The Office of Shadow

by Matthew Sturges

  "Why are you telling us all this?" asked Silverdun. Ironfoot could see that he was growing impatient. Silverdun claimed to have a philosophical bent, but Ironfoot had noticed that he was always far happier when he was in action.

  "Because there's a waterfall just up ahead."

  "If we're all going over it anyway," said Silverdun, "then why bother telling us?"

  "So you can go down it feet first, with your eyes open, silly." She sipped her tea. "So I sent Je Wen out there to wait for you to come falling out of the sky, and here you are."

  "Surely you didn't do this out of the goodness of your heart," said Silverdun. "What do you want in return?"

  "Oh, my! How cynical you are," said Lin Vo. "Sometimes people do the right thing because it's the right thing to do."

  She touched his knee. "There's a war coming, Silverdun. War is the greatest waste there is, and we Arami are particularly indisposed to waste, as you may have noticed. And this isn't just any war. This is a war that has the power to end Faerie. The power to turn this world to dust."

  "The Einswrath," said Ironfoot.

  "There you go," said Lin Vo. "That little device changes everything, as the four of you know all too well. In fact, none of you would be here if it weren't for the Einswrath."

  "There aren't any Einswrath," said Timha.

  "What?" said Silverdun, glaring at him.

  "We couldn't figure out how to do it," said Timha, his eyes downcast. "We tried. We did everything we could. They said they would kill us all if we didn't."

  "And that's why you ran," said Sela.

  "But you've got the plans with you," said Silverdun. "Are you saying they're not real?"

  "No!" shouted Timha. "They're real. They're extremely detailed, and they were drawn by Hy Pezho himself. But he's gone and he can't explain how it all works."

  "Now he tells us," said Silverdun.

  "I didn't want to die," said Timha. "I'm giving you the plans; that's how badly I don't want to die. If you can figure out how to make the thing work then you'll have the Einswrath and Mab won't. Don't you get it? Don't you understand what I've done?"

  "Funny name, `Einswrath,"' said Lin Vo. "The wrath of Ein. Strange thing to name a weapon. You wouldn't think they'd name it after a made-up god who's supposedly been buried in the ground for thousands of years."

  "So you don't believe that any gods are real?" asked Silverdun. "I'd always heard that the Arami worshipped the Chthonic gods."

  "Oh, the gods are real," said Lin Vo. "Just not the way you think. And you're all going to have to learn how to think things anew if you're going to survive."

  "A premonition?" asked Silverdun.

  "A fact of life," said Lin Vo. She looked at Timha. "Not you, though. You just keep doing what you're doing."

  Silverdun stood, clearly irritated. "I don't know about my companions, but I've had enough clever presentiment for one night. I appreciate your hospitality, but I think I'd prefer a bed."

  "I don't blame you, Silverdun. This is all very tiresome and vague. Pre- monitives have a reputation for that. But true vision isn't something that can be expressed in words. To put it into words is to render it false. I can only point you in a direction; I can't tell you what you'll find when you get there. Maddening, I know. Not too different from the gods, really."

  "Ah," said Silverdun. Ironfoot could tell that Silverdun was tired. The pressure of leading this assignment was wearing him down.

  "You go rest, Silverdun. I don't have anything more to tell you; in fact, the less I tell you, the better. Take Timha and Ironfoot here with you. Je Wen will find a place for you to lie down."

  "Thank you," said Silverdun, visibly relieved.

  "What about me?" asked Sela.

  "Let's talk about you, Sela. Let me pour you a cup of tea, because this is going to take a while." She looked up at the men. "Go on, you three. Ladies only."

  Ironfoot, Silverdun, and Timha left the tent, and found Je Wen waiting for them outside.

  "Was your conversation profitable?" he asked.

  "I have no idea," said Ironfoot.

  Je Wen gave him a knowing smile. "Come with me."

  The tent next to Lin Vo's held four mattresses piled with blankets and pillows, and not much else. Silverdun sprawled on one, his eyes wide open, and Timha was fast asleep on the other by the time Ironfoot got his boots off.

