Ship of Dreams

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER I - Down and Out in Celephais

  CHAPTER II - Lions as Lambs

  CHAPTER III - Night-gaunts Over Dreamland

  CHAPTER IV - Man-o’-war

  CHAPTER V - City in the Sky

  CHAPTER VI - The Curator

  CHAPTER VII - Kuranes’ Quest

  CHAPTER VIII - A Hasty Departure

  CHAPTER IX - Sky-Pirates of Zura

  CHAPTER X - Zura’s Tale

  CHAPTER XI - Zura’s Delight

  CHAPTER XII - Enter Gytherik

  CHAPTER XIII - The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

  CHAPTER XIV - The Caves of Night

  CHAPTER XV - The Snufflers in Darkness

  CHAPTER XVI - Captive of the Cave

  CHAPTER XVII - The Running Thing

  CHAPTER XVIII - Escape from the Underworld

  CHAPTER XIX - The Aerial Armada

  CHAPTER XX - Again, Gytherik

  CHAPTER XXI - Under False Colors

  CHAPTER XXII - Kuranes: Hostage!

  CHAPTER XXIII - Sub-Serannian

  CHAPTER XXIV - Swords of Serannian

  CHAPTER XXV - Vented!

  CHAPTER XXVI - Again, Curator

  An Epilogue, of Sorts

  Look for these Tor books by Brian Lumley

  THE PIRATE RAID

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER I

  Down and Out in Celephais

  Leewas Nith, High Magistrate of Celephais, leaned forward across the massive, raised oaken bench in the city’s main courtroom and frowned down his long thin nose at the two men brought before him. While they were dressed in clothes of dream’s styling—clothes which were a little stained and travel-worn, but still rather fine clothes for a pair of rogues such as these—it was plain to any practiced eye that they were not normal citizens of dream. No, these were or had been men of the waking world, who through the circumstance of death on their home plane now abided on this one.

  Their sort was not especially rare in dreams; occasionally they occupied places of great prominence and power; though more often than not they merely merged into the background of the dreamlands, settled down and became one with the land of Earth’s dreams. Not this pair, however, whose names were bywords in civilized places for brawling, thievery, drunkenness and illicit wenching.

  They were Eldin the Wanderer and David Hero (or Hero of Dreams, as the latter seemed to be known, though why his sort of ruffian should be accorded so lordly a dream-name was anybody’s guess) and the charges leveled against them on this occasion were typical of their record. Not so much heinous as outrageous; more mischievous than menacing.

  Namely, they were accused of assault, seduction and arson, though not in that order. Oh, yes, and also drunkenness, non-payment of debts and vagrancy. Aye, and one or two other things to boot. Fortunately for them, Leewas Nith was a judge in more senses than the merely judiciary. He instinctively knew the characters of people. Even men from the waking world …

  Not that he was blind to the faults of this pair, on the contrary, and he was sure that they were indeed guilty of many of the charges brought against them. But not all of them. Drunkenness, certainly. Indeed the older man, Eldin the Wanderer, must still be a little drunk if the tale he was just this minute done with telling was anything to go by. So utterly marvelous an invention had it been—of black wizardry and derring-do, of mountain-scaling and keep-climbing, of fierce battles with all manner of demon gods, plants and beings—that the courtroom had been held spellbound. Now the tale was told and its teller stood silent beside his younger companion. Now, too, Leewas Nith peered down the length of this thin nose, regarded the pair, considered his judgment.

  Eldin the Wanderer and David Hero—Hah! And the High Magistrate silently snorted his displeasure as he recalled many talks of roguery heard in connection with these two. Well, they would rogue no more in Celephais, not when he was done with them. And Celephais would not be the first of dreamland’s cities and towns to expel them. Not by a long shot. As for their tale—of how they came to arrive in Celephais in the first place and their “reasons” for doing the thoroughly unreasonable things they had done here—well, this Eldin fellow was obviously just as much a storyteller as a wanderer! Possibly more so. And Leewas Nith silently snorted to himself a second time.

