THROUGH THE blue and hazy night ran a shuddering man. He clutched terror to him, his bloated eyes full of blood. First behind him and then seemingly ahead of him came the hungry chuckles, the high whispered words.
      "Here toothsome. Here sweetmeat."
      He swerved in another direction, moaning. Like a huge husk he was, like a hollow ornament of thin bone, with his great, rolling head swaying on his shoulders resembling a captive balloon, the wet cavern of his wide mouth fully open and gasping, the yellow spikes of teeth clashing in his head.
      Awkwardly he ran, sometimes scuttling like a wounded spider, something lurching, mooing to himself through the tall and ancient forest, his feet sinking into the carpet of wet, pungent bracken and rotting roots. He held in his hand, that long, white, metal-coloured claw, a glowing black talisman, held it out and cried:
      "Oh Teshwan-aid me, Teshwan. Aid me ..."
      In the sluggish brew that was the contents of his rolling skull a few words swam to the surface and seemed to lie there, moving with the tide of his mind. And the voice which spoke them was sardonic: "How can Teshwan aid thee, little mortal?"
      But this relic of disoriented flesh could not form a coherent thought; could not answer save to scream its fear. So Teshwan took his presence away and it was left to the horseman to find the horror-crazed man.
      Elric of Melnibone heard the voice and recognized the name. He sensed other, more ominous, denizens lurking about him in the forest. Moodily he curled his hands about the reins of his mount and jerked its head, guiding it in the direction of the screams. He only casually considered aiding the man and he rode his horse toward him more from curiosity than anything. Elric was untroubled by the terrors that the forest held, regarding them as another, more normal man might regard the omnipresent song of birds and the rustle of small rodents in the undergrowth.
      Great tremblings shuddered through Slorg's ruined body and he still heard the sharp whisperings. Were they carried on the air or were they slithering about in his jellied brain? He gasped as he turned and saw the white-faced horseman riding like a grim, handsome god into the moon-glazed glade.
      The horseman's long, sharply delineated skull was leperwhite, as if stripped of flesh, and his slightly slanting eyes gleamed crimson. He wore a jerkin of black velvet caught at the throat by a thin silver chain. His britches, too, were of black cloth, and his leather boots were high and shining. Over his shoulders was a high-collared cape of scarlet and a heavy longsword slapped at his side as he pulled his steed to a standstill. His long, flowing hair was as white as his face. The horseman was an albino.
      The shock of confronting this new and more tangible figure jerked Slorg back into half-sanity and broken words sidled from his lips.
      "Who are you? Aid me! I beg you, aid me! "
      Elric laughed lightly. "Now why should I, my friend? Tell me that."
      "I have been-been profaned-I am Slorg. I was once a man-but those . . ."He rocked his body and flung his rolling head backwards, the curved lids falling down to cover his bulging eyes. "I have been profaned ..."
      Elric leaned forward on the pommel of his saddle and said lazily: "This is none of my business, Master Slorg."
      The great head darted forward, the eyes snapped open and Slorg's long lips writhed over his teeth like a camel's. "Address not me by a mundane title! I am Siletah Slorg-Siletah of Oberlorn-rightfully-right-fully."
      The title was unknown to Elric.
      "My apologies, O Siletah, " he mocked, "for now I observe a man of rank."
      "A man no longer, " whispered Slorg and began to sob. "Help me."
      "Are you, then, in danger?"
      "Aye, danger-my kinsmen have set the Hungry Whisperers upon me, do you not hear them?"
      And Elric cocked his head to listen. Yes, he heard sibilant voices now. "Where are you, morsel?"
      "Oh, help me, help me, " begged Slorg and lurched toward Elric. The albino drew himself up and pulled his horse back.
      "No closer, " he warned. "I am Elric of Melnibone."
      Slorg's tattered face squeezed itself into a frown. "Ah, the name and the face, " he mumbled to himself, "the face and the name. Elric of Melnibone. Outcast! "
      "Indeed, " smiled Elric, "but no more than you, it seems. Now I must bid you farewell and suggest, by way of friendly advice, that you compose yourself soon.
      It is better to die with dignity, Siletah Slorg, "
      "I have powers, outcast of Melnibone-I have powers, still! Help me and I will tell you secrets-such secrets! "
      Elric waved a disdainful hand. A moonbeam caught for an instant the flash of the rare actorios ring which reposed on his finger. "If you know me, you should also know that I'm no merchant to bargain. I ask nothing and give nothing. Farewell! "
      "I warn you, Elric-I have one power left. I can send you screaming from this place-into another. It is the power which Teshwan gives all his servants-it is the one he never takes back! "
      "Why not send your hungry friends into this other place?"
      "They are not human. But if you leave me, I shall lay my last enchantment upon you."
