The Office of Shadow

by Matthew Sturges

  The manor house is very large, bigger than anything Sela has ever seen. Bigger than anything she's ever dreamed of.

  Mother told her that she was a very lucky girl, that she must do everything that Lord Tanen and his servants told her. She was Lord Tanen's ward now. Sela didn't know what that meant. Mother had said that she would come to visit Sela soon, but later Sela heard Mother and Father whispering in bed, and Father said, "Why did you lie to her? We'll never see her again." And Mother only cried and said, "What can I do?"

  A beautiful room in the manor house has been prepared for her. It's so beautiful and fancy that at first she forgets all about Mother and Father, and the farm, and her friends in the village. At night, though, she cries and misses her family.

  Lord Tanen calls the three old women "crones." He says that she is to do everything they tell her, and that if she does not, he will come back and punish her.

  "Where will you be?" asks Sela.

  "I will be in the city," he says. "But I will come to visit from time to time."

  Lord Tanen is old, and his skin looks like Father's old saddle. His breath smells sour. She does not like him, so she is glad he is leaving.

  "Don't you want to know why I've brought you here?" he asks her.

  Sela hasn't thought about it. She doesn't know what a ward is, but she is a good girl and does as she's told.

  "Why?" she asks, because he wants her to.

  "Because I have searched far and wide for a special girl like you," he says. "Did you know that you were special?"

  "No."

  "Do you want to know what makes you special?"

  "Okay."

  "There might be something inside you called a Gift. Do you know what Gifts are?"

  "Magic," says Sela. Everyone knows that. "There are twelve Gifts. But children don't have Gifts and, and farmers don't have them, either."

  "That is mostly true," says Lord Tanen. "Children do not express their Gifts; they only manifest during puberty. But there are ways of knowing in advance. And while it is true that the lower classes show a far lower rate of manifestation, it is not unheard-of."

  Sela doesn't understand what Tanen is saying, and is getting bored. She looks around her bedroom for something to play with.

  "May I have a doll?" she asks.

  "You won't have time for dolls," he says.

  Sela was sitting quietly in the tearoom when Lord Everess stepped through the door, still shaking the rain from his hair. He was the sort who seemed jolly but, upon closer inspection, was anything but. Even with the Accursed Object damping her down, Sela could see it.

  "Sela," said Everess with a curt bow, the benevolent recognition of a nobleman to a woman with no status whatsoever. Under normal conditions, it would have been impossible for Everess even to address her, so there was no appropriate greeting.

  "Lord Everess," said Sela, rising and curtseying automatically, as she'd been taught since her earliest childhood. Always ready to please. Always ready to obey.

  No. This was not Lord Tanen. All lords were not the same. That's what Everess had told her.

  She looked him directly in the eye. "How may I be of service to you, Lord?"

  Everess cracked a smile. He took a large pipe from the pocket of his voluminous overcoat and lit it, puffing quietly for a moment before speaking.

  "Let me ask you a question, miss. How do you like it here?"

  If Everess was expecting a polite response, he wasn't going to get one. "I despise it here," she said simply.

  Everess laughed out loud. To him, she was a puppy nipping, nothing more. "Brutally honest as ever, yes. This place hasn't drained that out of you."

  "I am what I was made to be," Sela said.

  Everess watched her, puffing on his pipe, saying nothing. Letting the silence between them grow dense.

  Finally, he spoke. "What is it that you want?" he asked.

  "Excuse me?"

  "For yourself. What is it that you want for yourself?"

  "I've never been asked the question before." Sela thought back. No, it was true. At no time in her life had anyone ever asked her what she wanted; not about anything that mattered.

  "Well, it's not a complicated question, however novel," Everess huffed. "If you despise Copperine House, as you say, then where is it that you'd prefer to go?"

  Sela glared at him. "You of all people should know that I can't answer that question."

  Everess smiled. Of course he knew. And he wanted to be sure that she was focused on what she owed him before he made whatever strange request he was about to make of her.

  She decided to answer the question anyway. "I want to be useful," she said, crossing her hands on her lap. The muslin of her skirt settled softly. "I want to be ... good. Do good."

  "Ah," said Everess. "Meaning what, exactly?"

  "I want for my life to ... mean something. I sense the hours and days and years going by, and nothing I do means anything to anyone. I might as well not even exist. Sometimes I wish that I didn't."

