The Office of Shadow

by Matthew Sturges

  "I don't think it's very holy of him to take such pleasure in it." Silverdun sniffed.

  "Allow the man his small comforts. He has a very difficult and thankless job. Believe it or not, you're far from the least holy novice that's ever passed through this temple."

  "Oh, really?"

  "I was much worse. Why, during my novitiate I actually snuck a pair of twin sisters into the sacristy and got them drunk on the holy wine."

  Silverdun slapped the desk. "You cad! And they still ordained you?"

  "They never found out."

  "I knew there was a reason I liked you," Silverdun said. "Well, I suppose you've got to punish me. Garderobes for a month, is it?"

  "Two, actually. One for missing morning prayers and one for drinking in the presence of your abbot." Estiane smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Ha! Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

  "You old bastard. How you ever got to be a religious leader is beyond me."

  "It's simple, really," said Estiane, leaning forward, the smile fading. "Look around you. Do you see any parishioners? Any lost souls other than your own coming to me for spiritual guidance? I'm a civil servant. If I was any good at being religious then I'd be out there practicing religion." Estiane sighed. "Being promoted to abbot isn't a reward; it's more of a punishment, really."

  Silverdun felt his body finally beginning to warm in the lovely heat of the brazier. "Ah, so you say. But I knew Vestar at the Temple Aba-E in Sylvan. A more holy man I've never met in my life!"

  What remained of Estiane's smile vanished and he looked down. "Oh, you had to bring the old man into it, didn't you, Silverdun? Just when I was having such a lark with you.

  "Sometimes we in this business put on a bit of a blasphemous face when we can in order to fend off the ills of the world with good humor. We're all corrupt in the eyes of Aba, who sees all. But some of us hew very, very close to the ideal. Some of us are so strong that they don't need any robe betwixt them and the wind. Vestar was one of those."

  "So you admit you're a lousy abbot," said Silverdun, smirking.

  "I admit no such thing!" said Estiane. "Vestar was a saint. It's just that there are more churches than there are saints, that's all. We do the best we can with the gifts we're given. Most of us are forced to make compromises in order to maintain our sanity. The fact that Vestar never did so is a testament to his unique virtue."

  "His unique virtue got him murdered," said Silverdun. "He stood up to Purane-Es when he could have run and saved himself."

  "There's that," said Estiane. "There's that."

  "Will that be all then?" asked Silverdun. "Or do you have any pies or custards hidden back there that I might have a bite of before I head down to the Frater for my morning gruel?"

  "As if I'd share my pie with you," Estiane said, adjusting his robe.

  Silverdun stood to go, and the abbot waved him back down again. "Listen, Silverdun. Since I've got you here, there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you."

  "If it's twin sisters you're after, I'll need a few days and the key to the sacristy," said Silverdun.

  Estiane said nothing; all the humor had left him.

  Silverdun pulled his robes around him. "Well, what is it then?"

  "I've been debating whether or not to mention it at all, but I suppose it's best if I do. I've received word that Lord Everess would like to speak with you."

  Silverdun sat up. "Really? And how does Everess even know that I'm here? Isn't my presence here supposed to be something of a sacred trust?"

  "Settle down, Silverdun. You must be aware that Lord Everess knows what he wants to know. The truth is, I told him you were here."

  Silverdun scowled. "Why would you do such a thing, Abbot? I don't want to be involved in the affairs of the world. I just want to be left alone. That's why I came here in the first place."

  "Yes, and that's the wrong reason for coming here, and that's also why you're such a rotten novice. If it's solitude you're after, there are any number of uninhabited islands in the Western Sea you could have chosen."

  "I want to follow Aba," said Silverdun weakly.

  "A man can enjoy telling a joke without joining the circus, Silverdun."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means that just because you want to please Aba doesn't mean you have to become a monk. And you know it."

  "Enough, enough. What does any of this have to do with Everess? What does he want with me?"

  "I'll let him tell you," said Estiane. "And I suggest you hear him out. Now shall I let him know you agree to see him, or shan't I?"

