able to help you ..."

"So I am entirely in your hands, madam." He spoke without irony.

"I thought you understood that when you agreed to accompany me," she said softly.

"Aye." He turned in time to see the little cat coming back and alighting on Jaspar Colinadous's shoulder. The turbaned man listened carefully and intelligently and Elric was certain that the cat was speaking.

At last Jaspar Colinadous nodded. "There's a good bridge not a quarter of a mile from here and it leads to a trail winding directly into the pass. Whiskers tells me that the bridge is guarded by a single mounted warrior. We can hope, I suppose, that he will let us cross."

They followed the course of the river as the sky overhead grew darker and Elric wished that, together with his lack of hunger and tiredness, he did not feel the rapid drop in temperature which made his body shake. Only Jaspar Colinadous was unaffected by the cold.

The rough walls of rocks at the chasm's edge gradually fell away, curving inward towards the pass, and very soon they saw the bridge ahead of them, a narrow spur of natural stone pushing outwards over the foaming river below. And they heard the echo of the water as it plunged yet deeper down the gorge. Yet nowhere was there the guard which the little cat had reported.

Elric moved cautiously in the lead now, again wishing he had a weapon to give him reassurance. He reached the bridge and set a foot upon it. Far down at the base of the chasm's granite walls grey foam leapt and danced and the river gave voice to its own peculiar song, half triumph, half despair, almost as if it were a living thing.

Elric shivered and took another step. Still he saw no figure in that deepening gloom. Another step and he was high above the water, refusing to look down lest the water call him to it. He knew the fascination of such torrents and how one could be drawn into them, hypnotized by their rush and noise.

"See you any guard, Prince Elric?" called Jaspar Colinadous.

"Nothing," the albino cried back. And he took two more steps.

Oone was behind him now, moving as cautiously as he. He peered to the bridge's further side. Great slabs of dank rock, covered in lichen and oddly coloured creepers, rose up and disappeared into the dark air above. The sound of the river made him think he heard voices, little skittering sounds, the scuffle of threatening limbs, but still he saw nothing.

Elric was halfway across the bridge before he detected the suggestion of a horse in the shadows of the gorge, the barest hint of a rider, perhaps wearing armour which was the colour of his own bone-white skin.

"Who's that?" The albino raised his voice. "We come in peace. We mean no harm to anyone here."

Again it might have been that the water made him believe he heard a faint, unpleasant chuckle.

Then it seemed the rush of water grew louder and he realized he heard the sound of hoofs on rock. Formed as if by the spray, a figure suddenly appeared on the far side of the bridge, bearing down on him, its long, pale sword poised to strike.

There was nowhere to turn. The only way of avoiding the warrior was to jump from the bridge into the torrent below. Elric found his vision dimmed even as he prepared to spring forward, hoping to catch the horse's bridle and at least halt the rider in his tracks.

Then again there was a whirring of wings and something fixed itself on the attacker's helm, slashing at the face within. It was Whiskers, spitting and yowling like any ordinary alley cat engaged in a brawl over a piece of ripe fish.

The horse reared. The rider gave out a shriek of rage and pain and released the bridle in order to try to pull the little cat from him. Whiskers rushed upward into the air, out of reach. Elric glimpsed glaring, silvery eyes, a skin which glowed with the leper's mark, and then the horse, out of control, had slipped on the wet rock and fallen sideways. For a moment it tried to get back to its feet, the rider yelling and roaring as if demented, the long, white sword still in his hand. And then both had tumbled over the edge of the bridge and went falling, a chaotic mixture of arms and hoofs, down into the echoing chasm to be swallowed by the distant, murky waters.

Elric was gasping for breath. Jaspar Colinadous came to grip his arm and steady him, helping him and Oone cross to the far side of the rocky slab and stand upon the bank, still scarcely aware of what had happened to them.

"I'm grateful again to Whiskers," said Elric with an unstable grin. "That's a valuable pet you have, Master Colinadous."

"More valuable than you know," said the little man feelingly. "He has played a crucial part in more than one world's history!" He patted the cat as the beast returned to his arms, purring and pleased with himself. "I'm glad we were able to be of service to you."

