"I need your help," said Mauritane.
Silverdun leaned in. "Any assistance I can render, sir." He saluted.
"You still find it amusing that I once outranked you."
"Only in the military sense, Captain."
"You heard that a party of riders came tonight, flying royal colors? They delivered this." Mauritane held out the letter.
Silverdun scanned the page quickly, its charmed ink already fading from exposure to light. "Fascinating," he said after a moment's reflection. "What instructions were you given?"
Mauritane recounted his conversation with Purane-Es and Silverdun listened intently. His ears perked at the name of the commander.
"Purane-Es. That bastard," said Silverdun.
"You know him?"
"I know of him. I flirted briefly with his sister when she was at court a dozen years ago. Pretentious brat, from what I gathered, deeply buried in the combined shadows of his father and elder brother."
"You know that his father now commands the Royal Guard, and that he is the likely replacement?"
"Yes. The Elder Purane and my father had business with each other on occasion. But what became of the elder brother? Surely he would be in direct succession for the captaincy?"
"No. He's dead."
"You're certain of this?"
"I killed him."
Silverdun nodded. "Well, then, I suppose you're certain. Hardly a trustworthy messenger, this Purane-Es, it seems."
"The Chamberlain's seal was genuine. And I recognize the handwriting."
Silverdun shrugged. "I don't doubt the veracity of the letter. But if what you've told me is true, and not even Purane-Es knows the full extent of the Queen's plan, you can be sure that you won't survive to tell the tale once this game is complete."
Mauritane leaned back in the leather chair and sighed, the creases in his forehead darkening. "It would appear so, though I have doubts of that. If the Crown simply needed a patsy, why travel so great a distance to find one? There are any number of able soldiers in the City Emerald who earn the Queen's disfavor on a given day. And the Chamberlain's word, even printed in invisible ink, still carries with it some honor."
"You're a dangerous optimist," said Silverdun.
"I have to be. I have no choice in the matter." Mauritane held up his hands.
Silverdun clucked his tongue. "Well," he said, looking around the room. "I wish you luck, then."
Mauritane's eyes narrowed. "Wish yourself luck. You're coming with me."
"I? I'm no soldier. And I value my life."
"I need you, Silverdun. You possess valuable Gifts. I know you have Glamour and Elements, and I suspect you have Insight as well. And…"
"Yes?" Silverdun leaned forward.
"You're the only person I trust."
Silverdun bit his lip, then burst out laughing. "Ah, dear Mauritane. If that's the case, then you haven't a chance."
Mauritane smiled, but the smile was brief. "I'm serious, Silverdun."
"Even if your optimism is well founded, there is a reason that the Queen hasn't bothered to conquer the Contested Lands. There are shifting places there, and vast untamed fields of wild essence, not to mention Unseelie excur- sionary forces. It's a death march, Mauritane."
"Would you rather die here?"
Silverdun stared into the fire.
"Silverdun, I know you think I'm naive, but consider this: what if this task is as crucial to the Kingdom as it purports to be? Would you rather die in defense of the Crown or cowering in a cell on a frozen mountain?"
Silverclun gripped the arms of his chair and leaned farther forward. "Don't talk to me about loyalty, Mauritane. I'm stuck here because of my own misguided loyalties. If it's love for Queen and country you're trying to inspire, you can forget it. I've none to spare."
Mauritane looked away. They both watched the fire dance for a time.
"Who manages Oarsbridge and Connaugh in your absence?" Mauritane finally asked.
Silverdun sat back. "An uncle of mine, a fatuous cretin with a tenuous claim and deep pockets."
"Your estates are near the border with Beleriand, aren't they?"
"What are you getting at, Mauritane?"
"I am owed favors in Beleriand," Mauritane said. "I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions as to what that might mean."
Silverdun's eyes widened. "You know, Mauritane, you may not be as naive as I thought."
"Then you're with me?"
"I… I suppose."
"That's a relief," said Mauritane, returning to his charts. "Because I would have been forced to kill you otherwise."
