She nodded. "I believe that, Pearl Warrior. I, too, am glad you helped us."

"I am the one who protects. This must be done. You go on? I was your friend."

Oone looked back to where Queen Sough was nodding, her arms outstretched in some kind of offering.

"Here I am not your enemy," said the Pearl Warrior, as if instructing the simple-minded. "If I were complete, we three would be a trinity of greatness! Aye! Thou knowest it! I have not the personal. These words are hers, you see. I think."

And with that particularly mystifying pronouncement he wheeled his horse and rode away over the grassy milestone.

"Too many defenders, not enough protectors, perhaps." Gone sounded as odd as the others. Before Elric could quiz her on this she had given her attention back to Queen Sough. "My lady? Did you summon the Pearl Warrior to our aid?"

"She called him to you, I think." Queen Sough seemed almost in a trance. It was odd to hear her speaking of herself in the third person. Elric wondered if this was the normal mode here and again it occurred to him that all the people of this realm were not human but had assumed human shape.

They were now stranded high above the river. Going to the edge of the abyss, Elric stared down. He saw only some bodies which had been caught on the rocks, others drifting downstream. He was glad then that their boat was not having to negotiate waters clogged with so many corpses.

"How can we continue?" he asked Oone. He had a vision of himself and her in the Bronze Tent, of the child between them. All were dying. He knew a pang of need, as if the drug were calling to him, reminding him of his addiction. He remembered Anigh in Quarzhasaat and Cymoril, his betrothed, waiting in Imrryr. Had he been right to let Yyrkoon rule in his place? Every one of his decisions seemed now to be foolish. His self-esteem, never high, was lower than he could remember. His lack of forethought, his failures, his follies, all reminded him that not only was he physically deficient, he was also lacking hi ordinary common-sense.

"It is in the nature of the hero," said Queen Sough in relation to nothing. Then she looked at them and her eyes were maternal, kindly. "You are safe!"

"I think there is some urgency," said Oone. "I sense it. Do you?"

"Aye. Is there danger in the realm we left?"

"Perhaps. Queen Sough, are we far from the Nameless Gate? How can we continue?"

"By means of the moth-steeds," she said. "The waters always rise here and I have my moths. We have only to wait for them. They are on their way." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "It was that rabble which could have been yours. No more. But I cannot anticipate, you see. Every new trap is mysterious to me, as it is to you. I can navigate, as you navigate. This is together, you know."

Against the horizon there were rainbow lights winking and shimmering, like an aurora. Queen Sough sighed when she saw them. She was content.

"Good. Good. That is not late! Just the other."

The colours filled the sky now. As they came closer Elric realised that they belonged to huge, filmy wings supporting slender bodies, more butterfly than moth, of enormous size. Without hesitation the beasts began to descend until the three of them as well as the barge were engulfed by soft wings.

"Into the boat!" cried Queen Sough. "Quickly. We fly."

They hurried to obey her and at once the barge was rising into the air, apparently carried on the backs of the great moths who flew beside the canyon for a while before plunging down into the abyss.

"I watched but there was nothing," said Queen Sough by way of explanation to Elric and Gone. "Now we shall resume."

With astonishing gentleness the creatures had deposited the barge on the river and were flying back up between the walls of the canyon again, filling the whole gloomy place with brilliant multi-coloured light before they vanished. Elric rubbed at his brow. "This is truly the Land of Madness," he said. "I believe it is I who am mad, Lady Oone."

"You are losing confidence in yourself, Prince Elric." She spoke firmly. "That is the particular trap of this land. You come to believe that it is yourself, not what surrounds you, that has little logic. Already we have imposed our sanity on Falador. Do not despair. It cannot be much longer before we reach the final gate."

"And what is there?" He was sardonic. "Sublime reason?" He felt the same strange sense of exhaustion. Physically he was still capable of continuing, but his mind and his spirit were depleted.

"I cannot begin to anticipate what we shall find in the Nameless Land," she said. "Dreamthieves have little power over what occurs beyond the seventh gate."

"I've noticed your considerable influence here!" But he did not mean to hurt her. He smiled to show that he joked.

From ahead they beard a howling, so painful that even Queen Sough covered her ears. It was like the baying of some monstrous hound, echoing up and down the abyss and threatening to shake the very boulders loose from the walls. As the river bore them round the bend they saw the beast standing there, a great shaggy wolflike beast, its head lifted as it howled again. The water rushed around its huge legs, foamed against its body. As it turned its gaze upon them the beast vanished completely. They heard only the echo of its howling. The speed of the water increased. Queen Sough had removed her hands from the tiller to block her ears. The boat swung in the water and bounced as it struck a rock. She made no attempt to steer it Elric seized the long arm but in spite of using all his strength he could do nothing with the boat. Eventually he, too, gave up.

Down and down the river ran. Down into a gorge growing so deep that soon there was scarcely any light at all. They saw faces grinning at them. They felt hands reach out to touch them. Elric became convinced that every mortal creature who had ever died had come here to haunt him. In the dark rock he saw his own face many times, and that of Cymoril and Yyrkoon. Old battles were fought as he watched. And old, agonising emotions came back to him. He felt the loss of all he had ever loved, the despair of death and desertion, and soon his own voice joined the general babble and he howled as loudly as the hound had howled until Oone shook him and yelled at him and brought him back from the madness which had threatened to engulf him.

"Elric! The last gate! We are almost there! Hold on, Prince of Melniboné. You have been courageous and resourceful until now. This will require still more of you, and you must be ready!"

And Elric began to laugh. He laughed at his own fate, at the fate of the Holy Girl, at Anigh's fate and at Oone's. He laughed when he thought of Cymoril waiting for him on the Dragon Isle, not knowing even now if he lived or died, if he was free or a slave.

When Oone shouted at him again, he laughed in her face.

"Elric! You betray us all!"

He paused in his laughter long enough to say softly, almost in triumph, "Aye, madam, that is so. I betray you all. Have you not heard? It is my destiny to betray!"

"You shall not betray me, sir!" She slapped at his face. She punched him. She kicked his legs. "You shall not betray me and you shall not betray the Holy Girl!"

He knew intense pain, not from her blows but from his own mind. He cried out and then he began to sob. "Oh, Oone. What is happening to me?"

"This is Falador," she said simply. "Are you recovered, Prince Elric?"

The faces still gibbered at him from the rock. The air was still alive with all he feared, all he most misliked in himself.

He was trembling. He could not meet her gaze. He realised he was weeping. "I am Elric, last of Melniboné's royal line," he said. "I have looked upon horror and I have courted the Dukes of Hell. Why should I know fear now?"

She did not answer and he expected no answer from her.