Matthew Sturges - Midwinter

As they approached the city of Mab, Eloquet veered to the east, keeping the flyer low to the ground. They would make a wide circle and approach the city from the northeast to make their cover story more believable.

Already they could see the troop transports beginning to ferry their cargo to the ground. The wide, flat vessels detached from the city's ragged underbelly, each carrying a hundred or more men in tight formation, as well as horses, weapons, and supplies. Soldiers on the ground hurriedly felled trees so the transports could land in greater numbers.

"Why are they landing troops so far away from Sylvan?" asked Silverdun.

"These are only the backup infantry and cavalry," said Eloquet. "The primary column will remain in the city until it lands. These soldiers will secure the surrounding villages and clean up the mess when it's all over."

"They have more backups than we have troops!" shouted Satterly.

"Not quite," said Eloquet, "but enough to make me uncomfortable."

Once they'd reached a sufficient distance to make a plausible approach vector, Eloquet brought the flyer about and they glided toward the city of Mab. Now they were running with the wind, and Raieve realized that the flyer itself made no sound whatsoever.

"Check your costumes," ordered Mauritane. "And keep to yourselves. We don't want to start a fight before we even reach the city."

The city grew to take up half the sky, and it kept growing. Raieve had to admit she was impressed. From the outside, the city of Mab was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. Enormous masts rose into the heavens bearing multicolored sails. Long streamers of purple and red flew from posts all over the rails and from the rigging as well. Though the structure had obviously been amended heavily over the years, its basic shape was that of a pear sliced in half along its length. The top deck was mostly flat, and the hull underneath was smooth and rounded. From the flat expanse rose a number of towers and spires; they mingled with the sails, their solidity complementing the constant rippling of the sheets.

It was not until she could see individual Fae crawling in the rigging and scurrying about on the decks that she was able to assimilate the scale of the sight before her. The city of Mab was more massive than anything she'd yet seen made by Fae hands. It would take half an hour to ride the length of it at a gallop. And it flew.

A pair of guards standing along the wall hailed them with the blast of a horn. Eloquet reached for the flags at his feet and shuffled through them. "I certainly hope this works," he said. He held up the flags in the order Marar Envacoro had specified in his final message. Green, then blue, then yellow, then green again.

The horn blew again, twice.

"That's not good," Eloquet said. "That's a signal to hold position."

"What do we do?" said Satterly, nervous.

"Don't do anything yet," said Mauritane. "We gain nothing by panicking."

One of the guards disappeared from the wall, and within seconds a flyer twice the size of theirs was in the sky, sailing toward them.

"That's a military patrol flyer," said Eloquet.

"Keep still," said Mauritane. Raieve looked down and noticed Mauritane's grip tighten on his sword. She wished she were in a less vulnerable position.

The patrol ship pulled alongside theirs and the single officer glanced over at them.

"Those are last month's flags," he said. "Do you have the new ones?"

Eloquet leaned out over the abyss, a huge grin on his face. "I must apologize, sir. I do not. We've been away at the Palm Festival in Gejel for the past twenty days."

"Do you have your identification with you?"

Eloquet reached into his tunic and withdrew a folded set of papers.

"Envacoro, eh? Tax collectors get twenty-day holidays now?"

"It was a special bonus." Eloquet continued to grin.

Raieve almost let go a sigh of relief. Then the guard looked over Eloquet's shoulder and seemed to notice them for the first time. "The rest of you, let's see your papers."

Sitting on Mauritane's lap, Raieve could feel his legs tensing to leap at the guard.

"I've got them," said Silverdun, rising awkwardly from his seat. He handed the guard a torn piece of cloth from his cloak.

"What's this?" said the guard.

"Why, our papers, of course," said Silverdun. His words were slow and singsong. "All perfectly in order, too."

The guard turned the cloth over in his hand. "Yes, that looks about right," he said. He handed Silverdun back the brown strip as though it were a thick stack of documents. "Carry on. Hope you had a good time, because we're at war now, and you're tethered for the interim."

After the guard had flown, Satterly said, "What just happened?"

Silverdun smiled, the first time Raieve had seen him do so in weeks. "My mestinal training finally pays off," he said. "I showed him the documentation he wished to see, plucked from his own memories."

"Good work," said Mauritane. Only then did Raieve feel his muscles relax beneath her. "Let's go, Eloquet."

Eloquet nodded. "I'm letting the flyer take us to its accustomed mooring," he said. "Marar's home is in a deliberately inconspicuous part of the city."

When they were close enough to see the faces and hear the shouts of the people of Mab, Raieve began to have second thoughts about their endeavor. In her previous life, the grudges and vendettas had all been personal. She knew none of these Unseelie people. How many innocents would die? It was not right, but she did not know what would be better.

Eloquet let the craft steer itself into a bay, between a pair of much larger and more opulent flying machines. They stole from the flyer quickly, trying to remain silent and yet appear as natural as possible to any passersby. Fortunately, there were none.

"We made it," breathed Eloquet.

"Don't start celebrating yet," said Mauritane. "We may not have impressed that guard as much as we thought."

The area in which they'd landed appeared to be a small marina, although that was certainly not the appropriate word here. Raieve wondered what the correct word for such a place was. Worn piers of mottled gray wood jutted out from the edge of the city's grand deck; instead of water, however, beneath them was only empty sky and the black and white of snow on rock beneath them.

They passed through the piers and into a narrow alley surrounded on either side by square structures of dull yellow. The walls were woven from a rough cloth and they fluttered in the wind. Only a few people stirred in the alley, most of them clutching thin garments to themselves, unprepared for the sudden cold.

"Drop your cloaks," said Mauritane.

"What?" Silverdun pulled his own cloak tighter. "It's freezing out here."

"This city spends almost all of its time in much warmer climes," said Mauritane. "We'll stick out like boggarts in a henhouse."

"What about our swords? Won't those be conspicuous?"

Mauritane sucked in his cheeks thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you've spent much time with the Unseelie," he said.

As if to explain his point, a cluster of five or six citizens rounded the corner, beer steins in hand. Each of them wore a sword or dagger at his belt. They passed by, ignoring the band of trespassers entirely.

"At least we know we fit in," said Eloquet.

"Let's go," said Mauritane.

Mauritane walked quickly, with a sense of purpose. He made no attempt to appear inconspicuous as they crossed through the jumbled maze that was the city of Mab. That was his way, of course. He went wherever he chose, and he did not seem to worry about the consequences. But, of course, he always did worry. He just never showed it. Raieve sighed and followed him, trying to keep up.

Had the city actually been a ship, the Tower of Sail could have been its mizzenmast, positioned as it was behind the soaring Royal Complex. From the main deck, the Tower of Sail rose up through a number of levels, passing vertically through open galleries and dark curtains. It was surrounded by open air for at least ten paces in every direction, leaving only one access point, a set of low double doors at the tower's base. A quartet of guards stood tired watch over the portal, two on one side and two on the other. It was easy to imagine that no one had ever attempted to lay siege to the building, so well was it protected by the mass of the city itself.