by William King
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.
CHAPTER TWENTY-four
‘You have been summoned to the Palace,’ said Lady Malene. ‘An escort awaits you.’
‘To see that we do not run away,’ said Teclis.
‘Do not even joke about that,’ said Malene. ‘I suggest you treat this interview with the utmost seriousness and the utmost circumspection. Your lives may depend on it.’
‘Surely our lives depend on whether Finubar believes we are under the influence of the Curse of Aenarion?’ said Teclis. ‘I doubt our behaviour has anything to do with it.’
Tyrion wondered at the obtuseness of his twin. Could he not see that Malene was worried about them, and that she was trying to say something, anything, that might let her believe they had some control over their fate. Not that it mattered. Teclis was a realist in this.
‘Run along and put on your court clothes. Do not do anything to disgrace us,’ said Malene.
Teclis smiled. ‘So that is what you are really worried about.’
Tyrion wondered how anybody so clever could also be so stupid.
‘Yes,’ said Lady Malene. ‘That is all I am worried about.’
Her tone gave the lie to her words and even Teclis saw it then.
‘I would do nothing to disgrace you, lady,’ he said with a courtliness that compensated for his earlier tactlessness. Tyrion smiled. His brother was still sometimes capable of surprising him.
As they approached the throne room, Korhien came towards them. He was all seriousness, and very impressive in his court uniform and his lionskin cloak. He stood before them, barring their way with his axe. He looked grim. Tyrion suddenly had a sense of what it would be like to face him on the battlefield. He would be a terrifying opponent.
‘I must ask you to remove your weapons, princes, and place them in my keeping. On this day of all days, you may not enter the royal presence armed.’
It was what they were expecting. Teclis had even been given a sword for the occasion; otherwise he would have nothing to surrender. They placed their weapons in the racks that Korhien indicated as he stood watching them.
‘You will enter the presence one at a time, in order of age. Prince Tyrion you will go first. Prince Teclis I must ask you to be seated in the attendance chamber over there.’ Korhien opened the door to attendance chamber first, and Teclis went within.
Then he opened the door to the audience chamber and Tyrion was ushered into the presence of the Phoenix King.
Tyrion found himself facing a tall, powerful-looking elf, narrow of face and keen of eye. He was dressed in what at first appeared to be a simple robe of Cathayan silk but which when studied revealed itself to be woven in patterns of subtle complexity.
The elf smiled in a friendly fashion. His manner was open and relaxed but there was something different about him. He seemed somehow distanced from the elves around him, much more remote. And he seemed larger, although not in any physical sense. It was as if he was somehow more real.
Tyrion stood there caught in a web of complex emotions and reactions. He was face to face with the Phoenix King, in the presence of someone who was more than merely an elf, who was not quite mortal.
Something looked out from behind Finubar’s eyes. It was not unfriendly, bore him no malice, was even concerned for his welfare in a very distant fashion, but it was not something like him. It was an entity of an entirely different species.
Finubar smiled and the spell broke. Whatever had looked at Tyrion was gone, swift as the flickering dance of a flame. Now he was facing a friendly-seeming, young-looking elf who studied him with an unfeigned interest.
‘You would be Prince Tyrion,’ he said. The voice was rough and much deeper than Tyrion had expected. It had odd accents in it, a twang picked up in distant places and an air of authority of the sort you picked up on the command deck of ships.
‘Yes, sire,’ said Tyrion. ‘I am. I am here to be tested for the Curse of Aenarion.’
Finubar laughed. ‘I do not do the testing myself, Prince Tyrion. The priests and the mages do it. My part of the process is simply to look at you and recommend a course of action. It is one of the gifts of the Phoenix King. I can see when certain elves are of... consequence. I can tell for example that you are very strongly of the Blood of Aenarion and I will need to send you to the seers. I suspect the same will prove true of your twin.’
Tyrion felt some unease, facing the tranquil gaze of the Phoenix King. Once more he got that sense of remoteness, but it was of a different type. Finubar seemed unaware of the fact that he might well be condemning Tyrion and his brother to death. Or perhaps he simply did not care.
Was it passing through the flame that had done this, Tyrion wondered, or was it simply the responsibility of kingship?
‘May I ask how you can tell, sire?’
‘You may ask – but I am damned if I can tell you.’ Finubar laughed and the simple sea captain was back. ‘I just know, or rather the part of me that was touched by the flame knows and it deigns to communicate its knowledge to me. I can see that there is something about you that is different from others. I could tell you were of the Blood. It was the same in the old days when I was a captain on my father’s ships. I could tell when a storm would be a bad one or whether the wind was about to change suddenly.’