      Elric sighed. "Your last, perhaps, but not the last or the first to be laid upon me. Now I must go and search for a quieter place than this where I can sleep undisturbed."
      He turned his horse and his back on the shaking remnant of a man and rode away. He heard Slorg calling again as he entered another part of the forest, untainted by the Siletah or those he had termed the Hungry Whisperers.
      "Teshwan-return! Return to do me one last service-a deed of vengeance-a part of our bargain, Teshwan! "
      A short time later Elric heard a thin, wailing scream come flowing out of the night behind him and then the whole forest seemed alive with horrible laughter.
      Satiated, triumphant, chuckling.
      His mood altered by his encounter, Elric rode through night, not caring to sleep, and came out of the forest in the morning, glad of the sight of the green plateau stretching ahead of him.
      "Well, " he mused, "Teshwan disdained to aid Slorg and it seems there is no enchantment on me. I am half regretful. Now Slorg resides in the bellies of those he feared and his soul's at home in Hell."
      Then the plateau changed quite suddenly to grey rock.
      Swiftly Elric wheeled his horse. The plateau and the forest was behind him. He spurred his mount quickly forward and the plateau and forest faded away to leave a vast and lonely expanse of flat, grey stone. Above him the sun had disappeared and the sky was bright and white and cold.
      "Now, " said Elric grimly into silence, "it seems I was wrong in my assumption."
      The plateau-its atmosphere-reminded him of another environment in which he had once found himself. Then he remembered clearly a time years before when he and two companions had sought an ancient volume called the Dead God's Book. Their questing had led them to a cavern guarded at its entrance by the symbol of the Lords of Chaos. In that cavern they had discovered an underground sea which had had unnatural qualities. There was the same sense of a sardonically amused presence here as there had been in the Caverns of Chaos.
      Teshwan was a Lord of Chaos.
      Hastily Elric pulled his runesword Stormbringer from its thick scabbard.
      The sword was dead.
      Normally the blade, forged by unhuman smiths for Elric's royal ancestors, was alive with sentience-throbbing with the life force it had stolen from a hundred men and women whom Elric had slain. Once before it had been like this-in the Caverns of Chaos long ago.
      Elric tightened his lips, then shrugged as he replaced the sword in its scabbard.
      "In a world completely dominated by the Forces of Chaos, " he said, "I cannot rely on the powers which normally aid me in my sorcery. Thank Arioch I have a good supply of drugs about me, or I would indeed be doomed."
      In earlier times Elric had relied on his soul-stealing runesword to give him the energy which, as an albino, he lacked intrinsically, but recently he had rediscovered a cleaner way of counteracting his deficiency, by taking herbs he had discovered in the Forest of Troos where many unlikely things grew, both flora and fauna.
      "By my father's plague-infested bones, " he swore. "I must find a way off this granite plain and discover who, if anyone, rules in this world. I have heard of the powers invested in Teshwan's worshippers-and I seem to remember a hint of why the Lords of Chaos confer such peculiar talents upon them."
      He shuddered.
      He began to sing a ululating hate-song of old Melnibone. Elric's ancestors had been clever haters. And on he rode beneath the sunless sky.
      He could not tell how much time had passed before he saw the figure standing out strongly against the featureless horizon.
      Now on the flat waste of stone there were two points at which the monotony was broken.
      Elric-white, black and scarlet on a grey gelding. The morose man, black hair lying like a coat of lacquer on his rounded skull, dressed in green, a silver sword dangling in his right hand.
      Elric approached the man who raised his eyes to regard the albino.
      "This is a lonely place, " said the stranger, sucking at his fleshy cheeks, and he stared at the ground again.
      "True, " replied Elric halting his horse. "Is this your world or were you sent here, also?"
      "Oh, it's my world, " said the man, without looking up. "Where are you bound?"
      "For nowhere, seeking something. Where do you journey?"
      "I-oh, I go to Kaneloon for the Rites, of course."
      "All things, it is said, are possible in the World of Chaos, " Elric murmured, "and yet this place seems unusually barren."
      The man looked up suddenly, and jerking his lips into a smile, laughed sharply.
      "The Rites will alter that, stranger. Did you not know that this is the Time of The Change, when the Lords of Chaos rest before re-forming the world into a fresh variety of patterns?"
      "I did not know that, " said Elric. "I have come here only recently."
      "You wish to stay?"
      "No."
      "The Lords of Chaos are fickle. If you wished to stay they might not let you.
      Now that you are resolved to leave, they might keep you here. Farewell. You will find me therein! " He lifted his sword and pointed. A great palace of greenstone appeared at once. The man vanished.
      "This, at least, will save me from boredom, " Elric said philosophically, and rode towards the palace.
