Blood of Aenarion

chapter NINETEEN



Floating spheres of spell-woven light illuminated the great hall of the Emeraldsea Palace. An orchestra of the finest musicians played on a raised dais at one end of the room. Huge fans swirled in the high ceiling propelled by unseen magic. Hundreds of beautifully garbed and noble-looking elves crowded the room. They stood at the edge of the chamber in the shadow of alcoves housing enormous statues or round the tables on which a buffet of the finest elven viands lay. They chatted in dark corners or drank wine from carved crystal goblets or danced in the centre of the floor, performing the steps of the vast intricate ritual quadrilles demanded of this sort of social gathering.

Teclis had never seen anything like this. It was his first ever ball in one of the palaces of Lothern and it was, to say the least, impressive.

Tyrion stood on the balcony, watching everything and smiling easily and amiably at all who passed. He looked perfectly at ease in his beautiful clothes. His natural charm and good looks made up for any lack of formal courtesy in his manner. Teclis envied him all of these things. His own clothes felt too loose for his tall spare frame and no matter how often the retainers adjusted the cut and flow of them, they could never seem to make him look like anything but a gangling scarecrow.

Back home, Teclis had been the one favoured by their father and Tyrion had been the outsider. Here it was obvious their roles were always going to be reversed. Tyrion was the one who was the centre of attention and Teclis knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was going to be that way from now on.

He felt a touch on his elbow. Lady Malene stood there in a sparkling blue dress of some mage-woven cloth that shimmered with cosmetic glamour-spells. Her hair was piled high on her head and held in place by jewelled pins. Long diamond rings depended from her pointed ears.

‘You are not enjoying this, are you, Prince Teclis?’ she murmured.

‘How can you tell?’ he asked sardonically.

‘You hang back from the gathering. You have not talked to anyone or asked anyone to dance. Your brother does not seem to suffer from any such restraint.’

‘Tyrion is the soul of charm. People like him. He knows how to put them at ease.’

‘It’s unsurprising. He is good looking, poised, confident – he is not shy.’

‘You think I am, lady?’

‘You are not easy with yourself or with other people. Perhaps you never will be.’

‘If you are trying to bolster my self-confidence with this little chat, you are failing.’

‘These are not uncommon failings among practitioners of the Art. We have a reputation for eccentricity, reclusiveness and a lack of social skills.’

‘I have not noticed that you possess any of these qualities.’ He said it because it was true. She was a very lovely woman and capable of being quite charming despite her severe manner.

‘I have had several centuries to gain some polish. Hopefully you will get the same opportunity.’

‘Do you think what people say about mages is true then?’ Teclis was curious.

‘In some ways, yes. It’s hardly surprising that mages should be reclusive. Ours is a life that requires study and a great deal of time spent alone with books. We need a lot of specialised knowledge that can be of no possible interest to the layman. It also requires that we be strong-willed and self-centred.’

‘I follow you. Where does the eccentricity come from?’

‘A lot of time spent isolated will make even the most balanced seem eccentric and give them a chance to develop strange notions and habits. And I think there is something about exposure to the winds of magic and the practice of the Art itself that lends itself to mental instability.’

‘So I can look forward to even more isolation in the future,’ he tried to make it sound like a joke, but he was feeling somewhat sorry for himself. Tyrion had enthusiastically thrown himself into a quadrille and was dancing with a group of smiling young elves. He said something that made them all laugh.

‘No – you will find comradeship with other mages, if you do not alienate too many of them. They are the ones you will have most in common with – shared interests, shared knowledge and shared needs.’

‘Well that is something to look forward to at least,’ he said.

‘There is no need to mock, Prince Teclis.’

‘As if I would ever do that to you, Lady Malene.’

Tyrion was dancing with their cousin now, the lovely Liselle. He said something. Liselle smiled. She said something. He smiled. How effortless he made it look, and yet when Teclis tried such things, it never worked. People did not respond to him the way they did to his brother.

At moments like this, Teclis thought he would be willing to give up the Art to be able to make a girl smile the way Tyrion could. The feeling never lasted more than a moment though. The Art would make him master of his world eventually. He felt sure of that.

