Silverdun awoke in his shambles of a bed, still dressed in his damp clothes, though his boots had been removed. His head throbbed; the worst hangover he'd ever had, with none of the concomitant fun.
Last night was a blur. Something had happened, something bad. What was it?
Darkness. Torches. Steps. Bones. Ilian's boot.
Ilian!
How much damage had Than managed to do while Silverdun had slept? He'd murdered the unknown man at the stone clearing. Was that the other recruit? Had he been drugged just as Silverdun had? Had Than murdered Jedron as well? Jedron had drunk from the same bottle Silverdun had.
Silverdun bounded to his feet and instantly regretted it. His gorge rose, but thankfully Silverdun the Professional Drunkard had more control over his gag reflex than most. He dunked his head into the washbasin on the table and felt more awake, at least.
He headed toward the closed door, moving silently as Jedron had taught him. The small bodkin came out of his boot without a sound. Silverdun had been no mean threat before coming to Whitemount; after six weeks studying with Jedron, he was now a true menace.
The corridor outside was empty, the witchlight sconces dimmed. The only real light came from the small windows set into the wall, and the wall was so thick that very little light actually found its way in.
The sound of steps clattered on the stair. Whoever was coming was making no attempt to mask his approach. Silverdun gripped the knife firmly but easily and faded back against the wall, unmoving, just as Jedron had taught him.
A figure reached the top of the steps; Silverdun watched his weak, muted shadow approach around the curved passage. The figure was holding something. A weapon? Silverdun waited until the figure was just upon him and then leapt, intending to sweep his opponent's knee and bring the knife to his throat.
He realized as he was being thrown to the ground, his arm bent backward in a most painful fashion, that his potential assailant was Jedron. Once he was on the ground, Jedron-for good measure, Silverdun assumedbludgeoned him on the head with what turned out to be a silver tray. The contents of the tray spilled onto the ground: bread, bacon, coffee.
Jedron stood over him, scowling. "Don't do that to me ever again."
"I thought ...... began Silverdun, confused, and in more pain than ever.
"I know what you thought," said Jedron. "But no worries. I've taken care of the Ilian problem for the moment. He's in the basement."
"What was he up to last night?" croaked Silverdun. "I saw a man, I think. He killed a man."
"That's none of your concern," said Jedron. He pointed at the food on the floor. "There's your breakfast," he added, then turned and walked away.
There is such a thing as too much power.
-Fae proverb
She was so frustrated she wanted to destroy something. But that wouldn't have been polite. She'd been taught all about propriety: Don't slurp your soup; don't speak with your mouth full; don't destroy things simply because you're impatient. She waited.
A few hours later, Everess finally appeared, with an elderly doctor. The doctor carried a worn leather bag that smelled familiar, like the hospital wing of Copperine House. It made her smile. The doctor, however, was not a pleasant man. Even with the Accursed Object in place, she could sense it.
The doctor looked her over appraisingly. "Amazing," he said finally, reaching out gingerly and touching her face. She wanted to flinch, but did not.
"She seems so tame," said the doctor. "So sane."
"She's a rare find," said Everess.
"She's also right here in the room with you," said Sela. "And she would prefer if the two of you would speak to her, rather than about her."
The doctor looked at Everess wide-eyed, as if unsure whether it was safe to laugh. Everess gave him a warm smile, and the doctor let out a chuckle.
"My my," he said. "Simply amazing. Consider my fears allayed, Lord Everess."
Sela maintained her composure, but inside she fumed. This was exactly the sort of thing that they'd said about her when she was first brought to Copperine House, after the horrors of Lord Tanen and Milla. After the deaths and the loud sounds and the look on Lord Tanen's face at the end.
Everess nodded to the doctor's bag. "So you agree that it's safe?"
The doctor knelt and opened the bag. "Oh, that I cannot guarantee, milord. But it will do what it was intended to do, that's for certain. And whoever made her this way appears to have succeeded admirably."
"I am right here," said Sela, gritting her teeth. "I am not a thing. I am not a creation."
The doctor looked again to Everess for guidance, and Everess gave him that confident smile and put an arm around him. "Perhaps you might wait outside for a moment," he said. The doctor did so, leaving Sela and Everess alone.
"It's not proper for the two of us to be alone together, Lord Everess."
Everess waved it away. "Propriety! That's something, indeed."
He motioned her to the bed and she sat. "Now listen here, Sela. I understand that you don't like being poked at and treated like a prize horse. But you must understand that you are something rare and unique."
"I'm not any kind of thing. I am Fae. That is all I am."
Everess looked at her. Even with the Accursed Object she could sense the momentary sadness that flashed through him. "You are Fae, yes. But that is not all you are." He sat next to her.
Everess took her face in his hands, but it was not a tender gesture. "Now we've gotten off on the wrong foot. The good doctor is here to lift a heavy burden from you, to give you a present. But you must promise to use it responsibly."
Sela's eyes widened. A present? Sela did not have a good history with presents.
"Let's let the doctor come in and go about his business and then you can see. Fair enough?"
Sela nodded, and Everess let the doctor back into the room. He looked into her eyes with a magnifying glass, blew some kind of powder into her ears. He pricked her finger with a needle and let a drop of blood fall into a tiny glass vial. From his bag, he took a small box the size of a stick of butter and dropped the vial into it. The box rattled for a moment and then produced a series of musical tones that appeared to satisfy the doctor.
"She's in perfect condition," he said to Everess. "Physically, anyway."
"Then let's do it," said Everess.
The doctor reached into his bag once again and took out a circular object wrapped in muslin. He held it out in front of her and unwrapped it slowly, showing it to Sela. "What do you think of this?" he said, finally speaking to her.
Sela looked. It was another Accursed Object. She wanted to cry. This one was much narrower, and it was trimmed with fine, filigreed silver, unlike the solid, featureless ring currently encircling her arm.
"What is that?" said Sela.
"Neither the doctor nor I believe that you're ready to have this thing removed entirely. We're not sure how powerful your Gift is without it, and I'm not sure I want to find out."
He paused, taking the band from the doctor's outstretched hand, and his face grew suddenly very serious. "This is power, girl. Power and freedom that I've decided you're capable of controlling." He held it up for her to see, and he gripped her forearm tightly. "If you ever, for a moment, abuse this freedom," he said, "I'll put you down like a buggane in heat."