The White Wolf's Son (37 page)

“And our time grows short,” said Prince Lobkowitz. “Now every Knight of the Balance, in every manifestation of our world,
comes together to defeat those greedy forces,
the combined power of the Dark Empire, Klosterheim, Gaynor and the rest. We must outwit them, as they have just outwitted
us. They have a habit of cunning, which most of us lack. And that little girl’s well-being, her very life, depends upon what
we do next.”

“I would give my life for the child,” said Lord Renyard simply.

“As we all would,” agreed Prince Lobkowitz. “But we do not wish Prince Elric, for instance, to give his life, for that would
mean that he could not fulfill his destiny elsewhere. So you see, dear Lord Renyard, we act out of necessity, not sentiment,
nor always decently, nor always courageously, in a highly complex conflict, full of subtle attack and counterattack. Imagine
a large orchestra, in which every instrument must be in perfect tune if a particular piece of music is to be played, also
perfectly and at a specific moment. Yet each member of that orchestra can be separated by thousands of miles or even thousands
of years, scattered across the multiverse, which, if not infinite, appears to be infinite. If only one of our heroes does
not act as he is supposed to act, if events do not happen exactly when they are due to happen, if Elric and his avatars do
not do what they must all do precisely at the right moment, then there is no hope for any of us. Life will be extinguished.
The multiverse will collapse into inchoate primal matter,
and there will be no intelligence, this time, to give it form.”

“You refer to the death of God. The death of an idea. Even so, it takes a certain courage to continue to live in such circumstances,”
said Lieutenant Fromental, his open, friendly face graver than usual. “Any fool can throw up his arm with his fist around
a sword and cry ‘Liberty or Death!’ but it takes a special kind of hero to know that it is
not for him to choose the time of his death, or even choose his own weapons. You know that, I think, old friend.” He came
up to the others, dusting his hands and smiling sympathetically at Elric. “But what I am seriously curious about is, who betrayed
us? Too often, it seems to me, our enemies have anticipated our moves, known where we were going and what we planned.”

Elric ran his pale hand through his milk-white hair. “Aye. As if we had a spy in our midst Yet the idea is anathema. Everything
we do and say is based on mutual trust and mutual hatred of a common enemy. Who would have either the motive or the means
of betraying us?”

The albino paused and shrugged. He rubbed his chin. “I have come from a world where betrayal and lies are commonplace, where
anything is said and done in order to win at all costs, where people have grown used to hypocrisy and deceit and regard them
as natural, legitimate instruments of trade, politics and daily intercourse, unable to distinguish truth from falsehood. They
embrace the sentimental lie with the enthusiasm others bring to religion. Indeed that habit of mind has
become
their religion. Yet those of us who came together so recently to avert this plot are all habitual enemies of Gaynor, Klosterheim
and their kind. We must reject the Prince of Lies. It is in our self-interest to remain loyal to one another.” He sighed.
“Well, there is nothing to do now but go to Granbretan and see if we can find the children before those creatures begin mingling
their blood with those sacred objects.”

“Children’s blood!” The fox was shocked. “They are sacrificing children? How disgustingly barbaric! But why?”

“The corrupted practices of sorcery,” said Prince
Lobkowitz. “You begin by believing that like affects like. Like then
becomes
like. Therefore, like
controls
like. Pure blood of near-immortals is the material they hope to use to produce their new reality. When the multiverse melts
and collapses into its unformed and uncontrolled fundamentals, they will absorb the blood, making it their own, and ensure
that they survive to re-create the multiverse to their own design. Even if they fail, as I suspect they must, it will destroy
all that regulates the multiverse. Meanwhile many heroes will die for nothing, believing themselves to be dying for a cause,
dying to rebalance the elements, dying in defense of God himself. Every avatar of the one we call the Champion Eternal will
perish.”

“The destruction of the Knights of the Balance,” murmured Lieutenant Fromental. “Even Satan did not seek that.” He spoke with
strong feeling, as if from experience. “We must go there. We must save our little mademoiselle.”

Prince Lobkowitz drew his greying brows together. “But how on earth can we reach Granbretan undetected?”

