Free The Dragon in the Sword by Michael Moorcock Page B

content?”
    “Exceptionally content, thank you. And yours?”
    “Thank you, we are in equilibrium, I think.”
    It very quickly became obvious that Denou Praz intended to keep the conversation completely formal. Armiad, however, blundered blithely on. “It is not every day we have a Chosen Prince of the Valadek in our midst.”
    “No, indeed,” said Denou Praz unenthusiastically. “Not, of course, that the good gentleman Flamadin is any longer a Chosen Prince of his people.”
    This came as a shock to Armiad. I knew that Denou Praz had spoken pointedly and barely within the bounds of accepted politeness, but I did not know what the significance of his statement was. “No longer Chosen?”
    “Has not the good gentleman told you?” As Denou Praz spoke the other councilors were gathering about the table and seating themselves nearby. Everyone was looking towards me. I shook my head. “I’m at a loss. Perhaps, Baron Captain Denou Praz, you could explain what you mean.”
    “If you do not think it inhospitable?” Denou Praz was, in turn, surprised. I guessed that he had not expected me to respond in that way. But since I was genuinely puzzled I had taken the chance to request illumination from him. “The news has been in circulation for some time. We have heard of your banishment by Sharadim, your twin, whom you refused to wed. Your giving up of all your duties. Excuse me, good gentleman, but I would not continue for fear of offending the rules of a host…”
    “Please do continue, Baron Captain. All this will help explain some of my own mysteries.”
    He grew slightly hesitant. It was as if he were no longer absolutely sure of his facts. “The story is that Princess Sharadim threatened to expose some crime of yours—or some series of deceptions—and that you tried to kill her. Even then, we heard, she was prepared to forgive you if you would agree to take your rightful place beside her as joint Overlord of the Draachenheem. You refused, saying that you wished to continue your adventurings abroad.”
    “I behaved like some sort of spoiled popular idol, in other words. And thwarted in my selfish desires I tried to murder my sister?”
    “It was the story we had from Draachenheem, good gentleman. A declaration, indeed, signed by Princess Sharadim herself. According to that document you are no longer a Chosen Prince, but an outlaw.”
    “An outlaw!” Armiad rose partially from his seat. If he had not suddenly realised where he was he might well have banged his fist on the table. “An outlaw! You told me nothing of this when you boarded my hull. You said nothing of it when you gave your name to my Binkeeper.”
    “The name I gave to your Binkeeper, Baron Captain Armiad, was not that of Flamadin at all. It was you who first used that name.”
    “Aha! A cunning deception.”
    Denou Praz was horrified at this breach of courtesy. He raised his frail hand. “Good gentlemen!”
    The Council, too, were shocked. One of the women who had first greeted us said hastily: “We are most apologetic if we have given offence to our guests…”
    “Offence,” said Armiad loudly, his ugly face bright red, “has been given me, but not by you, good councilors, or by you, Brother Denou Praz. My good will, my intelligence, my entire hull have all been insulted by these charlatans. They should have told me the circumstances of their being on our anchorage!”
    “It was published widely,” said Denou Praz. “And it does not seem to me that the good gentleman Flamadin has attempted any deception. After all, he asked that I say what these reports were. If he had known them or had wished to keep them secret, why should he have done that?”
    “I beg your pardon, sir,” said I. “My companion and I had no wish to bring shame on your hull nor to pretend that we were anything more than what we originally said we were.”
    “I knew nothing of it!” bellowed Armiad.
    “But the journals…” said one of the women gently.