"We must stop this. Eloquet, I must speak to my companions, explain the situation to them."
"Of course."
"Then, I suggest you and I ride out to speak with Commander Kallmer of the Royal Guard. Perhaps together we can sway his judgment."
Before Eloquet could answer, a young woman in the pink robe of the temple appeared in an archway, running toward them. She stopped, her hands on her knees, out of breath from running upstairs. She was also crying, terrified.
"We've just had word," she managed. "That… was no earthquake." She tried to catch her breath, struggling with the words. "It was… an explosion. The Unseelie have crossed the border. They destroyed Selafae. Messages are pouring in now. A great column of fire, it incinerated the entire city. In seconds, just gone. A column of fire."
Eloquet led the girl to a stone bench. She sat and collected herself. "They think… it is the city of Mab herself. And it is now heading directly for us."
Mauritane looked toward the northern horizon, where nothing unusual could be seen. "It's true then," he said. "The Unseelie have been preparing for a war."
He turned to Eloquet. "How far is it to Selafae from here?"
"Two days' ride on horseback," said Eloquet. "How long for Mab's city to reach us?"
"Depending on the wind, less than a day. Maybe a bit more. Certainly the army has received the same news and is preparing." A light flashed on in Mauritane's head. "Wait! Now I understand," he said.
"What?" said Eloquet.
"The Seelie Army's presence here. There isn't any offensive brewing against the rebels. They're here because of the Unseelie! The soldiers we discovered in the Contested Lands can't have been the only ones; our spies would have seen this invasion coming for days." He scratched his head. "Come, Eloquet. We must talk to Kallmer now more than ever."
"What are you thinking, Mauritane?"
"I have no doubt now that we can prevent a civil war. But I don't think you'll prefer the alternative."
Vestar had fallen to his knees. He pulled his prayer beads from inside his robe and began to whisper prayers, weeping for the lost children of Selafae.
Chapter 36
duty interferes! someone else to blame
"Things have changed," said Mauritane.
Silverdun, Raieve, and Satterly sat around a low table eating rice and fish. From the looks on their faces, they had heard nothing of recent events. The girl Elice sat sullenly in a corner, facing the wall.
"What's happening?" said Silverdun. "No one has said a word to us."
"The Unseelie have detonated something, a powerful spell weapon, on Selafae. The entire city has been destroyed. They are advancing on Sylvan as we speak."
"The Unseelie!" said Satterly. "Then the earthquake we felt…"
"An effect of the explosion. The quake has taken its toll here in Sylvan. The rebels have begun attacking the Seelie forces openly in the wake of its destruction. The city is in chaos."
"What are we going to do?" asked Raieve.
"I've decided to stay and help defend the Seelie Kingdom. Regardless of what happens here, our mission is… in grave danger of failure. You all knew what failure meant when you agreed to join me. Therefore, I release you from your service; you are all free to go and take your chances on your own."
They were stunned. "I don't know what to say," Satterly began.
"If we survive the Unseelie onslaught, I will make a plea before the Chamberlain that your lives be spared in exchange for my own. I wish I could offer you better. You deserve better."
"That's very kind of you," said Silverdun. "But… this is all too unexpected."
Raieve said, "What are the consequences of occupation by the Unseelie?"
Mauritane looked away. "We've been at war many times in the past. Whenever the Unseelie have taken Seelie lands, the people have suffered under their yoke. They are made slaves or worse."
"I will stay, then, and fight," said Raieve. "In my culture, there is no greater honor than to die in the service of one's people."
Silverdun sighed. "If the Unseelie overtake Sylvan, they will destroy this temple. My family lands are not far from here; they will go as well. What, then, would I have to escape to?"
All eyes turned to Satterly. He fidgeted in his chair. "What are you guys looking at me for?" he said, uncomfortably.
"You are under no obligation to stay," said Mauritane.
"Well, I guess I'd be asshole of the year if I left now," he muttered. "I don't know what I can do, but I'll pitch in where I can."
"Do not agree so lightly," said Mauritane to all of them. "Honor is generally only beautiful when viewed from a distance. There is a good chance that none of us will survive."
"And what chance had we before?" said Silverdun. "We all knew going into this that there was little hope for survival. I just didn't want to die in that damnable prison."
"In that case," said Mauritane, "let us be more than fellow travelers from now on. Let us call each other friend as well."
"Mauritane," said Raieve, "may I speak with you for a moment? Alone?"
Satterly and Silverdun took the cue. They stood and ambled off down the hallway, carrying the empty dinner dishes with them.
"Yes?" said Mauritane, once they were alone.
"I wanted to tell you. That morning, after we made love, I was unfair to you. I knew you were married and that you would not have been unfaithful had things been different. I was as much to blame as you. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for," he said. "Nothing."
"Mauritane," said Raieve, taking his hand. "That's not all."
He leaned into her and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "Tell me."
"I am in love with you," she said. "I started loving you the day we met. You speak of commitment, and duty, but none of those things matter to love. I cannot apologize for how I feel." She looked up, into his eyes.
Mauritane backed away from her, slowly. "I don't know what to say," he started, his frustration welling to the surface. "I wish… it seems my duty interferes with me at every turn. I can never seem to avoid it!"
