is due to happen soon.’ Teclis took out the drawings he had made and showed them to her.
‘It does not strike me as chance that this sort of thing would fall into your hands right now,’ said Malene. She looked thoughtful. ‘I know very little of slann pictoglyphs, otherwise I would offer to help.’
She sounded wistful, almost as if she were looking for an excuse to get involved in some magical research again.
‘I need to know who the best person to discuss the matter with would be,’ Teclis said.
‘High Loremaster Morelian is the greatest expert we have in the slann languages.’
‘I suspected as much but it is nice to have that confirmed. Do you think he would help me?’
‘He’ll probably tear your arm off trying to get those out of your grip. A new and authentic slann text – it’s the sort of thing he dreams about. I’ve known him since he was my tutor at the tower. The slann have always been an obsession with him.’
‘I am familiar with the type,’ said Teclis thinking of his father. Malene could obviously tell the way his thoughts were running.
‘Do not confuse Morelian with Prince Arathion. You do not get to be High Loremaster without being perceptive, ambitious and politically minded.’
‘I know him by sight, of course, but not that well.’
‘He will know you too, but, of course, I will write. It can’t do any harm.’
As the head of House Emeraldsea, his aunt was one of the richest and most influential women in Ulthuan, a personal friend of the Phoenix King. Since she was a mage, she was also a powerful ally of the White Tower at court. Again, almost as if she could read what he was thinking, she said, ‘I see you are becoming quite political yourself.’
‘I have a long way to go before I can match my brother.’
‘You’ll get there in the end.’
‘I am not sure I want to.’
‘You’ll be High Loremaster one of these days. I am sure of it.’
‘It is not an honour to which I aspire.’
‘Now you really do sound like your brother,’ Malene said. Teclis wondered what she meant by that.
The shores of Ulthuan glittered on the horizon. Malekith saw the shimmering haze in the air that he remembered so well. It was the glow of magic that hovered perpetually over the island continent and had done ever since the time of the Archmage Caledor. The whole mighty fleet cruised along the coast now, heading for their goal.
Beside him his generals looked grim or pleased or filled with anticipation according to their temperament. Some of them directed lustful bemused looks towards N’Kari, who now wore the form of a lustrously beautiful elf maiden. Her shackles in particular seemed to focus their attention. Malekith easily guessed which direction their thoughts were taking.
Slaves walked through the chamber bearing platters of food and drink, their eyes downcast submissively as they attempted to avoid drawing any attention to themselves. Today it worked. The assembled nobles paid them no more attention than they would any other piece of furniture.
There was a certain febrile festival atmosphere about the command chamber. All of those present knew that war was about to begin and that it was going to be hard, but all of them also believed they were going to win. None of them knew the full extent of his preparations but all of them knew him, and they knew he would not have launched this attack unless he was utterly certain of victory.
They sipped drugged wine and smiled and calculated spoils. A few of them discussed reclaiming ancestral estates that had been lost millennia ago.
Malekith deliberately said nothing to damp down the conversations about reward. He wanted to foster this atmosphere of feverish competition and greed. His lack of intervention was duly noted by those who had spent a lifetime watching him for the slightest clues as to his whims. He knew that eventually the message would spread to all present in the fleet.
Sometimes he noticed the sorcerers present turn their gazes on N’Kari for a moment. The most powerful present blanched and fell silent and that too was noted by the audience he had assembled. And that too was good. He was giving them all a demonstration, making a statement of how powerful he truly was. Word of that would get out too.
And in the inevitable druchii fashion it would filter its way down to every rank of the army. All of them would know that their lord and master