‘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