THE JADE MAN’S EYES
(1973)
…Now there was a certain sorcerer of Pan Tang called Theleb K’aarna. Elric, whose vengeful emotions had already brought much grief to himself and others, bore a grudge against the sorcerer and spent three years in pursuit of him until he was at last tracked to Bakshaan, a city rich enough to make all the other cities of the North East seem poor, where, in a melancholy adventure, he was slain at last.
…Short-statured Moonglum, of the red-hair and wide grin, wanted to head south-east for the peaceful lands of Ilmiora, but Elric was drawn back to the Southern Continent where he spent the winter squandering his treasure in the cities of Argimiliar, seeking an impossible consolation…
—The Chronicle of the Black Sword
CHAPTER ONE
OF ALL THE cities of the Young Kingdoms the city named Chalal was deemed the most beautiful. Some said that it ranked with Imrryr, the Dreaming City of Melniboné, but those who had seen both said that Chalal’s beauty was more humane.
Chalal had been built on both banks of the river Cha which ran through the country of Pikarayd, laid out by a line of artist kings according to the original conception of Mornir the First. Its broad avenues were overlooked by monuments, statues and widely spaced buildings of singularly delicate architecture. White marble, polished granite and alabaster shone in the clear, bright air and there were fine lawns, gardens and evergreens, fountains and mazes, all designed by the greatest artists of the Young Kingdoms through many generations. Chalal was Pikarayd’s greatest treasure and for a long while the country had been pauperized to create it.
It happened that one springtime two strange men came to Chalal. They rode their weary Shazarian horses along the quays of marble and lapis lazuli beside the fast-flowing river. One was very tall, with a bone-white skin, crimson eyes and hair the colour of milk and he carried a huge, scabbarded broadsword at his side. The other was short with red hair and a sardonic expression on his face. He bore two swords, one of which was long and curved while its mate was scarcely bigger than a dagger.
Both the men had evidently been traveling for some time, for their clothes were dusty and their features grimed. They might have been unsuccessful merchants or mercenaries who were between wars. But some who saw them enter Chalal recognized the tall man and guessed who his companion was. Those who did recognize the newcomers did not greet their arrival with any pleasure for Elric of Melniboné was known as a murderer, a traitor and a killer of his own kin who brought horror and destruction wherever he went.
Moonglum of Elwher grinned as they passed a glowering face near one of the many lovely bridges which crossed the Cha.
“I do not think we are welcome here, Elric.”
Elric shrugged and gave a half smile. “Who can blame them for not wanting us here to disturb the tranquility of their city?”
Moonglum grinned through his mask of dust. “Mayhap they are willing to pay us to go elsewhere? Our purses sag like the stomachs of starved cows thanks to your extravagance. Chalal is said to be an expensive city. Every traveler must pay a tax towards the upkeep of all this beauty.”
“They’ll have trouble obtaining that tax from us. Come, let’s cross this bridge and seek a hostelry we can afford.”
They turned their horses and began to trot over a bridge of carved granite decorated with statues of Pikarayd’s mythical heroes.
They were almost halfway across when Moonglum pointed ahead. A company of horsemen were riding at great speed towards the bridge. They were clad in gilded armour and heavy white cloaks drifted out behind them. Their leader had a full helm with a crest of scarlet plumes. His visor was shut and completely hid his face. Politely, Moonglum and Elric drew their own horses aside to let the cavalry pass. The leader acknowledged this action with a salute as he went by and then jerked his helm round to regard Elric as if in recognition. Then the horsemen had ridden past and continued up a broad avenue between chestnut trees whose leaves had just begun to open.
“That knight must have seen you before,” Moonglum said. “By the style of his arms he was not of Chalal. I pray he’s not one of those who bears a grudge against you.”
“There are many such,” Elric said carelessly, “but none has ever managed to satisfy his vengeance.”
“They would be fools to try while you bear the Black Sword.”
“Aye.” Elric sighed and pretended to take an interest in the workmanship of an archway under which they now rode.
They spent the next several hours in searching for an inn but could not find one they could afford for even one night. There were no poor quarters in Chalal, no hostelries which catered for those with little money. Their enquiries revealed that the nearest township was a good two days’ ride away.
Night fell and Moonglum’s expression grew increasingly downcast.
“We must find an income, friend Elric,” he said. “Could you not magic us a treasure?”
“I have no skill in such conjurings,” Elric replied absently.
“Then we must seek employment. Merchants come and go from here. Perhaps they would pay us to protect their caravans. If we want to quarter where the traders stay we might…”
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“Do what you will, Moonglum.” Elric dismounted from his horse and led it towards a great marble monument that had been erected upon a lawn of small, white flowers. The horse began to crop at the flowers and Elric settled himself with his back at the base of the monument. “I’ll sleep here. The night is warm enough.” He wrapped his weather-stained cloak about him and closed his eyes.
Moonglum knew that it was impossible to talk to his friend when he sank into one of these moods. He hesitated for a moment, and then rode off towards the river.
