Matthew Sturges - Midwinter

"The original Gossamer Rebellion was an abortive attempt by Beleriand to secede from the Seelie Kingdom altogether. In those days, Beleriand was ruled by a baron named Pellings, a truly brutal fellow who was almost universally loathed, both in and out of the Western Valley. Once the baron was removed, the problem subsided for a while, but it was only a matter of time before the trouble started again.

"Now, of course, the Arcadian faith has swept outward and there are many in the nobility who see the Arcadians as a threat to the Seelie way of life." He chuckled. "Whatever that is supposed to mean."

"But that's not enough of a reason to send armed forces into a region. There must be more to it than that," Satterly said.

Eloquet answered him. "It was not enough to decry us in public. Some of the more reactionary lords here in the west, Geracy among them, believed that it was necessary to stem the tide of Arcadianism at its source. They began targeted assassinations…"

"That has not been proven," interrupted Mauritane.

"Please, Mauritane!" said Eloquet. "You disappoint me. Shall I list the names for you, the causes of death?"

"I speak as an official of the Seelie Court."

"Look around you," said Eloquet. "You are no longer in the Seelie Court. The assassinations took place, and we retaliated."

Mauritane said nothing in response. An uncomfortable silence reigned for a few breaths.

It was Elice, the baron's daughter, who broke the silence. "I hate to be the voice of dissent," she said, uncertainly. "But my father does have a point about the Arcadians. They've done awful things, caused millions in property damage, defacing public glamours and things, and they've hurt people, too."

Eloquet laughed out loud. "What wonders from the mouth of a child!" he said. "Young lady, an agent of your father murdered my wife in front of me, garroted her with a harp string. And you speak of defacing property as though it matters!"

Elice sat up straight. "My father would never do such a thing."

"No, you're right about that," said Eloquet. "He'd hire someone else to do it."

"Would someone please tell me what she's doing here?" said Raieve, looking ready to slap the girl in the face.

Mauritane looked at the girl, for some reason his opinion of her softening. "She is the object of our quest. She is what we have come here for."

"What?" said Silverdun, Satterly, and Raieve, in unison.

The wagon came to a sudden stop.

"There's trouble ahead," said the driver. "Roadblocks."

"Stay here," said Eloquet. He leapt from the wagon.

"What's going on?" said Satterly.

Eloquet returned. "The Royal Guard has set up roadblocks at the City Center entrances. They must be looking for us. Come on."

"I'm not going anywhere," said Elice. "I think I made a mistake."

"Quiet, girl," Raieve said, a knife instantly at the girl's throat. "If you whine your regrets too loudly, you could get us all killed."

"Come on!" whispered Eloquet.

They climbed from the rear of the wagon, Raieve holding Elice at knifepoint. Their wagon was in a line of similar conveyances on a wide cobblestone road. The road passed through tall housing blocks as it descended to the City Center district. At an archway ahead, eight or ten soldiers of the Seelie Army were stopping and inspecting each cart. Mounted cavalrymen passed through the archway and peered down into the vehicles in line.

Eloquet led them silently through an alley and into a side street. They clung to doorways and dark alleyways as much as possible, Eloquet and his men consulting at each corner.

After a few tense minutes they seemed to find what they were looking for. It was a square grate set into the cobblestones, an arm's length across. One of Eloquet's men produced a hardened silver bar from his cloak and set about prying off the grate. A fetid odor of stagnation and urine emanated from the grate.

"Is that what I think it is?" said Satterly.

"Only if you think it's a sewer," said the man with the prying bar.

Elice reared back in Raieve's grip. "I am not going down there," she said.

"Have you ever had one of your fingers cut off?" Raieve asked her.

The girl shook her head, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"If you'd like to keep it that way, I suggest you remain silent from now on."

They descended into the sewer, lowering themselves through the grate. They dropped into a wide rounded tunnel, large enough that they were able to walk double file. There was a low rush and a cold breeze that followed the course of the frigid, ankle-deep water in the passage.

"Where are we going?" asked Mauritane. "If the City Center is cordoned, it would seem foolish to go there of our own accord."

"We're not going to the City Center," said Eloquet, but he would say nothing else.

The tunnel began to seem endless. It was broken every hundred paces or so by grates identical to the one they'd crawled through. Every so often, a pail of refuse was thrown through a grate, falling on one or more of them. They trudged farther and farther, always descending, following the current. Walking in water, even as shallow as it was, was tiring, and within minutes even the most fit among them were huffing.

Finally the tunnel leveled off, and the flow of water was diverted down a smaller opening. Grateful, they walked along a dry channel for what seemed like hours but was probably not more than half of one. Their footsteps echoed sharply in the corridor; that and their breathing were the only sounds. Mauritane felt, and assumed the others felt, that it would be somehow dangerous to speak here, even though there was probably not much danger from the Seelie Army by now.

The tunnel began to climb again, and a new flow of water began; now they climbed against it. The smooth walls of the tunnel disappeared and they began walking through what looked like a natural cave. Icy water dripped from the walls and the ceilings, and the air was colder by several degrees. Once they passed the final grate in the artificial tunnel, the light faded to blackness.

"Did anyone think to bring a torch?" came Silverdun's voice. "I'd use witchlight, but the troops up there could be using sniffers."

As if in answer to his question, sparks of flint against silver chimed in the darkness, revealing Eloquet, crouching against the breeze with a tiny lamp cradled in his arms.

Eloquet managed to light his lamp. He was rising when the tunnel floor suddenly jerked out of the earth and slammed back into place. Only Mauritane remained standing; everyone else was pitched to the floor of the tunnel as a grinding roar filled their ears, passing over them like a physical force. Mauritane could feel the shaking in his teeth and his gut. Somehow Eloquet's lamp remained lit throughout, and the cave was a flickering scene of confu sion as the wall of sound passed over them, the sides and floor of the passage shuddering in its wake.

"What's going on?" cried the girl.

"Earthquake," said Raieve.

"We don't have earthquakes this far north," said Eloquet.

"What then?"

"I don't know," he said. "But I no longer trust this passageway. Let us be on our way, and quickly."

Except for a bit of fallen debris and a great deal of dust, they managed the remainder of the tunnel without incident. It rose ever more steeply until it reached a grate the height of a man, set in a square opening cut into the rock. Water poured out through the grate in a steady rush.

"What now?" said Raieve.

Eloquet knelt and felt for something on the floor of the tunnel, his hands reaching down into the black water of the cave. He found something and tugged. A thick chain lifted out of the water and a wooden hatch followed, covered in loose stones and muck. It rose at an angle to the flow of the water, and the diverted stream found its way through the hatch and below.