The street outside was loud and confusing. Strangers were everywhere. She would have to get used to strangers. She'd known everyone at Copperine House, understood how they fit. Even when new residents or staff arrived, she had a context in which to place them. But here in the city, everyone was new all the time. They came and went. She barely had time to get a sense of one before that one was gone and another came along. It made her head hurt.
"Are you well?" said Everess, pausing over a bite of ham.
"Yes," she said. She touched her forehead and it felt clammy. "I'd like to see my room, please."
The bedroom was papered in dark damask, and the bedclothes were a deep burgundy. Everess had remembered, at least, how she preferred her surroundings. Her clothes had already been unpacked and put away. Her few personal items were on a table by the bed.
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
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?"