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The Quest for Tanelorn
Michael Moorcock
The Chronicles of Castle Brass Book 3


BOOK ONE
THE WORLD INSANE: A CHAMPION OF DREAMS


CHAPTER ONE
AN OLD FRIEND AT CASTLE BRASS
‘Lost?’
‘Aye.’
‘But only dreams, Hawkmoon. Lost dreams?’ The tone was nearly pathetic.
‘I think not.’
Count Brass moved his great body away from the window so that light fell suddenly on
Hawkmoon’s gaunt face. ‘Would that I had two grandchildren. Would that I had. Perhaps one day
...’
It was a conversation which had been repeated so many times that it had become almost a ritual.
Count Brass did not like mysteries; he did not respect them.
‘There was a boy and a girl.’ Hawkmoon was still tired, but there was no longer any madness in
him. ‘Manfred and Yarmila. The boy much resembled you.’
We have told you this, father.’ Yisselda, hands folded under her breasts, moved from the shade
near the fireplace. She wore a green gown, cuffs and collar ermine-trimmed. Her hair was drawn
back from her face. She was pale. She had been pale since her return, with Hawkmoon, to Castle
Brass, more than a month ago. “We told you - and we must find them.’
Count Brass ran heavy fingers through his greying red hair, his red brows furrowed. ‘I did not
believe Hawkmoon - but I believe you both now, though I do not wish to.’
‘It is why you argue so, father.’ Yisselda placed a hand upon his brocaded arm.
‘Bowgentle could explain these paradoxes, possibly,’ Count Brass continued, ‘but there is no other
who could find the kind of words which a plain-thinking soldier like myself could easily understand.
You are of the belief that I have been brought back from the dead, yet I’ve no memory of dying.
And Yisselda has been rescued from Limbo, when I, myself, thought her slain at the Battle of
Londra. Now you speak of children, also somewhere in Limbo. A horrifying thought. Children
experiencing such terrors! Ah! No! I will not consider it.’
‘We have had to, Count Brass.’ Hawkmoon spoke with the authority of a man who had faced many
hours alone with his darkest thoughts. ‘It is why we are determined to do everything we can to find
them. It is why, today, we leave for Londra where we hope Queen Flana and her scientists can
help us.’
Count Brass fingered his thick red moustaches. The mention of Londra had aroused other
thoughts in his mind. There was a slight expression of embarrassment on his face. He cleared his
throat.
There was kindly humour in Yisselda’s eyes as she said, ‘Is there a message we can give Queen
Flana?’
Her father shrugged. “The usual courtesies, of course. I intend to write. Perhaps I will have time to
give you a letter before you leave.’
‘She would be glad to see you in person again.’ Yisselda glanced meaningly at Hawkmoon, who
rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘In her last letter she told me how much she had enjoyed your visit,
father. She remarked on the wisdom of your counsel, the practical common sense of your advice in
matters of State. There was a hint that she could offer you an official position at the Court of