      The many-pinnacled building towered above him, its highest points hazy and seeming to possess many forms, shifting as if blown by a wind. At the great arch of the entrance a huge giant, semi-transparent, with a red, scintillating skin,
      blocked his way. Over the archway, as if hanging in the air above the giant's proud head, was the Symbol of Chaos, a circle which produced many arrows pointing in all directions.
      "Who visits the Palace of Kaneloon at the Time of the Change?" enquired the giant in a voice like limbo's music.
      "Your masters, I gather, know me-for they aided their servant Slorg in sending me hither. But tell them it is Elric of Melnibone, nonetheless-Elric, destroyer of dreaming Imrryr, kinslayer and outcast. They will know me."
      The giant appeared to shrink, to solidify and then to drift in a red mist, pouring like sentient smoke away from the portal and into the palace. And where he had been a portcullis manifested itself to guard the palace in the giant's absence.
      Elric waited patiently until at length the portcullis vanished and the giant reformed himself.
      "My masters order me to inform you that you may enter but that, having once come to the Palace of Kaneloon , you may never leave save under certain conditions."
      "Those conditions?"
      "Of these they will tell you if you enter. Are you reckless-or will you stand pondering?"
      "I'll avail myself of their generosity, " smiled Elric and spurred his nervous horse forward.
      As he entered the courtyard, it appeared that the area within the palace was greater than that outside it. Not troubling to seek any mundane explanation for this phenomenon in a world dominated by the Lords of Chaos, Elric instead dismounted from his horse and walked for nearly a quarter of a mile until he reached the entrance of the main building. He climbed the steps swiftly and found himself in a vast hall which had walls of shifting flame.
      In the glow from the fiery walls, there sat at a table at the far end of the hall nine men-or at least, men or not, they had assumed the form of men. Different in facial characteristics, they all had the same sardonic air. In the centre of these nine was the one who had first addressed Elric. He leaned forward and spoke words carefully from his red lips.
      "Greetings to you, mortal, " he said. "You are the first for some time to sit with the Lords of Chaos at the Time of the Change. Behold-there are others who have had the privilege."
      A rent appeared in the wall of flame to disclose some thirty frozen human figures, some men and some women. They were petrified in positions of many kinds, but all had madness and terror in their eyes-and they were still alive, Elric knew.
      He lifted his head.
      "I would not be so impertinent, my lords, as to set myself beside you all insofar as powers are concerned, but you know that I am Elric of Melnibone and that my race is old; my deficient blood is the royal blood of the Kings of the Dreaming City. I have little pity or sentiment of any kind within me, for sentiment, whether love or hate, has served me badly in the past. I do not know what you require of me, and I thank you for your hospitality nonetheless, but I believe that I can conduct myself better in most ways than can any other mortal."
      "Let us hope so, Elric of Melnibone, for we would not wish you to fail, know that. Besides, you are not fully mortal as humans understand the word. Now, know you that I be Teshwan, and these need not be named and may be addressed singly or collectively by the name of Lords of Chaos."
      Elric bowed politely. "Lord Teshwan-my Lords of Chaos."
      They returned his bow by slightly inclining their heads and broadening a trifle their sardonic, crooked smiles.
      "Come, " said Teshwan briskly, "sit here beside me and I will inform you of what we expect. You are more favoured than others have been, Elric, and, in truth, I welcomed the opportunity given me by my vengeful servant Slorg before he died."
      Elric climbed upon the dais and seated himself in the chair which appeared beside Teshwan. About him the walls of flame soared and tumbled, mumbled and roared. Sometimes shadow engulfed them, sometimes they were bathed in light. For a while they all sat in silence, pondering.
      At last Teshwan spoke.
      "Now, " he said decisively. "Here's the situation in which we have decided to place you. You may leave only if you can create something which it has never occurred to us to create."
      "But you, surely, are the Masters of Creation?" said Elric in puzzlement. "How may I do this?"
      "Your first statement is not strictly true and in qualifying it I can give you a hint of the answer to your question. We of Chaos cannot make anything new-we may only experiment with combinations of that already created. Do you understand?"
      "I do, " said Elric.
      "Only the Greatest Power, of which we know little more than do humans, can create fresh conceptions. The Greatest Power holds both Law and Chaos in perpetual balance, making us war only so that the scale will not be tilted too far to one side. We wish not for power-only for variety. Thus every time we weary of our domain and let our old creations fade and conceive new ones. If you can bring a fresh element to our domain, we shall free you. We create jokes and paradoxes. Conceive a better joke and a better paradox for our entertainment and you may leave here."
      "Surely you expect the impossible from me?"
      "You alone may assess the truth of your question. Now, we begin."
      And Elric sat and watched, pondering his problem, as the great Lords of Chaos began their mighty experiments.
      The walls of fire slowly flickered and faded and again he saw the vast and barren plain of flat stone. Then the air darkened and a sighing wind began to moan over the plain. In the sky clouds blossomed in myriad shapes, alien, dark, unfamiliar, blacks and smoky orange, at the same time familiar . . .
