Matthew Sturges - Midwinter

"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, unimpressed. "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."

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.