by William King
‘Rooms have been prepared for you,’ he said. ‘Go to them.’
It was clear they had been dismissed. A servant appeared from somewhere to show them out. Tyrion had no idea how she had been summoned.
‘This is very nice,’ said Tyrion, looking around the chamber.
Very nice was something of an understatement; the apartment they had been installed in seemed as large as their father’s villa and considerably more luxurious. It had windows of polished crystal. Murals depicting sea-scenes covered the walls of the reception chamber and numerous busts of proud-looking elves stood on columns in the alcoves.
There was a small library of books, mostly about the sea and ancient lands. The furnishings were lovely and lovingly crafted. A small table of Sapherian dragonwood sat in the middle of the reception room. A number of carved chairs were placed around it. They were well-upholstered and comfortable in a way that nothing had been back home.
Tyrion had taken the bedroom that overlooked the street outside. It contained a large bed, and more books, a mirror and paintings of ships and sea battles executed by a painter with a gift for detail. The bed was massive and draped with a gauze curtain for keeping out night-biting insects. There was a balcony with a fine view of the street two storeys below. When he stood on it he had wondered if this was how the Phoenix King felt when he looked down on his subjects.
Teclis was installed in the bedroom that faced the inner courtyard. It was quieter and cooler and smaller. There was a painting of a sea-wizard summoning a wind to propel a ship across the ocean. It was the presence of this painting more than anything that had influenced his brother’s choice. Teclis lay on the bed exhausted, but his gaze was bright, and Tyrion could tell he had absorbed everything about their surroundings, and would remember it.
‘What do you think?’ Tyrion asked. He was excited. There were chambers in the apartment he had no more than glanced at. Teclis even had his own sitting room which Tyrion had not seen yet. Apparently it had a mirror in it. This was luxury indeed.
‘I think our relatives are very rich,’ Teclis replied.
‘As ever, brother, your powers of observation astonish me.’
‘I wonder why they feel so compelled to show interest in us now. They paid no attention whatsoever for nearly sixteen years.’
‘I am guessing the fact that we are summoned to the court of the Phoenix King may have something to do with it.’
‘Of course, Tyrion, but why did Lord Emeraldsea send Lady Malene and her riders and a White Lion? Why draw attention to our presence this way?’ He appeared to have been giving the matter some thought since their ride through the city.
‘Why not?’ said a girl’s voice from the door.
Both twins looked around. A young elf maiden stood there, garbed in a simple but expensive gown of greenish silk trimmed with cloth of gold. Her hair was elaborately coiffed. Her features were extraordinarily beautiful. ‘Everyone knows about you anyway, or will do soon. You are our kin. Whatever we do and however we treat you, it will be talked about.’
‘Hello,’ said Tyrion, smiling.
‘I thought it was polite to knock,’ said Teclis.
‘I thought it was impolite to be ungrateful to your hosts,’ said the girl seemingly unabashed by his tone.
‘So we are supposed to be grateful to you?’ said Teclis, caustic as ever.
‘My name is Tyrion,’ said Tyrion. ‘The rude, ungrateful one is my twin, Teclis. And you, our impolite host, would be...?’
He said it without malice and both Teclis and the girl laughed.
‘I am Liselle. I am your cousin. I came up to welcome you but the door was open and I overheard you speaking. I was wondering what you were like, so I listened.’
‘We don’t have a lot of experience with great houses, I am afraid,’ said Tyrion. He did not feel at any disadvantage because of this. He would learn his way around. But he felt the need to explain the situation so there were no misunderstandings.
‘So I gathered,’ said Liselle. She walked over and looked up at him. Her eyes were a very beautiful shade of green. Her skin was very pale, her beauty willowy. Tyrion reached out and moved a strand of her hair that had come loose as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She did not object. Teclis stared.
‘Has your curiosity been satisfied?’ he asked.
‘Not yet. I have never met twins before. You are not what I expected. I thought you were supposed to be identical.’
‘Not all twins are identical. Those are quite rare.’
‘There have been only twenty-five recorded pairs of identical twins in elven history,’ said Teclis. ‘Out of three hundred and fifteen recorded births of twins.’
It was the sort of thing he would know. His knowledge of the obscure facts of genealogy was incredible and he forgot nothing. Liselle looked less than impressed. She kept looking up into Tyrion’s eyes.
A handclap announced another visitor. Tyrion saw Lady Malene standing in the doorway. ‘Liselle, pray give our guests some time to settle in before disturbing them with your curiosity.’
‘She was not disturbing us,’ said Tyrion.
‘Ah, but she will,’ said Lady Malene. ‘Liselle, if you would be so kind as to leave us alone for a moment. There are things I need to talk about with your cousins.’
‘Yes, mother,’ said Liselle, departing with good grace.
‘What is your wish, mistress?’ the chief cultist asked. He was a tall, stately elf of considerable dignity. He had emerged from the group of twenty or so naked elves gathered in the grove of pleasure.
N’Kari wore the form of a beautiful elf maiden with hooves instead of feet and small curling horns emerging from her head. Her appearance and sensuous aura caused lust and a desire to obey in dedicated followers of the Lord of Pleasure.