Tyrion drew Liselle away from the dance floor. Her bare arm was warm beneath his fingers and he felt the erotic spark pass between them. She smiled at him, glanced at the direction of Lady Malene and Teclis and said, ‘Your brother is watching us most intently.’

‘He is watching you most intently,’ said Tyrion. ‘He is captivated by your beauty. As what elf would not be?’

‘He is very odd.’

‘In what way?’

‘The way he stares so. He is intense and cold and calculating. You feel as if he is measuring you and finding you wanting.’

‘I have never found him to be like that.’

‘He thinks he is cleverer than us.’

‘He is cleverer than us. Take my word for it.’

‘You always stand up for him, don’t you?’

‘He is my brother.’

‘And that is reason enough to take his part? Against anyone?’

‘If I do not take his part, who will?’

‘My mother will. She likes him, I can tell.’

‘Then I like her,’ Tyrion said, hoping Liselle would take the hint.

‘Your brother is a cripple. Has he always been so?’

Tyrion did not like the direction this conversation was taking at all. ‘Would you care to dance once more?’

‘They say that among the dark elves cripples are exposed upon the mountainside as babies, to prevent them being a burden on the rest of the community.’

Tyrion stared at her. ‘And you think that is a good idea?’

‘Our ancestors used to do the same, before the Sundering.’

‘Those were crueller times. They had just fought a war against the forces of Darkness. In many places they still were doing so.’

‘I have heard people say that we are becoming weak and decadent.’

‘You think that becoming more like the dark elves will make us less decadent?’ He smiled, hoping she would see the joke. ‘Perhaps we should try being more like dwarfs to make ourselves less stubborn.’

‘There are some who say we became decadent during the reign of the last Phoenix King. They hope that Finubar will bring back elven boldness and elven strength. He is a seafarer and an explorer, not a decadent conjurer.’ She spoke with obvious pride. Finubar was of Lothern. He exemplified the virtues of her people.

‘It is not necessary to denigrate one person in order to praise another.’

She laughed at his serious words as she had not laughed at his joke. ‘There are times when I think you cannot be an elf, dear cousin, but some sort of changeling. There does not seem to be much malice in you.’

‘I don’t think you need to be malicious to be an elf either.’

‘Then you have a lot to learn, my dear Tyrion. You are in Lothern now. It’s a nasty, vicious place.’

He glanced around at all the rich people, in all their fine clothes, eating their fine food and drinking their fine wine. ‘Yes, I can see that. It’s really cut-throat.’

‘Do not be deceived,’ she said. ‘Many of these people would stick a knife in your back if they thought it would get them ahead in the world. And in some cases, I am not just speaking metaphorically.’

‘Are you always this cynical?’

‘I am a realist,’ she said. ‘I grew up here. I know what they are like.’

‘I have always heard it said that the high elves are the noblest people in the world.’

‘And I am sure you have always heard it said by high elves. We are not ashamed to praise ourselves, are we?’

‘Should we be?’

‘It would not matter if we should. It would not stop us. Oh dear, it looks like Lord Larien has noticed us.’ She made a small grimace but he thought she was not really so displeased.

‘Why is that a bad thing?’

‘He has been paying court to me for some time. He can be quite jealous.’

Tyrion had noticed the tall, athletic-looking elf earlier. He had not appeared to be so jealous. He had been surrounded by a coterie of admiring beauties to each of whom he seemed to be giving a portion of his attention. All of them appeared to be flattered to receive it too. He strode closer, straight backed, head held high. He smiled at Liselle, nodded curtly to Tyrion.

‘Ah, the delightful Liselle,’ he drawled. ‘And this would be your cousin from the mountains we have heard so much about.’

Tyrion smiled at him. ‘I only see one of you. Is that the royal we you are using?’

Lord Larien looked at him a little more closely, as if he had not been expecting any rejoinder from Tyrion.

‘I am Prince Tyrion,’ said Tyrion, to make the point that he did have royal blood. He bowed. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance.’