‘I can see patterns on a chessboard that tell me how the game will play out, most of the time.’ Tyrion did not know what it was that made him say that just then. He just felt the urge to communicate with this remote but not unsympathetic figure. He sensed they had something in common and it was something to do with his gift.
Or perhaps he was simply trying to let Finubar know that in him the Curse had come in a harmless form.
‘That must be a very useful gift. I wish I had it. I would not lose nearly so much gold playing against my White Lions.’
‘You lose gold playing against your bodyguards?’ Tyrion was so astonished by the confession that he forgot to use the honorific. The Phoenix King did not appear to notice or to care.
‘Oh yes. I bet on their play sometimes too. Korhien t
ells me you can beat him. That is quite unusual. You and I must try a game or two sometime. I am curious about this gift of yours. I understand it is not the only one you possess. Korhien tells me you are a natural with weapons, and by this he does not mean merely gifted.’
‘He is very kind, sire,’
‘No, he is not, Prince Tyrion. He is a warrior and a killer and that is not something you should ever lose sight of.’
‘I meant it as a figure of speech, sire.’
‘I know you did. I chose to misunderstand it to make a point.’ Finubar smiled as he said it, but Tyrion was suddenly on guard. He sensed that there was more going on here than he understood, that he was in deeper waters even than he had thought.
‘Good, Prince Tyrion. You have a brain as well as a gift for the blade. That is a useful combination of talents in a warrior. I can always use elves who possess them in my service.’
Tyrion wondered if he was being offered future employ as a White Lion or whether Finubar had something else in mind. Perhaps Tyrion was merely misunderstanding him.
‘Assuming I pass the tests your priests put me through, sire.’
‘They are not my priests, prince. They serve Asuryan.’
‘You are his chosen representative, sire.’
‘I fear you have a lot to learn about politics and elven priestcraft, Prince Tyrion.’
‘I am sure you are correct, sire.’
‘I wish more of my subjects shared your belief,’ said the Phoenix King. Again he smiled, but Tyrion sensed that he was not entirely joking. Of course, there were those who opposed him. There always were. It was the nature of asur politics.
‘What do you think of the rumours of this new terror besetting our land?’
The sudden change of subject threw Tyrion. He considered for a moment.
‘You mean that the daemon N’Kari, Aenarion’s enemy, has returned to take vengeance on the elves?’
‘Precisely so.’
‘I thought the daemon slain by Aenarion, sire.’
‘You think it unlikely to be it then?’
‘I do not know enough about these matters to venture an opinion, sire.’
‘And you are unsure why I have asked you for one and are too polite to say.’
‘Something like that, sire.’
‘You must never be slow to voice your opinion to me, prince. A Phoenix King needs those around him who speak the truth as they see it. It is the only way he keeps any grip on reality at all.’
‘I will bear that in mind, sire.’
‘Well, bearing that in mind, what do you really think in answer to my original question?’
‘I think it unlikely that anyone would call himself by the name of Keeper of Secrets as a jest, sire, although there are some who would take the name of one of our ancient enemies merely to frighten us.’
‘And yet...’
‘And yet my heart tells me that it is not the case. I believe it quite possible the daemon has returned to take vengeance on the elves, sire.’
‘I am afraid my advisors agree with you, prince. N’Kari has returned to slay all of the Blood of Aenarion. He has already made a very good beginning.’
A thrill of horror and concern passed through Tyrion. ‘What about my father, sire?’
‘A messenger will be dispatched to warn him. One he will trust and hopefully listen to.’
‘Korhien Ironglaive, sire?’
Finubar nodded. ‘They have been friends for a very long time.’
‘And what of myself and my brother, sire? What is there we can do?’
‘Stay alive, Prince Tyrion. And to that end you will be dispatched to the safest place in Elvendom. The Shrine of Asuryan. If there is any place that we can put you beyond the reach of the daemon, it is there.’
‘It is the holiest spot in Ulthuan. Do you really need to send us so far, sire?’
‘You were going to have to go there anyway, Prince Tyrion. You are of the Blood of Aenarion and that is where you will be tested for the Curse. We are killing two birds with one stone, you see.’
‘I understand.’ A courtier approached the Phoenix King and murmured something in his ear.
‘If you will excuse me, Prince Tyrion,’ Finubar murmured.
Tyrion understood that he had been dismissed.
Teclis studied Finubar with just as much interest as the Phoenix King studied him. He might never get another chance of doing it so he might as well make the most of the opportunity.
He saw a tall, athletic elf with an air that reminded him of every other Lothern merchant or captain he had so far encountered. Finubar had that air of command they all had and that air of brisk informality. His garb was much richer, of course. His robes were luxurious and formal, subtly understated but the finest in the lands. They were in keeping with this chamber.
