The Office of Shadow (13 page)

She lied down, fully clothed, fingering the Accursed Object on her upper
arm, wondering whether they were going to take it off of her. The thought
both frightened and excited her.

But mostly frightened.

The Promenade extends from the southern (and always
open) drawbridge of the Great Seelie Keep to the
Houses of Corpus, where lords and guildsmen argue and
maneuver and, from time to time, legislate the workings
of Seelie government. Though Titania's rule is absolute,
the complexities of day-to-day affairs she leaves to those
who are affected by them more than she. The Seelie
queen presides primarily over matters of state and, to a
lesser extent, the management of the social aspect of
Seelie life, which is, to the Fae mind, at least as important
as the affairs of state, if not more so.

The drawbridge passes over the Grand Moat, which
is more impressive for its beauty than for its defensive
capabilities, especially considering that the Great Seelie
Keep has never in recorded history been the target of an
attack.The moat is home to a hundred species of fish and
frog, and other creatures that are unseen, but whose
song emanates in a hush from the water, a sonorous plea
that induces poets to weep.

The Promenade is the home to the many offices of
Seelie government.The Foreign Ministry and the Secretariat of State reside in a stately, if dull, pile of stones on
the Left Walk, and the Barrack, which houses the high
command of the Seelie Army, sits opposite. The fact that
these two buildings sit opposing one another is
metaphorical fodder for political wags who frequently point out that the government and the army have been
known to work at cross purposes more often than not.

The Barrack is a recent structure, a mere hundred
years old. For many thousands of years, the army was
housed in the Great Seelie Keep itself, but its oftadversarial relationship with the Royal Guard, also (and
still) quartered there, resulted in its removal to a safer
distance.

Stil-Eret,''The City Emerald;'
from Travels at Home and Abroad

ilverdun, having regained his taste for the dress of nobility, if not its pretenses, presented himself at the Barrack the morning after his dinner with
Everess, Heron, and Glennet. A surly corporal took his calling card and bade
him wait, then directed him to follow, walking at such a pace as to require
that Silverdun trot along behind him. The corporal led Silverdun to a small
meeting room, ushered him in, and closed the door. Alone, Silverdun sat
drumming his fingers upon the table, looking out the window down at the
Promenade where Seelie without any seeming cares strolled the wide avenue,
laughing and talking in the noonday sun.

The door opened and Mauritane strode in, wearing a uniform that Silverdun had never seen him wear: that of the commander general of the Seelie
Army.

"It's good to see you again, old friend," said Mauritane, gripping Silverdun's hand. In the year since they'd last met, Mauritane seemed to have aged
five. Despite the few runnels of gray in his long braided hair, however, he
looked content, perhaps even pleased. Silverdun couldn't remember ever
having seen Mauritane appear content in all the years that he'd known the man.

"Married life and martial supremacy agree with you," said Silverdun.
"How is Raieve?"

"Still in Avalon," said Mauritane, his look of contentment faltering. "We
don't see each other often, but we make do."

"Still in love, then?"

"Very much." It was odd hearing Mauritane talk about love in the same
voice that he used to talk about killing. He had a fairly narrow range of emotions, Silverdun recalled.

"And you?" said Mauritane. "I'm frankly surprised to see you here. The
last I heard you'd devoted your life to Aba and were swinging censers at a
temple." A hint of mockery?

Silverdun shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "That didn't work out quite
as planned," he said. "Apparently I'm not cut out for the religious life. Or so
everyone seems to believe."

Mauritane chuckled. "I could have told you that," he said. "Though I was
always willing to give you the benefit of the doubt." He paused, then said,
"When men fight together, they come to know each other in ways that are
otherwise impossible. You play at the disaffected rogue, but there's a depth
to you that you can't always hide."

Mauritane's judgment, concise and declarative as ever.

"I'll take that as a compliment and move on."

Mauritane finally sat. "It was meant as a compliment," he said.

He patted Silverdun on the shoulder, a gesture that didn't entirely work,
but with Mauritane's Gift of Leadership, it was difficult not to be affected by
it. "Now, what brings you to see me? Interested in joining the ranks? We're
always looking for infantrymen, though I suppose we could bring you on as
a chaplain."

A joke! Who was this fellow, so like Mauritane and yet so ... pleasant?

"I assume, then," said Silverdun, "that Lord Everess hasn't told you about
his plan to resurrect the Shadows?"

Mauritane's smile vanished. "What are you talking about?"

"Only last night I dined with Everess and a few other dignitaries. There
was talk of war and an impassioned speech by Everess on its changing nature.
Then Everess tried to recruit me into a merry band of spies, a revival of the
Shadows. Very interesting stuff."

"I see." Mauritane tapped a finger on the table in a perfect rhythm. "And
what did you say?"