  “Eldin,” he finally said, his voice brittle but at the same time full of a dire judicial strength. “You, Wanderer, as you are called. You tell an amusing, indeed a marvelous tale. Why, if the court is to believe you, then we now stand in the presence of two of the greatest heroes dreamland has ever known!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far,” growled the bearded, burly, oddly-gangling man called Eldin, “but that’s near enough.” He twisted his scarred face into a scowl, rattled his chains and held them up. “And richly rewarded for our efforts, too!”

  The High Magistrate continued as were he never interrupted. “And then misfortune befell you. On the day of your wedding-to-be, in Ilek-Vad your future wife woke up from the dreamlands and returned to the waking—” But here Eldin gave such a groan, and slumped against a pillar in so abject an attitude, that his younger friend was obliged to take hold of him and maintain him in an upright position.

  “Did you have to remind him?” shouted David Hero, patting his apish companion’s huge, pain-racked shoulder with a chained hand. “Damn me, that’s the reason he gets drunk in the first place—because he can’t forget Aminza Anz! What would you do if your bride-to-be woke up and left you stranded here in dreamland?”

  While the rest of the court gasped at Hero’s audacity, and while Hero himself glared all about at them where they sat, the High Magistrate merely frowned his annoyance. “Young man,” his voice finally crackled, “I will not suffer such outbursts in my own courtroom. You and your companion were brought before me to answer certain charges, not to tell fantastic stories and perform stirring dramas and tragedies.” He held up a sheet of parchment. “These are the charges you must answer:

  “One: that you, David Hero, seduced Arkim Sallai’s daughter, Misha, betrothed of Garess Nard. How do you answer the charge?”

  Hero could not quite stifle a grin, his white teeth flashing from between lips which refused to be pursed. “Seduced?” he chuckled. “You mean when she invited me to stay the night in her garret room over her old man’s tavern?”

  “Guilty!” snapped Leewas Nith, this time with an audible snort. “Two: that when Arkim Sallai and Garess Nard heard the girl’s cries of distress and came to her rescue—”

  “Her cries of distress?” Hero was astounded. “Hers? They were my cries, not hers! Why, man, I’ll carry scars down my back for the rest of my dream-life. That girl has nails as long as—”

  “—Then that you knocked both of them down and broke Garess Nard’s jaw!” finished the magistrate, his voice rising even as he rose sternly to his feet.

  Hero gritted his teeth and slitted his eyes. “That Garess Nard,” he growled. “The cowardly dog! Coming at a man with a hatchet like that. And me naked and weaponless and all … Well, almost?”

  “Guilty!” cried Leewas Nith, leaning forward with his knuckles on the bench. “And if you make one more outburst I’ll have both of you thrown into a dungeon for a year!”

  He turned his gaze upon Eldin the Wanderer and slowly sat down again. Eldin, sensing the magistrate’s eyes upon him, gave one last sob and looked up through red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. “And you,” said Leewas Nith, “you boozy barrel of a man. What of the charges against you?”

  “Charges?” grunted Eldin disinterestedly, his almost volcanic rumble full of misery. “What charges? Damn it to hell, I’m a hero, I tell you! We both are. And anyway, I don’t remember a damned thing.” />
  “Nor would you,” answered Leewas Nith sharply, “if the charges are correct! Now hear them out in silence:

  “One: that you, Eldin the Wanderer, having put up at the tavern of Arkim Sallai—(a), drank for a week of the best wines and then refused to pay the bill. And (b), when the master of the house refused you more drink, broke into the cellar, barricaded yourself in and continued to drink. And (c), when finally you fell into a drunken stupor and were thrown forcibly out into the street, then that you set fire to the place, much to the distress of its proprietor and patrons who were obliged to flee while the tavern burned to the ground!

  “There were many witnesses to these crimes and they are not to be denied … Both you and Hero were later apprehended trying to leave town on a little-used caravan route disguised as priests of the Elder Gods, which is surely a rank outrage and a blasphemy in itself! Now what have you to say to all of this?”

  Eldin wiped his eyes with his sleeve and glanced at Hero. He sniffled a little but then, as he noticed the corners of Hero’s mouth twitching into a barely suppressed grin, jutted his chin and frowned a black frown. Hero’s grin broadened until it became contagious. The two almost began to chuckle—before Hero managed to turn his choked laughter into a cough which he hid with the back of his hand. Eldin somehow followed suit, but only with great difficulty.

