Blood of Aenarion - By William King Page 0,94

to the layman. It also requires that we be strong-willed and self-centred.’

‘I follow you. Where does the eccentricity come from?’

‘A lot of time spent isolated will make even the most balanced seem eccentric and give them a chance to develop strange notions and habits. And I think there is something about exposure to the winds of magic and the practice of the Art itself that lends itself to mental instability.’

‘So I can look forward to even more isolation in the future,’ he tried to make it sound like a joke, but he was feeling somewhat sorry for himself. Tyrion had enthusiastically thrown himself into a quadrille and was dancing with a group of smiling young elves. He said something that made them all laugh.

‘No – you will find comradeship with other mages, if you do not alienate too many of them. They are the ones you will have most in common with – shared interests, shared knowledge and shared needs.’

‘Well that is something to look forward to at least,’ he said.

‘There is no need to mock, Prince Teclis.’

‘As if I would ever do that to you, Lady Malene.’

Tyrion was dancing with their cousin now, the lovely Liselle. He said something. Liselle smiled. She said something. He smiled. How effortless he made it look, and yet when Teclis tried such things, it never worked. People did not respond to him the way they did to his brother.

At moments like this, Teclis thought he would be willing to give up the Art to be able to make a girl smile the way Tyrion could. The feeling never lasted more than a moment though. The Art would make him master of his world eventually. He felt sure of that.

Tyrion drew Liselle away from the dance floor. Her bare arm was warm beneath his fingers and he felt the erotic spark pass between them. She smiled at him, glanced at the direction of Lady Malene and Teclis and said, ‘Your brother is watching us most intently.’

‘He is watching you most intently,’ said Tyrion. ‘He is captivated by your beauty. As what elf would not be?’

‘He is very odd.’

‘In what way?’

‘The way he stares so. He is intense and cold and calculating. You feel as if he is measuring you and finding you wanting.’

‘I have never found him to be like that.’

‘He thinks he is cleverer than us.’

‘He is cleverer than us. Take my word for it.’

‘You always stand up for him, don’t you?’

‘He is my brother.’

‘And that is reason enough to take his part? Against anyone?’

‘If I do not take his part, who will?’

‘My mother will. She likes him, I can tell.’

‘Then I like her,’ Tyrion said, hoping Liselle would take the hint.

‘Your brother is a cripple. Has he always been so?’

Tyrion did not like the direction this conversation was taking at all. ‘Would you care to dance once more?’

‘They say that among the dark elves cripples are exposed upon the mountainside as babies, to prevent them being a burden on the rest of the community.’

Tyrion stared at her. ‘And you think that is a good idea?’

‘Our ancestors used to do the same, before the Sundering.’

‘Those were crueller times. They had just fought a war against the forces of Darkness. In many places they still were doing so.’

‘I have heard people say that we are becoming weak and decadent.’

‘You think that becoming more like the dark elves will make us less decadent?’ He smiled, hoping she would see the joke. ‘Perhaps we should try being more like dwarfs to make ourselves less stubborn.’

‘There are some who say we became decadent during the reign of the last Phoenix King. They hope that Finubar will bring back elven boldness and elven strength. He is a seafarer and an explorer, not a decadent conjurer.’ She spoke with obvious pride. Finubar was of Lothern. He exemplified the virtues of her people.

‘It is not necessary to denigrate one person in order to praise another.’

She laughed at his serious words as she had not laughed at his joke. ‘There are times when I think you cannot be an elf, dear cousin, but some sort of changeling. There does not seem to be much malice in you.’

‘I don’t think you need to be malicious to be an elf either.’

‘Then you have a lot to learn, my dear Tyrion. You are in Lothern now. It’s a nasty, vicious place.’

He glanced around at all the rich people, in all their fine clothes, eating their fine food and drinking their fine wine. ‘Yes, I

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