And these were certainly all elves who followed the Way of All Pleasures. She had sensed their corruption from afar, smelled their decadence like the odour of a rich and corrupt night-blooming orchid. She had surprised them and filled them with wonder and terror by materialising at their orgiastic rites to celebrate their devotion to Slaanesh.
These were some of those who had been summoned by N’Kari’s original dream-spell who had made their way into the mountains seeking to answer its call. N’Kari smelled her spell on them like the last lingering remnants of some old perfume. Their rite had already provided a morsel of sustenance, and before this night was over they would provide a great deal more.
N’Kari studied their leader closely in the light of the moons. ‘I require your obedience,’ she said.
She sensed their confusion. These elves had been playing a dangerous game, performing rites of pleasure for their own gratification, thinking that there was no price to be paid, that nothing would come in answer to their summons. They had discovered they were wrong and they were at once exalted and terrified by what they had done.
‘We are your slaves, mistress. We live only to abase ourselves at your feet and give our lives for your slightest pleasure.’ At the moment, the elf believed this. He had no choice under the impact of N’Kari’s presence. The nodding of heads, licking of lips and shining bright eyes of the rest of the cultists told of their agreement.
N’Kari looked upon them and found everything to her liking. She needed an army to work her vengeance, and here she had the core of one. It was a small start to be sure but it was a beginning on which she could build, and she would make the elves of Ulthuan tremble when they heard her name before it was over.
‘What is your name?’ N’Kari asked.
‘Elrion, great mistress.’
‘And your purpose?’
‘I exist only to obey you, great mistress,’ said Elrion.
‘I know,’ replied N’Kari. ‘Come now. We have matters to attend to nearby. There are those I have ancient business with.’
chapter eleven
‘You are in a different world now,’ said Malene. She glanced around to make sure the door was shut and sp
oke a Word. Tyrion felt as if the lightest of breezes had passed over him. Teclis cocked his head to one side, suddenly intensely curious. ‘There are some things you need to know and some words that need to be spoken plainly.’
‘And you are going to speak them,’ said Teclis.
‘I am, and I will thank you not to use your haughty tone with me, Prince Teclis. I like you but I expect you to treat me with the same respect I extend to you. We are not on the ship any more, not on a journey. Things are more formal here.’ She sounded almost as if she regretted that fact.
Teclis looked surprised, not so much at her manner but by the admission she liked him. He was not used to that. He smiled, suddenly looking very young and intensely vulnerable.
‘You are guests in this house. I would ask you, Tyrion, to remember that. Some of your cousins are at a dangerous age and you are a very handsome youth. I am sure you will find plenty of opportunities for amorous adventure outwith the confines of your immediate kinswomen.’
‘I’ll try and remember that,’ he said.
‘You would do well to do so. Your grandfather does not like the harmony of his household disturbed.’
‘We did not ask to be here,’ said Teclis. He was back to his usual sullen self now.
‘No, but the Phoenix King requested the pleasure of your company and here you are. We must now see to it that you are suitably prepared for entering the royal presence.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We must see that you do not disgrace us in his presence.’
‘You mean to teach us manners?’ There was an edge to Teclis’s voice. He sounded as if he was getting ready to unleash his temper again.
‘I intend that you should learn protocol.’
‘I am already familiar with how one addresses the Phoenix King,’ Teclis said with superlative arrogance.
‘There is a difference between knowing what to say and knowing when and how to say it.’
‘On formal occasions he is addressed as Blessed of Asuryan. Under some circumstances, most notably when haste might be required, he is to be called Chosen One, or simply Chosen. On high holy days, he is known as Fireborn. The last sentence of any address on such days is always: Watch over us Vessel of the Sacred Fire. Normally a simple sire will do if you are addressed in conversation.’
Lady Malene looked impressed. ‘How many different forms of address are there?’
‘Twenty-one. Shall I recite them?’
‘No. I am sure you will astonish me with that phenomenal memory of yours. Tyrion, can you match your brother’s scholarship?’
Tyrion was sure she already knew the answer to that, but she was making a point.
‘I am afraid not. I have never had much of a gift for it,’ he said.
‘You will need to learn them. You will need to know the titles of all the officials at court. You will need to know how to respectfully address his Sacred Majesty under every circumstance that might arise. You will need to learn the same things concerning the Everqueen for that matter.’
Tyrion groaned. ‘When am I ever likely to meet the Everqueen?’
‘Don’t worry, brother, I will help you,’ said Teclis.
‘That’s what I am worried about,’ said Tyrion. ‘It will be as much fun for the both of us as me teaching you how to use a sword.’
‘There are times when the right words and the right manner are as useful as being able to use a blade,’ said Lady Malene. ‘And they can be as deadly under the right circumstances.’
She sounded very serious. Tyrion looked abashed. She laughed.
‘Be grateful you did not grow up surrounded by this protocol, Prince Tyrion. You at least have had some time in which to be free of it.’ She sounded as if she envied him, which surprised Tyrion.