  "I thought you were tired," said Ironfoot, looking at Silverdun.

  "I am. More exhausted than I can remember being in a long, long time."

  "That was an ... unusual conversation."

  Silverdun sat up, rubbing his temples. "People like her drive me utterly mad," he said.

  "Did you see what she did to Timha?" Ironfoot asked. "The way she used re?"

  Silverdun shook his head. "I haven't the slightest idea what happened there. I saw Timha channeling Motion, and the next thing I knew, he looked like he'd been dunked in a pond. Strangest thing I ever saw." He lay back down and closed his eyes.

  "Get some sleep," he said. "I have a feeling we've got a couple of long days ahead of us."

  Ironfoot lay down as well, but couldn't sleep either. When he closed his eyes he saw the patterns in his mind again, and the colorless color of Lin Vo's magic.

  An undefined term. Division by zero.

  Some time later, just as he was drifting off, Sela slipped into the tent. He caught a glimpse of her in the firelight from outside. Tears glistened on her face, but she didn't look sad. Quite the opposite: For the first time he could remember, she looked at peace.

  Ironfoot awoke what felt like a moment later, although it must have been at least four hours, because gray dawn was already filtering in through the tent flaps. Though he'd slept little, and fitfully, when he stood up he felt fully awake and rested. Another perk of the change wrought upon him and Silverdun at Whitemount, whatever it had been. He needed little sleep these days, and what little he got worked wonders.

  Hell, it even grew back a hand if necessary.

  "About time you woke up," said Silverdun. He was already up and pulling on his boots. He looked as refreshed as Ironfoot felt.

  "How do you feel right now, Silverdun?" he asked.

  "Just fine," said Silverdun.

  "After just four hours of sleep."

  "I'm not questioning it today," said Silverdun. "Just grateful for it. I woke up in fine fettle and don't intend to let anything bring me down today."

  "That's uncharacteristically optimistic of you," said Ironfoot.

  "Apparently my previous character wasn't doing me much good," said Silverdun drily.

  "Is it morning already?" said Sela. She sat up on her mattress and looked around, groggy. "I feel as though I just fell asleep."

  Outside, the Arami tribe was already up and active. The central fire pit had been covered over with sand, and the tents were being struck. Timha walked through the camp, his eyes half-closed and suspicious, but took coffee and a pipe when they were offered. Je Wen was rolling up a portion of tent canvas when they found him.

  "Good morning," Je Wen said. "I trust you all slept well?"

  "Your trust is misplaced," said Silverdun. "We all slept poorly. But we're ready to go when you are."

  They made their preparations for travel as the camp was dismantled around them.

  "Is the whole group coming?" asked Ironfoot.

  "No," said Je Wen. "It's time to move camp. There will be a quake today. This valley will split open like a wound."

  The tents were loaded up into the goat carts, but all of the furniture, and most of the bric-a-brac that had been inside the tents, was left on the ground.

  "To feed the bound gods," said Je Wen with a knowing smile.

  They were ready to go, but Lin Vo's tent was still standing, and she had yet to appear.

  "Won't we see her again?" asked Sela, distraught.

  "She has said all she has to say," said Je Wen, shrugging. "Let's go."

  A pregnant woman approached Je Wen and handed him a sho
ulder bag stuffed with what appeared to be provisions.

  "My wife," said Je Wen. He patted her stomach gently. "And my son," he said, smiling.

  Je Wen kissed his wife gently on the cheek. She said something in Arami, clearly an admonition, and he put his hand on her cheek. She turned and went back to her tent, unsmiling.

  "I imagine she's not thrilled with your leaving," said Silverdun.

  "I'll be back in plenty of time to see the child born," said Je Wen.

  He led them through the emptying camp, opposite the direction of the carts.

  "We won't be taking one of those?" said Timha, despondent, pointing at the carts.

  "Not where we're going," said Je Wen. "I hope you all know how to climb."

  They set off. When they reached the far rim of the valley, Ironfoot looked back. Lin Vo was standing in front of the line of fully packed carts, facing them. She seemed to be looking directly at Ironfoot. Then she turned around and walked past the carts, until Ironfoot could no longer see her.

