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Authors: Brian Lumley

BOOK: Ship of Dreams
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“Limnar, about the Museum and its Curator: what’s it all about? I mean, that’s no ordinary museum, and as for the Curator—”
“Both the Museum and the Curator have been here since long before Serannian. Ever since there was a sky-island. What he is and why he brought his collection here, nobody knows. There are theories, of course, but no one knows for sure. He does no harm—within certain limits—and the Museum does contain many marvelous things. Kuranes goes there often …”
“And speaking of Kuranes,” said Hero ominously as he spied an ivied tower rising above the distant copse, “that must be his manor house. Right?”
“Correct,” answered Dass, and he sensed the tenseness of the pair. “Listen,” he said, “if you’re thinking of making a run for it, forget it. There’s nowhere to run.”
After a moment of silence, Hero answered: “Don’t worry, we can take what’s coming to us.”
“Good! But let’s make a little more speed, shall we? Evening’s drawing in and I do believe it’s going to rain.” He put his feet down onto the cobbled lane and urged his bike ahead into deepening gloom. Overhead, lowering clouds opened and the evening’s first raindrops came pattering down …
Kuranes’ Quest
They rode through great iron gates into a large-cobbled courtyard, at the back of which stood the manor house itself, with its tower of gray stone rising above. Mist swirled in ghostly tendrils from gardens of ancient, ivy-grown oaks and green-shining shrubbery. The rain was falling steadily now, so that the three were almost glad to hand over their bikes to a squad of pikemen before venturing into the stone-flagged entrance hall.
Perhaps “venturing into” gives the wrong impression; in fact they were guided into the hall at the gleaming points of a half-dozen pikeheads. At least, Hero and Eldin were. Limnar Dass went of his own accord.
Inside, a fire roared in an open fireplace, with Kuranes’ No. 3 Butler standing close by. He beckoned to Dass and offered him a chair by the fire, but at sight of Hero and Eldin—especially the latter—his nose went up in the air and his back visibly stiffened. A man of Celephais or Ilek-Vad he most certainly was, but he played the part of an English butler extraordinarily well.
“Tattletale!” Eldin hissed at him over his shoulder as the pikemen warily prodded him and his younger companion on down the length of the hall toward heavy,
oak-paneled doors. The doors swung silently open at their approach and they passed through, but the pikemen remained behind in the entrance hall. Two more whiskered, liveried butlers—doubtless Nos. 1 and 2—were waiting within to close the doors and bow to the pair, however superciliously. Not to be outdone, Hero and Eldin followed suit. For their pains they were directed down a narrow strip of green carpet across the huge, high-ceilinged room to where a lone figure sat at a desk so massive that it utterly dwarfed him.
This was Kuranes, who now called out, “Come forward, you two. Please come forward.”
“Eldin,” whispered Hero to his bulky companion as they moved to obey, “this man is no mere magistrate. What we say to him can make or break us. That’s if we’re not already broken. So let’s keep it very polite, right?”
“Right,” Eldin whispered back. “Damn it, David, I wish I hadn’t tried to lift that ruby. But if only I’d managed it, eh? Why, we’d have lived like kings for five years on that one stone!”
“We still will live like kings,” Hero answered out of the corner of his mouth, “if we get out of this intact,” With a nervous grin he added: “You’re not the only thief in Earth’s dreamland, you know … and by no means the best!”
“
What?
” Eldin gasped. “D’you mean to tell me that—”
“
Shh!
” hissed Hero. “It’ll keep.”
They marched the last few paces in line and came to a halt, with a little less than military precision, before Kuranes’ desk. And now the Lord of Serannian gazed steadily, curiously at them where they stood, while they in turn looked back at him.
Slightly built but regally robed, gray-bearded but
bright-eyed, Kuranes wore the unmistakable characteristics of a waking-worlder. There was that
realness
about him which set him apart—as it did all men of the waking world—from the indigenous denizens of Earth’s dreamland. It was there in his voice, too: that thrilling reminder of days long forgotten, days spent in lands
outside
or higher than the so-called subconscious.
“So you are the men of whom I’ve recently heard so much, are you? A pair of brawlers, braggarts and thieves. And you—” he turned piercing eyes upon Eldin, “you even dared to bring your thieving habits into Serannian!”
