The Office of Shadow (43 page)

Sela's dreams were fleeting and strange, incorporating the dream imagery
of those sleeping around her. She saw Silverdun lying in a field of wheat,
kissing a woman in white. The woman had long golden hair, and wore a band
around her arm, an Accursed Object. Sela felt warm, drew in closer, felt the
wheat tickling her ankles. Silverdun bent down to kiss the woman's neck and
Sela saw her face; it wasn't Sela. She was younger, her features sharp and her
eyes bright with pleasure. She looked at Sela and laughed with joy, bent her
head back, arched her back, pressed against her lover. The dream faded and
was replaced in turn by others, but its sensations lingered.

She came awake with a start. "Just in time," said Silverdun. "I think
you'll want to see this." He pointed out the window.

At first Sela couldn't understand was she was seeing. A thousand stars
spread out beneath Mab s Contempt, a night sky inverted. Then her eyes
adjusted and she saw that they were not stars, but the lights of a city. A city
unlike any she had ever seen before.

Preyia spread out below them, huge, an island rising up from a black sea.
It was difficult to gauge distances, but it seemed almost as big as the walled
portion of the City Emerald. It rose in seven massive tiers, each smaller than
the one below it, in pleasantly irregular curves.

Massive sails rose from each tier, glowing in red and blue and gold witchlight. Ships large and small came and went from it, like moths circling
slowly around a lamp. The entire scene was softly bathed in moonlight.

It was impossibly large, but as Mab's Contempt continued to approach it
grew even larger, until it blocked out the sky and it almost seemed as though
they were approaching solid ground.

A few minutes passed and then there was a soft shudder as the transport
ship docked with Preyia.

Around her, weary travelers rose, collecting their belongings.

The young husband across from them stood and stretched. "Come out
with us, brother. Let us be seen leaving the ship together."

Silverdun smiled. "That's kind of you. Thanks."

They came out on deck, and the lights and sounds of Preyia exploded in
Sela's senses. Music, shouting, the buzz of conversation. Great lights on
rotating bases searched the sky. Avenues radiated out from the docks, bathed
in multicolored witchlight.

"Welcome to Preyia," said the young wife, taking Sela's arm.

Cooking smells assaulted Sela as they stepped onto the dock, roasting
meats and cooking onions and exotic spices. Her stomach growled.

Once they were away from the crowd, the group stopped. The children
were cranky; two of them were crying and whining to go home. Silverdun
and the young husband took each other's arms.

"I cannot thank you enough," said Silverdun. "That was a lucky thing,
us ending up opposite one another."

"For shame!" said the young man. "Luck had nothing to do with it."

"Of course, you're right."

"We must do what we can. And live to serve Aba another day."

"Aba be praised," said the wife.

"I think we're safe now," said Silverdun. "Go in peace."

"You as well," said the husband. He scooped up one of the children, and
the family disappeared into the night.

"All right," said Ironfoot. "What was that all about?"

"Arcadians," said Silverdun.

"So I gathered," said Ironfoot. "Why did they go out of their way to help
us?

"Because I asked them to."

"All that business with the water," said Sela.

"Yes. It's a code. It's the Arcadians' way of asking for help in unfriendly
circumstances."

"Are you an Arcadian?" asked Sela, confused.

"I used to be," said Silverdun.

"He was a monk," said Ironfoot.

"A very bad one," scowled Silverdun. "Anyhow, all of that I learned from
my mother. She was an Arcadian at a time when it was dangerous even in the
Seelie Lands."

"Why haven't you ever told me this?" asked Sela.

"Some things, I've found, are best left in the past."

"We'd best get going," said Ironfoot, pointing to a clock tower that rose
above the docks. "Our rendezvous is in an hour."

"Just a moment," said Sela. "I'd like to look over the edge. May I?"

"Be my guest," said Silverdun.

They walked past the docks, to a railing that stretched out of sight to the
north. The docks were on the lowest tier of the city, so there was nothing
beneath to obstruct the view.

Sela leaned over the edge of the city and looked down. The ground
seemed so very far below. There was a slender sparkling line of silver that she
realized was a river. Boulders like pebbles. And the tiny circles were the tops
of trees, colored green-gray by the moonlight. There was also a large oval
spot, pitch black.

"What's that?" she asked. "A lake?"

Silverdun looked. "It's called the umbra. It's the shadow of the city," he
said. "Supposed to be extremely unlucky to walk through it."

For some reason, the thought of a shadow that large made Sela deeply
uncomfortable.

"Perhaps we could save the sightseeing for another time?" said Ironfoot.
Sela could feel his anxiety.

"Of course," she said. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to see."

"It's fine," he said. And he meant it. "But we must be going.

They made their way through the city, up grand stairways, along wide
avenues, always upward, from tier to tier. It was a festival night, and the
streets were filled with revelers celebrating the beginning of summer. Both
spring and autumn were bitterly cold in the Unseelie Lands, and Sela had
heard that in some northern cities, there was even snow from time to time at
the height of autumn.

They moved slowly through the packed streets, where drummers sat in
circles beating the rhythms of the season. The Fae of Preyia danced in time,
smiling and laughing, shouting verse after verse of summer song.

"Look at them all," Sela said.

"What about them?" asked Silverdun.

"They're all so happy. So joyous."

"What of it?" asked Ironfoot, who had been whistling along.

"These are the enemy, aren't they? How can that be? They seem so kind."

"Tell them you're a Seelie spy and see how kind they are to you then,"
said Silverdun, winking at her.

