The White Wolf's Son (30 page)

I couldn’t work out why she was reacting like this. Had she never believed Klosterheim was here? Had she been humoring me?
Perhaps she thought Klosterheim had lost the power to travel through the realms. Perhaps his desperate attempt to kidnap me
indicated that something
else was going on, that our enemies were becoming more desperate and therefore more dangerous.

Next morning we put our affairs in order and, with help from the palace, slipped out of The Nun and Turtle, through a private
gate in the city, taking the München road. Oona and Prince Lobkowitz had tried to get the use of some ornithopters, but none
were available. Though they were producing new machines all the time, those factories were having to be moved and, wherever
possible, hidden. They were the main target for any squadron the Dark Empire sent over. There was some chance Granbretan would
be trying again to destroy the factories, perhaps in the next night or two, so we accepted his need and made other arrangements.
Prince Yaroslaf, respecting our danger, sent some of his best guards with us. He did everything he could to accommodate us.

Oona and the Indians rode in carriages, because the Indians didn’t know much about horses. I sat inside with her part of the
time, and the rest I had a pony I could ride, so long as I remained close to Prince Lobkowitz or Lieutenant Fromental. Lord
Renyard, of course, also rode in the coaches.

While seated in the carriage with Oona I told her what I’d been thinking about the desperation of our enemies. She leaned
over from the seat across from me and rumpled my hair. “You’re a smart young lady. Our enemies grow increasingly less subtle.
That means there’s a clock ticking somewhere for them. You’re right; they’re losing time and patience and becoming more dangerous.”

“And yet you still have no idea what they want me for?”

“I’m getting a bit of an idea, but nothing too clear yet.”
My grandma’s ivory beauty continued to amaze me. She was like one of those stunning 1920s figurines fashioned in ivory and
bronze. At night her skin had a faint, pale glow, and her red eyes carried an expression not entirely different from her father’s
when he seemed troubled. In the light of early morning she was like a Greek statue come to life.

“I wonder where he is.” I spoke without thinking. “Your father—Monsieur Zodiac?”

“Elric? I fear he might be lost, or that people might even be deliberately misdirecting him. Somewhere in his own world where
he was born, he’s suffering horribly. He’s the prisoner of a cruel enemy who would bring the unchecked reign of Chaos down
upon them all. He has seen Chaos in all its aggressive variety, and he fights it, though he is also dependent upon it for
his very life. Should he be killed in this, his dream, then he dies in his own world, too. Every action he or his enemies
take in one realm, he takes in a million others, save that these selves, as substantial as you or me, are the creation of
a particularly powerful form of dreaming. Every other world but his own is a dream to him. He hangs, dreaming even now, on
the yardarm of a ship, desperate for that one thing which sustains him, which will free him.”

“Which is?”

“A sword,” said my grandmother with weary bitterness. “It has taken him a thousand years to earn that blade. And now, to save
us, he risks everything, when salvation for him could be hours or days away.” And she fell into such a silence that I couldn’t
bring myself to ask her another question.

Later she began talking again. Elric, she said, was
clearly her father, as I’d guessed, and not just an average multiversal adventurer! His destiny was somehow linked to the
destiny of every world he had touched in his thousand-year search for his sword. There was some trouble with the carriage,
and we had to get out while someone saw to it. We were still less than half a mile from the city, and the walls remained in
sight. Prince Lobkowitz brought up a pony for me to ride.

“What’s so special about my great-granddad’s sword?” I asked him.

He looked at me in complete bafflement. “Elric’s sword? Aha! The Black Sword. There is an aspect of it in every world I know,
yet the sword itself, capable of generating hundreds of versions of itself, is elusive. Without it, our work can never be
completed. Elric’s destiny in this complex equation is to use the sword to bring a halt to a multiversal phenomenon which
has grown out of control.”

“Which is …?” My persistence made him smile. He guessed that this was all Oona would tell me.