“That is not our chief problem,” Elric told him. “We can scavenge masks from the many corpses Duke Dorian has left us. I’m
told the Dark Empire forces have retreated back to their Silver Bridge which spans the sea between Karlye and Deau Vere. Even
if Colonel Bastable cannot help us, as I believe he intends to, it would be easy for most of us to join groups of refugees.
It will be considerably more difficult to find and rescue young Oonagh and my daughter.”

Lord Renyard was a little perplexed. “I must go with you, gentlemen. How do you propose to disguise me?”

A new voice chimed in from behind them. “At last! Thank the Lord we are still to some degree synchronized. I would have been
here sooner, but I had some minor problems
with a timing device. I am sorry I was unable to keep our appointment in Mirenburg, Monsieur Zodiac. I simply couldn’t leave
the job at that point. The machine shops and factories are the only ones in this extraordinary world where I could find the
engineers and craftsmen I needed. And as usual, they were behind schedule. Anyway, she’s ready now. I gather you got my message.”

Elric turned, recognizing the voice, but it was Prince Lobkowitz and Lieutenant Fromental who spoke first, together. “Good
afternoon, Colonel.”

The strong, open features of the newcomer brightened in a grin. “Good afternoon to you, too, gentlemen!” He stepped forward
to embrace Prince Lobkowitz and shake the hands of his fellow Knights of the Balance. With heavy goggles pushed back over
a military cap, he wore something very close to a uniform, in light blue and scarlet. In certain worlds he would have been
recognized immediately as a member of His Majesty’s Imperial Merchant Air Service.

Colonel Oswald Bastable was glad to see his old friends. He told them quickly of his time in Mirenburg, how he had thought
it unwise to reveal himself to the party there, because he, too, had seen Klosterheim and Gaynor in the palace. “I decided
to let them focus on you, gentlemen, whom they had already detected. This allowed me the time I needed to complete my ‘infernal
machine.’ Of course, without Prince Yaroslaf’s help, nothing would have been possible. Your word, Monsieur Zodiac, went a
long way with him.

“I tried to tell Countess von Bek to wait, that I was preparing a better means of travel, but she left precipitously while
I was at the factory clearing up some details of my ship. Young Oonagh almost recognized me when I
joined you briefly for that first meal at Prince Yaroslaf’s reception. The prince was sworn to secrecy, but I couldn’t resist
making brief contact with you. It was a bit of a toss-up, you see. I could have told her who I was and risked old Klosterheim
and company guessing what I was up to, or I could keep my identity secret and risk your party, Prince Lobkowitz, leaving before
I could contact you. That, of course, is exactly what happened. When I heard you had gone, I ran after you, but you were already
some distance from Mirenburg. I was a little too late, it seems. I guessed they were waiting for you to leave the safety of
the city, where they’d be able to take a crack at you. I tried to warn you, but unfortunately you misinterpreted me. Anyway,
she’s completed now and at your disposal. Training the crew was the hardest part. They have a very different theory of aeronautics.
They’re not British, you see. However …”

With a modest gesture of his gauntleted hand, Colonel Bastable pushed back his cap, turned and indicated low hills behind
them.

Flying low, casting a long shadow on the ground, her engine droning softly, hull glittering with newly doped canvas, bright
metal and fresh paint, flying a Union Jack from her aftlines, came a slender airship, the glass portholes of her armored gondola
winking like round, innocent eyes.

“Gentlemen, may I present HMAS
Victoria.
She’s our prototype. A nifty little bus, though I do say so myself. Carrying some pretty powerful ordnance. And I think we
can slip across the channel in her tonight, what, and do what we need to do.”

Prince Lobkowitz nodded gravely, staring hard into Colonel Bastable’s face. “I suspect, sir, that you have a personal agenda
in this matter.”

Wide-eyed, Bastable returned his stare. “To protect the well-being of this world, sir? How does that sound?”

Elric, unable to determine the nature of their exchange, turned away in some impatience, leading the party towards the airship
as she began to settle in the air a few feet above the ground.

T
HE SIGHT OF
the Scots balloonist made me feel suddenly sick and helpless. St. Odhran’s crooked smile told me all I needed to know. He
had betrayed us. We were as good as finished. I remembered how Monsieur Zodiac had trusted him, even leaving his sword in
the traitor’s hands!