"I know how you feel in your heart," said Raieve, her softness dissolving. "That you deny it is where you are always going wrong." She turned and ran down the hallway, wiping her sleeve roughly across her eyes.
The Royal Guard forces had seized a hotel in the Mid City earlier in the day, and terrified guests were still flowing out into the chaotic night under the watchful eye of a dozen guardsmen. No efforts were being made, however, to unload the equipment and ammunition that sat in carts on the far side of the lobby. In fact, it appeared that some of the carts were actually being loaded for travel.
Kallmer had acknowledged the parlay flag, ordering his men to lower their weapons. A pair of them escorted Mauritane, Eloquet, and the abbot to the center of the wide formal dining hall. Kallmer had appropriated the room for his field office. He was seated at a long table of dark mahogany, papers spread everywhere across it.
"You realize, of course," began Kallmer, "that if you were not accompanied by the temple's abbot, I would have shot you on sight."
"That is why I have come," said the abbot.
"Technically," said Kallmer, "one cannot even ask for parlay unless there is a war going on. Are we at war with one another?"
"That is what we are here to avoid," said Mauritane. "Certainly you have heard the same news we have from Selafae."
"Any such information would be classified," said Kallmer.
"Then you know that Mab is on her way here, even now. The figures are not difficult, Kallmer. If we are divided, fighting amongst one another, the Unseelie will roll over us. But if we are united, we have a chance against them."
Kallmer smiled. "You are proposing an alliance? With the Seelie Army and the Royal Guard on one side and a band of terrorists on the other?"
Eloquet spoke up. "Many of our men were once Seelie Army officers themselves."
"I've no doubt," said Kallmer, unimpr
essed. "It's an intriguing notion, Mauritane, but irrelevant. We're pulling out of Sylvan."
"What?" said Mauritane. "Why?"
"That is also classified information. But I will tell you this: based on what our scouts reported from Selafae, if you have any interest in saving your skin, I suggest you get as far away from Sylvan as possible. I tell you this," he waved his arms beneficently, "for the sake of our long-lost camaraderie."
"Before I go, however, I'd like to make some kind of arrangement for Geracy's daughter. What is it you want for her? Gold? Weapons? If it's something we can spare, I'll give it to you just to get Geracy off my back."
"You can assure Geracy that she will come to no harm."
Kallmer shrugged. "Fine! I no longer care. This is all to do with your secret mission, isn't it? You're lucky, Mauritane. Earlier today, I would have killed you to learn that secret. Now, it seems I have more pressing matters to attend to." He reached for an overcoat that hung on the chair next to him. "Are we finished, then? I have important business elsewhere."
"To where will you fall back?" said Mauritane. "Paura?"
"Classified," said Kallmer. "I really must be going now."
"You can't have had orders from Purane already. If this is your own decision, it's a poor one. Purane will have your head for it."
Kallmer stood. "Mauritane, the city of Mab sails ever closer as we speak, bearing a weapon of mass destruction whose properties we can't even begin to understand. We've lost nearly a quarter of our combined troops to your rebel friends in the past four hours alone. Retreat is not just the sensible option, it's the only option."
"Sylvan has never been occupied by the Unseelie, Kallmer. Never! Do you want to be the first commander in history to let that happen? The Queen herself will hang you. You must know that."
Kallmer seemed to break down before their eyes. "And what do you recommend, Mauritane?" he said, his voice rising an octave. "That I simply sit here and wait for my own death?"
"Working together, we can stop Mab before she comes within range of Sylvan. Then we'll have only ground troops to contend with, and we are far more skilled than the Unseelie on the ground."
"And how do you propose to stop Mab?" said Kallmer, still skeptical but no longer shrugging into his coat.
"We have a plan," said Mauritane. "But we need the schematics of the city of Mab that the Royal Guard intelligence has developed."
"I can't confirm the existence of any such documents."
"I can," Mauritane said. "I helped draw them."
Kallmer scowled. "What is this plan?"
"That information is classified," Mauritane said.
Kallmer laughed, but it was not a happy sound. "What are its chances for success?"
"Good enough."
Kallmer paced behind his desk. "I will have to discuss the matter with Prae-Alan. He will not be pleased."
"If the Royal Guard and rebels unite against the Unseelie, Prae-Alan would be a fool to balk at that alliance. And he is not a fool. If you tell him the arrangement already exists, the Seelie Army will have no choice but to agree to it. Unless, of course, he values his life even less than you do."
"What is your motivation behind all of this, Mauritane? You are no longer Captain of the Guard. Why risk your own neck?"
Mauritane took a long look at Kallmer and saw only fear there. "If you have to ask," he said, "then you know nothing about loyalty."
Kallmer pursed his lips but made no reply. Instead, he changed the subject. "How long will it take to execute your plan?"
"If we go now, we will see success by this time tomorrow."
"Isn't that cutting things awfully close?"
"If the winds are with us, we should have plenty of time."
Kallmer blanched. "And if they are not?"
"Then we will have to hurry," said Mauritane, a cold smile on his lips.