"Very funny," said Silverdun.
Mauritane caught his eye again, and there was no trace of mirth there.
"Damn you, Mauritane. You are a bizarre creature."
Mauritane consulted the hourglass on the desk. "Summon the guard," he said. "I want to start interviewing the others."
Chapter 4
sciencel spiders
After Silverdun, Mauritane's next two choices were deemed unsuitable.,Dol was a mixed breed of elf, troll, and something neither of them could identify. He was strong but evasive, uncommunicative. Mauritane and Silverdun agreed that he could not be trusted. The second choice, Gerraca, was a wiry elf with fighting experience, but he and Silverdun had dueled indeterminately a few months prior, and he was avowed to slay Silverdun in a second duel to which Silverdun had never agreed.
As they waited for the next prisoner, Mauritane leaned back in Jem Alan's leather chair, perusing the files of his fellow inmates. They were hastily scribbled, barely literate documents, written in poor hand, some accompanied by judicial decisions from Royal Courts, others nearly blank. Prison recordkeepers had attempted to make notes on the status of inmates as addenda, but these were spare, not uniform, and probably not very reliable. Mauritane found his own file in the stack, a loose sheaf of documents bound in a large paper envelope. One was from the Areopagus in the City Emerald, whose verdict was stamped in red ink above his name: Traitor. The word stung him as though he were seeing it for the first time.
Silverdun, on the other hand, had no file that Mauritane could find, nor even a proper cell assignment. "My imprisonment is of a solely political nature," was all he'd said, shrugging. "It amounts to the same thing. I'm guilty of enough sins to deserve this fate regardless."
While waiting for the fourth choice, Mauritane happened to look down at his feet. A spider was crawling beneath the desk, its legs moving fluidly over the coarse rug that covered the obsidian floor. He watched the spider traverse the rough surface of the rug to Silverdun's feet, wondering at its natural elegance. Silverdun looked down, noticed the spider, and stepped casually on it.
"Who's next?" he said. Mauritane handed him the file as the door opened and Brian Satterly was led into the room.
"Beriane Sattarelay?" said Silverdun. "What sort of name is…" he looked up and saw the man in front of him. "What in the world are you?"
Satterly shrugged, nervous. "Human," he said.
"Really?" Silverdun said, leaning forward. "I've never seen one before. Do all of you have ears like that?"
"Yes, round at the tops," said Satterly, smiling weakly.
"Fascinating," Silverdun said. "Why is he here? Do we need a squire or a stableboy?"
"Actually," said Satterly. "I'd like to know as well." He nodded at Mauritane and Silverdun.
Mauritane said, "I've been charged with a task for the Queen, and my orders are to recruit a unit from among the prisoners here. Upon successful completion of this assignment, you are to be paroled."
Satterly looked between them. "I don't get it. Why prisoners? Is this a fancy way of saying work detail?"
Silverdun shook his head. "No, although it occurs to me that that would make an excellent cover story for the other inmates, after we've left."
"Yes, we'll have the guards spread the rumor that we've been sent down the Ebe to plow roads or something," said Mauritane.
"What is this, t
hen?" said Satterly
"It is the means by which you may achieve parole," said Mauritane. "According to your file, you're here for the remainder of your life. Is it true that humans live only sixty or seventy years?"
"Some longer than that," said Satterly. "But that's about right."
"Sparse time to be wasting it here," said Silverdun.
"What would I have to do?" said Satterly.
"Yes, Mauritane," said Silverdun. "What is he for?"
"He," said Mauritane, "is a scientist."
"Really?" said Silverdun, eyebrow raised. "That is interesting."
Satterly chuckled. "Well, I am a scientist, but I'm afraid we don't really deserve the reputation we've developed in Faerie."
"Don't be shy. Do some science for us!" said Silverdun, raising his glass.
Mauritane leaned forward, mirroring Silverdun. "I'm not sure if one can simply 'do' science, at least not without the proper equipment. Perhaps Satterly can explain this."