Finubar was armed, even though Teclis was not. There were other White Lions in the room, at a discreet distance, just out of earshot of a murmured conversation, close enough to spring to Finubar’s rescue in the unlikely event of Teclis attempting an assassination. They were taking no chances. He understood why. There had been numerous attempts on the lives of Phoenix Kings in the course of asur history, all of them blamed on Malekith and the Cults of Luxury. Teclis was inclined to wonder whether that was a convenient fiction that covered up other conspiracies.
It was not just the external appearance of Finubar that interested Teclis though. It was the fact that he had been touched by a Power. Teclis could sense that about him. It was well concealed, hidden deeply in fact, but it was there. Finubar’s whole body was saturated with magical energy of a very particular kind. Teclis did not doubt for a moment that if he entered the chambers of the Sacred Flame at the Shrine of Asuryan he would sense the same power there.
He was not entirely sure what the magic of the Flame did for Finubar. It was, of course, a measure of the god’s blessing, but it seemed unlikely that so much energy could have been imprinted on him for only that effect. He warned himself to be careful and not make assumptions.
Who knew why the gods did anything?
‘You are very quiet, Prince Teclis,’ said Finubar. His voice was friendly, his manner open, and yet Teclis sensed something strange here. It was as if Finubar were acting a part of someone attempting to put somebody else at ease without really having a connection with them at all.
‘I am sorry, Chosen One,’ said Teclis.
‘I trust you are not going to tell me you were overwhelmed by my presence,’ said Finubar. There seemed to be genuine warmth in the smile now.
‘No, Chosen One, I am not.’
‘You see the Flame, don’t you? And please spare me the title. I do not often have private conversations these days. Call me Finubar at least while we are in this chamber or sire if you must.’
‘Yes, I see the Flame,’ Teclis said, wondering how Finubar knew. ‘It glows through your flesh.’
‘Loremasters and archmages and those very sensitive to magic see that. You are not yet one of the first two so I must assume that you are the latter.’
‘I always have been.’
‘So I have been told. I have also been told you are extraordinarily gifted at magic. Perhaps after you return from the shrine you will have the chance to study it.’
‘I am going to the shrine then, to be tested for the Curse?’
‘You and your brother both.’
‘You think we may be cursed then?’
‘The Flame thinks you need to be tested. I merely relay the message.’
‘What is it like?’ Teclis asked. Another elf might not have dared ask, but he was curious.
‘It is not at all what I expected before I passed through the Flame,’ said Finubar. ‘It is not entirely a comfortable thing to spend your life in the presence of a living god. More I am not allowed to say.’
Teclis did not ask who did not allow him that. Finubar had already answered.
‘When do I go the shrine, sire?’
‘At once. You
r relatives have been notified. A ship waits for you at the docks. It will take you to the shrine at once.’
‘Is it so urgent we be tested?’
‘You are being sent there for your own protection. We have reason to believe a daemon is hunting you, for all the Blood of Aenarion.’
‘Is that why N’Kari has returned?’
‘My advisors think it likely. I see no reason to doubt them. It is unlikely even a Keeper of Secrets will seek you out within the reach of the Flame. It will find its fires very hot if it does. Believe me I have had some experience of the process.’
‘I thank you for your kindness, sire,’ said Teclis.
‘You have my blessing and my leave to depart,’ the Phoenix King replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-five
‘Oh no, another ship,’ said Teclis. The twins stood on the dock at Lothern’s northern harbour. It was neither as busy nor impressive as the Great Harbour. It lacked the variety too – the only ships in view were asur vessels. No others were allowed on the waters of the Inner Sea.
‘I sometimes doubt you are my sister’s son,’ said Lady Malene. ‘She was a true daughter of Lothern, as at home on the water as on land.’
Teclis looked oddly at her. He did not seem to know quite what to say or quite how to take this parting. Tyrion suspected that he had become accustomed to her company and that, unusually for his twin, Teclis trusted her. ‘I take after my father. He always preferred the mountains.’
‘I know,’ said Malene. There was a world of wistfulness in her voice. Tyrion suspected she was thinking of the distant place in which her sister had died.
Tyrion was surprised when his twin walked forward and with great awkwardness hugged her. She hugged him back.
‘We will come back,’ Teclis said.
‘Be sure that you do,’ said Lady Malene. ‘You still have a great deal to learn.’
‘When you come back we shall see about making a warrior out of you, not a duellist, doorkeeper.’ Korhien said. His manner was joking and jovial, a soldier who had said many goodbyes. Tyrion could see he was champing at the bit to get away as well though. He needed to bring a warning to their father.