Blood of Aenarion - By William King Page 0,115

little peevish. Perhaps he was more affected by their departure than he wanted to let on. Realising his harshness of tone, he made a joke, ‘I could do that if I wanted to.’

Tyrion performed an elaborate courtly bow to him, still balancing on the bowsprit, ignoring the rise and fall of the ship.

‘If you were not so seasick, of course,’ he said. He too felt odd. He missed the bustle of the Emeraldsea Palace, the feeling that he was standing at the centre of the world. He even missed Liselle a little.

It felt like he was alone with his brother now, among strangers. There was a time that would not have bothered him. He had been changed by his time in Lothern. Of course they both had other things on their mind – the upcoming test, being hunted by a daemon.

‘I don’t feel quite so bad,’ said Teclis. ‘Perhaps it’s the medicine Lady Malene gave me. Perhaps it’s the sea itself. It feels somehow different from the wild outer ocean.

‘They say the storms are not so bad here, and there are not the same ocean currents,’ said Tyrion. ‘Maybe that makes a difference.’

They were talking around something. His brother would get to it sooner or later given time. ‘Would you like to take my place here?’

‘No. You make a better figurehead for a ship,’ Teclis said. ‘After all, your head is made of wood.’

A dolphin erupted from the water. It came almost level with Tyrion. He could have reached out and touched it if he wanted to. Its skin was slick with sloughing water. Its eyes looked oddly merry.

‘The audience appreciates your jokes,’ said Tyrion. He bounced on the bowsprit a couple of times to build up momentum then used its springiness to propel him into the air. He backflipped onto the deck, landing beside Teclis.

‘It’s sad you’ve been reduced to competing with dolphins,’ said Teclis, but the pain in his eyes showed that he understood who Tyrion was really competing with. No amount of magic would ever allow him to do what Tyrion had just done, or enjoy the ease his brother had. As soon as he did it, Tyrion felt guilt mingle with a natural elven malignant satisfaction.

‘Would you like to tell me what is really bothering you?’ Tyrion asked.

‘I am worried about our father. What if the daemon has already found him?’

It was a disquieting thought, imagining their old home besieged by an army of daemons. Even more disquieting was the idea that it might already have happened and they would not know about it. ‘Me too,’ said Tyrion.

‘You have another idea in that thick skull of yours, I can tell. Spit it out!’

‘I think we are being used as bait.’

‘You think that we are being sent to one of the safest places in Ulthuan to tempt N’Kari to attack us.’

‘No, I think we are being sent there to tempt N’Kari to attack it.’

‘Go on.’

‘What would happen if N’Kari attacked the Shrine of Asuryan?’

‘He would be destroyed.’

‘What if he was not? What if he escaped to try again?’

‘He would be hunted down and destroyed.’

‘And how would that affect the population?’

‘I see where you are going with this – they would unite behind Finubar. They would be outraged and they would demand action. They already are. Congratulations brother, you have been using your head for something else other than to block blows.’

‘The princes will have to unite around Finubar. His position will become stronger. Theirs will be weaker. For a time.’

‘Lothern has made you cynical, brother.’

‘No. It has merely showed me how our rulers think. Now why don’t you tell me what is really bothering you?’

Teclis looked at him for a long time. It seemed like he was not going to answer then, eventually, he gulped and said, ‘We will be tested soon. What if I am cursed? What then?’

Tyrion could see that his brother was afraid and he could understand why. He wanted so badly to be a mage, to have a life, and that might well be denied him by the decision of the priests at the Shrine of Asuryan. They would not even have to put him to death. Interring him would be just as bad.

‘You are not cursed,’ Tyrion said.

‘Look at me. Who would believe that?’

‘Being the way you are means you were unlucky, not cursed.’

‘Let me tell you something, brother,’ Teclis’s voice dropped so that only Tyrion could hear. ‘I knew I was doing wrong when I took that spellbook from Malene’s library.

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