Matthew Sturges - Midwinter

Something began to hoist itself from the abyss. It was black and misshapen, covered about its body with stiff red hairs that waved in the breeze. A single orifice masticated slowly, revealing uneven lines of sharp teeth.

The tentacles were everywhere, upending planters, splashing in the fishpond, crawling up the rose trellises. Soon the garden was full of them. They surrounded Mab like fingers and tightened against her flesh.

"I assume you have a speech prepared," said Mab. She flattened her long skirt as much as she was able.

Hy Pezho was unnerved by her calm. He stuttered. "I… I have come as the instrument of my father's vengeance," he said. "You had him murdered in his sleep. I have been waiting for this day for a very long time."

Mab sighed. "It's a shame you didn't know your father as well as I did. Perhaps you would not have bothered. Still, vengeance is an act with which I have a passing familiarity. Proceed."

Hy Pezho stamped his foot. "Must you always be so damnably composed? Can you never show a hint of fear, even as you are moments away from eternal torment in the belly of the fel-ala?"

"No, I would not give you that pleasure, even if it were the case." Mab stood, and the tentacles fell away from her.

"How… the fel-ala is my personal wraith, my creation!" Hy Pezho called upon it again, but the creature refused to budge. Its glassy eyes moved back and forth between Mab and Hy Pezho.

"A bit of advice," said Mab, closing the distance between them. She stood before him as though she were about to kiss his lips. "When you seek to lure your enemy down a dark alley, it's best to inquire who owns the buildings on either side."

With a wordless command, she set the fel-ala upon Hy Pezho. She watched as the tentacles embraced him, digging their tiny, sharp spines into his flesh and drawing out the blood and the animating spirit within.

"Bacamar!" called Hy Pezho, with the last of his breath. "Save me!"

Bacamar floated down and alighted on Mab's shoulder.

"I have but one thing to say to you," hissed Bacamar.

"Please," gasped Hy Pezho. "I cannot… the pain." The color leached from his face and hands, turning them a dull gray.

Bacamar whispered, "It is never wise to keep a lady waiting."

They watched until he was dragged beneath the ground, through the chasm and into the nameless place where the wraiths make their home. Mab spoke a few words of Motion and the garden floor healed itself, coming together into a rough seam.

"Boys," said Mab.

Mauritane was reunited with Raieve, Satterly, and Silverdun at the rear gate of Geracy's palace, but the renewal of their acquaintance was a brief one.

"Get in," said Eloquet, pointing at a covered delivery wagon parked at an angle in the alley. Mauritane helped Elice into the rear of the vehicle and the others followed him, including several of Eloquet's men. The remainder faded into the lush greenery that surrounded all of the homes at the valley's rim. Eloquet ordered one of his followers into the driver's seat, then hopped in the back himself. The wagon began to move with a lurch.

"There are Seelie Army posts everywhere," said Eloquet. "We can only assume that the Queen has prepared another offensive against us."

Mauritane shook his head. "Unless Her Majesty's opinion has changed on the subject, I doubt it. During my tenure as Captain of the Guard, she avoided the issue entirely."

Eloquet nodded. "She does not wish to anger those among the nobility who support our cause."

Mauritane shrugged. "In my experience, the Queen does not care whom she angers."

"He's right, Mauritane." It was Silverdun who had spoken. Mauritane looked at him, wondering when he had last heard the man speak. The cart jolted unsteadily with its heavy burden of Fae.

"He's right," Silverdun repeated. "Sympathy for the Arcadians and those in the Western Valley has grown steadily over the years as they find more and more converts among the highborn. My mother was one of them."

"And you believe Her Majesty bows before their influence?"

Silverdun shrugged. "I believe She wishes to avoid a conflict, that is all."

"Through all this, I remain a servant of my Queen, Silverdun." Mauritane scowled. "It does us no good to speculate. Large enough numbers of the nobility, especially in this region, despise the Arcadians. And, as Kallmer implied, they have a great deal of leeway at such a distance from the capital."

Raieve, pressed tight against the baron's daughter, brushed a strand of the girl's golden hair from her mouth and said, "Pardon me for interrupting, but what's going on here? And who is she?" She nodded in Elice's direction.

"They are of the Beleriand rebels," said Mauritane, indicating the men squeezed into the cart. "Apparently, the Seelie Army is preparing another offensive against them."

Raieve nodded. "And why have they rescued us from Geracy?"

"While I was Captain of the Queen's Guard I made no secret of my distaste for these offensives. Even to the point of slaying a man I should perhaps not have slain."

"The butcher Purane-La?" barked Eloquet. "If ever a man deserved to die it was he. He burned the town of Stilbel to the ground. He… he trapped the townspeople in their homes and laughed as they were consumed. They say it was you, Mauritane, who gave the order and that he was only following you, but we know that it is not true."

Mauritane's face fell. "The Aeropagus determined otherwise."

"But you did not give the order!" shouted Eloquet.

"No," said Mauritane. "I did not."

"But if you did not give the order," said Raieve, "who did?"

"You've met him," said Mauritane. "He was the man I tried to kill that evening at Crete Sulace."

"Purane-Es."

Mauritane nodded. "The very same. It was he who sent the order, forging my name on the documents. He was one of my personal lieutenants. PuraneLa was his elder brother. Whether Purane-Es was out to ruin me or only his brother, I do not know. He got both for the price of one."

"Were there ever harsh words between you and Purane-Es?" said Raieve. Now that the subject had finally been broached, she was ready for an explanation, regardless of its poor timing.

"Many," said Mauritane, sighing. He peered out the wagon's flap. "Are we near our destination?" he asked Eloquet.

"A few more minutes," Eloquet said.

"Purane-Es was fervently opposed to my policies regarding the Beleriand rebels and to Arcadianism in general. He often insisted that we ought to bring to bear all of our forces against them and wipe them out entirely."

Eloquet laughed ruefully. "He is, unfortunately, not alone in that sentiment."

"It appears he got his wish, at least partially," said Mauritane. "By causing Stilbel to be destroyed, tensions soared to their highest since the days of the original Gossamer Rebellion. And by putting my name on such dangerous documents, by bringing me to Stilbel just as Purane-La finished his work, knowing how I might respond, Purane-Es guaranteed my tribunal and subsequent replacement by his father. The order, on its own, might have caused nothing more than a scandal. But taking the life of Lord Purane's heir was unforgivable in the eyes of the nobility."

Raieve was shocked. "Surely there were witnesses? Did no one speak in your defense?"

"No one who ranked as high as Purane-Es," said Mauritane.

"So," said Satterly. "What's everyone so upset at the Arcadians for, anyway? After being in this country for two years I still haven't figured it out."

"It is a matter of the Fae Gifts," said Silverdun. "The Arcadians believe that the Gifts are from Aba and should be used in his service alone."

"And that brought all this about?"

"Not by itself," continued Silverdun. "The Western Valley, where Beleriand is located, lies within the mountains to the west of here. Its people are vastly different from the majority of the Fae you have met. They don't use glamours; they are against illusion in all its forms.