  Everess dragged a chair toward the love seat where she sat and planted himself in it, leaning forward. He took her cold hands in his, which were warm and meaty. She smelled tobacco and liquor on his breath.

  "Sela," he said. "What if I told you I had an opportunity for you to be useful and good? More useful than you can possibly imagine?"

  What game was Everess playing? What fancy of his was this? While Sela had been at Copperine, Everess had visited from time to time. They'd played draughts. He'd checked up on her, asked after her health, made sure she was being taken care of and treated properly. But she had never been under the illusion that he loved her or even cared for her as another Fae. She was a duty of his, and though she'd never understood the exact nature of that duty, she knew the reason for it. It was not the same reason that Lord Tanen had raised her, had invested so much in her upbringing, but it was not far different, she felt now.

  "You misunderstand me, Lord Everess," Sela said, stiffening. "I did not say I wished to be used. I said I wished to be useful."

  Again the smile. Sela could not think of anything she'd ever said to Everess that had wiped that smile off his face. Someday, she found herself thinking, she would find a way.

  "I apologize profusely, miss," said Everess, leaning back and releasing her hands. "I did not mean to imply that."

  "Then let us stop circling around it," said Sela. "What is it that you want?"

  Everess stood and began making a lap around the room, inspecting the mantelpiece, sniffing at the condition of the wallpaper. "How long have you been at Copperine, Sela?"

  More circling, then. "Ten years." She could just as easily have told him the number of days.

  "Do you know why I brought you here?" he said.

  "I have an assumption," said Sela. "At first, I simply assumed you were being kind, knowing so little of kindness as I did. After a time I came to believe that it was because you could simply think of nothing better to do with me. But now I know why."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because you believed that at some point I would become a valuable asset to you. And now that time has come."

  "Well," said Everess, drawing out the word. "All three of your assumptions are true, to a greater or lesser degree. I did and still do feel very warmly toward you, Sela. And at the time, I certainly had no idea what was to be done with you. You don't really belong here, but I could never figure out where you did belong. And as for your being an asset, Sela ..."

  He paused, perhaps thinking of the right way to say it, then gave up. "It's true, of course. One doesn't get to where I am without understanding people and how they can be maneuvered into serving one's own ends."

  "How noble," she said.

  He ignored her. "But believe me when I say, Sela, that I do care for you. More than you think. And I want you be happy."

  Was this true? Maybe he thought it was true.

  "Regardless, I've found a place for you. A place where you can use your talents. Wher
e you can be of use to me. And where you can be truly useful. Does that interest you?"

  Sela scoffed. "What difference does it make? I have no control over where I'm sent."

  "Well, of course not. You're a ward of the Crown. I am, as a matter of law, your guardian and master. That is a matter beyond my control, and I wouldn't change it even if I could. But even though the choice is mine to make, I offer it to you. I require you to choose what I'm going to offer you of your own free will."

  "Why?" she said, raising her voice. "What is this? What is it you want of me?"

  Everess smiled again. "I want you to save the world, my dear. How useful would that make you?"

  Sela left the conversation with Everess feeling as though she knew less than she had going in. When she returned to her room, she discovered a pair of servants packing her things into new suitcases. Or, rather, one new suitcase, as there was nothing to put in the other. Four dresses, a hat, a book of poems, a hand mirror. Underthings. Not much else. That was all she owned in the world. Without a word, one of the servants closed and latched the one used suitcase and carried it out of the room. The other motioned her to follow him.

  Outside, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Everess stood by his carriage, an elaborate thing, fit for a nobleman of his stature. He was waving her forward.

  This was Everess in a nutshell. He spoke to you of choices, of caring. But while he was offering you choices, your bags were being packed in the other room.

  The carriage ride was bumpy and unpleasant. The new dress that Everess had purchased for her was stiff, and it scratched at her neck and wrists, though she had to admit she adored the glamoured pattern of poppies that gently waved across the skirt in a nonexistent breeze. The shoes were another matter. Detestable, evil things that pressed her toes together and bit at her heels. In Copperine House she'd worn slippers every day, and had forgotten that such evils as dress shoes existed. She'd once had hard calluses on her feet from wearing even more fashionable shoes than these, but that was in the past.

