‘No, but it would really give you something to complain about.’
‘How long before I feel the effects?’
‘Give it an hour to start working and then a couple of hours after that to take effect. By that time you should be dead.’
Teclis shot her a black look.
‘You are not the only one with a dark sense of humour, Prince Teclis,’ she said.
Teclis laughed. He was already starting to feel better.
The sitting room was quiet and the fire was still on. Tyrion was amazed. It had burned the whole time the visitors had been here. Such extravagance was unheard of in his experience. Their father stood as far away from it as possible, in a corner of the room, as if he felt too guilty to enjoy the heat. Tyrion felt pleasantly tired. His muscles ached. He had spent all day sparring with the wooden swords, first with Korhien and then with the warriors of Lady Malene’s retinue. He had loved it. He felt like he was finally getting to do what he wanted to do.
Teclis sat near the fire, wrapped in a blanket. He looked more alert than he had in quite some time. It looked like he was passed the crisis of his latest illness and would live. The medicine Lady Malene had prepared for him seemed to have done its work.
Tyrion was glad. He went and stood beside his brother, hands outstretched towards the heat. The embers burned orange amid the ashes, and small blue flames danced over them. Here and there they took on an alchemical green tinge as something strange within them, some trapped magic perhaps, caught fire.
‘You are going to Lothern with your aunt,’ Father said.
‘Both of us?’ Tyrion asked.
‘Both of you.’
‘Why?’ Teclis asked. He always wanted to know why.
‘Because you must present yourself before the Phoenix King. It is an honour that those of our line have long had to endure.’
‘Did you?’ Teclis asked.
‘Most assuredly.’
‘What will happen?’ Tyrion asked.
‘You will see his Exalted Highness, and he will be very gracious to you and tell you how much Ulthuan owes to those of our blood. Then, most likely, you will be taken aside and sent to be examined by a cabal of sorcerers and priests and seers to determine whether your lives have been bent by the Curse. For this you will be sent to the Shrine of Asuryan.’
‘They did this to you?’ Tyrion asked.
‘Yes. They do it to every descendant of Great Aenarion. There are all sorts of prophesies concerning those of our blood, some of them good, some of them bad. Sometimes, the seers present have visions concerning the future of those before them and speak as the compulsion of prophesy comes upon them.’
Tyrion did not much like the sound of this. He pictured something vaguely shameful and sinister here, and he did not like the idea of being singled out in such a way because of who he was, and from whom he was descended. Teclis, on the other hand, was fascinated. He had known a little about the process from his reading, of course, but his father had never spoken of it.
‘Do they cast spells?’ he asked.
‘Divinations of all sorts,’ said father. ‘From the simplest to the most complex. I did not recognise them at the time but I came to know what they were latterly.’
‘Was there any prophecy made about you?’ Tyrion asked.
‘They said I was marked for greatness by fate,’ said their father sourly. He gestured around the barren sitting room in the cold and tumbledown mansion. His expression was ironic. ‘They said my children would cause me great pain.’
Tyrion’s face fell. Teclis took on the blank expression he always thought masked his feelings. Their father laughed.
‘You did. Your mother died the night you were born and that was the greatest pain of my life. But you have never caused me any other pain, either of you, only sleepless nights. You have both been good boys as far as you are capable.’
It was not exactly a resounding declaration of pride or love. Their father could not bring himself to look at them while he talked. Instead he kept staring at the portrait of their mother above the fireplace.
‘I am not sorry,’ he said very quietly and almost apologetically, and it took Tyrion a long moment to realise that he was talking to her about them being born. The curious idea struck him that Prince