"I told him I'd consider it. But there's a catch, which is that Regina Titania told me on our triumphant return to the City Emerald last year that
one day she'd call upon me for a service." Silverdun scratched his nose. "And
this appears to be it."

Mauritane said nothing for a long moment, peering out the window.
"Did Everess introduce you to anyone ... unusual?

"You mean Paet? The very Shadow himself)"

"Ah. Then this is no game. Everess has finally managed to pull this off."

"You don't seem especially pleased."

"Pleased?" asked Mauritane, his voice rising. "Why would I be pleased
that the foreign minister has been granted his own small private army, off
chasing figments and possibly precipitating wars?"

"The intent, as I understand it, is to prevent one. Further, he very
strongly implied that the Seelie Army is in no position to fight Mab as it
stands."

Mauritane scowled, clearly torn. Now this was the Mauritane Silverdun
was used to.

"You must understand, Silverdun, that in some regard I agree with
Everess's position. He's correct that at present we would be outmatched by
the Unseelie. Mab has her own troops, and in addition she's managed to conscript forces from Annwn and a few other tributary states in her `empire."'

"And the Einswrath," said Silverdun.

"Yes, there is that."

"I take it we have no like weapon of our own?"

"No, nothing even remotely like it. But Mab's only used the thing twice.
Once on her own people at Gefi, and once on Selafae. So the question of the
year is-

"Why hasn't she used it since, or threatened its use?"

"Precisely. We have our theories, of course, but the consensus seems to be
that she's merely biding her time until she can plan a full-scale invasion of
the Seelie Kingdom, with little chance of failure."

Silverdun actually gasped. "Is this possible?"

"Our best guess is that within a year, given our understanding of her
troop movements and placement of her cities, we would be powerless to stop
it.

Silverdun knit his brow. "You and Everess seem to be in agreement, then.
Something must be done. Mab must be stopped by any means necessary.
Why not the Shadows?"

Mauritane snorted. "Everess cares about nothing aside from his own position. To him, re-forming the Shadows is part of a strategy to build power for
himself. He'll play upon whatever fear, whatever threat is necessary to pursue
it. Don't trust him."

"Oh, I never intended to trust him," said Silverdun. "Among nobility,
trust is rarer than a hard day's work."

Mauritane chuckled.

"Then you think I should find a way to wriggle out of this? I admit that
I have no more confidence in Everess than you do."

"No!" Mauritane almost shouted. "You must accept. You must be a part
of this. If he's received approval from Corpus and the queen's blessing, then
it's going to go ahead no matter what I do. My best hope is to have someone
on the inside, someone who can keep an eye on Everess and his ilk and do his
best to ensure that the needs of the kingdom come before his ambition."

"And to report back to you."

"Yes."

The whole thing was beginning to seem hopelessly tangled. But Silverdun could see in Mauritane's eyes that war was not a hypothesis. It was a
certainty. A war that could not be won.

"Do you think the Shadows can change things?"

"I certainly hope so. If you do the right things. I shudder to think what
those things might be." Mauritane looked down at his hands. "And by
allowing it to go forward, not fighting it, then I share an equal measure of
guilt in whatever those things may be."

"We do what must be done," said Silverdun.

"Then do this thing, Silverdun." Mauritane looked him in the eye.
"Make sure that the end justifies the means." This was not a request. This was
an order, with the full weight of Mauritane's Gift of Leadership behind it.
Ordinarily, Silverdun would have been offended at the hint of manipulation
that went into such a thing, but in this case he supposed it was forgivable.

"Don't worry, Mauritane. I'll keep all of my most heinous acts to myself."

"No," said Mauritane. "You'll tell me everything. I want to know exactly
what it is that I need to be forgiven for."

"And Paet. What's your opinion of him?"

"We've crossed paths once or twice over the past year. From aught that I
can tell, he's a good man, if a bit strange. But I wouldn't trust him, either."

Silverdun left the Barrack feeling deeply uneasy. He watched the pretty
Fae stroll up and down the Promenade, shading their eyes from the sun under
parasols. Luxury.

He'd never felt as though he was truly a member of Seelie society; he'd
always existed on the edge. He could frolic and strut with the best of them,
but something about it had always seemed hollow. There was a hole in him
that had never been filled.

And now he was about to become part of something that would only set
him apart further. But would it fill that hole, or only widen it? No way of
knowing.

He squared his shoulders and stepped into the sunlight, merging perfectly with the perambulations of Seelie life.

Everess wanted to use him. The Arcadians wanted to use him. Mauritane
wanted to use him. Even the queen herself had her own hooks in.

For a failed monk, Silverdun was beginning to feel extremely popular.

Sailors call the Inland Sea the One True Queen, and when a
man joins the crew of a ship on that sea, he takes part in a
secret ceremony in which he renounces his allegiance to his
native land and swears to pay fealty only to the waves. It's
said that a sailor who refuses the oath is certain to drown
and fall into the abyss, to float downward into eternity.