Midwinter 02: The Office of Shadow

by Matthew Sturges

  -Stil-Eret,''Unpopular Reflections on the Capital," from Travels at Home and Abroad

  he Evergreen Club was the most exclusive in the City Emerald. As a Seelie lord, Silverdun was granted a lifetime membership, and had spent a considerable amount of time here during his all-too-brief years as a carefree young noble.

  A quiet servant met him at the entrance and guided him down a hallway of polished mahogany paneling that glinted in the light of perfectly tuned witchlamps in silver sconces. They passed through the main dining room, a sea of white tablecloths and expensive clothing and aristocratic half-smiles. Heads rose as he passed, but few of the diners recognized him, and even these looked away, uninterested. Before his imprisonment at Crere Sulace, before his long journey with Mauritane, before his disfigurement at the hand of Faella, they would all have known him, the ladies especially. But those days were gone.

  As always, thoughts of Faella haunted him. Despite what she'd done to his face, he could not blame her, or be angry with her. He'd deserved it. And if not for breaking off their brief affair, then for any number of similar insensitivities in his checkered past.

  The servant stopped at the entrance to a private dining room, where Lord Everess sat with a man Silverdun recognized as Baron Glennet, who held one of the highest posts in the House of Lords, and an elderly woman he didn't recognize. They were sipping on a floral broth that smelled wonderful.

  Everess and Glennet rose when Silverdun entered, and the woman nodded. Her sash identified her as a guildmistress.

  "Am I late?" asked Silverdun.

  "Not at all," said Everess, pumping his hand. "Right on time!"

  Silverdun bowed. "Baron Glennet I know by reputation, but I'm afraid the guildmistress and I haven't had the pleasure."

  "Of course," said Everess. "Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun, may I introduce Guildmistress Heron, our illustrious secretary of states."

  "I hardly think myself illustrious," said Heron. "The foreign minister exaggerates, as is his wont." She was elderly, just this side of ancient, but her eyes shone with intelligence. She cast a slight disapproving glance at Everess, who did not miss it. Silverdun liked her already.

  "Come, Silverdun, sit," said Glennet. "We've much to discuss!" Glennet had a long reputation as a conciliator; he'd engineered any number of compromises within the House of Lords, and between the House of Lords and the House of Guilds, two bodies that could scarcely agree on the time of day, let alone governance. He too was old, but his exuberance gave him a semblance of youth.

  "I'm afraid my conversational skills have atrophied in recent months," said Silverdun, sitting. A waiter noiselessly placed a bowl of broth in front of him.

  "Ah, yes," said Glennet. "The aristocrat monk! I'm pleased we were able to steal you from your contemplation for dinner."

  "It would appear that monastic life does not suit me," said Silverdun, a bit embarrassed and trying not to show it.

  "Well, you are to be commended for attempting such an ... unusual path," said Heron. "But I believe that the wider roads are wider for a reason, if you take my meaning."

  "Of course," said Silverdun, taking her meaning and liking her somewhat less as a result.

  "I'm just glad Baron Glennet was able to pull himself away from the card table in order to join us," said Heron.

  Glennet's easy smile faltered. "We all have our little sins, Guildmistress." Not "Secretary."

  Secretary Heron was about to comment further when waiters appeared, removing the broth and replacing it with roasted quail, in a sauce of raisins and bee pollen and a liquor Silverdun couldn't identify. He took a slow bite and waited for someone to tell him what the point of this dinner was. Not a social gathering, to be sure, as Everess and Heron clearly disliked one another.

  Glennet dabbed at his chin as though it were a fine art. "Secretary Heron," he asked, "what news have we of Jem-Aleth? Has his social life improved at all?"

  "No," Heron said primly. "Our beloved ambassador to Mab continues to be politely tolerated at court, mostly ignored, and never invited to state dinners. Or teas. Or children's spinet recitals."

  "He told me that a city praetor invited him to a mestina once," said Everess, "but it was one of the bawdy type and he left ten minutes in."

  "Yes," said Secretary Heron, rolling her eyes, "but what Jem-Aleth didn't tell you is the that only reason Praetor Ma-Pikyra invited him in the first place was that he'd confused him with somebody else."

  Silverdun watched the back-and-forth, mildly interested in the idle chatter, but his thoughts were more concerned with the reason for his own presence here. "I knew Jem-Aleth in school," he said, reminding them that he was still in the room. "Nobody liked him then, either. The reason for the Unseelie cold shoulder may be personal as well as political."

  "Quite the contrary," Everess said, unable to allow Silverdun to have useful information that had not come from him. "Before last year's Battle of Sylvan chilled our relations with our Unseelie neighbors substantially, JemAleth was quite well liked in the City of Mab. Though whether that's a com pliment to Jem-Aleth or an insult to the Unseelie, I can't say." He chuckled, looked around for an answering chuckle, got none, and plowed ahead. "Regardless, we've received not a whit of useful information from him in a year. He sends his dispatch each week, filled with scraps of information culled from publicans, maids, and would-be courtiers and sycophants, but even if there were anything useful buried in them, we have no method of responding to them in ... useful ways."