“My Lord,” Eldin uncomfortably began, “I—”
“Hear me out,” Kuranes held up his hand. “I will list the crimes of which you have been accused—both of you—since your arrival in Celephais right up to the present moment. When I am done I will ask if you are innocent or guilty. You will answer, with one word, and then we shall see what we shall see. Agreed?”
Hero wordlessly nodded, Eldin less certainly.
Quickly their sins tripped off Kuranes’ tongue, his voice empty of emotion, his eyes staring first at Hero, then Eldin, then back to Hero, until he was done. He missed nothing out, and Eldin’s worst fears were realized when the attempted theft of the great ruby brought the King’s catalog of their crimes to a conclusion. Now Kuranes leaned back in his great chair and tapped the top of his desk with his fingernails.
“Well?” he said. “Are you innocent? … Or guilty?”
“I—” began Eldin.
“Guilty,” Hero growled it out low, cutting his companion short.
Eldin gritted his teeth but held his head up high. “Aye,” he said, “guilty. Me especially.”
“Very well,” said the King after a moment’s pause.
“And now I must decide what to do with you. Criminals you are, but I’ve yet to meet a criminal who is all bad … or have I?” And he gazed at Eldin. “Let it pass—there are things on your side.” He stood up and walked round the great desk, his scarlet, gold-hemmed dressing gown belling with his movement.
Now he steepled his hands, turned his back on the pair and began to pace the floor. “You are dreamers,” he said, “or at least you were. We cannot call you dreamers when you ar no longer able to wake up! Men once of the waking world, then, who now abide in dreams. Well, there we have something in common at least. That’s a point in your favor. Some of my best friends were once waking-worlders …
“Also,” the King eventually went on, “You are brave men. I could have you thrown in jail—indeed, I could have you hurled down from Serannian’s rim!—which you must know. And knowing it, still you admitted your guilt. I suppose it could be argued that failing to do so would have been to condemn yourselves, for of course I
know
you are guilty of many of the charges. Still, I note that none of your accusers call you liars. You bend the truth occasionally, perhaps often, but you do not seem to lie harmfully. Not that I have been able to discover.
“Furthermore, you are daring. To attempt to steal from the Museum—that was to be daring to the point of reckless! I would hate to think that your daring springs from sheer foolishness …” He stopped pacing, faced them squarely, frowned, and finally nodded; and they saw that he had made up his mind about something.
“The choice shall be yours,” Kuranes said at last. “To be transported back to Celephais and there remain for five years in one of Leewas Nith’s dungeons … Or—”
“Or?” urged Hero, when the pause grew so long as to be unbearable. “You were about to say, your Majesty?”
“You have qualities—should we call them skills?—which I can use,” said Kuranes. “As my agents you would have my protection, access to the means at my disposal—eventually my pardon.”
“Your agents?” said Hero, frowning.
Kuranes nodded. “There’s a quest I would have you undertake,” he said.
“A quest!” cried Eldin. “Why, we’re your men, Sir—for there never were questers like Eldin the Wanderer and Hero of Dreams!”
“The dangers may well be terrific,” warned Kuranes.
“We laugh at danger.” Eldin assumed what he supposed to be a rakish pose.
“There will be no reward other than a pardon for your past crimes,” said the King.
“What more could we wish for than to do the King’s work?” asked Hero, wide-eyed and innocent.
“The quest will set you against powers which could destroy your immortal souls, let alone your subconscious minds. There’s black wizardry involved, demonic horror, nightmares which only a madman could dream, and—”
“Whoa!”
cried Eldin. “Er, excuse me, Lord, but are you trying to enlist us or unman us? Damn me, five years in old Leewas Nith’s dungeons are beginning to sound like a veritable holiday!”
Kuranes nodded. “Well they might,” he agreed, “but as I said before, the choice is yours.”
“Can’t you tell us more about this quest of yours?” asked Hero. “Before we make up our minds?”
Kuranes shook his head. “You make your decision now,” he answered.
“Then we have no option,” Eldin growled. “We accept.”
Hero nodded. “Aye,” he said, “we’re your men. We’ll go questing for you, Lord Kuranes.”
