Blood of Aenarion

chapter TWENTY-three



Urian took another sip of the very fine wine the Phoenix King had provided for his advisors. There was some subtle narcotic in it, something that sharpened the wits and blunted the edge of fatigue. Of course, it was not nearly as potent as the equivalent vintage would have been in Naggaroth, but that was not necessarily a bad thing. If these elves had been drinking that wine they would most likely have been at each other’s throats by now. He set the goblet back down on the highly polished table and listened to the equally polished debate.

By this stage of the proceedings, it was not so much about deciding what was to be done or what the problem really was. It was more about who would get to make the decisions, who would make his rivals look foolish or weak or lacking in knowledge, who would get the credit if there was any credit to be had and who would be apportioned blame in the event of anything going wrong.

It did not matter where elves came from, Naggaroth or Ulthuan, in this their councils were always alike. Of course, in Ulthuan the stakes were not as high as they were in Naggaroth. Here, the worst that was likely to happen to anyone coming out on the losing side in a debate was that they might lose face or some fractional increment of prestige. In Naggaroth, where the stakes were in favour of Malekith, there was always the stimulating possibility that death might await the loser. The Witch King did not tolerate failure and he did not love bad advice.

Listening to some of these windbags, Urian thought they might benefit from the lash of Malekith’s iron discipline. It would certainly stop them from rambling on and on and on. One thing he could safely say about the wizards of Ulthuan was that they loved the sound of their own voices.

It made him almost nostalgic for those councils where the Witch King would execute those who bored him. Like all tyrants, Malekith loved only the sound of his own voice and was intolerant of those who would steal away some small fraction of the attention that he craved. That was his rightful entitlement, Urian corrected himself ironically.

At the moment the archmage Eltharik was laying markers on the maps of Ulthuan spread out on the great table of the council chamber. He was making the point yet again that all of the attacks had taken place near waystones. He was also placing the names of those who dwelled in areas that had been attacked and were known to have been killed.

As he listened to the long list of casualties, Urian almost sat bolt upright. For a moment he thought he perceived the pattern and he listened carefully to what was being said. As the evening wore on and Eltharik continued to bore with a list of names that he had so lovingly compiled for this purpose, Urian again and again heard names that were familiar to him from his studies.

He wondered if anybody else had seen the pattern, and decided that they had not because they did not share his fascination with the heritage of his master Malekith and his very potent father.

He wondered whether he was really correct. Perhaps it was simply seeing something random. It was the nature of the mind to try and make order out of chaos, to try and see patterns in everything. That was a danger that he was well aware of. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more what he saw made sense.

He cast his mind back over the research he had been doing for his monograph on the descendants of Aenarion. Every single one of the places that had been attacked was a place where one of the Blood had dwelled and would most likely have been dwelling still had not the daemon attacked. And it seemed very likely that a creature as malicious as N’Kari would seek revenge upon the descendants of the Phoenix King who had caused him so much inconvenience as to slay him twice.

Yes, he thought, I have it. The Keeper of Secrets is killing the descendants of Aenarion one by one. He intends to wipe out the line. Urian smiled a secret smile, knowing that for once he really was ahead of every other elf in the room.

The question was, what was he going to do with this knowledge? It would be a very dangerous thing to keep this from his master. If N’Kari was killing all of the descendants of Aenarion, the Witch King himself must surely head the list of potential victims. It would be interesting to see what happened when an ancient and powerful daemon clashed with the mighty ruler of Naggaroth.

For Urian the question became whether the reward his master would give him for finding out this information would be of greater value to him than the amusement to be gained from letting the struggle happen.

Lady Malene noticed him smiling. She looked at him sourly and said, ‘Prince Iltharis, perhaps you would care to share the joke with us. I do not really see anything to smile about in this long list of the dead.’

‘Forgive me, Lady Malene, my mind is full of butterflies tonight. I was merely pleased by the taste of this fine vintage. There is indeed nothing to smile about in this catalogue of horrors. Now if you could excuse me, something has just occurred to me and I must beg leave to return to my mansion and consult with my books.’

‘Your hypothesis is an interesting one, Urian,’ said Malekith. Even over all the long leagues between the two communicating mirrors, Urian could hear the anger in his master’s voice. ‘And it concurs with some information my mother has seen fit to pass on to me.’

‘She has had one of her visions, sire?’ Urian was suddenly glad he had chosen to pass on his information to Malekith. Not to have done so and then to have the Witch King even suspect he had behaved in this fashion would be inevitably fatal.

‘Precisely so, Urian, or so she would have me believe. It is also true that my mother has her own sources within the Cults of Luxury in Ulthuan, some of them hidden even from me.’

It was typical of Malekith to speak that way, Urian thought. It implied that he knew a very great deal even as he admitted he did not know everything. Knowing his master it was most likely an accurate summation as well. Malekith was only imprecise when he wanted to be.