  Then the goat and the bear were married and lived together all their days. And whether it was that the goat became mad or the bear became sane, no one will ever know.

  from 'The Goat and the Bear,'' Seelie fable

  he first day they did little but walk through endless fields of wild grain and across windswept rocks. They stopped a few times to eat the food that Je Wen had packed, but spoke little.

  Silverdun and Ironfoot had boundless energy and were able to keep up with Je Wen easily, but Sela was still exhausted, and had refused to be spellrested. Timha had spellrested himself but was still miserable. He was clearly unused to exercising any part of him other than his mind, and his boots were unsuited for hiking. He spent most of the morning gasping for breath and asking constantly to stop for rest.

  Silverdun was growing sick of Timha. When Timha wasn't complaining about his feet or his exhaustion or the meager nourishment, he was feeling sorry for himself. A small but growing part of Silverdun felt like slitting Timha's throat and putting them all out of their misery. As he pondered this, it occurred to him that a year ago the thought would never have come to mind. His experience as a Shadow was changing him, had already changed him.

  They continued south, following the course of a river for a time.

  "How far to Elenth?" Silverdun asked Je Wen when they crested a small rise only to see endless mountains before them.

  "Two days," said Je Wen, pointing southwest. He looked back at Timha, who was straggling up the hill. "Three with him along."

  Silverdun sighed. "And from there two days' ride to the border," he said. "Three days lost without our speedy yacht. I suppose it could be worse."

  "It can always be worse," said Je Wen.

  "Well said."

  "We could shave off a few hours if you were willing to cut through the Contested Lands," said Je Wen. "I've traversed them before."

  Silverdun had crossed the Contested Lands with Mauritane a year previously, and had no intention of ever returning. He told Je Wen so in no uncertain terms.

  They continued in silence for the rest of the first day. Aside from the occasional rumble of a quake and the wind hissing through the stalks of grain, there was little sound. The few animals they saw fled quietly on sight. As they progressed, the ground grew ever steeper, and Timha's complaints increased in frequency and volume.

  Night fell, and Silverdun and Ironfoot helped Je Wen gather wood for a fire while the others rested. Sela and Ironfoot had both been lost in thought for most of the day. Sela, particularly, was more withdrawn than Ironfoot had ever seen her.

  When the fire was lit, and the rations passed around, a torpor settled around the camp. Je Wen stared into the fire, singing softly to himself in the Arami tongue. Ironfoot sat with Timha's satchel, poring through one of the books that Timha had packed. Timha passed out as soon as he'd finished eating.

  "Would you like to go for a walk?" Silverdun asked Sela.

  She looked up at him and smiled weakly. "Only if it's a very brief one," she said.

  They walked slowly from the camp up to a ridge that overlooked a wide plain and the mountains beyond. The mountains were black in the moonlight.

  Silverdun's feelings for Sela were as complicated as they'd ever been. His attraction to her had only grown over time as he'd gotten to know her. She was thoughtful, insightful, and she was strong in a way that he'd never expe rienced. But there was that deep darkness in her that lingered behind her eyes. The night they'd met, she'd looked into him with Empathy, and he'd pushed her out again. There had been something desperate in the connection and it had, frankly, frightened him.

  "You seem strange tonight," Silverdun said softly.

  "It's been a strange couple of days," she sighed.

  "Agreed."

  Silence.

  "You spent a while alone with that Lin Vo woman," he finally said. "What did she tell you that's got you so pensive?"

  "I'm not sure how to explain it," she said after a moment. "I could tell you the words, but I'm not sure it would make any sense to you. The words were the least of it. And some of what she said-well, I'm not sure I'd want you to know. She was very wise, Silverdun."

  "She's a Premonitive," said Silverdun. "They always seem wise, but rarely does anything they say actually help anyone."

  "No," said Sela. "She knew things. And she spoke to me in a way that no one has ever done. In a way that I believed only I knew how to speak."