  Finally the Wanderer turned his red eyes back up to the High Magistrate where he sat in judgment. “Can’t a man have a little fun in dreamland anymore?” he asked. “Home from the wars, as it were, and never a flag waved and no welcome mat to greet us? Why, if Celephais weren’t such a dead and alive den of dodderers you’d all have heard of us by now. Heroes, we are, and—”

  “And we have heard of you,” Leewas Nith cut him short. “We’ve heard far too much of you! Now be still while I pass judgment.”

  “Judgment nothing!” cried Hero. “I want to see Kuranes.”

  Again a gasp of astonishment went up from the courtroom, and Hero glared at the richly robed spectators and city councilors and junior judges where they sat upon their tiers of oaken benches. He felt like some sort of gladiator in an arena, except that there was nothing here to fight. And what with these chains, well, fighting was impossible anyway.

  “Kuranes?” said Leewas Nith, as if he were hearing things. “King Kuranes? He does not try common criminals.”

  “Not so much of the ‘common,’ magistrate, if you don’t mind,” Hero bridled.

  “And be careful who you call criminals,” growled Eldin. “Are you deaf, man? We’re heroes! Kuranes could verify it easily enough. So could you, for that matter. A carrier pigeon to Ilek-Vad across the Twilight Sea … you’d know the facts of things by this time tomorrow. I tell you that less than a month ago I dined with Randolph Carter himself, in Ilek-Vad. They’re great friends, Carter and Kuranes, and I’m sure the king of Celephais wouldn’t see a couple of heroes such as we are falsely accused.”

  Leewas Nith could control himself no longer. His wisdom remained—his natural kindness and understanding of the human condition, too—but his patience had been stretched to its very limits. “You are not falsely accused!” he snapped. “And even if you were heroes, we couldn’t allow you to run rampant through the cities of dreamland. You must be punished.”

  “Punished?” cried the two together.

  “Be quiet!” roared Leewas Nith, and he gave a signal to four heavily muscled Pargan orderlies where they stood to the rear of the chained men. The black, golden-kilted orderlies moved closer to the pair, tripped them, forced them to their knees and held them there.

  “Be thankful Kuranes is not here,” the High Magistrate told them. “Especially you, Eldin the Wanderer. King Kuranes loves his Celephais and would doubtless punish you fearfully for burning a piece of it down. Fortunately the tavern of Arkim Sallai was full of beetle and due for demolition, else I, too, would punish you most severely.

  “And you, David Hero,” and he. turned his gaze upon the younger man. “Or Hero of Dreams, as you are styled. You too may be thankful, for the Garess Nard has agreed to wed Misha Sallai despite the ruin which your rapaciousness must otherwise visit upon her reputation. And so I shall be lenient with you also. But now I tire of all this and must therefore bring it to a close.” He glared down upon them where they were obliged to kneel.

  “When you were caught leaving the city you were carrying a great deal of money in your purses. This despite your many debts. Well, the money was confiscated and will be used in part to cover Arkim Sallai’s unpaid bills. Moreover, there is sufficient to build him a new tavern; and so your crimes will have caused only a minimum of suffering. As for your yaks, your swords and fine clothes: they shall be auctioned off to pay compensation to Garess Nard for his broken jaw. Finally, Celephais is forbidden to you for a full year. You will be escorted to that same spot where you were apprehended and there set free—on foot! If you dare to return within a twelvemonth—” he shrugged. “Then it’s the dungeons for both of you. That is all. I have spoken.”

  “What?” howled Hero and Eldin in concert.

  “Take them away,” said Leewas Nith to the Pargan orderlies. “Let my instructions be carried out to the letter.”

  “And are we to be sent into exile naked as babes?” cried Hero.

  “Eh?” murmured the High Magistrate, already heading toward an arched doorway in the wall of the courtroom behind his judge’s bench. He turned back for a moment to gaze at the two where they were being dragged away down an aisle under the steeply climbing tiers of seats. “No, no, not naked,” he answered. “You will be given some clothes of good leather. Not so rich as the ones you wear now, no, but more in keeping with your … history?” Finally he smiled a thin smile and wagged a finger at the pair. “A lesson to both of you—and be glad I am merciful!”

