which she was not the least ornament. It was a cover story that he had actually enjoyed living and which he was going to miss once he had shucked it off. That was assuming he was still alive after this evening, which was not exactly a certainty.
‘As a matter of fact, I was, your serenity,’ he said. It was true in a way too. The grudge Malekith bore against the Everqueen was a very ancient one. They were of the same family, and she had what Malekith had always desired, the love and respect of the elves of Ulthuan. It was as much for this as for political and strategic reasons she had to die. The envy and malice of his master were boundless when aroused, as Urian had more cause than almost anyone to understand.
‘It is ever the problem with true scholars that they are so easily distracted. You were telling me of the time when you worked out the plans of the daemon N’Kari, who planned to exterminate all of the line of Aenarion, including myself, a century ago.’
‘Mine was only a minor contribution. I saw the pattern in the apparently random destruction it had wrought, but it was mostly luck. I had talked with many of those who it killed, as part of my researches.’
‘You are too modest, Prince Iltharis.’
‘Alas, that is not something I have ever been much accused of your serenity. I doubt even my worst enemy would say that of me.’
She laughed, a silvery sound. He enjoyed it, as he always had. His pleasure was given a certain piquancy by the fact that he knew he would never hear the sound again after this evening.
‘And how is your new work coming?’ she asked.
‘Slowly, as these things always do. I have a great deal of research to go through before I even commit pen to vellum. That is why I am here. To consult the scholars of your court.’ He stroked her hand in return. ‘As well as to enjoy the boon of your company, of course.’
Urian lived his cover to the fullest, even though he knew he would not have any use for it much longer. Several centuries of deception were coming to an end. He was almost sorry. Soon he would be leaving Ulthuan forever and returning in secret triumph to Naggaroth to claim the rewards of his long covert service to Malekith’s interests.
It was strange – he was more at home now in the land of his enemies than he was in his ancestral home. He wondered what it would be like to go back to his estates finally and forever. Never to have to look upon this place again.
He knew he should be filled with nothing but contempt for the high elves, but he was not. He had found a great deal to respect in Ulthuan and over the long years, a great deal he would miss. Still his life was not his own. It never really had been since he entered Malekith’s service. The Witch King had taken a pit fighter from an impoverished ancient line and made him into the deadliest assassin in the world. He really ought to be grateful for that, but he wasn’t any more.
He leaned forward to pour more wine. As he did so, he allowed the powder he had palmed to drop from his hand. It was dragonspike, a poison inevitably fatal to mages, its effects stronger the more magical power they possessed, and the Everqueen had a very great deal indeed. He would soon find out if the poison were potent enough to kill an avatar of godhead. According to legend it was, but legends were notoriously unreliable.
It would slow her breathing and destroy her nerves and stop her heart. It could be found only in the forbidden jungles of the lost continent of Lustria, and it had no effect whatsoever on those not possessed of magical power. Urian sipped his own wine. The taste was not in the slightest impaired.
The Everqueen’s hand hovered over her own goblet. He wondered for a moment whether she had seen him, whether she suspected what was happening here. Part of him rather hoped that she did. He was surprised by that. He was not usually sympathetic to his victims. He kept the smile pinned to his face and waited to see what she would do.
She raised her glass to him, and then put it to her lips. ‘Your health, Prince Iltharis. May you live a thousand