his brother always seemed the very epitome of the devil-may-care warrior, living life to the fullest now, because tomorrow he might be dead. Teclis knew his twin was cleverer than that, and much more thoughtful.
Did Tyrion really aspire to the Phoenix Throne or was this about something different entirely? Was he simply afraid of being tied down, of assuming responsibility? Teclis doubted it was the latter. Tyrion had commanded troops in the field. He was not frightened by that sort of responsibility at all. Perhaps it was the loss of freedom of action that he feared, of being drawn into the web of social entanglements that all elves eventually found themselves ensnared in.
Both he and Tyrion owed House Emeraldsea a debt. Their kindred had aided them, supported them, paid for their education, given them their start in life. Lady Malene had seen to it that Teclis had gotten the best training at the White Tower. Both of them were aware that one day those debts would be called in and need to be repaid, his own as much as Tyrion’s.
Teclis was not troubled by that. When the time came he would worry about it. Right now he had other things to think of. Perhaps that was Tyrion’s problem. He could lose himself only in action, in doing. When he was not, he fretted. His was not a nature suited to being at rest. He craved action, distraction.
Perhaps his brother was not really suited to be Phoenix King because of that. The elves did not need another war-seeking ruler. The thought seemed disloyal but it haunted Teclis for the rest of the night.
‘I would like to look at that sword,’ Teclis said. He had entered his brother’s cabin in the dawn light. Tyrion was already awake, lying on the bunk, staring at the ceiling.
Tyrion shrugged, unfastened the sword-belt and passed it over to him. He did not seem particularly self-conscious about disarming himself in the way most warriors would. Teclis supposed it was because his brother trusted him, and also because he had no doubts he could get the weapon back if it was needed.
Teclis pulled the blade from its scabbard. For a moment, it felt as heavy to him as it really was. He had managed to restore his health by the use of alchemy but he would never be strong. He could feel Sunfang straining his fingers and his wrist. Only for a moment though, then the blade glistened, glowing as if flames were trapped within the metal, and it felt light enough even for him. Teclis smiled with pleasure.
‘So it works for you too,’ said Tyrion.
‘Of course,’ Teclis replied. ‘Very useful.’
‘It takes some getting used to,’ said Tyrion. ‘The weight and balance seems to adjust as you wield it. It’s like a living thing.’
Teclis swept the sword through the air. It left a glowing trail behind it, faintly visible even without use of his magesight. He smiled with pure pleasure.
‘Careful,’ said Tyrion. ‘I don’t want you taking my head off accidentally.’
‘It might make you smarter,’ said Teclis.
‘Think of the pain it would cause the ladies of Ulthuan.’
Teclis would have responded but he was too busy concentrating on the sword. The enchantments designed to make it easy to wield were only one part of the complex web of magic pinned in place by the runes on the blade.
There were other spells present, fascinatingly complex ones which hinted at great power. Filled with curiosity, he extended his thoughts and activated one. A jet of flame blasted from the point of the blade. Only Tyrion’s lightning reflexes kept him out of the way. He sprang to one side and the flame hit the porthole setting it to glowing.
Panicked, Teclis sought to bring it under control. The jet of flame set the bedding alight before he managed to douse the fire blazing from the point of the blade.
Tyrion threw the porthole open, picked the burning blankets up and cast them through the window. He blew on his slightly burned hands. His face was sooty, his jerkin singed.
‘How much is House Silverbright paying you for my assassination?’ Tyrion asked. ‘Tell me, I will double it.’
It was a line from a melodrama popular in the theatres of Ulthuan when they had left. He was smiling as he said it.
Teclis was anything but amused. He was embarrassed and frightened by what he had done. He could easily have hurt his twin, possibly injuring him permanently. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘I did not mean