Satterly pursed his lips. "Mauritane is at least partly right. Many scientific displays require equipment of one kind or another. But it's not the sorcery that the Fae seem to think it is; it's really just a method of inquiry. To the layman, it's often fairly uninteresting."
Silverdun shook his head. "That's not what I've heard. I once met a man who'd been to your world; he said you have houses that fly and boxes that transmit images and sounds from place to place. If that's uninteresting, I'd love to know what intrigues you."
"I may have one thing to show you," said Satterly. "If you'll let me return to my cell, I can get it."
"Go," said Mauritane.
When Satterly returned, he carried with him an item forged of black metal; a rounded base with a thick cylinder above connected to it by a rounded arm of the same material.
"This is a microscope," he said. "One of the few things they let me keep. I told them it was a religious statuette."
"What is it?" asked Silverdun.
"In your language you'd call it a Tiny-Thing-Appears-Itself-Large-ForYou-With-It or something equally silly."
"Does it work?" said Mauritane.
"Yes, I'll show you." Looking down, he noticed the dead spider curled into a tight ball at Silverdun's feet. "If I may," he said, reaching for it. He took the spider and wedged it between two differently shaped pieces of glass. These he slipped into a pair of silver guides on the base of the microscope. He placed the instrument gently on the desk and twisted the thick cylinder, which Mauritane could see possessed a number of protrusions on its bottom. Satisfied with his choice, Satterly manipulated a knob on the side of the device and peered into the top.
"Not enough light," he muttered.
Silverdun suffused the air around them with green witchlight.
"Okay," said Satterly. "Take a look."
Mauritane peered into the top of the microscope, at first seeing nothing. Then his eye adjusted, and he discovered a circle of light. There, beneath his eye, was the visage of a hideous creature, with eight stalked eyes and pinching mouthparts, like something out of the Mere Swamps.
"What is this?" he asked.
"That's the spider, only much, much larger. This magnification is fifty times how it appears with the naked eye."
Silverdun looked down into the eyepiece, frowning. "Does the spider itself actually become extremely large at some point? Because I could see where that would be useful."
"Well, no. It's just how you're seeing it that changes. The lenses inside the microscope refract the light coming from the spider to make it appear much larger than it is."
"Hm," said Silverdun, reaching for a jug of watered wine, "You're right, Satterly. Science is boring."
Satterly smiled, whether at Silverdun or at some internal joke it was difficult to tell.
"Silverdun," said Mauritane, dismissing him, "if you knew how much of our existing war magic was based on human scientific knowledge, you'd be less glib. The development of explosives, field glasses, and some others I can't mention have their base in the science of his people."
"You think his knowledge will be useful on our journey."
"I do."
Satterly raised his hand. "I'm still not sure exactly what you're asking," he said.
"I will tell you what I have been told," said Mauritane. He recounted the contents of the Chamberlain's letter, the original having already faded to white. He explained as best he could the dangers of the Contested Lands and even reiterated Silverdun's concerns about the legitimacy of the deal the Chamberlain offered.
"Now you know as much as we know," said Mauritane. "If I'm going to ask you to risk your neck, you should understand the danger as well as the potential reward."
"Thank you, and I'm sold, if you'll have me. I've always wanted to visit the Contested Lands. If half of what I've heard of them is true, it should be quite an adventure."
Silverdun snorted. "What a bizarre race of creatures you come from!"
"A few more questions," said Mauritane. "Are you a skilled rider?"
"I don't know how skilled I am, but I've ridden before."
"Can you defend yourself? If we engage a threat, every soldier fights."
"I'm a pretty good shot with a rifle, but I don't guess that's what you mean. If you're talking blades, I'm useless."
"Let's see," said Mauritane. "Take this." He took a scabbarded cavalry sword from its place on the desk and pushed it over to Satterly.
Satterly pulled the blade from its cloth sheath and eyed it warily. "What do you want me to do?"