‘What would you have me do, sire?’ Urian asked. This was the nub of the matter.

Malekith was silent for a long moment. Urian could almost feel the force of his thoughts, the titanic brooding immensity of his calculations. He was looking at the matter from all sides, weighing advantages and disadvantages closely.

‘I think it would be useful if you were to share your theory at the next council. It would redound to your credit. And if perchance our misguided kinsfolk should teach this arrogant daemon a lesson then so much the better.’

‘As you wish, sire,’ said Urian, feeling certain as always that his master had kept his real purposes hidden and his real reasons obscure. It certainly could not be that Malekith was frightened by the possibility of the daemon coming for him.

Nothing frightened the Witch King. Urian was very certain of that. Still if anything might, the possibility of a Greater Daemon of Chaos coming to seek vengeance would surely head the list.

Urian looked around the chamber. His expression was grave but inwardly he was enjoying the commotion he had caused. He was also feeling secretly smug. It was he, after all, who had divined the daemon’s intentions, not these clever wizards, or proud scholars or even the Witch King himself.

‘I do not believe this, Prince Iltharis’ said Eltharik.

Urian smiled at him. ‘Perhaps that is because you did not think of it yourself.’

The wizard’s mouth fell open. He was obviously not used to being talked to this way, except perhaps by other archmagi.

‘It fits the facts as we know them,’ said Lady Malene. ‘And so far it is the only theory we have that does.’

‘That does not mean it is correct,’ said Belthania.

‘But if it is correct,’ said Finubar, ‘then every surviving descendant of Aenarion is in danger.’

‘Perhaps that is why Eltharik quibbles with my theory,’ said Urian. He kept his voice reasonable. ‘Perhaps he sees a way to end the problem of the Curse for all time.’

It was a possibility that had almost certainly occurred to most of the elves in the room, even if none of them had dared mention it. He thought it best to get it out into the open, and if by doing so he could cast a slur on this haughty archmage, so much the better.

‘That was not my intention at all. I merely think we should not accept an untested hypothesis without proof.’

‘How do you intend it should be tested?’ Lady Malene asked. ‘Shall we wait until every descendant of Aenarion is dead and every place where they dwell is ravaged?’

There was anger in her voice. She was obviously concerned for her nephews.

‘I can assure you that the facts are testable. I have access to all of our genealogies and I have talked with many of the people killed,’ said Urian. ‘If you check the records you will find their names and places of abode are all stored by the Priests of Asuryan and the Loremasters of Hoeth.’

Urian looked around the room. This was indisputably his area of expertise and no one was prepared to challenge him on it. He could see that many of those present were coming around to his point of view. It would indeed be too bad, he thought, if Eltharik was correct and all he was doing was projecting an imaginary pattern onto the course of events.

He looked at Finubar. The Phoenix King’s face was bland but there was something about his manner at that moment that reminded Urian of Malekith. The Phoenix King too was making his calculations, and they were not all about preserving the lives of the Blood of Aenarion. They were to do with enhancing his prestige and strengthening his position.

Finubar’s eyes snapped open and Urian found himself meeting the Phoenix King’s gaze. For a moment he felt that something else was looking out at him, something that could see into his very soul and plumb all of his secrets. He told himself that could not be so, for if Finubar really could do that, he would be ordering his White Lions to cut Urian down where he sat.

‘I think Prince Iltharis has spoken to the heart of the matter,’ Finubar said. ‘We cannot allow any of our subjects to be terrorised by this daemon, nor can we take the risk of the descendants of Aenarion being wiped out. After all, the Everqueen herself is counted among their number.’

Urian could see that got everyone’s attention. None of the elves of Ulthuan wanted to risk of anything bad happening to their beloved spiritual leader. None of them wanted to be the one who spoke out in favour of doing anything that would cause it to happen either. Urian knew his point was carried.

‘What shall we do, sire?’ Lady Malene asked.

‘The descendants of Aenarion must be protected. There is only one place we can be certain they will be beyond this daemon’s reach. The Shrine of Asuryan itself. Not even N’Kari would dare attack that place.’

Urian shot Finubar an admiring glance. He was a deep one, like Malekith. There was more going on here than met the eye, Urian felt sure of that. Finubar was using the crisis to strengthen his political position using both politics and religion. An attack on the shrine was the only thing more likely than an attack on the Everqueen to unite the whole nation behind him.

‘What about the Everqueen?’ Urian asked.

‘We cannot command her, nor will she leave Avelorn. But she must be warned so that she can take steps to protect herself.’

‘What about my nephews, sire?’ Lady Malene asked.

‘They must be summoned to our presence without further delay. I must decide whether they are in need of protection too.’

Urian already knew the answer to that.