The night grew colder and Elric awoke shivering from a dark dream. Clouds had covered the moon and it was hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. He got up and stretched his arms. Then he saw the lights. There were about a dozen of them bobbing along the road towards him. He leaned against the monument and watched them with curiosity. He soon saw that the lights were lanterns carried by horsemen dressed in leather caps and jerkins, bearing oval shields, swords and staves. When they saw Elric they dismounted and approached him in a body, opening their lanterns so that light fell upon him.
The leader peered at Elric whose face was hidden in the cowl of his cloak.
“What do you here, stranger?”
“I was attempting to sleep,” Elric replied. “But you and your weather have prevented that between you.”
“Why do you not sleep in one of the hostelries yonder?”
“Because I cannot afford their prices,” Elric said reasonably.
“Have you paid the Traveler’s Tax?”
“I have not.”
The leader had a red, belligerent face and now it frowned deeply. “Then you have broken two of Chalal’s few laws already and doubtless there are others you have broken which we shall yet discover.”
“Doubtless. Now be about your business, friend, and I will attempt to continue my sleep.”
“You are addressing an official of the Watch,” said the man pursing his lips. “It is my duty to collect the Traveler’s Tax and to arrest vagrants who offend the eye of those who come to look upon Chalal’s beauty.”
“I would advise you to forget your duty in this instance,” Elric said softly. “I care nothing for the laws of mankind and these laws of yours seem of even smaller importance than most. Begone!”
“By Valsaq, you’re impertinent! I’m a tolerant man. I might even have had mercy on you if you had agreed to leave at once. But now…”
Elric pushed back his cloak and put his hand on Stormbringer’s hilt. The sword stirred slightly. “I tell you
to go,” he said grimly. “You will surely die if I draw this blade!”
The captain of the Watch smiled and indicated the dozen men behind him. “Do not be foolish, stranger. Your penalty will be light if you suffer us to arrest you without resort to our swords. But if you should kill one of us you will be imprisoned for life, working in the masons’ yards dragging great stones hither and yon with a whip to make you work harder…”
“I will kill all of you if this sword’s unsheathed,” Elric promised. “Know you that I am Prince Elric of Melniboné and I bear the Black Sword!”
The captain’s red face blanched. Then he straightened his shoulders. “Nonetheless I must perform my duty. Men—”
“What is this undignified altercation? Captain, are you aware that you address my friend, Prince Elric?”
The captain turned, evidently in relief to stare at the newcomer who had just ridden up. He was a man of about forty with a square, handsome face, dressed in gilded armour over which was arranged a white cloak. A helm crested with scarlet feathers was on his head. It was the man who had recognized Elric earlier that day. But Elric had never seen him before.
“He cannot pay the Traveler’s Tax, my lord,” the captain said weakly. “I had no choice but to…”
The horseman drew a small purse from his belt and flung it to land at the captain’s feet. “There is the tax—and more.”
The captain of the Watch bent and picked up the purse. He opened it and peered inside. “Thank you, my lord. Come, men.” Hastily he backed away and returned to where he had left his horse. The Watch rode off leaving Elric looking at the man in gilded armour who smiled at the albino’s surprise.
“I thank you, sir,” said Elric. “I had no wish to kill them. But…”
The knight gestured towards Elric’s horse. “Will you mount and ride with me? I would be honoured if you would be my guest for this night.”
“I am not one who seeks charity, sir.”
“I know that, my lord. It is I who seek your aid. I have been searching for you for several months.”
“What is the nature of the aid you desire?”
“Perhaps you will allow me to explain that over a meal at the house I have taken in Chalal. It is not too far distant.”
Elric liked the look of the man and responded to his courtesy. “Thank you,” he said. “I would be grateful.” He went to his horse and mounted it. Then they rode off together down the avenue until they came at last to a house with a low wall that was covered in vines of several different hues. They passed through a gate and in the courtyard a groom took their steeds. They entered a door, walked along a short passage and came to a warm, well-lit room where a table had been laid for a meal. Somewhere food was cooking and the smell made Elric realize how little he had eaten recently. At the table one man was already seated. He grinned when he saw Elric and he got up.
“Moonglum!”
“Greetings, Elric. Our host’s men sought me out as I haggled with a merchant who seemed unaware of the danger his caravan would face if unprotected by us. I told him where I thought he might find you. I am glad he discovered you so swiftly. I have been waiting to eat for an hour!”
The knight handed his helmet to a servant and other servants began to divest him of his breastplate and greaves, handing him a loose, brocade robe which he put on.
As they seated themselves he said, “I am Duke Avan Astran of Old Hrolmar in Vilmir.”
“I have heard of you, my lord.” Elric helped himself to the salad offered him by a servant. Duke Avan Astran was known as a great adventurer whose journeyings across the world had made his city rich. “You are famous for your travels.”
Duke Avan smiled. “Aye. I have explored most of the world. I have been to your own Melniboné and I have ventured east, to Master Moonglum’s lands—to Elwher and the Unknown Kingdoms. I have been to Myyrrhn, where the Winged Folk live. I have traveled as far as World’s Edge and hope one day to go beyond. But I have never crossed the Boiling Sea and I know only a small stretch of coast along the Western Continent that has no name. You have been there, I believe?”
“I was there once, when the sea-lords made their fateful massing, but I have not been there since.”
