The boat surged, swung again, lifted and dipped.

Suddenly he was calm. He took hold of Oone's hand in a gesture of simple affection.

"I am myself again, I think," he said.

"There is the gateway," said Queen Sough from behind them. She had her grip on the tiller again and with her other hand was pointing ahead.

"There is the land you call the Nameless Land," she said. She spoke plainly now, not in the cryptic phrasing she had used since they had met her. "There you will find the Fortress of the Pearl. She cannot welcome you."

"Who?" said Elric. The waters were calm again. They ran slowly towards a great archway of alabaster, its edges trimmed by soft leaves and shrubs. "The Holy Girl?"

"She can be saved," said Queen Sough. "Only by you two, I think. I have helped her remain here, awaiting rescue. But it is all I can do. I am afraid, you see."

"We are all that, madam," said Elric feelingly.

The boat was caught by new currents and travelled still more slowly, as if reluctant to enter the last gate of the Dream Realm.

"But I am of no help," said Queen Sough. "I might even have conspired. It was those men. They came. Then more came. There was only retreat thereafter. I wish I could know such words. You would understand them if I had them. Ah, it is hard here!"

Elric, looking into her agonised eyes, realised that she was probably more of a prisoner in this world than he and Gone. It seemed to him that she longed to escape and was only kept here by her love of the Holy Girl, her protective emotions. Yet surely she had been here long before Varadia had come?

The boat had begun to pass under the alabaster arch now. There was a salty, pleasant taste to the air, as if they approached the ocean.

Elric decided he must ask the question which was on his mind.

"Queen Sough," he said. "Are you Varadia's mother?"

The pain in the eyes grew even more intense as the veiled woman turned away from him. Her voice was a sob of anguish and he was shocked by it.

"Oh, who knows?" she cried. "Who knows?"

Again Elric experienced that strange frisson of recognition at the landscape before bun, though he could not remember ever seeing anything like it. Pale blue mist rose around cypresses, date palms, orange trees and poplars whose shades of green were equally pale; flowing meadows occasionally revealed the rounded white of boulders and in the far distance were snow-peaked mountains. It was as if an artist had painted the scenery with the most delicate of washes, the finest of brushstrokes. It was a vision of Paradise and completely unexpected after the insanity of Falador.

Queen Sough had remained silent since she had answered Elric's question and a peculiar atmosphere had developed among the three of them. Yet all the uneasiness failed to affect Elric's delight at the world they had entered. The skies (if skies they were) were full of pearly cloud, tinged by pink and the faintest yellow, and a little white smoke rose up from a flat-roofed house some distance away. The barge had come to rest in a pool of still, sparkling water and Queen Sough gestured for them to disembark.

"You will come with us to the Fortress?" asked Gone.

"She does not know. I do not know if it is permitted," said the Queen, her eyes hooded above her veil.

"Then I shall say farewell now," and Elric bowed and kissed the woman's soft hand. "I thank you for your assistance, madam, and trust you will forgive me for the crudeness of my manners."

"Forgiven, yes." Elric, looking up, thought Queen Sough smiled.

"I thank you also, my lady." Done spoke almost intimately, as to one with whom she might share a secret. "Know you how we shall find the Fortress of the Pearl?"

"That one will know." The Queen pointed towards the distant cottage. "Farewell, as you say. You can save her. Only you."

"I am grateful for your confidence also," said Elric. He stepped almost jauntily onto the turf and followed Gone as they made their way across the fields to the little house. "This is a great relief, my lady. A contrast, indeed, to the Land of Madness!"

"Aye." She responded a trifle cautiously, and her hand went to the hilt of her sword. "But remember, Prince Elric, that madness takes many forms in all worlds."

He did not allow her wariness to let him lose his enjoyment. He was determined to restore himself to the peak of his energies, in preparation for whatever might lie ahead.

Gone was first to reach the door of the white house. Outside were two chickens scratching in the gravel, an old dog, tethered to a barrel, who looked up at them over a grey muzzle and grinned, a pair of short-coated cats cleaning their silvery fur on the roof over the lintel. Gone knocked and the door was opened almost immediately. A tall, handsome young man stood there, his head covered by an old bur-noose, his body clad in a light brown robe with long sleeves. He seemed pleased to see visitors.

"Greetings to you," he said. "I am Chamog Borm, currently in exile. Have you come with good news from the Court?"

"We have no news at all, I fear," said Gone. "We are travellers and we seek the Fortress of the Pearl. Is it close by here?"

"At the heart and the centre of those mountains." He waved with his hand towards the peaks. "Will you join me for some refreshment?"

The name the young man had given, together with his extraordinary looks, caused Elric again to rack his brains, trying to recall why all this was so familiar to him. He knew that he had only recently heard the name.

Within the cool house, Chamog Borm brewed them a herbal drink. He seemed proud of his domestic skills and it was clear he was no simple farmer. In one corner of the room was heaped a pile of rich armour, steel chased with silver and gold, a helm decorated with a tall spike, that spike decorated with ornamental snakes and falcons locked hi conflict. There were spears, a long, curved sword, daggers -weapons and accoutrements of every description.

"You are a warrior by trade?" said Elric as he sipped the hot liquid. "Your armour is very handsome."

"I was once a hero," said Chamog Borm sadly, "until I was dismissed from the Court of the Pearl."

"Dismissed?" Gone was thoughtful. "On what charge?"

Chamog Borm lowered his eyes. "I was charged with cowardice. Yet I believe that I was not guilty, that I was subject to an enchantment."

And now Elric recalled where he had heard the name. When he had arrived in Quarzhasaat he had in his fever wandered hi the market places and listened to the story-tellers. At least three of the stories he had heard had concerned Chamog Borm, hero of legend, the last brave knight of the Empire. His name was venerated everywhere, even hi the camps of the nomads. Yet Elric was sure Chamog Borm had existed-if he had ever existed-at least a thousand years earlier!

"What was the action of which you were accused?" he asked.

"I failed to save the Pearl, which now lies under an enchantment, imprisoning us all in perpetual suffering."