“She knows how important it is for Elric to reach the end of his thousand-year dream with that sword in his hand. That has
been the whole point of his dream. Yet so strong are his feelings for those he regards as his descendants, that he is risking
his own chance of salvation. A noble thing to do, but in the scheme of things, it is a very dangerous thing to do, putting
many at risk. He does not, of course, know what he risks, save his own life and soul. Yet you are also important to him because
you are his great-granddaughter, and Klosterheim and von Minct and those they represent would gain a great deal from diverting
Elric and capturing you. I am beginning to guess that they deliberately led the albino on a wild-goose chase
while going back to Mirenburg, perhaps knowing you would return. Yet,” he mused, “you also have something they desire. As
has that boy.”

“So von Minct was the cowled man at the table?”

“We could presume so. But remember, there are many players in this game, and not all of them are fulfilling the roles they
seem to have been assigned …” He laughed rather bitterly.

The carriage fixed, we were off again. My pony was used to a different kind of handling, I think. Every country has slightly
modified habits of riding, so the pony and I took a while to adapt to each other. Still it was a pleasure to be riding again,
even if there was no chance of a gallop or even a canter. We had to stick close together, said Prince Lobkowitz, especially
at the moment. If we needed to scatter, then we could enjoy a gallop!

I think von Minct realized too late that we were leaving. Behind us I saw a single cowled figure which ran frantically in
our wake before abandoning the chase. We had escaped the city just in time.

For the first fifty miles or so Prince Yaroslaf’s guards accompanied us until we were well into the mountains and on our way
to München. This whole country, they said, had been taken from the Granbretanners, who were still making attacks on Mirenburg’s
factories from bases on Jarsee and elsewhere. Sometimes nonmilitary parties would be attacked or bombed just because the enemy
ornithopters failed to reach their targets and preferred to lighten their machines before returning home. Also some defeated
groups of Dark Empire soldiers and their supporters lived now as bandits, preying on anyone who looked weak enough to attack
safely.

I had asked Oona why we were taking these risks, but
she had been too busy to answer. Now I had no opportunity. She assured me that we should be safe enough when we arrived in
München in two or three days’ time. The ancient city had sustained some damage in the fierce fight to free her, but her old
spirit of defiance lived on.

During one of the spells I spent in the carriage we rode by towns which were in ruins, some from the recent battles and some
from earlier conquests of the Dark Empire, whose policy was to attack from the air, killing anything that moved before landing
its troops. I had only ever looked at scenes like these on the TV. And then it had always been our side making most of the
ruins, and I’d felt differently about it—often angry, sometimes guilty, but not like this. This was a feeling of furious frustration
and a deep hatred of the cowardly people who did this, flying out of the clouds to bring destruction to whole families. You
could still smell the smoke and ash. There was something stale and disgusting about the way it clogged up your nostrils and
lay on your skin. Oona put a scarf up to her mouth as we passed through a valley where the country people were doing their
best to rebuild their villages, putting up frames and walls, reslating their roofs. They waved to us as we went by, and appeared
cheerful under the circumstances. They obviously assumed we were a war party, and cheered us on, urging us to give back to
the Dark Empire the hell they had experienced themselves.

Once or twice an ornithopter bearing the black and red roundels of those opposing the Dark Empire flew low to take a look
at us, but we flew the same banner on a long spear carried by Shatadaka, another of the American warriors. The ornithopters
would rise, their pilots waving to us, and go on about their business. We were careful, however,
not to wave our flag until we saw the aircraft’s markings first.

When a machine bearing no markings passed overhead, we felt sure it was an Empire ship. It flapped down to identify us, then
soared up again, rotors roaring, and disappeared, heading for Mirenburg. I could tell Oona was alarmed by the way she tensed
in the carriage and called for one of the spare horses. I think she felt more in control when mounted.

We made camp that night in a wood near the road. Oona posted extra guards and would not let me move a foot from her. To be
honest, I didn’t much feel like moving. I slept, as before, curled up beside Lord Renyard’s soft red chest.

