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Authors: Michael Moorcock
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to the Vadhagh."
"Well," she said with forced lightness, "perhaps we Mabden can devise something."
Bitterness filled him then. As they descended the steps into the main part of the castle he held up his stump and touched his eyeless socket "But can the Mabden give me back my hand and my eye?"
She turned and paused on the steps. She gave him an oddly candid look. "Who knows?" she said quietly. "Perhaps they can."
The Ninth Chapter
Concerning Love And Hatred
Although doubtless magnificent by Mabden standards, the Margravine's castle struck Prince Corum as simple and pleasant. At her invitation, he allowed himself to be bathed and oiled by castle servants and was offered a selection of clothing to wear. He chose a samite shirt of dark blue, embroidered in a design of light blue, and a pair of brown linen breeks. The clothes fitted him well.
"They were the Margrave's," a girl servant told him shyly, not looking at him directly.
None of the servants had seemed at ease with him. He guessed that his appearance was repellent to them.
Reminded of this, he asked the girl, "Would you bring me a mirror?"
"Aye, Lord." She ducked her head and left the chamber.
But it was the Margravine herself who returned with the mirror. She did not hand it to him immediately.
"Have you not seen your face since it was injured?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"You were handsome?"
"I do not know."
She looked at him frankly. "Yes," she said. "You were handsome." Then she gave him the mirror.
The face he saw was framed by the same light golden hair, but it was no longer youthful. Fear and agony had left their marks. The face was lined and hard and the set of the mouth grim. One eye of gold and purple stared bleakly back at him. The other socket was an ugly hole made up of red, scarred tissue. There was a small scar on his left cheek and another on his neck. The face was still characteristically a Vadhagh face, but it had suffered abuse never suffered by a Vadhagh before. From the face of an angel it had been transformed by Glandyth's knives and irons into the face of a demon.
Silently, Corum gave her back the mirror.
He passed his good hand over the scars of his face and he brooded. "If I was handsome, I am ugly now."
She shrugged. "I have seen much worse."
Then the rage began to fill him again and his eye blazed and he shook the stump of his hand and he shouted at her. "Aye—and you will see much worse when I have done with Glandyth-a-Krae!"
Surprised, she recoiled from him and then regained her composure. "If you did not know you were handsome, if you were not vain, then why has this affected you so much?"
"I need my hands and my eyes so that I may kill Glandyth and watch him perish. With only half of these, I lose half the pleasure!"
"That is a childish statement, Prince Corum. It is not worthy of a Vadhagh. What else has this Glandyth done?"
Corum realized that he had not told her, that she would not know, living in this remote place, as cut off from the world as any Vadhagh had been.
"He has slain all the Vadhagh," he said. "Glandyth has destroyed my race and would have destroyed me if it had not been for your friend, the Giant of Laahr."
"He has done what . . . ?" Her voice was faint. She was plainly shocked.
"He has put all my folk to death.”
"For what reason? Have you been warring with this Glandyth?"
"We did not know of his existence. It did not occur to us to guard against the Mabden. They seemed so much like brutes, incapable of harming us in our castles. But they have razed all our castles. Every Vadhagh save me is dead and most of the Nhadragh, I learned, who are not their cringing slaves."
"Are these the Mabden whose king is called Lyr-a-Brode of Kalenwyr?"
"They are."
"I, too, did not know they had become so powerful. I had assumed that it was the Pony Tribes who had captured you. I wondered why you were traveling alone so far from the nearest Vadhagh castle."
"What castle is that?" For a moment Corum hoped
"Well," she said with forced lightness, "perhaps we Mabden can devise something."
Bitterness filled him then. As they descended the steps into the main part of the castle he held up his stump and touched his eyeless socket "But can the Mabden give me back my hand and my eye?"
She turned and paused on the steps. She gave him an oddly candid look. "Who knows?" she said quietly. "Perhaps they can."
The Ninth Chapter
Concerning Love And Hatred
Although doubtless magnificent by Mabden standards, the Margravine's castle struck Prince Corum as simple and pleasant. At her invitation, he allowed himself to be bathed and oiled by castle servants and was offered a selection of clothing to wear. He chose a samite shirt of dark blue, embroidered in a design of light blue, and a pair of brown linen breeks. The clothes fitted him well.
"They were the Margrave's," a girl servant told him shyly, not looking at him directly.
None of the servants had seemed at ease with him. He guessed that his appearance was repellent to them.
Reminded of this, he asked the girl, "Would you bring me a mirror?"
"Aye, Lord." She ducked her head and left the chamber.
But it was the Margravine herself who returned with the mirror. She did not hand it to him immediately.
"Have you not seen your face since it was injured?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"You were handsome?"
"I do not know."
She looked at him frankly. "Yes," she said. "You were handsome." Then she gave him the mirror.
The face he saw was framed by the same light golden hair, but it was no longer youthful. Fear and agony had left their marks. The face was lined and hard and the set of the mouth grim. One eye of gold and purple stared bleakly back at him. The other socket was an ugly hole made up of red, scarred tissue. There was a small scar on his left cheek and another on his neck. The face was still characteristically a Vadhagh face, but it had suffered abuse never suffered by a Vadhagh before. From the face of an angel it had been transformed by Glandyth's knives and irons into the face of a demon.
Silently, Corum gave her back the mirror.
He passed his good hand over the scars of his face and he brooded. "If I was handsome, I am ugly now."
She shrugged. "I have seen much worse."
Then the rage began to fill him again and his eye blazed and he shook the stump of his hand and he shouted at her. "Aye—and you will see much worse when I have done with Glandyth-a-Krae!"
Surprised, she recoiled from him and then regained her composure. "If you did not know you were handsome, if you were not vain, then why has this affected you so much?"
"I need my hands and my eyes so that I may kill Glandyth and watch him perish. With only half of these, I lose half the pleasure!"
"That is a childish statement, Prince Corum. It is not worthy of a Vadhagh. What else has this Glandyth done?"
Corum realized that he had not told her, that she would not know, living in this remote place, as cut off from the world as any Vadhagh had been.
"He has slain all the Vadhagh," he said. "Glandyth has destroyed my race and would have destroyed me if it had not been for your friend, the Giant of Laahr."
"He has done what . . . ?" Her voice was faint. She was plainly shocked.
"He has put all my folk to death.”
"For what reason? Have you been warring with this Glandyth?"
"We did not know of his existence. It did not occur to us to guard against the Mabden. They seemed so much like brutes, incapable of harming us in our castles. But they have razed all our castles. Every Vadhagh save me is dead and most of the Nhadragh, I learned, who are not their cringing slaves."
"Are these the Mabden whose king is called Lyr-a-Brode of Kalenwyr?"
"They are."
"I, too, did not know they had become so powerful. I had assumed that it was the Pony Tribes who had captured you. I wondered why you were traveling alone so far from the nearest Vadhagh castle."
"What castle is that?" For a moment Corum hoped
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