“You rotten …” I couldn’t come up with a word bad enough. I was close to tears.

Countess Flana had better things to do. She had grown bored with me. Asking the chevalier to sit down, she summoned slaves
and ordered them to wheel me out of her little sanctuary. Before I had the chance to recover my composure, I found myself
in a set of apartments which, the slaves told me, had been prepared for me.

Certainly it looked as if my capture had been anticipated for quite a while. There were changes of clothes in my size, a neat
little bed with a fluffy down comforter, and everything was made for a person of my height. Everything but the doors and windows,
that is. They were, if anything, oversize, and all discreetly locked, barred or both. The windows were so high, I couldn’t
see out of them. Only when I managed to clamber on top of a piece of asymmetrical furniture (which vaguely resembled a hippopotamus)
could I see a few roofs, the odd
chimney against a black and scarlet sky full of perpetual, restless movement, clouds of smoke creating sinister half-familiar
shapes. The glass was thick and blemished. It helped produce the effect of warped menace. I was glad to get down and have
a look around my cell.

As prisons went, it was luxurious. There was a little sitting room with funny-looking chairs and another of those weird toilets.
The cupboards revealed more clothes, many of them really beautiful, a couple of plain masks, which fit me, some books made
of light, silvery stuff which was neither paper nor plastic. Pictures in the books gave the impression of movement. The script
was in a language I could scarcely understand. I tried to do a bit of reading, but the strain was too much.

At some point a slave brought me my supper, which consisted of a cup of salty soup, several different kinds of fish in thin
strips laid on the plate in rows, some fruit and a very sweet drink which reminded me of that apricot nectar which Mum would
never let us have because she said the sugar in it would rot through bone, let alone our teeth. I felt quite a lot better
after I’d eaten, though. I was ready to face, if not the worst Granbretan could throw at me, then something close. They had
shown me that poor, ragged creature, his skin hanging in ribbons from his body, so that I could sit and think of the similar
fate in store for me, but in spite of the evidence, I refused to believe they were going to do anything so cruel.

I think I was in shock or denial, because I had become pretty unemotional, in spite of all I knew of their intentions. I shed
no more tears. I had a cold hatred for St. Odhran. My duty was to get away from him, to spoil his plans as much as possible.
I exercised by running around the room shouting pop songs to myself, then jumping up
and down on the bed, then trying some of my mum’s tai chi and yoga positions. By the time I stopped I had worn myself out
and lay on the comfortable feather bed, panting and staring up at the heavily decorated ceiling, which had masked, naked people
doing things which were not so much obscene or sexual as impossible to interpet, which was probably just as well. The walls,
too, were decorated. They showed a painted forest through which a procession of people and monsters marched. All the colors
were the usual dark greens, browns, reds and purples. Pretty oppressive.

As I looked around my room, I found myself nodding off in spite of my determination to try to stay awake and think through
my situation. I was soon fast asleep, dreaming of cows with animal heads, of Lord Renyard dressed like an old-fashioned Victorian
nanny, of Elric/Monsieur Zodiac carrying a huge black sword, which I thought at first streamed with blood until I saw that
there were glowing letters engraved in the metal, red as the albino’s eyes. Then came my grandmother, Oona, with her bow and
arrows, loosing one shaft after another into the carcass of a monstrous wolf which pranced and snarled at the edges of my
bed, gathering courage to pounce.

It was very dark in my room when I heard a scratching at the door, which swung open at my mumbled greeting. I didn’t see anyone
come in until a large face with green-yellow eyes was close to mine. A rumbling purr broke from the throat of the beast I
recognized as our black panther. Then the door opened again. A female slave stood there, holding a tray on which was a steaming
beaker of liquid like tomato juice. This slave was masked and naked, like all slaves of the upper orders. She had a really
lovely body, all rounded muscular
curves, and her soft, glowing skin seemed unnaturally pink in the faint light coming through the high windows. I realized
I didn’t know how to turn a light on in the room, and was surprised by the soft radiance which slowly filled it.