  CHAPTER II

  Lions as Lambs

  Eldin thumped the hard ground with an even harder fist and spat his frustration into the sand. “Merciful, the old windbag called himself,” he said, digging Hero in the ribs. “Merciful, eh?”

  “Can’t you make a point without sticking your great fat elbow in me?” Hero grumbled, rubbing his side. “Look, I’m just as unhappy as you are, but all said and done I reckon we got off light. I mean, we could be rotting in some dungeon right now.”

  They lay side by side on their stomachs in a clump of long, spiky yellow grass, gazing through its fringes upon the distant spires of Celephais. The city was sprinkled with the lights of a thousand lanthorns now that night was descending; and long shadows, cast by the early crescent moon which stood almost clear of the hills to the north of the city, lay stark on the barren western desert.

  The adventurers had been “obliged” to take the old caravan trail out of Celephais, which was a perfectly acceptable route by yak but utter misery on foot. And it was forty miles to the nearest town. Two of those miles had been sufficient to decide the pair against the remaining thirty-eight. As Eldin rightly said: they might as well hang for lions as lambs. Not that they were lambs in any sense of the word; but in any case there were factors to be taken into account other than the blistering desert trek chosen for them by Leewas Nith.

  For it was one thing to lose their fine clothes, presented to them by Ilek-Vad’s royal tailors—and even worse to be deprived of their yaks—but hardest of all to bear was the loss of their swords. Hero’s was a long, light, curved blade of Kled, of exquisite, expensive workmanship and perfectly suited to his hand. Eldin’s had been a heavy, straight sword forged in Inquanok, a two-handed blade by dreamland’s standards but easily wielded in one hand by this burly son of the waking world.

  Moreover, there was something about Eldin’s sword, something which would not permit him to leave it in Celephais. It had been touched by the power of the First Ones, which made it very special in Eldin’s eyes. Not that the sword appeared to be any different now—it did not seem to have acquired any special powers—but still Eldin felt naked without it and knew no other weapon could
ever take its place.

  Yes, and there was yet another reason why they must go back. No one high-tailed Eldin the Wanderer and David Hero out of town; not even out of one of dreamland’s most beautiful and revered towns. They would yet leave their mark on Celephais. Even a small mark would be better than none at all.

  Which was why, as evening came down, they had left the old caravan route and circled back toward the outskirts of the city. They had used whatever cover was available, and their leather clothing, against a background of brown desert and evening shadow, had effectively camouflaged them. Eldin’s short-sleeved jacket, shirt and trousers were all dull black, as were his boots, which had been his choice and much to his liking. Hero’s clothes were of a russet brown, including his short, hooded cape. Indeed the pair had been lucky to be offered garments so closely matching their habitual dress of old; so that other than their swordlessness, there was now nothing to tell them from the wandering adventurers they had been before reaping the rewards of their heroics in Ilek-Vad.

  For however fantastic it had seemed (and despite one or two minor embellishments), Eldin’s tale in the court of Leewas Nith had been essentially true, and the pair had more than deserved their rewards. Now, however, penniless once more and outcast, it seemed they must turn again to thievery—at which they were very good—or else starve. And if they were to be thieves, where better to start than with their swords? For without weapons any future escapades seemed more than unlikely, to say nothing of downright dangerous. It may be a bad thing to be caught in flagrante delicto, but it is much worse to have to fight your way out with feet, fists and teeth alone!

  “Getting dark,” Eldin grunted. “Time we were moving.”

  Hero shook his head. “Uh-uh. Too many lights in the city. And we’re too well known there. No, we’ll give it another hour or so and let them settle down for the night before we move in. Luckily Ephar Phoog’s auction house is near the wharves. The area should be poorly lighted and dressed as we are we’ll be near invisible, a couple of ghosts. We should come out of it intact. Then we steal a small boat and put out to sea. After that—” he shrugged. “We’ll just have to see which way Lady Luck points us.”