The man bowed when he saw Elric. "Greetings, sir. You would be the incarnation of the Champion on this plane, I take it. I am-" He frowned as if he had for a second forgotten his own name. "I am something beginning with 'J' and something beginning with 'C.' It will return to me in a moment. Or another name or event will occur, I'm sure. I am your-what?-amanuensis, eh?" He peered up into the sky. "Is this one of those sunless worlds? Are we to have no night at all?"

Elric looked to Gone, who did not seem wary of this apparition. "I did not ask for a secretary, sir," he said to the small man. "Nor did I expect to be assigned one. My companion and I are on a quest in this world..."

"A quest, naturally. It is your role, as it is mine to accompany you. That's in order, sir. My name is-" But again his own name eluded him. "Yours is?"

"I am Elric of Melniboné and this is Oone the Dreamthief."

"Then this is the Land the dreamthieves call Sadanor, I take it. Good, then I am called Jaspar Colinadous. And my cat's name is Whiskers, as always."

At this, the cat gave voice to a small, intelligent noise, to which its owner listened carefully and nodded.

"I recognise this land now," he said. "You'll be seeking the Marador Gate, eh? For the Land of Old Desires."

"You are a dreamthief yourself, Sir Jaspar?" Gone asked in some surprise.

"I have relatives who are."

"But how came you here?" Elric asked. "Through a medium? Did you use a mortal child, as we did?"

"Your words are mysterious to me, sir." Jaspar Colinadous adjusted his turban, the little cat tucked carefully under one voluminous silk sleeve. "I travel between the worlds, apparently at random, usually at the behest of some force I do not understand, frequently to find myself guiding or accompanying venturers such as yourselves. Not," he added feelingly, "always dressed appropriately for the realm or the moment of my arrival. I dreamed, I think, I was the sultan of some fabulous city, where I possessed the most astonishing variety of treasures. Where I was waited upon..." Here he coloured and looked away from Gone. "Forgive me. It was a dream. I have awakened from it now. Unfortunately the clothes followed me from the dream..."

Elric believed the man's words were close to nonsense, but Gone had no difficulty with them. "You know a road, then, to the Marador Gate?"

"Surely I must, if this is the Land of Dreams-in-Common." Carefully he placed the cat on his shoulder and then began to rummage in his sleeves, within his shirt, in the pockets of his several garments, producing all manner of scrolls and papers and little books, boxes, compacts, writing instruments, lengths of cord and reels of thread, until one of the rolled pieces of vellum caused him to cry out in relief. "Here it is, I think! Our map." He replaced all the other items in exactly the places he had drawn them from and unrolled the parchment. "Indeed, indeed! This shows us the road through yonder mountains."

"Offers of guidance..." began Elric.

"And beware the familiar," said Oone softly. Then she made a dismissive gesture. "Here we have conflict already, you see, for what is unfamiliar to you is highly familiar to me. That is part of the nature of this land." She turned to Jaspar Colinadous. "Sir? May I see your map?"

Without hesitation, the small man handed it to her. "A straight road. It's always a straightish road, eh? And only one. That's the joy of these Dream Realms. One can interpret and control them so simply. Unless, of course, they swallow one up completely. Which they are wont to do."

"You have the advantage of me," said Elric, "for I know nothing of this world. Neither was I aware that there are others like it."

"Aha! Then you have so much wonder to anticipate, sir! So many marvels yet to witness. I would tell you of them, but my own memory is not what it should be. I frequently have only the vaguest of recollections. But there is an infinity of worlds and some are yet unborn, some so old they have grown senile, some born of dreams, some destroyed by nightmares." Jaspar Colinadous paused apologetically. "I grow over-enthusiastic. I do not intend to confuse you, sir. Just know you that I am a little confused myself. I am ever that. Does my map make sense to you, Lady Dreamthief ?"

"Aye." Gone was frowning over the parchment. "There is only one pass through those mountains, which are called the Shark's Jaws. If we assume that the mountains are lying to our north, then we must bear to the north-east and there find the Shark's Gullet, as it's named here. We are much obliged to you, Master Jaspar Colinadous." She rolled up the map and returned it to him. It disappeared into one of his sleeves and the cat crept down to lie, purring, in the crook of his arm.

For a moment, Elric had the strongest instinct that this likable individual had been called up by Oone from her own imagination, though it was impossible to believe he did not exist in his own right, such a self-confident personality was he. Indeed, Elric had the passing fancy that perhaps he, himself, was the phantasy.

"You'll note there are dangers hi that pass," said Jaspar Colinadous casually, as he fell in beside them. "I'll let Whiskers scout for us, if you like, when we get closer."

"We should be much obliged to you, sir," said Oone.

They continued their journey across the bleak landscape, with Jaspar Colinadous telling tales of previous adventures, most of which he could only half recall, of people he had known, whose names escaped nun, and of great moments in the histories of a thousand worlds whose importance now eluded him. To hear him was like coming upon the old halls of Imrryr, on the Dragon Isle, where once huge series of windows had told hi pictures the tales of the first Melnibonéans and how they had come to then- present home. Now they were mere shards, small fragments of the story, brilliant details whose context was only barely imaginable and whose information was gone forever. Elric ceased trying to follow Jaspar Colinadous's conversation but, as he had learned to do with the fragments of glass, let himself enjoy them for then- texture and then: colour instead.

The consistency of the light had begun to disturb nun and eventually he interrupted the little man in his flow and asked him if he, too, was not made uncomfortable by it.

Jaspar Colinadous took this opportunity to stop and remove his slippers, shaking sand from them as Oone waited ahead of them, her stance impatient. "No, sir. Supernatural worlds are frequently sunless, for they obey none of the laws we are familiar with in our own. They may be flat, half-spheres, oval, circular, even shaped like cubes. They exist only as satellites to those realms we call 'real,' and therefore are dependent not upon any sun or moon or planetary system for their ordering, but upon the demands-spiritual, imaginative, philosophical and so on-of worlds which do, in fact, require a sun to heat them and a moon to move their tides. There is even a theory that our worlds are the satellites and that these supernatural worlds are the birthplaces of all our realities." His shoes again free from sand, Jaspar Colinadous began to follow Oone, who was some distance on, having refused to wait upon them.

"Perhaps this is the land ruled by Arioch, my patron Duke of Hell," said Elric. "The land from which the Black Sword sprung."

"Oh, quite possibly, Prince Elric. For, see, there's a hellish sort of creature stooping on your friend at this very moment and us without a weapon between us!"

The three-headed bird must have flown at such a great height it had not been seen to approach, but now it was dropping at terrifying speed from above and Oone, alerted by Elric's cry of warning, began to run, perhaps hoping to divert it in its descent upon her. It was like a gigantic crow, with two of its heads tucked deep into its neck, while the other stretched out to help its downward flight, its wings spread behind it, its claws extended, ready to seize the woman.