It was at moments like these that Empathy was not a gift at all. A chaotic
rapture of threads pulsed around Sela, at the edge of her vision, wanting to
draw her in. She wanted to be drawn in. How many of them could she kill,
right now, if she chose to, before they could strike her down? How much of
the joy could she drown out?

When surrounded by happiness, she thought automatically of pain. Lord
Tanen had taught her that. The precipice loomed, always waiting to claim her. If she gave in to the joy, if she let the rapture wash over her, she would
be annihilated. At Copperine House, they'd told her that this simply wasn't
true, that she'd been taught to believe that in order to fulfill Tanen's cruel
desires for her. But she knew that he'd been right all along. If she let herself
get lost in the festival, she would never return from it. The thought terrified
her to her bones.

As they ascended, the crowds grew smaller, the lights fewer. The higher
tiers were reserved for the homes of the wealthy and the palaces of government. When they ascended the final broad swath of steps to the Opal Tier,
the second highest, Sela was out of breath, but Ironfoot and Silverdun weren't
even breathing hard.

Silverdun consulted a map, as inconspicuously as possible. "It's this way,"
he said, pointing down a narrow street. This was one of the more dangerous
parts of the expedition. If they were stopped by the City Guard, it would be
difficult to explain their presence on the Opal Tier, which was populated
exclusively by the homes of the wealthy.

A few carriages passed them, but none stopped. Here and there, revelers
in bright costume piled out of cabs and carriages, happy and tired after the
night's festivities.

They reached their destination without incident. It was a two-story brick
home built on a semicircular bluff that extended over the lower tiers of the
city to give an unobstructed view of Preyia. These, Silverdun told them, were
called Bow Villas, because they occupied the foremost position in the city as
it moved forward through the air. Thus it was always above and, more importantly, upwind of, the rest of the city-which, Silverdun said, was reputed to
smell vile during the summer months.

The door was opened by a slender woman in an expensive silk dress. Sela
would have loved to own such a dress. Starlight, the actress back at Copperine
House, had owned one very like it.

"May I help you?" asked the woman.

"We've come to retrieve a package from Hy Diret," said Silverdun. It was
the agreed-upon sign.

"Of course," said the woman. "I believe I've got it here somewhere. Do
come in." Her response meant that all was well. If she'd said to come back another time, it would have meant that the mission had been compromised
somehow.

Sela was beginning to think that this would be easy.

"Welcome," said the woman. "My name is Elspet. I'm so glad to see you." She
ushered them inside. The home's interior was elegant, but sparsely decorated.

"We do what we can to maintain appearances," said Elspet, noticing
Sela's look. "My husband manages the central bank, and we're expected to
live in a certain manner."

"How so?" asked Ironfoot.

"Aba counsels us to live beneath our means," said Elspet. "All of this
finery on display could be used to feed the poor. But as I said, we can do more
with the wealth we save than if we were to earn nothing at all."

Silverdun looked wistful as the woman spoke, but it was hard for Sela to
understand why.

"But you're not here for me," said Elspet. "Come, I'll take you to Timha.
He's desperate to meet you, as you can imagine."

She led them through the house and out back, where a large balcony,
itself nearly the size of Copperine House, overlooked the city's leading edge.
There was a small garden with a patch of grass, and flower boxes affixed to
the incongruous-looking spar that rose out from beneath the balcony.

At the far end of the balcony was a small flier dock, with a sleek yacht
tied there. Close to the house was a carriage house, from which a wooden
driveway extended toward a gate at the main home's side.

Elspet took them up a flight of stairs on the side of the carriage house to
its second floor. "He's been staying in here," said Elspet. Sela looked out from
the top of the stairs and was awash in wonder all over again. From here she
could look out and see the moon and the stars and ground beneath her, with
nothing whatever to obstruct her view. It felt as though she were flying. Of
course, she realized, she was flying.

They went inside. Dim witchlamps illuminated a small guest apartment
with a bed, a table, and a small cookstove. Sitting on the bed was the most
nervous-looking man Sela had ever seen. Timha was pale and gaunt; his
maroon robes looked several sizes too large for his frame. His hair was dirty
and unkempt, and his eyes were furtive.

He licked his lips when they entered. "Are you them?" he answered. "Are
you the ones who've come to take me to Seelie?"

"We are," said Silverdun.

"Oh, thank you," said Timha. He collapsed on the bed, relief spreading
over his face.

Silverdun, Elspet, and Sela sat at the table, but Ironfoot remained
standing. Timha sat up and looked at him.

"Well?" he said, excitedly. "When do we leave? Let's go!"

"Not so fast," said Ironfoot. "Before we can leave, I need to have a look
at these plans of yours."

Timha blanched. "Plans? Why? We don't have time for that. You
wouldn't understand them anyway." He licked his lips again. "They're highly
advanced thaumatics; not like the plans for a tree house or something."

"I should introduce myself," said Ironfoot. "I'm Master Styg Falores, the
Alpaurle Fellow at Queensbridge, in the City Emerald. I have a feeling I
might be able to make heads or tails of them."

Timha goggled at him. "But ... what are you doing here?"

"Examining your plans," he said. "Hand them over."

Timha nodded and reached under the bed. He drew out something that
Sela couldn't see and placed it on the bed. But there was nothing there.

Timha made a motion with his hand and suddenly there was something
there: a leather satchel stuffed with documents and slender volumes.

"It's all here, I swear," said Timha, looking nervously at Ironfoot. "Why
would I lie about something like this?"

"I can't imagine," said Ironfoot. "But I still need to examine them."

Sela examined the thin, wavering thread that connected her to Timha.
"He's telling the truth," said Sela. "Quite desperately, in fact."

Timha gave her a sidelong glance. He seemed to sense that she was connected to him, and didn't like it.