  There it was. The darkness. Whatever it was that had happened in Sela's childhood, which she never discussed, whatever it was that had landed her in Copperine House, it was there in her eyes.

  "Who are you?" said Silverdun.

  Sela leaned over and kissed his lips. She closed her eyes. Silverdun stiffened at first, then relaxed into her, kissing back. She opened her mouth, her lips going soft. But there was something hesitant in her kiss, something confused.

  "Open yourself up to me, Perrin Alt," she said. "Let me feel you."

  Silverdun felt uneasy and strangely guilty. But she was so close and felt so good. He relaxed the binding that protected him from her Gift of Empathy, and felt himself flowing into her and her into him. There was lust, and love, and a desperate longing. But whose emotions were whose very quickly became inseparable. She pressed against him and he held her tightly. She moaned quietly, drew her fingernails across his back as if trying to pull him into her.

  He ran his fingers down her arm and touched the filigreed silver band around her arm. It was hot to the touch.

  "Why do you still wear that thing?" he whispered. "I thought it was only for the guests at places like Copperine House."

  "Shh," she said, moving his hand to her breast.

  They sank to the ground, falling into one another. It felt so very good.

  He reached to unlace her gown and she put up her hands to stop him.

  "No," she said, pulling away. "I can't."

  "It's easy," he said. "People do it every day."

  "Not me," she whispered. "I've never kissed a man. I've never been touched like this."

  The Empathy wavered between them and Silverdun put his arms around her, kissing her neck, trying to restore it. But it was too late.

  "I can never be that way with you," she said.

  "Why not?" asked Silverdun, his insides constricting.

  "Because I love you," she said. "And you don't love me."

  She stood up and hurried off, back to camp, leaving Silverdun on the ground, stunned.

  Perrin Alt, now Lord Silverdun, is engaged to be married. Gleia isn't clever. Or interesting. But she's gorgeous, and popular at court. And everyone approves of the union. Silverdun isn't in love with Gleia, nor she with him. But such unions have little to do with love, and everything to do with status and propriety.

  Truth be told, Silverdun would prefer not to get married at all. But his friends at court have pressured him into it; an unmarried lord above a certain age raises questions. Better to get it over with and settle in
to a life of torrid and illicit affairs-which, his married friends assure him, are more exciting than the unmarried sort anyway.

  Gleia insists on a massive, extravagant wedding. Silverdun has no objections; any excuse for a party, after all. He sends a message to Uncle Bresun asking for a rather large sum of money, and to be prepared for Gleia's assault on Oarsbridge Manor, with her lavish plans for decorations and accommodations and musicians and all that.

  Instead of a lump sum and well-wishes, however, Silverdun receives a terse note demanding his presence at Oarsbridge. Alone.

  Silverdun notices upon his arrival that his uncle has redecorated the manor house in a style more lavish by half than any his mother would approve of. Bresun himself, however, is nowhere to be found. He's in the village on business.

  "Where is my mother?" Silverdun asks a maid, deciding that the time has come to see her. He's surprised by the maid's answer.

  The servants' quarters are unadorned, but spotless. He finds his mother in a room at the end of the hall on the first floor. The room contains only the barest essentials, along with a few small portraits and likenesses of Silverdun and his father.

  "Perrin," says Mother, putting aside a book of Arcadian poetry and embracing him. "It's so lovely to see you."

  Silverdun hasn't seen his mother in over a year. Has, in fact, been scrupulously avoiding her since the debacle following his father's death. Clearly she's gone mad in the interim.

  "Mother, you do realize that these are the servants' quarters, don't you?"

  "I don't care for what your uncle has done in the manor house," says Mother, shrugging. "And I have everything I need here."

  Silverdun sighs and sits on the bed. "You're really intent on carrying this Arcadian business as far as possible, aren't you?"

  "Tell me about yourself," she says, sitting next to him, ignoring his remark. "I haven't seen you in so long."

  "I know I should write more often," he says weakly.

  "How are you?" she asks, waving away his half-apology. "Are you in love?"

  "It's funny you ask," he says. "I'm getting married. I thought I should tell you in person."