"We'll be on horseback, so I'll be training everyone in mounted swordplay over the next few days. First, though, I want to see how fast you learn at basic engagement. Stand over there."
Satterly stood where Mauritane pointed and held the blade loosely in his grasp.
"Hold it like this," said Mauritane, drawing his own blade. "Put your thumb on the hilt and your next finger out toward the blade. Now lower your arm and hold the blade upright."
Satterly did as he was instructed, following Mauritane's lead.
"Keep your left foot back," said Mauritane, crossing behind him and tapping his hamstring with the flat of his sword. "All of your weight goes here. When you thrust, thrust with your right arm and foot in concordance."
"Okay," said Satterly, positioning himself.
Mauritane came around and faced him, nodding. "Come at me," he said.
"I'll try." Satterly lunged with his right arm and leg extended outward, thrusting the point of his sword at Mauritane's chest. With a flick of his wrist, Mauritane disarmed him, sending the blade clattering across the floor.
"Let me try it again," said Satterly. "I think I see what you're doing there."
Mauritane nodded. "I've definitely seen worse."
"I have one last question for you," said Silverdun. "How did you come to be here?"
Satterly frowned. "In Crete Sulace? Or in Faerie?"
"Either."
"I came here with some others of my world. There's an organization that finds and rescues human changelings. I came with them."
Silverdun winced. "A dangerous occupation," he said. "I assume you 'rescued' the wrong human."
"Something like that." Satterly looked away.
Mauritane stood. "We leave at dawn. Find Orrel at the main guardhouse. He'll fit you for clothes and a mount. Then report back here."
Satterly turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. "Wait a minute. How do you guys know that I won't just desert you a mile from the prison and go on my merry way?"
Mauritane smiled. "If you try to desert, I'll find you and kill you."
"Ah."
Satterly left the room, closing the doors behind him.
"Can we trust him?" said Silverdun.
"I don't know. His manners are so different from ours; he's extremely difficult to read. He'd be a fool to ride off by himself in the Contested Lands, which is where I believe his skills will be useful. If he deserts later, I won't feel as bad about slaying him."
/> "Will you stop talking about killing people?" said Silverdun. "I'm beginning to wonder if it's all you think about."
"If you want to survive out there," said Mauritane, "you should think of it more."
Silverdun grunted.
In the walls, between the blocks, floating in the chipped mortar, something stirred and flitted away. A cool breeze passed through the chamber then, and Mauritane shivered. He stopped short, thinking for a moment that he detected a young girl's scream at the edge of his hearing. But when he motioned Silverdun for silence, there was nothing more.
Chapter 5
the complete party! the lord of Twin birch torn
The remaining candidates were each called in and had the situation °xplained to them. During the second or third of them, snow began to fall outside, illuminated from above by witchlit security lamps around the walls of the castle. The monotonous pattern of flakes, angling sharply to the southeast, refused to admit any alteration while Mauritane watched. He and Silverdun dismissed Caeona, Adfelae, and Sybaic Id after brief discussions.
"There are only three names left," said Silverdun, his fatigue beginning to show around his eyes. "I hope you saved the best for last."
"We can be certain of Honeywell," said Mauritane, surveying the remaining names on the list. "Ce'Thabar I included because I believe he possesses Resistance. Raieve is a mystery, but an intriguing one."
"Not bad to look at, either," observed Silverdun.
"Not even a hint of impropriety, Silverdun. In the Guard we had strict rules about such things."
"Who is more proper than I?" asked Silverdun. "Besides, I freely admit that she intimidates me."
The doors opened, but rather than Ce'Thabar, it was Purane-Es who entered.
"Your time grows near," he said, striding to the desk and peering over the documents spread out there.
"Yes, we have a clock in this room as well," said Mauritane, not looking up.
"Will you be ready? I'm not to leave this place until you do. And I'd like to be in the City Emerald by Stag."
"`It is often better to want than to have,"' quoted Silverdun gaily.
Purane-Es ignored him. "See that you are prepared to leave by sunup."
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