Liselle laughed. This did not please Larien. ‘Larien. Delighted,’ he said, his expression making it very clear he was anything but. ‘It has been a pleasure. Lady Liselle. I hope we can expect a dance later if your cousin does not insist on monopolising your time.’ His tone made it clear how boorish he considered this.

Gracefully, Larien bowed to them in a way that made it clear he was only really bowing to her, and then he backed away to his coterie of admirers. Liselle laughed and smiled at Tyrion admiringly.

‘There is more to you than meets the eye,’ she said. He smiled back but he was not happy. He sensed she was playing a game here and he was a counter in it. Her real interest was in Larien and he was being set up as a potential rival to generate a little jealousy and interest.

Larien said something to his female admirers. They all looked at Tyrion and laughed. He waved at them gracefully as if delighted to be the centre of attention although he knew he was somehow in trouble.

A very pretty young elf maid detached herself from the laughing group orbiting Lord Larien. She glided closer, a picture of grace in her long ball gown. ‘Lady Liselle,’ she said. ‘Why do you not introduce your beautiful companion to the rest of us? We are all ab-so-lute-ly dying to make his acquaintance.’

‘Prince Tyrion, Lady Melissa,’ said Liselle. He bowed. She curtsied. Lady Melissa looked up at Tyrion through very long lashes. Her eyes were a very pale grey.

‘You do not look much like your brother,’ she said. ‘It is hard to believe you are related. One so fair, the other so... interesting.’

‘We are twins,’ said Tyrion. ‘I am the older by a few minutes.’

‘Twins. That is so unusual. Twins are very rarely born to high elves,’ said Melissa.

‘They are very rarely born to any sort of elves,’ said Liselle.

‘Indeed. That is what I meant. It’s very, very unusual. Perhaps your parents used certain occult fertility rituals.’ She placed a strange emphasis on the last two words, and Tyrion could not help but feel that he was being insulted although he had no idea how.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘My father was a mage, of course...’

Melissa sniggered. Liselle looked torn between embarrassment, anger and a desire to laugh herself. He did not see how what he said was funny. He kept smiling smoothly though, unwilling to let them make him uncomfortable. If they wanted to play games, that was fine. He knew that once he had worked out the rules, he would win. He always did.

‘I have said something amusing,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you would care to explain to me what it was.’

They were discomfited by his response. It was not what either of them had expected. He smiled easily and stepped forwards, invading Melissa’s personal space. He was aware of exactly the effect his physical presence had on women. He leaned forwards, intimately and whispered in her ear, ‘Tell me what was so funny.’

She stepped away a little flustered. He smiled at her friends as if they had been sharing a confidence. He saw that they were all looking in this direction now. Melissa looked down over her left shoulder and then back up at him, and he was suddenly aware that he had changed the dynamic between the three of them completely.

‘I meant nothing at all,’ she murmured and retreated to her circle of friends.

Tyrion looked at Liselle and raised an eyebrow. ‘I think Melissa was hinting, rather indelicately, that your parents might have used certain forbidden magics,’ said Liselle ‘Or been involved with certain forbidden cults. Just as she was at first hinting that twins might be rare among high elves but not among dark elves. She likes to think she has a subtle wit.’

‘Why would she say that?’ Tyrion asked, genuinely puzzled. ‘About my parents.’

‘There are certain rumours,’ said Liselle. ‘There always are. It’s that kind of city.’

Tyrion decided he would need to take this matter up with his brother. Teclis always knew more about this kind of thing than his brother. ‘If you will excuse me for a few moments, I will be right back.’

He walked over to Teclis, passing Melissa and Lord Larien and their little clique. He smiled as he passed, as if there was nothing more delightful than their attention.

‘An animal,’ he heard one of the women say, as he walked by.

‘But a rather beautiful one,’ said somebody else. He thought it was Lady Melissa.

‘She said what?’ Teclis sounded annoyed. Tyrion smiled as if his brother had just made a joke. He glanced around. Lady Malene was involved in a discussion about seafaring with Iltharis and Korhien. No one was paying them any attention.