“Would you go there?”
“There is nothing to make me wish to do so.”
From across the table Elric glanced at Moonglum’s face which had suddenly become alert, almost worried. He looked at Duke Avan’s expression and tried to decipher it. He returned his attention to his food.
“You have never explored the interior of the Western Continent?” Duke Avan continued.
“No.”
“And yet you know there is some evidence that your own ancestors originally came from that mainland?”
“Evidence? A few legends, that is all.”
“One of those legends speaks of a city older than dreaming Imrryr. A city that still exists in the deep jungles of the West.”
“You mean R’lin K’ren A’a?” Elric pretended a lack of interest he no longer felt.
“Aye. A strange name. You pronounce it more fluently than could I.”
“It means simply ‘Where the High Ones Meet’ in the ancient speech of Melniboné.”
“So I have read.”
“And,” Elric cut into veal in a rich, sweet sauce, “it does not exist.”
“It is marked on a map I have.”
Deliberately, Elric chewed his meat and swallowed it. “The map is doubtless a forgery.”
“Perhaps. Do you recall anything else of the legend of R’lin K’ren A’a?”
“There is the story of the Creature Doomed to Live.” Elric pushed the food aside and poured wine for himself. “The city is said to have received its name because the Lords of the Higher Worlds once met there to decide the rules of the Cosmic Struggle. They were overheard by the one inhabitant of the city who had not flown when they came. When they discovered him, they doomed him to remain alive for ever, carrying the frightful knowledge in his head…”
“I have heard that story, too. But the one that interests me is that the inhabitants of R’lin K’ren A’a never returned to their city. Instead they struck northward and crossed the sea. Some reached an island we now call Sorcerers’ Isle while others went further—blown by a great storm—and came at length to a large island inhabited by dragons whose venom caused all it touched to burn…to Melniboné, in fact.”
“And you wish to test the truth of that story. Your interest is that of a scholar?”
Duke Avan laughed. “Partly. But my main interest in R’lin K’ren A’a is more materialistic. For your ancestors left a great treasure behind them when they fled their city. Particularly they abandoned an image of Arioch, the Lord of Chaos—a monstrous image, carved in jade, whose eyes were two huge, identical gems of a kind unknown anywhere else in all the lands of the Earth. Jewels from another plane of existence. Jewels which could reveal all the secrets of the Higher Worlds, of the past and the future, of the myriad planes of the cosmos…”
“All cultures have similar legends. Wishful thinking, Duke Avan, that is all…”
“But the Melnibonéans had a culture unlike any others. The Melnibonéans are not true men, as you well know. Their powers are superior, their knowledge far greater…”
“It was once thus,” Elric said. “But that great power and knowledge is not mine. I have only a fragment of it…”
“I did not seek you in Bakshaan and later in Jadmar because I believed you could verify what I have heard. I did not cross the sea to Filkhar, then to Argimiliar and at last to Pikarayd because I thought you would instantly confirm all that I have spoken of—I sought you because I think you the only man who would wish to accompany me on a voyage which would give us the truth or falsehood to these legends once and for all.”
Elric tilted his head and drained his wine-cup.
“Cannot you do that for yourself? Why should you desire my company on the expedition? From what I have heard of you, Duke Avan, you
are not one who needs support in his venturings…”
Duke Avan laughed. “I went alone to Elwher when my men deserted me in the Weeping Waste. It is not in my nature to know physical fear. But I have survived my travels this long because I have shown proper foresight and caution before setting off. Now it seems I must face dangers I cannot anticipate—sorcery, perhaps. It struck me, therefore, that I needed an ally who had some experience of fighting sorcery. And since I would have no truck with the ordinary kind of wizard such as Pan Tang spawns, you were my only choice. You are a wanderer, Prince Elric, just as I am. You were a wanderer before Imrryr fell as well as after. Indeed, if it had not been for your yearning to travel, your cousin would never have usurped the Ruby Throne of Melniboné while you were absent…”
“Enough of that,” Elric said bitterly. “Let’s talk of this expedition. Where is the map?”
“You will accompany me?”
“Show me the map.”
Duke Avan drew a scroll from his pouch. “Here it is.”
“Where did you find it?”
“On Melniboné.”
“You have been there recently?” Elric felt anger rise in him.
Duke Avan raised a hand. “Many have come and gone amongst the ruins of Imrryr since she fell, my lord. Most sought treasure. I sought, in that particular case, knowledge. I found a casket which had been sealed, it seemed, for an eternity. Within that casket was this map.” He spread out the scroll on the table. Elric recognized the style and the script—the old High Speech of Melniboné. It was a map of part of the Western Continent—more than he had ever seen on any other map. It showed a great river winding into the interior for a hundred miles or more. The river appeared to flow through a jungle and then divide into two rivers which later rejoined. The “island” of land thus formed had a black circle marked on it. Against this circle, in the involved writing of ancient Melniboné, was the name R’lin K’ren A’a. Elric inspected the scroll carefully. It did not seem to be a forgery.
“Is this all you found?” he asked.
“The scroll was sealed and this was embedded in the seal,” Duke Avan said, handing something to Elric.
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