  Silverdun thought in silence. The fog in his head was lifting, but his mind didn't want to think-it wanted to be carried off by the warmth into a comfortable silent place. This was, he thought ironically, the closest thing to true prayer he'd experienced since coming to the monastery.

  "Fine. I'll see him," said Silverdun. "But I reserve the right to ignore everything he says."

  "Excellent," said Estiane. "I'm glad you feel that way, since I already invited him. He'll be here tomorrow."

  Silverdun glared at the abbot. "You really are a bastard, you know."

  Estiane's smile returned. "I believe you've got some garderobes to clean, Novice. I suggest you get started now, or else you'll have to spend all of midday prayer smelling like a latrine."

  The next day was windy as well as cold, and the rain came even stronger. Autumn had settled over the monastery and seemed intent on making its presence known. Thus, Tebrit gleefully assigned Silverdun to the gardens, where he dutifully, if angrily, weeded the cabbage. After an hour his back ached, he was covered in mud up to his shins, and he could no longer feel the tips of his fingers. He tried to stir up a bit of witchfire from time to time, but on each occasion the wind rose up and immediately extinguished it-Aba was watching, it seemed, and wanted to make sure that Tebrit's punishments were exacted in full.

  The Temple Aba-Nylae stood on a wooded hill just outside the walls of the City Emerald, so there was no protection from the Inland Sea wind that blew over the hill, leaving the grounds wet and cold even when the sun was shining brightly in the city.

  Silverdun was down on his knees, yanking away at a recalcitrant root, when he heard a familiar voice boom from across the yard.

  "By Auberon's hairy ass! Is this Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun, or a rude villein?" The voice then broke out into laughter.

  Silverdun looked up and saw Edwin Sural, Lord Everess, standing beneath the cloister loggia, beaming and waving.

  "Well, come in out of the rain, Silverdun!" goaded Everess. "I didn't come all this way to watch you play peasant."

  Silverdun stood slowly, spitting out rainwater. His hair was soaked through, lying in thick tangles around his neck. His novice's robes, likewise, were drenched, and his hands and feet were thick with mud. He closed his eyes for a long moment before beginning the long squelching trudge across the garden.

  "I must say, Perrin Alt," chuckled Everess, once Silverdun was within easy speaking distance. "I do not think the religious life agrees with you."

  Silverdun had never much liked Everess, who enjoyed his taunts a bit too much for Silverdun's taste. "One gets used to it," he said. Whatever witty rejoinder he might normally have come up with was drenched as surely as his witchfires.

  "By her teeth, Silverdun! It's true what I've heard-you are changed!"

  Silverdun automatically touched his face. He could feel the nose, once straight and patrician, now angled with a slight bump. The cheekbones were lower now as well, and the chin not quite so prominent. He had angered the wrong woman, and she had taken her revenge on his appearance. Faella, the young mestine, who for some reason he could not get out of his mind. Queen Titania had told him that Faella was special, that she possessed the so-called Thirteenth Gift, the Gift of Change. He had a feeling that Titania had not told him this merely as a point of information.

  "It's the country air," said Silverdun. "It does wonders for the complexion."r />
  "Oh, come in out of the wet and stop sputtering inanities. We've important business to discuss." Everess waved Silverdun toward the calefactory, for which Silverdun was inwardly grateful. The warming-room was the only space in the entire monastery in which a fire was allowed to be lit at all times.

  They stepped into the calefactory and almost immediately Silverdun's wet robes began to steam. There was a washbasin filled with hot water in one corner of the room, and before Silverdun could even begin to acknowledge Everess again, he washed his face and hands and feet in the basin, wincing with pleasure as the feeling returned to his extremities with sharp needles of pain.

  The calefactory was empty other than the two of them, which was remarkable for this time of day-it was a rest period, and on a cold afternoon one could expect to find easily half the monks of the abbey clustered here, playing cards, drinking the watered-down swill they called wine, or just sitting idly. The fact that it was empty told Silverdun that Estiane had gone out of his way to ensure that the meeting between him and Everess was a private one.