      The rock heaved like lava, became liquid, rearing upwards and as it reared it became giants, mountains, ancient beasts, monsters, gryphons, basilisks, chimerae, unicorns. Forests bloomed, their growths huge and exotic, elephants flew and great birds crushed boiling mountains beneath their feet. Fingers of brilliant colour climbed the sky, criss-crossing and blending. A flight of wildly singing lions fell from the firmament towards the forest and soared upwards again, their music lonely.
      As the forest melted to become an ocean, a vast army of wizened homunculae came tramping from its depths dragging boats behind them. For a short while they marched over the seething waters and then, with precision, began, in ordered style, to climb into the flaring sky. When they had all left the ocean behind them, they righted their boats, set their sails, laughed and screamed and shouted, waved their arms, climbed into the boats and with fantastic speed streamed towards the horizon.
      All creation tumbled and poured, malleable in the Domain of Chaos. All was gusto, craze and roaring terror, love, hate and music mingled.
      The sky shook with multi-coloured mirth, blossoming white shot through with veins of blue and purple and black, searing red, splattered with spreading flowers of yellow, smeared, smeared, smeared with ghoulish green. Across this seething backdrop sped bizarre shapes.
      The Lords of Chaos shouted and sang their weird creation and Elric, shouting also, thought the frozen statues he had seen were weeping and laughing.
      A grotesque combination of man and tree sent roots streaming towards the earth to tug mountains from the caverns it exposed and set them, peak first, like inverted pyramids, into the ground. Upon the flat surfaces dancers appeared in bright rags which fluttered and flared around them.
      They were warped, unhuman, pale as dead beauty, grinning fixedly and then Elric saw the strings attached to their limbs and the silently laughing puppet-master bearlike and gigantic, controlling them. From another direction sped a small, blind figure bearing a scythe that was a hundred times bigger than the bearer.
      With a sweep, he cut the strings and, with that action, the whole faded to be replaced by a gushing brilliance of green and orange flame which formed itself into streamers of zigzagging disorder.
      All this went on around them. The Lords of Chaos smiled to themselves now, as they created, but Elric frowned, watched with wonder and no little pleasure, but puzzled how he might emulate such feats.
      For long hours the pageant of Chaos continued as the Lords took the elements of Elric's world and shook them about, turned them inside out, stood them on end, made startling, strange, beautiful, unholy combinations until they were satisfied with the constant movement of the scene about them, the perpetual shifting and changing. They had set a pattern that was no pattern, which would last until they became bored with their domain again and brought about another Time of the Change.
      Then their heads turned and all regarded Elric expectantly.
      Teshwan said a trifle wearily. "There-you have seen what we can do."
      "You are artists, indeed, " said Elric, "and I am so amazed by what I have witnessed that I need a little time to think. Will you grant it me?"
      "A little time-a little time only-we want to see what you prepare for us while the excitement is still upon us."
      And Elric placed his white albino's head upon his fist and thought deeply.
      Many ideas occurred to him, only to be discarded, but at length he straightened his back and said: "Give me the power to create and I will create."
      So Teshwan said smilingly. "You have the power-use it well. A joke and a paradox is all we require."
      "The reward for failure?"
      "To be forever conscious."
      At this, Elric shivered and put his mind to concentrating, searching his memory until a manlike figure formed before him. Then he placed features on its head and clothes on its body until there stood before Elric and the Lords of Chaos a perfect replica-of Elric.
      Puzzledly, Teshwan said: "This is splendid impertinence, I grant you-but this is nothing new-you already sit there beside us."
      "Indeed, " replied Elric, "but look in the man's mind."
      They frowned and did as he asked. Then, smiling, they nodded. "The paradox is good, " said Teshwan, "and we see your point. We have, for an eternity, created the effect. You, in your pride and innocence, have created the cause. In that man's mind was all that could ever exist."
      "You have noted the paradox?" asked Elric, anxious that the correct interpretation had been divulged.
      "Of course. For though the mind contains the variety beloved of we of Chaos, it contains the order that those barren Lords of Law would foist on the world. Truly, young mortal, you have created everything with a stroke. And thank you, also, for the joke."
      "The joke?"
      "Why truly-the best joke is but a simple statement of truth. Farewell. Remember, friend mortal, that the Lords of Chaos are grateful to you."
      And with that, the whole domain faded away and Elric stood on the grassy plain.
      In the distance he observed the city of Bakshaan which had been his original destination, and nearby was his horse to take him there.
      He mounted, flapped the reins, and, as the grey gelding broke into a trot, he said to himself: "A joke indeed, but it is a pity that men do not laugh at it more often."
      Reluctantly, he headed for the city.