"We're well rid of the bridge's guardian." Elric peered down into the foam. "Are we to encounter more such attacks, my lady?"

"Most certainly," she said. She was frowning as if lost in some conundrum only she perceived.

Jaspar Colinadous pursed his lips. "Here," he said. "Look how the gorge narrows. It becomes a tunnel."

It was true. They could now see how the rocks leaned in upon one another so that the pass was little more than a cave barely large enough to let Elric enter without bending his head. A set of crude steps led up to it and from time to time a little flicker of yellow fire appeared within, as if the place were lit by torches.

Jaspar Colinadous sighed. "I had hoped to journey with you further than this, but I must turn back now. I can go no further than the Marador Gate, which is what this seems to be. To do so would be to destroy me. I must find other companions now, in the Land of Dreams-in-Common." He seemed genuinely regretful. "Farewell, Prince Elric, Lady Oone. I wish you success in your adventure."

And suddenly the little man had turned and walked swiftly back over the bridge, not looking behind him. He left them almost as suddenly as he had arrived and was gone back into the darkness before either could speak, his cat with him.

Oone seemed to accept this and, at Elric's questioning glance, said: "Such people come and go here. Another rule the dreamthief learns is 'Hold on to nothing but your own soul.' Do you understand?" Do you understand?"

"I understand that it must be a lonely thing to be a dreamthief, madam."

And with that Elric began to climb the great rough-hewn steps which led into the Marador Gate.

CHAPTER THREE.

Of Beauty Found in Deep Caverns The tunnel began to descend almost as soon as they had entered it. Where it had at first been cool now the air became hot and humid so that sometimes it seemed to Elric he was wading through water. The little lights which gave faint illumination were not, as he had at first thought, lamps or brands, but seemed naturally luminescent, delicate nodes of soft, glowing substance almost fleshlike in appearance. They found that they were whispering, as if unwilling to disturb any denizens of this place. Yet Elric did not feel afraid here. The tunnel had the atmosphere of a sanctuary and he noticed that Oone, too, had lost some of her normal caution, though her experience had taught her to be wary of anything as a potentially dangerous illusion.

There was no obvious transition from Sadanor to Marador, save perhaps a slight change of mood, and then the tunnel had opened up into a vast natural hall of richly glowing blues and greens and golden yellows and dark pinks, all flowing one to the other, like lava which had only recently cooled, more like exotic plants than the rock they were. Scents, like those of the loveliest, headiest flowers, made Elric feel he walked in a garden, not unlike the gardens he had known as a child, places of the greatest security and tranquility; yet there was no doubt that the place was a cavern and that they had traveled underground to reach it.

At first delighted by the sight, Elric began to feel a certain sadness, for until now he had not remembered those gardens of childhood, the innocent happiness which comes so rarely to a Melnibonean, no matter what their age. He thought of his mother, dead in childbirth, of his infinitely mourning father, who had refused to acknowledge the son who, in his opinion, had killed his wife.

A movement from the depths of this natural hall and Elric again feared danger, but the people who began to emerge were unarmed and they had faces full of restrained melancholy.

"We have arrived in Marador," whispered Oone with certainty.

"You are here to join us?" A woman spoke. She wore flowing robes of myriad, glistening colours, mirroring the colours of the rock on walls and roof. She had long hair of faded gold and her eyes were the shade of old pewter. She reached to touch Elric-a greeting-and her hand was cold on his. He felt himself becoming infected with the same sad tranquility and it seemed to him that there could be worse fates than remaining here, recalling the desires and pleasures of his past, when life had been so much simpler and the world had seemed easily conquered, easily improved.

Behind him Oone said in a voice which sounded unduly harsh to his ear. "We are travelers in your land, my lady. We mean you no harm, but we cannot stay."

A man spoke. "Travelers? What do you seek?"

"We seek," said Elric, "the Fortress of the Pearl."

Oone was clearly displeased by his frankness. "We have no desire to tarry in Marador. We wish only to learn the location of the next gate, the Paranor Gate."

The man smiled wistfully. "It is lost, I fear. Lost to all of us. Yet there is no harm in loss. There is comfort in it, even, don't you feel?" He turned dreaming, distant eyes on them. "Better not to seek that which can only disappoint. Here we prefer to remember what we most wanted and how it was to want it ..."

