Blood of Aenarion

chapter TWENTY-ONE



Lord Emeraldsea looked up from his telescope. He had obviously been studying the ships in the harbour. He gestured for Tyrion to join him on the balcony. Tyrion walked over, curious why he had been summoned into the august presence this fine morning.

‘It took us a thousand years to put Finubar on the throne,’ said Lord Emeraldsea. His words took Tyrion off guard. He had expected to be lectured about the events of the previous evening, about challenging other elves to duels at family parties.

‘A thousand years?’ Tyrion said, just to see where this was going. He was exaggerating. Finubar was not that old.

The old elf obviously sensed the current of his thoughts. ‘He was the first Phoenix King ever to come from Lothern. You have no idea how difficult it was to make him that. The work began long before Finubar was born.’

Tyrion wondered why his grandfather was telling him this. Perhaps the old elf was lonely and just wanted someone to talk with, to go over old triumphs with, but somehow he doubted it. Lord Emeraldsea did not strike him as someone who did anything without a purpose.

‘Why was it difficult?’ Tyrion asked, because he felt he was expected to.

‘The princes of the Old Kingdoms objected to it, of course. They have had a monopoly on the throne since before the time of Caledor the Conqueror. Aenarion was the only one they never had a say in the choosing of.’ He glanced at the huge statue of the first Phoenix King in the harbour with something like admiration. From up here all they could see was his back. ‘It’s always been one of their own they made ruler.’

‘Why did they object to Finubar?’

‘Because he was from Lothern.’

‘Because he was not of ancient blood?’

Lord Emeraldsea laughed bitterly. ‘Finubar’s house is as ancient as that of Caledor. So is mine for that matter. We have been here since the Kingdoms were founded.’

‘But you are not of princely blood,’ said Tyrion. He did not really care about that himself, he was just trying to understand the argument. Lord Emeraldsea looked hard at him, as if attempting to discern any trace of mockery or pride in his own ancient lineage. Apparently he was satisfied with what he saw.

‘No, we are not. But nowhere is it written, nowhere did the gods dictate, that our rulers must be of that blood. In the past, some of them were not, some were simple scholars or warriors.’

‘But they were chosen by the princes.’

‘Indeed. They were chosen by councils of princes, selected from candidates put forward by them, usually because the princes felt they could control them, or because they were in the debt of one prince or another.’

Lord Emeraldsea was tampering with his faith. Tyrion had always liked to believe that Phoenix Kings were chosen from the best elves available with the best interests of Ulthuan at heart. This all sounded rather sordid. He said as much.

‘All the workings of the machinery of power look sordid when you see them from close up,’ his grandfather said. ‘And they are. But that does not mean they are a bad thing. At least we do not have Malekith as our ruler like the dark elves. And that is the point. It is why he is not our king and we still fight wars with the druchii.’

Tyrion understood at once. ‘You mean because he wanted to be the single absolute ruler like Aenarion, and because the princes would not let him be. They chose one of their own to make that point.’

His grandfather seemed gratified by the quickness of his understanding, which pleased Tyrion. He was not used to being appreciated for that. ‘In a way. Malekith wanted more power than Aenarion ever really had. Aenarion was a war leader, accepted as such because in times of danger it is necessary to have a clear line of command. Any ship’s captain can tell you that. Malekith wanted the same power as Aenarion held in war in peacetime, or rather his mother wanted that for him, or so it seemed at first. Our system is as much about preventing that sort of tyranny as it is about the exercise of power. The dark elves have a different system. You can see what it has brought them to.’

‘Surely they have a bad system because they have a bad ruler,’ Tyrion said. ‘What has happened there merely reflects the personality of Malekith.’

‘Or perhaps they have a bad ruler because they have a bad system,’ his grandfather countered. ‘There are no checks on the power of the Witch King. He does what he wants. He rules by fear and terror with a fist of literal iron. He does not need to consult with anybody, or take the interests of anyone except himself into account. I think that sort of power would make anybody mad, and believe me I have had some experience of wielding power in my life.’

‘I do not doubt it,’ said Tyrion.

‘It’s a very seductive thing,’ said Lord Emeraldsea softly. ‘To stand on the command deck and issue orders. To know everyone has to listen to you and obey and that their lives depend on it. Even when you are not on the command deck, it distorts life around you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sit at a captain’s table on a ship. Watch his officers and his crew as they eat. They laugh at his jokes, acknowledge his wisdom, burnish his pride. They have to because their own assignment of duties and their own prospects of promotion depend on his assessment of them. Power exercises its own magnetic field. Never doubt that, Prince Tyrion, and remember it if you exercise power yourself.’

‘I will,’ said Tyrion, and he meant it. He was glad of the circumstances that had forced him from his father’s house at times like this. He felt he had a lot to learn from elves like his grandfather and Korhien and Prince Iltharis. He could never have learned it if he had stayed at home.

‘I know you will, which is why I am telling you it.’

‘You were telling me about the election of Finubar,’ Tyrion said. ‘Of how difficult it was and how much it cost.’