  After nearly a full day's travel, the Mechesyl Road began to widen into a highway with several lanes of traffic on either side. Most were leaving the city. Peddlers with donkeys loaded with pots and pans, cheeses, sausages, intricately woven charms, potions, boots, belts, tiny birds, mice, wooden toys. All returning from the Grand Bazaar just outside the gates of the City Emerald. Soldiers on horseback riding in formation-the blue-gray coats of the Seelie Army, the deep red of the Royal Guard-carefully and nonchalantly keeping out of each other's way. A few pretty carriages such as the one in which she rode, off to nearby villas, mostly closed with curtains drawn, pulled by matched teams of white mares (these, explained Everess, were currently all the rage, taking care to point out his own pair). Men on horseback, groups of rough-looking men wearing swords and knives. Farmers with their carts carrying the day's leftover produce.

  Then came the City Emerald. The carriage turned the corner at the crest of the hill and began to descend, and the city came into view, the sinking sun exploding from the surface of a wide lake and bathing the Great Seelie Keep in light. The keep was at the direct center of the city, built atop a hill that it was said Regina Titania raised from the ground with a wave of her wrist. Surrounding the keep were Titania's pleasure gardens, acre upon acre of real estate accessible only to the queen and her eunuch gardeners. From there the city radiated out in all directions. Spires of temples and cathedrals reaching to the sky, their windows flashing with sunlight as the carriage began to move downhill. Towers made of glass spirals that defied gravity, whose purpose was unknown to any save the queen herself. Buildings of every shape and size and age, some erected thousands of years in the past, some brand-new.

  The City Emerald was ever changing, of every age, seemingly eternal. Sela had read about it many times, but had never seen it.

  Surrounding the city like a projection of the Seelie Keep was the wall, a thing of deep and perplexing magic. It appeared to be no more than twenty feet tall, but by all accounts it was impossible to reach the top of it. Anyone was invited to climb it if they so wished, but no matter how much time they spent ascending it, the battlements remained forever out of reach. Or so Sela had been told. No place in all of Faerie was more steeped in legend and myth than the City Emerald, and the truth about it, whatever it was, was so deeply buried that it was impossible to sort out from the stories. Sela imagined that Regina Titania kept it that way on purpose. Who would be foolish enough to assault such a place? It was moot, because no foreign power had ever been allowed the opportunity.

  The carriage continued down the hill, and over the course of an hour, the City Emerald continued to grow larger and larger in Sela's sight. Just when she thought it could not appear any grander, the carriage would pass through a stand of trees and it would emerge again in her vision, seeming twice as large as before. She had never seen a thing so enormous, but then, she had seen so little of the world. Only Lord Tanen's estate and Copperine House, and neither, apparently, was representative of the Seelie Kingdom at large.

  Finally they reached the North Gate and were waved through without comment by the guards stationed there. The gate was not high, but it was very wide and allowed multiple lanes of traffic to pass side by side. For a moment there was darkness as they passed beneath the wall, and Sela felt a brief chill that was not merely a drop in temperature. Then they were through, and the City Emerald lay sprawled out before her.

  The most recent buildings lined the streets nearest the gate. These streets were filled with shops and inns and stables. A sweet, almost pleasant smell drifted into the carriage-beer, sawdust, manure. A whiff of roasting pork found its way to her nose and she felt her salivary glands contract, realizing that she hadn't eaten since leaving Copperine House. Everess's nose twitched at the smell, and he adjusted the blinds on his side, lighting a scented candle in a sconce next to the window.

  "Do you think we might eat soon?" Sela said, breaking the silence between them that had lasted almost the entire trip.

  "What?" Everess said, starting. "Oh, yes. My apologies. I myself never eat more than one meal a day-I find eating to be a singular waste of time and do it as seldom as possible."

  Looking at Everess's round belly, Sela imagined that his single meal must be quite something to behold.

  "We'll be at my city home shortly, and I'll have the chef prepare a little something for us."

  A little something turned out to be a feast the likes of which Sela had never seen: roasted grouse, a ham, a side of beef, with turnips, squash, pumpkin, potatoes, and beets. Bowls of rose petals and chrysanthemums were constantly refilled by servants-Sela stuck mostly to these, having never developed a taste for meat.

  Everess's city home was at least the size of Copperine House, and in the middle of the city-on the Boulevard Laurwelana which, Everess had pointed out, was the most exclusive street in the city. All Sela knew was that she felt comfortable here.

  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 P
romenade 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.