After a moment, she said, ‘There are some clothes in the wardrobes. They will be a poor fit but wear them for the moment. In a few minutes, the house tailors will visit you and see you are more suitably accoutred. Your grandfather wishes you to be dressed as is fitting for your station. So do I, for that matter.’
After she had gone Tyrion looked in the wardrobe. The most beautiful clothes he had ever seen hung there. He felt almost embarrassed when he put them on. Looking at himself in the mirror was like looking at a stranger.
There was another knock on the door. The tailors had arrived.
The woman stared at Tyrion and then walked around him, studying him with intense, more-than-professional interest. She walked over to where Teclis sat and gestured for him to stand. She nodded to herself twice, made some notes in a wax tablet with her stylus and then produced a cord of silk in which regular knots had been set. She used this to measure Tyrion’s chest size, his waist and the length of his leg. She nodded approvingly then went over to Teclis and did the same thing although she seemed less pleased with the results. All of this having been done, she left the room.
A male elf entered this time, placed a piece of parchment under each of Tyrion’s feet, and drew a line around them in charcoal. He too measured Tyrion’s thigh and ankle girth, did the same for Teclis and then left.
A jeweller arrived and used small copper rings to take the measure of their fingers, and copper torques to take the measure of their necks, and copper bracers to take the measure of their wrists. He too made notes in a wax tablet and departed.
A girl arrived, sat them down, and then began to cut their hair with a long razor and some scissors. When she had finished Tyrion studied himself in the mirror. His hair was no longer long and unkempt. It was combed out and thick and looked much better.
Teclis’s dark hair was cut close in a way that revealed his fine pointed ears and enhanced his gaunt, sallow features. He looked almost handsome, or would have if there had been more weight on him. The moon shone in through the window and in its light there was something skeletal about him, something sinister. Its gleam caught in his eyes and they seemed for a moment to burn with internal fire. Just for an instant his brother looked like a stranger. It was the haircut and the unfamiliar clothes and setting, Tyrion told himself, but could not quite believe it.
Teclis was different now. The journey, the city, the meetings with strangers, the promise of being taught magic had all changed him incrementally. Tyrion found it easy to imagine that some day the sum total of all these tiny changes would make his brother into a complete stranger. It also occurred to him that the same thing might be happening to him, in Teclis’s eyes, although he himself felt no different.
‘You have an odd expression on your face, brother,’ said Teclis.
‘I was just thinking the same about you,’ said Tyrion, making a joke of it.
‘I was thinking that one day all of the small changes we undergo might make us into total strangers.’
Tyrion did not need to tell him that he had been having exactly the same thought. He knew then that his twin already understood that. Teclis had always been more perceptive about these things than he.
‘It will take more than a change of clothes and a change of hair-style to do that,’ said Tyrion.
‘Those are just the start,’ said Teclis. ‘They have already started trying to teach us manners, how to behave, what we must do. They want to remake us for their own purposes.’
‘The trick is going to be finding out what those purposes really are,’ said Tyrion.
‘I am sure they will tell us in their own good time.’
Tyrion was not at all sure of that. Still, at least they were safe for the moment. It did not look like their lives were in any immediate danger.
Looking out of the window, Lady Fayelle thought it was a lovely night. The moon was bright. The stars were shining. Unable to keep still she paced across her room. She was excited. Soon she was to be married. Soon she would be leaving her father’s home forever. She was saddened by the prospect of leaving her aged parent alone in his gloomy old palace.
She had asked him to come and live with her new husband in Lothern. He had refused, saying he was too old
and too set in his ways to move now. And he really loved this old place. She understood that. He had spent most of his long life here, had raised his children and buried his wife within its grounds. And it was all that was left to him, that and his pride in his ancient lineage.
Sometimes she thought he was a little too proud. He thought her new husband beneath her. His kin were merchants from Lothern and his family had been mere freeholders while her ancestors had ruled a kingdom and married into the Blood of Aenarion himself.
Her father was proud but you could not eat pride, nor repair ancient buildings with it nor pay the required number of retainers unless they too were like you, old and with nowhere else to go.
Her father understood these things, she knew, but he was too set in his ways to change. It had fallen on her to improve the fortunes of her house by marrying well, and to tell the truth, she had found it no hardship. She took out her locket and opened it and stared at his picture. Moralis, her husband-to-be, was as good and kind an elf as one could hope to meet, and he was handsome too.
More than that he brought a dash of the swashbuckling adventurer with him, for he was a sea captain and had travelled to many far places while helping make his family’s fortune. She liked him, and he liked her, and there was love there, which was not something she had ever thought to find, growing up as she had in this remote place far from the centres of civilisation.
She counted it a blessing of Isha that he had bought the land beside their estate. It had proven even more of a blessing that he had taken to her when he had first seen her.
She thought she heard a noise somewhere in the gloom. She went to the window and looked out into the night once more. She could not see anything.
She was not frightened. There was nothing really threatening in this part of Ulthuan. No wolves prowled here. No monsters strayed down from the mountains. No marauders had made it this far inland in a couple of centuries. The worst things she had ever heard about were some rumours of the spread of the old cults of luxury in the area, and those were most likely just Elrion and his friends playing at being decadent, and frightening themselves with the thought of the old dark magics.