  Once Silverdun felt himself to be sufficiently presentable, he sat down at the long table by the fireplace, where Everess was already seated. Everess had his pipe out and was carefully stoking it.

  "I'm pleased that you agreed to see me, Perrin," Everess began warmly, all trace of banter put aside. "What I have to speak with you about is a matter of great importance."

  "I see," said Silverdun. "Though I should tell you that I did not, in fact, agree to see you. That bastard Estiane agreed on my behalf without consulting me on the matter."

  "And yet here we are face-to-face, are we not?"

  "There's a fire in here." Silverdun sighed. He found the repartee tiring.

  Everess looked little different from the last time that Silverdun had seen him, which had been in the House of Lords some five years earlier. Still stout and red-faced, with the same bristling brown whiskers spotted with gray. His eyes were narrow and partially hidden beneath bushy eyebrows, giving him a permanent squint. He sucked on his pipe, and a small tendril of smoke emerged from it. Silverdun waved a finger at the smoke, and it formed itself into interlocking rings, twisting and spinning up toward the ceiling.

  "Oh, do stop fooling around, Silverdun," said Everess. "There's much to discuss, and I'd like to get back to the city before the road out there washes out entirely."

  "You have my complete attention," said Silverdun.

  "It's time for you to come out of hiding," said Everess. "I understand your need to get away from things for a time, but you're needed elsewhere."

  "Quite the contrary. I'm happy here."

  "Oh, don't be stupid, Silverdun. You've had your fun playing monk, but that time is over and you and I both know it. You don't belong here. You never have and you never will. You're not meant to be confined like this."

  "I was confined for quite a long time at the prison of Crere Sulace. And you never once came to visit me."

  "Yes, and when Mauritane offered you a way out, you took it, even though by all accounts you were riding off to your own death."

  "Mauritane told me he'd kill me himself if I didn't go."

  "Stop acting like an idiot!" said Everess, suddenly angry. "The point is that you did go. You left Crete Sulace a criminal, and you emerged from the Battle of Sylvan a hero. You've proved that you have the ability to do what must be done for the good of the kingdom, and that's what I need from you now."

  "I disagree. I'm quite content where I am."

  "Really?" said Everess. "Look around you, man. From where I'm standing, all you've done is trade one cell for another."

  No witty response from Silverdun's typically bottomless well of them was forthcoming, so he simply stood and began to turn away.

  "Come into the city, Silverdun," Everess called after him. "Hear what I have to say. And then if you don't like it, you can come back here and keep rotting for all I care."

  That stung.

  A messenger on a sturdy mare watched Lord Everess's carriage vanish into the rain from the hilltop overlooking the temple. Once he was certain that Everess's departure was assured, he gingerly walked the horse down the grassy slope to the temple's stable.

  He handed the reins to a passing monk, assuring the man that he'd be back momentarily. Good to his word, a few minutes later, he returned from the monastery, mounted, and rode off without another word.

  Silverdun left the calefactory feeling warm, but also a bit dizzy. He and Everess had never been friends-they'd known each other in passing in the halls of Corpus, and Silverdun's second cousin had married a nephew of Everess's, but Silverdun hadn't even attended the wedding. So why was Everess coming for him now?

  Silverdun sneaked carefully through the refectory and back into the dotter. All of the monks' rooms were empty now-rest period was over, and afternoon prayers had already begun. Silverdun couldn't have cared less. He sunk onto his cot and leaned against the wall, letting the cool stones calm him.

  On a shelf above the bed was a duffel bag that contained the day suit he'd worn when he'd entered the place ten months earlier. It had been washed and pressed. His boots, polished and supple, were lined carefully next to the bag, and beneath them both was the sword that Mauritane had presented him at the celebration following the Battle of Sylvan. Engraved in the blade was the Silverdun crest surrounded by five stars: one for each of his companions on the journey that had led him out from exile at Crete Sulace and back into life.