‘It was and it did. We needed to convince a large number of the old princes that we were serious. We extended loans to some, bought up the debts of others. Gifts were given to those who could not be pressured. In the end, we still could not have done it, if it had not been Finubar’s time.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The princes recognised that the world had changed and we needed a new style of leadership, one that engaged us with the younger races and the world beyond Ulthuan. They saw that we needed allies and those allies would need to be made by someone with an understanding of those far lands. That’s one advantage that Finubar had and one advantage that we have. We tend to get the leadership we need when we need it because in the end all of our interests are conjoined. Your idealistic view of the world is not so far from the truth as it may sometimes sound, lad.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Tyrion asked.

‘Because I was thinking that the day will come when we might need a leader like you could become, a warrior who thinks.’

‘Who also happens to be a member of your family?’

‘That would be a bonus. You have everything needed, lad. An ancient line, the look of Aenarion, connections. You could go very far.’

Lord Emeraldsea paused to let his words sink in. They did, far and fast. Tyrion understood what his grandfather was offering and why. Right now, he was very far from being a Phoenix King but he had the potential. Once his grandfather was certain Tyrion understood he spoke relentlessly on.

‘Of course, you have put any chance of that at risk by allowing yourself to be provoked into this foolish duel.’

‘Larien insulted my father and my mother.’

‘He insulted all of us, and he would have been dealt with in time, trust me on that.’

Tyrion did. He realised that he would not like to be subject to any desire for vengeance on his grandfather’s part. ‘Revenge, Tyrion, is a wine which improves with age. It’s one of the things you will need to learn, if you live. If you are to end up where you deserve to be.’

‘I cannot stand by and let my father be insulted.’

‘You will need to learn how to deal with such provocations better. Even if you live, this will not be the last such you will face.’

‘I will do my best.’

‘See that you do, lad, and one last thing...’

‘Yes, grandfather.’

‘Rest assured that if Larien does kill you, my vengeance will be one of which elves will talk for a thousand years.’

‘That would almost make it worth being killed,’ said Tyrion sardonically.

‘No, it would not. Go now and rest and practise. I want you to live. You have a lot to live for.’

Tyrion departed, feeling as if he had just been offered the world, and did not quite know what to do with it.

‘Are you proud of yourself for having provoked this brawl?’ Tyrion looked at his brother, then sprawled in the chair of their shared sitting room. Tyrion could see that he was worried, and that was what was behind his brittle sarcasm.

‘No,’ said Tyrion. ‘I am not. I would have avoided it if I could. I should have avoided it. I can see that now. But I lack your quick wits.’

‘That is not true,’ said Teclis. ‘You are sharp enough when you want to be. I think perhaps you wanted this fight. I think you want the glory of being a famous duellist. I think you are making an early start on a career of violence.’

Tyrion laughed, not least because his brother was right. He could see that now. He did want this fight. He was looking forward to it.

‘It might be a very short career,’ Teclis said. ‘Larien is, by all accounts, something of an expert with the blade. He has killed almost as many elves as Prince Iltharis.’

‘You have been asking around, have you?’

‘Lady Malene told me.’

‘It seems I have become almost as much of a topic of conversation as these daemonic attacks.’

‘Don’t let it go to your head. It most likely will though. There is nothing in that vast empty cavern to stop it.’

‘I am touched by your concern,’ said Tyrion, stifling a yawn.

‘Do not let cousin Liselle keep you awake too long. You are going to need your rest, if you are to survive this thing.’

‘I will survive it, brother, never doubt that.’ It seemed to Tyrion that he was the only one who thought that way.

Tyrion lay beside Liselle on the bed. He stroked her naked back with a feather that had come loose from the pillow during their love-making.

‘That tickles,’ she said, turning to face him and looking long and hard into his face.

‘You are going to have to fight Larien tomorrow, you know,’ she said. Tyrion looked at her. She had obviously heard something he had not.

‘I already knew that,’ he said. ‘I knew it when I struck him.’

‘He cannot be bought off. He cannot be intimidated. He seems to want to go through with this fight almost as much as you do.’ She sounded thoughtful. Tyrion tickled her once again. She squirmed away.

‘You should take this very seriously,’ she said giggling. ‘My grandfather has brought a lot of pressure to bear and it has not worked. That is not usual at all. Usually what he wants, he gets.’

Tyrion did not wonder that his grandfather had not tried to dissuade him. If Tyrion withdrew it would besmirch his reputation and that of his family. He would no longer be a potential candidate for the Phoenix Throne and would become useless as far as his grandfather’s plans were concerned.

‘You do not sound unhappy that this is not the case.’

‘It will not do the old megalomaniac any harm to discover he is not a god. My concern is that you will have to pay the price for his self-knowledge. I do not want anything bad to happen to you.’

Tyrion smiled at her, sensing the insincerity of her words. She was saying them because she felt she had to, because the role she was playing in this drama demanded them. There was no real concern there. She was as self-obsessed as most elves. He could not blame her for this. They had only really known each other for a few weeks. It saddened him. He began to have some idea how lonely a place a city like Lothern was going to be.

‘Rumour has it that Larien belongs to the Cult of the Forbidden Blade,’ she said. ‘They are sworn to kill the Blood of Aenarion to prevent one of them from drawing the Sword of Khaine and ending the world.’

‘Maybe they should start with Malekith. He is a more likely candidate for that than me. I find this world quite appealing.’

‘I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,’ she said. Again, she sounded like an actress playing a role.

‘Nothing bad is going to happen to me.’

‘Death might,’ she said.

‘Well we are alive now and if I am soon to die I want to sample some more of life’s pleasures.’

He reached out for her once again.