"Better, surely, to continue looking for it?" Elric was surprised by his own blunt tone.

"Why so, sir, when the reality can only prove inadequate when compared against the hope?"

"Think you so, sir?" Elric was prepared to consider this notion, but Oone's grip on his arm tightened.

"Remember the name that dreamthieves give this land," she murmured.

Elric reflected that it was truly the Land of Old Desires. All of his own forgotten yearnings were returning to him, bringing a sense of simplicity and peace. Now he remembered how those sensations had been replaced by anger as he began to realize that there was little likelihood of his dreams ever coming true. He had raged at the injustice of the world. He had flung himself into his sorcerous studies. He had become determined to change the balance of things and introduce greater liberty, greater justice by means of the power he had in the world. Yet his fellow Melniboneans had refused to accept his logic. The early dreams had begun to fade and with them the hope which had at first lifted his heart. Now here was the hope offered him again. Perhaps there were realms where all he desired was true? Perhaps Marador was such a world.

"If I went back and found Cymoril and brought her here, we could live in harmony with these people, I think," he said to Oone. The dreamthief was almost contemptuous.

"This is called the Land of Old Desires-not the Land of Fulfilled Desire! There is a difference. The emotions you feel are easy and easily maintained-while the reality remains out of your reach, while you merely long for the unattainable. When you set out to discover fulfillment, Elric of Melnibone, then you achieved stature in the world. Turn your back on that determination-your own determination to help build a world where justice reigns-and you'll lose my respect. You'll lose respect for yourself. You'll prove yourself a liar and you'll prove me a fool for believing you could help me save the Holy Girl!"

Elric was shocked by her outburst, which seemed offensive in that pleasant mood of serenity surrounding them. "But I think it is impossible to build such a world. Better to have the prospect, surely, than the knowledge of failure?"

"That is what all in this realm believe. Remain here, if you will, and believe what they believe for ever. But I think one must always make an attempt at justice, no matter how poor the prospect of success!"

Elric felt tired and wished to settle down and rest. He yawned and stretched. "These people seem to have a secret I would learn. I think I will talk to them for a while before continuing."

"Do so and Anigh dies. The Holy Girl dies. And everything of yourself that you value, that dies, also." Oone did not raise her voice. She spoke almost in a matter-of-fact tone. But her words had an urgency which broke Elric's mood. It was not for the first time that he had considered retreating into dreams. Had he done so, his people would now be ruled by him and Yyrkoon would be dead or exiled.

Thought of his cousin and his cousin's ambition, of Cymoril waiting for him to return so that they might be married, helped remind Elric of his purpose here and he shook off the mood of reconciliation, of retreat. He bowed to the people of the cavern. "I thank you for your generosity, but my own path lies forward, through the Paranor Gate."

Oone drew a deep breath, perhaps in relief. "Time's not measured in any familiar way here, Prince Elric, but be assured it's passing more rapidly than I would like ..."

It was with a sense of deep regret that Elric left the melancholy people behind him and followed her further into the glowing caverns.

Oone added: "These lands are well-called. Be wary of the familiar."

"Perhaps we could have rested there? Restored our energies?" said Elric.

"Aye. And died full of sweet melancholy."

He looked at her in surprise and saw that she had not been unaffected by the atmosphere. "Is that what befell Alnac Kreb?"

"Of course not!" She recovered herself. "He was fully able to resist so obvious a trap."

Elric now felt ashamed. "I almost failed the first real test of my determination and my discipline."

"We dreamthieves have the advantage of having been tested thus many times," she told him. "It gets easier to confront, though the lure remains as strong."

"For you, too."

"Why not? You think I have no forgotten desires, nothing I would not wish to dream of? No childhood which had its sweet moments?" "Forgive me, madam."

She shrugged. "There's an attraction to that aspect of the past. To the past in general, I suppose. But we forget the other aspects-those things which forced us into fantasy in the first place."

"You're a believer in the future, then, madam?" Elric tried to joke. The rock beneath their feet became slippery and they were forced to make the gentle descent with more caution. Ahead Elric thought he heard again the sound of the river, perhaps where it now raced underground.