Kallmer reflected for a moment, presumably contemplating the various avenues by which death had recently suggested itself to him. "I have one question before I agree."
"Ask."
"Did you send the order for Purane-La to destroy Stilbel?"
"No," Mauritane said simply.
Kallmer nodded. "No, somehow I didn't really think so." He thought a bit longer. "Fine," he finally said, "we'll do it your way. At least then I'll have someone else to blame while I'm waiting for the ax to fall."
Mauritane nodded. "Good. Get me the plans."
Kallmer dispatched a lieutenant to the records wagon. "When this is over, Mauritane, I expect you to tell me what this mission of yours was all about. It's the least you can do."
"If we are both still alive, I will tell you."
"That," sighed Kallmer, "is fair."
Chapter 37
deals
The Mechesyl Road was wide and flat, its grassy median and broad hexagonal stones extending all the way from the Travel Guild Center outside the City Emerald to Sylvan's southeast gate. Purane-Es's troops rode in columns five wide, filling the entire road. The troops forced the merchants and travelers to the shoulders, where they waited impatiently for the hundred or so men on horseback to pass.
Purane-Es rode ahead of the formation, only the standard-bearer preceding him. He let his gaze fall on the snow-clad trees in the median, watching them drift past his field of vision in the predawn light. Anything to mitigate the sight of the horse's hindquarters he'd been staring at for the past seven days.
The Lady Anne had not been pleased. She'd called him a spineless fool and worse. And yet, despite her anger, he still felt her love reaching him from somewhere behind her eyes. He persisted, she relented. He explained to her as best he could his relationship with Father, how brutal he'd been to them as children, how brutal Purane-La had been to him in return. He made noises about the Unseelie threat. He avoided mentioning Mauritane and his damned orders for Stilbel. She wept and begged him not to leave. But there was nothing he could do. Lord Purane had a crossbow to his head, and the bolt was one he could never share with her.
She said she no longer loved Mauritane, that she loved only him. What would she do if she found out what had really happened? Purane-Es's stomach churned. How long would he be forced to pay for that one error in judgment? He'd never meant for things to go so far. He'd certainly never meant for his brother to be killed.
Or had he?
Sometimes, Purane-Es admitted to himself, he had wished La dead. Purane-La, the firstborn son, the one who could do no wrong in his father's eyes. La was Father's great achievement, and Es was merely his backup. Purane-Es had spent his entire life as an understudy, waiting in the wings for his father to notice him in any other way than to point out his failings. "You are wasting your life, Purane-Es," he'd often said. "You're not half the man your brother is," was another favorite. Sometimes, when the old man had had a few too many drinks, he would quietly admit that he wished Es had never been born. "You're useless," he'd observe, as though talking about a hen that didn't lay. Fortunately, by the time Purane-Es had left for University, he'd learned to shut such things out. He no longer heard them.
Regardless, being runner-up to Purane-La was paradise compared to being his replacement. Since La's death, Purane-Es had come to hate his father in an entirely new way, in the manner that men despise other men, and not just the simple loathing of a son for an aloof parent.
What kind of man blackmailed his own son?
Could Purane-Es really be blamed for any of this? All he'd ever wanted was to lounge beneath the shady trees at court, singing songs and stealing kisses in the moonlight. He'd never wanted this. Not any of it.
A scout from the messaging post in Paura interrupted his reverie. The boy ran out of the guardhouse, calling his name.
"Purane-Es! Are you Purane-Es?" called the boy.
Purane-Es nodded, taking the boy's hastily scrawled message, which had arrived via message sprite. He read Kallmer's report of the earthquake, and the subsequent news from Selafae and the riots in the City Center.
"What am I riding into?" he mused out loud. He tore up the message and rode on, his personal troubles momentarily forgotten.
The Rye Grove was teeming with activity. Seelie Army soldiers drilled alongside members of the Royal Guard. Battle mages tested their spellweapons, creating clouds of green and blue smoke over the trees. From the farrier's tent, the sound of hammers and the smell of the silver-hardening vats drifted out over the field. The morning mist was thick but had already begun to burn away beneath an unusually warm sun.
Purane-Es sat high in the saddle, curious about the figures he saw coming and going in gray and brown cloaks. They looked like peasants; most had no braids, and none of them was clean shaven. Even the Royal Guardsmen he saw looked a bit ragged, their uniforms not to regulation, their braids casually slung over their shoulders. It was depressing to see.
Kallmer came to greet them; he'd been leading a drill and was drenched in sweat, despite the cold. "Commander Purane-Es," he said, his voice guarded. "Your presence coincides with events both wondrous and fearsome."
"We need to talk," said Purane-Es, refusing the offer of cordiality.
"Of course, Commander," said Kallmer, emphasizing the rank to remind Purane-Es that his was equivalent. "I've set up a temporary headquarters in a hotel just up the street."
Purane-Es handed his reins to a groom, and they walked the short distance to the hotel. The streets were quiet, save for the activities of the military in the grove.
"Your message indicated riots," said Purane-Es. "If there is rioting here, it's being performed by an exceedingly polite mob."
"We've… gotten that situation under control since that message was sent. I apologize; there hasn't been time for a follow-up."
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