Now Kuranes sighed a great sigh and it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Very well. Now come, sit down. Have you eaten? No matter, you could manage a leg of chicken, I’m sure. And a glass of wine? Good!” He clapped his hands and the butlers, who had approached as the three took their seats at the great desk, bowed and left the room through a door in a curtained alcove.
In a few moments they were back with a tray of chicken joints, a bottle of wine and three glasses. When they had served the King and his guests, they retired to the ends of the huge desk where they remained, motionless, like guardsmen at the gates of a palace. Kuranes’ appetite was good as he tucked into his evening repast; but the two adventurers, already well fed, merely picked at their meat and sipped a little wine as they waited for him to have done.
Finally, dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief, he sat back and gazed afresh at the pair. “Let me first tell you,” he began, “what is likely to happen if your work for me is not successful. Can you picture Serannian, the entire sky-island, sinking into the Cerenerian Sea, picking up speed, breaking into pieces as it crashes to the world below? And all those thousands of people, screaming as they tumble through space, crushed by falling masonry—bursting like plums as the city slams down into oblivion!”
Hero and Eldin looked at each other with raised eyebrows for a moment, then the younger man turned back to Kuranes and asked: “And is that it? We’re to go questing for a means to save Serannian? Fair enough.
But surely, before there’s an effect there’s a cause. What makes you think the sky-island is doomed? You’ve hinted that the threat is of a supernatural nature. Well, then, what’s its source?”
Kuranes nodded in a satisfied manner and smiled a faint smile, the first his guests had seen upon his face. “Good!” he said, and again it was as if a weight had left his shoulders. “Those are some of the questions I would expect from questers who know their business. Very well, let’s get down to it. What do you know of Zura?”
“Zura?” answered Eldin. “Why, yes, I know of it. It’s a place, a land, a forbidden spot beyond Thalarion. Certain phrases spring to mind, meaningless phrases heard in connection with the place. ‘The Charnel Gardens of Zura,’ for instance, and ‘Zura’s Dead Legions.’ Traders have always avoided Zura and cartographers usually leave it off their maps. In fact, if you talk about Zura in the healthier lands of Earth’s dreams, why, you pretty soon end up talking to yourself! In short, it’s a bad place.”
“Indeed it is,” Kuranes agreed, “and yet—that’s where you’re going!”
There was a long pause before Hero, who had also heard of Zura, said: “Just like that?”
“Basically, yes,” answered Kuranes. “Oh, there are more details—you need to know why you’re going there, for one thing—but essentially the trick is to get you into Zura, discover a certain something, then get out again and return to Serannian.”
Slowly Eldin stood up, his huge knuckles white on the top of the great desk, his face darkening. “Lord Kuranes,” he said, “your offer to work boils down to this: five years in a dungeon or certain death! You must thing we’re as daft as you are!”
“You speak treason!” snapped the butlers in unison,
springing forward and coming upon the pair from the flanks.
“He most certainly does,” agreed Hero as he jumped to his feet. He placed his back against Eldin’s so that they faced Kuranes’ angry, whiskered retainers. “Speaks it fluently, and several other tongues—including horse-sense. But now and then he’s a bit hasty, that’s all.” To Kuranes, speaking very quickly now, he said: “If these lads of yours dare lay a hand, Lord, you’ll be making your own bed for a while! And pay no mind to my large friend’s rude and thoughtless blustering. He likes to haggle a bit, you see. But in any case, we accept the task you’ve given us. Without reservation.”
“We
what
?” howled Eldin, turning his head to stare wide-eyed into Hero’s suddenly placid face.
“We’ll do it,” insisted the younger man, but the look on his face—that look which Eldin knew of old—said much more. It said, “Be still, old friend, and we’ll be all right. Do as you’re told and we’ll come out of it laughing …”
“Well,” said Kuranes, breaking into the unspoken conversation without ever knowing it was going on. “Does your friend go a-questing on his own, Eldin the Wanderer, or do you go with him? Think carefully now, for I’ll not ask you again. What’s it to be: Zura, or Leewas Nith’s dungeons?”
For a while the tableau remained frozen, then Eldin sank back into his chair. “Lord King,” he said, his voice a low growl, “—is it possible these buckoes of yours could bring us another bottle of wine?”

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