  Of those five, two were dead: Honeywell had given up his own life to save them at the beginning of their journey. Gray Mave had betrayed them, and died for his sins. Brian Satterly was off somewhere rescuing human babies from Changeling traders, and good riddance. Raieve, now Mauritane's wife, had returned to Avalon to help win the peace there. Mauritane was on leave from his post as captain of the Royal Guard, no doubt fighting alongside her.

  Or so he believed. He hadn't seen anyone from his former life in months. He missed them. He even missed the foolish human Satterly. That was depressing.

  There was a knock at the door and Silverdun braced for another assault by Tebrit, but instead it was Estiane who stepped into the cell. The abbot shut the door quietly, an odd expression on his face. He held an envelope in his hand, and Silverdun recognized the broken seal as that of Marcuse, the queen's chamberlain. Estiane sat at the edge of Silverdun's cot, turning the envelope in his fingers. He held it delicately, as if it were a dried flower or a piece of fine china.

  "Let us be perfectly honest with one another, shall we?" said Estiane. "No banter, no gamesmanship. No hidden agendas. We are both men of Aba, who do our best to serve the Good, and often fail miserably along the way. Agreed?"

  Silverdun sat up. A witticism reared up in his mind and he choked it down. "Fine," he grunted.

  "I know why Everess came to see you today," said Estiane. "He and I have had a number of rather serious conversations over the past few months."

  "Really?" said Silverdun. "Is Everess an Arcadian? He never struck me as the type."

  "No, no," said Estiane. "These conversations were of a purely political nature. We don't like to advertise it, of course, but the Church is as immersed in the world of politics as any other large organization. We have power and influence and knowledge, and it has to be wielded."

  Estiane tapped the envelope gently against his fingers. "As you may know, the Church has a rather sizable network of believers among the Unseelie. Not even we know exactly how many of us there are across Mab's empire because the Bel Zheret enjoy torturing names out of Arcadians, and we like to offer them as few as possible.

  "Much of the useful information our queen possesses regarding the Unseelie comes from us. We have believers at almost every level of government and at every rank in the military. Sometimes their consciences guide them to reveal certain things."

  Silverdun smiled. "And you barter that knowledge for influence at Corpus and with the queen's court."

  "Of course we do," said Estiane,
his voice rough. "We'd be fools not to. This all has very little to do with serving Aba, but the Church is not itself holy. The Church is an organization that exists in space and time, and it must do what it must in order to survive and thrive. If you'll recall, when you were a boy, Arcadianism was practically illegal." Estiane unsuccessfully attempted to hide the guilt he clearly felt. "And that brings us to you, Perrin Alt. Lord Silverdun."

  Silverdun sighed. "I was wondering when something would bring us to me. What's this about?"

  "I'm not exactly sure, to be honest," said Estiane. "I know that Everess is very keen to bring you back to the capital, but I don't know why. Something to do with the Foreign Ministry, I should imagine."

  "Honestly, Abbot!" said Silverdun. "Where's the holiness in that?"

  "Holiness?" Estiane hissed the word. "Holiness is a privilege granted to blessed souls like Tebrit, your tormentor. Tebrit doesn't have to make decisions about how the Church's influence is used to direct affairs, or whether those affairs ought to be directed, or what the dire outcome for the Church and its followers will be if those affairs are ignored. Tebrit will not have any blood on his hands if a new war begins because there is nothing he could do to help prevent it.

  "I, however, am required to make those decisions. There is no way for me to do this without getting blood on my hands. I don't have the luxury of being spotless."

  Silverdun leaned back again, nodding. "I understand now. Everess needs your information, and you've decided to exact payment. He agrees to take me on in whatever role he's dreamed up for me, knowing that I'll be acting as your proxy, and in return you'll provide information."

  "Not just information," said Estiane.

  "Money as well?" Silverdun was shocked.

  "We're being honest, are we not? Silverdun, you don't read the reports that I read, the list of martyrs' names that come across my desk day in and day out. The Unseelie take perverse joy in hunting down and murdering Arcadians. What do you think would happen if they were to take down Regina Titania? The Church would cease to exist. Aba's work in Faerie would be finished."