  Everess shot a glance at Silverdun and narrowed his eyes, smiling at Silverdun as though he were a prize pupil. "And there could not be a more urgent time to follow up, I fear. Don't you agree, Silverdun?"

  All eyes turned to Silverdun. He flashed his trademark charming smile, but he found Everess's look discomfiting. What was Everess getting him in to?

  "I've been indisposed, Lord Everess," he said after a long sip of wine. "Perhaps you'd care to educate me."

  Everess sighed, annoyed.

  "You are aware, perhaps, that the Seelie Kingdom was nearly dragged into a full-scale war with Mab last year. You were there when it happened, after all."

  "I seem to recall, yes."

  "And you recall further that during the course of that altercation, the Unseelie unleashed a weapon so powerful that it destroyed the entire city of Selafae in a single blast?"

  Silverdun's smirk faded a bit. "Yes. I remember that as well. The Einswrath, I believe they call it?"

  "Yes," said Secretary Heron, scowling. "After the Chthonic god of war. Most unseemly."

  Everess ignored her. "Then you are aware, Silverdun, that things have changed."

  "Here we go," said Heron, her scowl widening. "Foreign Minister Everess's stock lecture has begun in earnest."

  Now it was Silverdun's turn to ignore her. "What things, exactly, have changed, as you see it?"

  Everess clenched his teeth, looking at Silverdun as though he were a child. "Everything, man. The balance of power, the status of relations between our kingdom and the other nations of the world and other worlds. The very nature of warfare itself."

  It was true, Silverdun knew. The implications of a weapon powerful enough to level an entire city were enormous. No one, however, seemed to agree on what those implications might be. But clearly Everess was about to tell him.

  "Go on," Silverdun said.

  Everess reached for a glass of brandy, took a generous swallow, and launched into what Silverdun assumed was the stock lecture to which Heron had referred. "Certainly you can see that we have reached the end of an era, Silverdun. A cornerstone of propriety has been annihilated before our eyes. Your compulsory army days were long after my own, but you were certainly taught as I was: cavalry, battle mages, infantry in evenly spaced lines politely slaughtering one another on the battlefield. All those pretty tactics and stratagems, all those brilliant battles of old, always applicable. We used them against the Western Valley upstarts the first time they rebelled; we used them against the Gnomics a d
ozen years ago, and against the Puktu barbarians in Mag Mell a thousand years before I was born. But now all that has come to an end."

  "I understand what you're saying, Everess," said Silverdun. "But what of it?"

  "If Mab had one of those things, then she's certainly got more of them. We can only assume that she hasn't got a flying city full of them, or we wouldn't be having this conversation today. We'd be in an Unseelie work camp fetching water, or we'd be ashes in a hole somewhere."

  "It tells us nothing of the kind," said Heron. "I believe that what it tells us is that she hasn't got any more of them."

  "What this tells us," continued Everess, "is that the kind of war we were trained to fight has become obsolete in a single blaze. This new weapon of Mab's means that an army is no longer necessary at all! All one needs is a trebuchet and a tailwind and he can lay waste to anything he sees fit, from a safe and happy distance."

  "Nothing will stop war," said Heron. "And war with Mab will soon be inevitable, as it has been twice before, and nearly was a year ago.

  "I could not disagree more," said Everess. "We are entering the age of a new kind of war. What matters now is not just where our troops are placed. What matters is information and influence. We need to know what Mab's game is. We need to know what Mab's allies are up to, and where our own allies stand. We need to know how many of these accursed things Mab's got, how many she plans to build, and how long before she decides to fly south and begin incinerating the Seelie Kingdom. And we need to do whatever we can to disrupt that process at all costs."

  He stared at Heron. "With the right tools, we can prevent that war."

  Everess smiled at Silverdun. "And I believe that you are just the man to help in that endeavor."

  "You want me to be a spy?"

  "More than that," said Heron drily. "He wants you to become a Shadow." Heron made a melodramatic spooky face at him.

  "You mean the mythical spies from the Second Unseelie War?" asked Silverdun. "I was under the impression that they didn't actually exist."

  "Oh, but they did," said Everess. "And they shall again."

  "This is a lovely fantasy," said Secretary Heron. "But the way to stop Mab is through diplomacy and, if it comes to it, war. All of your playing at spies won't change that, Everess."

  Glennet had been observing without comment. "I understand your objections, Madam Secretary," he said, leaning in. "But I'm afraid that the Foreign Committee in Corpus is willing to give Lord Everess the benefit of the doubt." He paused, giving Heron a conciliatory look. "For the time being."

  He looked at Silverdun. "And for what it's worth, I agree that Lord Silverdun would be an excellent choice."

  "Fine," said Heron. "Play your games. But understand that I will expect complete reports of all your activities."

  "Done," said Everess. "I'd be a fool not to keep you apprised of our progress."

  "And if I find out you've been keeping vital information from me," she said, "there will be repercussions."

