to do that.’
Tyrion grinned. ‘If I thought you had, you would not be holding that blade. Nor would you be conscious.’
He did not say it as a threat, simply as a statement of fact. Teclis knew that it was exactly the case as well.
Tyrion spoke more softly now. ‘Learn a lesson. I saw that look of concentration come over your face, the one you get when you are lost in the contemplation of the wonders of magic and I knew you were about to do something extremely stupid. When the point of the sword started glowing I was certain of it. Was that you or the sword that did the trick with the flame, by the way?’
‘It was the sword. There is a spell woven into it. At the blade’s heart, Caledor trapped one of the elemental spirits of the volcano. It burns in there, its life force powering the blade. You can unleash part of it by contacting the spirit.’
‘Useful. Having a sword that lets you breathe fire like a dragon, I mean. Nice to know the trick is still possible. I had always thought the ancient tales exaggerated.’
‘You would not want to do it too often. You might over-draw the life force of the elemental and unravel all the magic in the sword. If you use it, you need to give the sword time to regain its health. Using its magic in that way is like an elf losing a lot of blood. It takes time to recover.’
‘You think I could learn to use it then.’ Teclis knew his brother had noted away what he was saying but as always seemed concerned only with his own purposes. They were very alike in that way.
‘Undoubtedly. It was intended for use by a warrior, not a wizard.’
‘Excellent.’ Tyrion sounded genuinely pleased. ‘How do I do it?’
‘I will endeavour to find out if you will allow me to concentrate.’
‘Just don’t concentrate too hard. I don’t want you stumbling on some new way to accidentally kill me.’
Teclis nodded. It was not a mistake he was going to make again. ‘If I do find a way to kill you, it won’t be accidental,’ he said. It came out more ominously than he meant it to. Tyrion just grinned his idiot grin, as if certain that nothing in this world could really harm him. Teclis sincerely hoped that really was the case.
He was embarrassed and angry at himself and displacing it onto his twin, which was not fair. ‘I did not mean that,’ he said.
‘I know,’ said Tyrion. ‘Just find a way to let me use the sword. I will leave you to it. Try not to set fire to the ship. It’s a long swim to Ulthuan.’
‘I can’t swim,’ said Teclis.
‘All the more reason for being careful then,’ said Tyrion as he left the cabin.
Urian stared into the mirror and waited for contact to come. How many times had he stood here over the past few centuries, he wondered? How many times had he made the strange pilgrimage through the underground labyrinth beneath the Silvermount Palace to find this place? How many more times would he have to do so?
The answers did not come. At the moment, his master did not seem to want to put in an appearance either. Urian made himself look devoted and alert. He was never sure exactly how the magical mirror worked, whether Malekith could see him even when he could not see the Witch King. Knowing the way his master’s mind worked it seemed entirely possible.
Suddenly the colours in the mirror swirled, Urian’s sardonically smiling reflection vanished to be replaced by the monstrous armoured figure of his master. He lounged like a massive, animated statue on his gigantic metal throne.
Standing beyond and behind Malekith, held on chains like a hound on a leash, was the second most astonishingly beautiful elf woman Urian had ever seen. Only Morathi was more lovely and she was not there to be compared, so it was possible this one’s beauty exceeded even hers. She looked much younger and much more innocent than Morathi, but that meant nothing. Urian was well aware of how deceptive appearances could be.
There was something about the chains on this one’s limbs that worried him, a magic that dazzled the eye and tired the brain. He let his eyes linger on her, wondering who she was. From behind Malekith’s back, she winked at him. So she could see him and was aware of who he was. That might