‘Hush, brother,’ said Tyrion. ‘Do not let them upset you. I suspect that it is what they want. They seem to take pleasure in that sort of thing around here. In this game it appears to be the way you score points.’

‘They are talking about our parents, Tyrion. They are hinting that they were members of the Cult of Luxury, a forbidden cult, associated with the worship of daemon gods. With the Lord of Pleasure, the One Who is not Named.’ Teclis had lowered his voice now. This was not a subject anyone wanted to be overheard talking about. This was a thing mentioned only in whispers, talked about obliquely, never confronted directly.

‘I cannot picture our father being involved in such a thing,’ said Teclis. ‘Can you?’

Tyrion tried to imagine his father anywhere else but in his workroom or reading a musty tome of magic. It was impossible. There was no way to picture him being involved in forbidden rites. It was as easy to imagine him captaining a slaving ship from Naggaroth. ‘No.’

Teclis became thoughtful. ‘And yet we are here, twins. And twins are indeed rare among elves.’

Tyrion remained quiet. He could see his brother was giving serious thought to the matter. He had always been one to try and see all sides of an issue.

‘I do not think it is possible,’ he said eventually.

‘I am glad we are in agreement then,’ said Tyrion. ‘Why would anyone spread such rumours?’

‘Malice,’ said Teclis. ‘You know what elves are like.’

‘Surely there are better targets for such malice,’ said Tyrion. ‘Our father is an old, poor elf living in seclusion in the mountains. No one gains anything by saying such things about him.’

‘Everybody always has to have a reason with you, don’t they, brother? Has it ever occurred to you they might do it for the simple pleasure of the thing.’

Tyrion could not see what that pleasure might be, but he was starting to realise that he might be unusual in that last respect.

‘You have a good heart,’ Teclis said eventually. He said it as if it was an accusation of weakness. Tyrion did not take it personally.

‘Be that as it may, I think it is safest to assume someone somewhere has a motive for spreading this rumour now. If it is not aimed at our father, it is most likely aimed at our dear, rich relatives.’

Teclis nodded. ‘Possible. Or it may just be that we are the topic of discussion of the moment and people are throwing mud in the delightful elven fashion.’

Tyrion laughed. ‘You are probably right. I may be taking this too seriously.’

‘Frankly I am surprised that you think about these things at all, brother. If it’s not to do with war or battle, you are usually not interested.’

Tyrion inclined his head in the direction of Liselle and Melissa and the small faction of extremely lovely young elf maids around them. ‘I am starting to realise there are all sorts of battlefields and all sorts of ways to compete for glory.’

‘Are you sure it’s glory you are interested in?’

‘The span of my interests is wider than you believe.’

‘I should add girls to war and battle, should I?’

‘Girls were always included. I am starting to think about politics.’

‘The reason why wars are fought – according to one of our more ancient philosophers.’

‘When diplomacy fails, wars begin,’ quoted Tyrion.

‘So you have taken to reading other things than histories of battles and legends of heroes.

‘No. Korhien told me that.’

‘Perhaps you should emulate your mentor and start reading more widely.’

‘Lady Malene told him that. Or so he said.’

‘At least he listened.’

Tyrion did not tell him he suspected Korhien was lying about that. The White Lion read much more widely than he wanted anyone to know. It suited him to be seen as the bluff and not-too-intelligent soldier but he was actually something more.

It was not surprising when he considered it. Korhien was a companion and a bodyguard to the Phoenix King. He went on diplomatic missions for him. He acted as a go-between between Finubar and the great houses and the princes. Of course, he was more than a simple soldier.

Tyrion could also see the advantage he gained by having people underestimate him. It was not too difficult to understand the advantages Korhien gained from the role he played. Perhaps he should consider doing the same.

‘You are thinking too hard about something again,’ said Teclis. ‘There is a nasty smell of burning wood.’

‘You know me too well, brother,’ Tyrion said. ‘Now if you excuse me I must return to the ladies.’

‘They look as if they are getting lonely without you.’

‘I will see what I can do to change that,’ Tyrion said. He walked back over to Lady Liselle smiling pleasantly, the very picture of a simple, true-hearted, lusty young elf with only one thing on his mind.