  "If all goes as you believe, Secretary Heron," said Everess, sniffing, "then there will be nothing of value to withhold."

  The conversation moved on to other topics, though the chill between Everess and Heron never thawed. Silverdun, however, barely paid attention.

  "What the hell was that all about?" said Silverdun. They were at a table at a cafe on the Promenade, just outside the Foreign Ministry building, a few blocks from the Evergreen Club. It was night, and the Promenade Green was filled with musicians, jugglers, and solo mestines. It was dark, the Green illuminated only by witchlit lanterns. Nightbirds sang from hidden perches.

  "If there's one thing that ought to be obvious," Silverdun continued, "it's that I have no interest in politics or governance. When I left school and took up my title, I sat in Corpus exactly once, and I was so bored I stopped paying attention after about ten minutes. I voted on six bills, and to this day I have no idea what they were."

  "Oh, stop it," said Everess. "That's not why I asked you here."

  "Then why am I here? You come to the temple with vague presentiments of doom, talk me out of my cozy monastic life, and now suddenly you're offering me a job as a spy?"

  Everess took two glasses of brandy from a passing waitress, a wisp of a girl with conjured wings who fluttered a few inches off the ground. He handed one of the brandies to Silverdun.

  "Calm down, lad. There's someone I'd like you to meet before we begin the sales pitch."

  Everess looked up over Silverdun's shoulder. "Ah. Here he comes now."

  Silverdun turned and looked. At first he saw no one. No one that Everess might be referring to, anyway. A jongleur, a skald, a mestine conjuring dancing bears. "Who might that be?"

  As he said it, he noticed someone approaching, someone vaguely familiar. The recognition of his presence was like that of an optical illusion in which the eye is required to swap the foreground of an image for the background. Two faces or a vase. No one there or someone.

  This no one was nearly upon them before Silverdun recognized him. Odd. Not only did his dress and manner cause him to stand out boldly in the mostly upper-class Promenade, but he also walked with a heavily pronounced limp, dragging his left leg behind him, using a thick wooden cane in its place.

  "Lord Silverdun, I'd like you to meet Chief Pact. Pact, Lord Silverdun."

  "Hello," said Paet simply. His expression was affectless, his eyes slightly squinted though it was night. The winged waitress was passing back by, and Paet took a drink from her tray without her noticing. He sat.

  "I'm no expert on manners," said Silverdun drily, "but I believe you're supposed to bow and tug a forelock when you meet a lord of the realm, Paet."

  Paet looked Silverdun in the eye and shrugged. "Drag me before the Sumptuary Court then."

  Silverdun looked to Everess, who was saying nothing. "Well, this is a kick in the teeth, isn't it? Insolent one, this Paet."

  "That's `Chief' to you, milord," said Paet. His expression hadn't changed at all during this exchange.

  Silverdun frowned. "I believe I'm supposed to kill you for talking to me like that. I'm an iconoclast, however, so I'll wait to hear why Everess here has inflicted you on me before I do."

  Everess laughed out loud. "Ignore him, Paet. He won't really kill you."

  Paet shrugged. "He's welcome to try."

  Everess sighed. "Now, now. This isn't how I wanted this meeting to go at all. Paet, calm yourself. Silverdun, shut your mouth for a moment and listen."

  Paet and Silverdun eyed each other carefully. Silverdun wasn't as disapproving of Paet as he'd let on. The impropriety was nothing; he'd been treated far worse at Crete Sulace, by prison guards who, due to their low birth, could have been hanged for looking him in the eye. It was important to keep up appearances, however, lest someone mistake him for a tiresome social reformer. Still, there was something disquieting about Paet.

  "Earlier this evening," said Everess, "we discussed the Shadows. The mythical spies,' as you put it."

  Silverdun pointed at Paet. "Are you telling me that this fellow here is a Shadow?"

  "Not a Shadow," said Paet. "The Shadow. There's only one. Now, anyway."

  "This is true?" asked Silverdun.

  "He's quite serious," said Everess, nodding. "When the group was disbanded after the Treaty of Avenus, it was decided to keep one Shadow in service into perpetuity. In case they were needed again."

  "And you believe they are needed."

  "It requires a certain type of person to do the work that must now be done. And I know that you are exactly that sort of person."

  "I?" said Silverdun. "The `rude villein' whose most recent distinction was being the first monk in history ever to be given the sack?"

  Paet smiled at Everess. Under the squint, which appeared to be a permanent feature, the smile looked rueful, whether it was or not. "He makes a fair case against himself, Everess. Perhaps he's not the man you thought."

  "Yes he is," said Everess, who had developed his own squint
now. Silverdun had a feeling this wasn't a good thing. "And despite his endless protestations, he knows it. He only needs to realize it."

  "So, what? You want me to become the new Shadow? Take over from Paet here?"

  "No," said Everess. "You're going to lead a small team of Shadows. The group is being re-formed. Chief Paet here runs the day-to-day affairs of the Information Division. You'll be the lead Shadow."