In the morning we hurriedly saddled our horses, hardly stopping for breakfast. The Kakatanawa had become better at handling
the carriages and harnessed them in no time. Oona was suddenly in a great hurry to get to our destination. We ate lunch on
the move in the carriage: bread and sausage with some water from a nearby stream. Emerging from a sweet-smelling pine forest,
we rode beside a small lake rimmed by hills and distant mountains. Again there were flowers everywhere, though not the same
as I’d seen earlier. I tried again to ask Oona about the albino boy. Did she know who he was?

“I’d like to talk to him as much as you would,” she said rather noncommittally.

“Do you think you might be related?”

“It’s entirely possible.” She grinned. “Since you say we’re so alike. And it’s obvious I’m my father’s daughter. I do, after
all, have a long-lost twin.” Then her mood changed rapidly, and she fell into that frowning silence again, staring out of
the window at the faraway peaks. At
the next break, I switched again from the carriage to the pony.

The country, though bearing terrible scars, was absolutely beautiful. Occasionally I spotted a tower, and sometimes an entire
castle, among the trees and rocks. One stood on the very edge of the lake, completely desolate. Like so much of the ruin Granbretan
left behind her, it was a monument to the evil which had destroyed it.

I wondered if there were people in Granbretan who hated what their own country was doing. You heard a lot about the evil ones
but not much about the good ones.

“That’s because there are so few good ones left,” Prince Lobkowitz told me. “That culture has bred to particular traits, and
they don’t allow much sentiment about ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’ ! Naturally there are those over
there who hate what Granbretan is doing, who hate wearing masks and all the other aberrations they encourage. Would they dare
as much as breathe criticism of the Empire and King Huon? I very much doubt it. Would they nurture a revolutionary movement?
With spies to betray them at every turn?” He looked thoughtfully at the surrounding landscape. “It would require many brave
and intelligent people to overturn the Empire from within. No, the best we can hope for is that it will collapse as quickly
as it arose. The nature of empires, whether they be Roman, British, Russian or American, is that they are expensive and uneconomical
to maintain, requiring a vast standing army and its equipment. It only makes sense if you are fond of lists, codes and filing
cards. There are so many better ways of investing your time and money, most of which do not involve so much noise, violence,
bombast and cruelty.”

“And Elric—Monsieur Zodiac—does he come from that empire or another one?”

Prince Lobkowitz smiled and stood up in his stirrups to stretch his legs and give his bottom a rest.

“Your great-grandfather is from a very different kind of place, an ancient civilization which gradually compromised with Chaos
to give it power over the whole world. But it had not always compromised, as Elric learned. Once it had been an enemy of Chaos,
a respected trading nation, famous for its probity. But as trade spread elsewhere, Melniboné became increasingly inclined
to maintain her relationships with sword and fire rather than honest coin. So she kept her empire, at the cost of many of
the softer mortal qualities. For Melnibonéans, though mortal, were not human. They belonged to a race which had come to our
world many thousands of years earlier and made compacts with the great elemental Kings of Fire, Water, Earth and Air, compacts
with supernatural entities we have no means of describing. And they were supported by their dragons, the Phoorn, who spoke
the same language as they did—flying monsters impossible to defeat, with venom that became fiery poison when exposed to the
air. Dragon venom alone sank many a Young Kingdoms ship.”

“Wow! Dragons? Really?”

“All this sounds very exciting to you, young lady,” said Prince Lobkowitz, “but believe me, it’s no fun to be terrorized by
a living creature the size of a sperm whale, which can fly and spit venom on you. It’s like being attacked by a really big,
heavily armed military helicopter, only the thing has a vast tail, which can knock the mast off a good-sized ship and destroy
a
house in a single flick. How does it fly? How do those ornithopters fly? They fly, I think, by different logic to a jumbo
jet, but we know they fly.”

“I’d still like to see one of those dragons,” I said.

“Pray you never get the chance!” Smiling, he reached over to clap my shoulder. He was smiling. But like most of the smiles
I saw these days, there was something else under it. I guessed they had enough pieces of the jigsaw puzzle now to realize
the kind of game being played by our enemies, and how much danger we were in.