Matthew Sturges - Midwinter

Satterly and Raieve came next. They both received cheers as well, but nothing compared to what Mauritane got when the Chamberlain said his name one last time.

"Maur-i-tane!" the crowd cried in unison. "Maur-i-tane!"

For a moment, Mauritane looked over the crowd and was suddenly aware of who they were and what they represented. They were the blood of the Seelie Heart, and they mattered more than what Purane-Es had done, or what the Lady Anne had done, or even what Mauritane himself had done. This was a moment of pure joy for the Seelie people and he would share it with them.

He raised his eyes to the sky and the blue of it stung his heart. Over the Seelie Grove, a single puffy cloud made its slow way across the sky, golden and shining. The smell of salt from the Emerald Bay was in the afternoon air; it was a different smell entirely from the dank Channel Sea waters that pervaded the air at Crete Sulace. The Emerald Bay smelled like childhood and friendship, simplicity and love.

The Pontiac was still parked in front of the stage; some event-planning functionary had thought it good theater to have them drive out of the square in it, not realizing that the crowd would mob the car, touching its sides and injuring themselves in the process. A line of Guardsmen was dispatched, and they were able to leave without further incident.

Outside the square, the Chamberlain approached with a trio of huge guards. "Come," he said briskly, his effusive public demeanor gone. "Your Queen wishes to greet you."

Mauritane froze. "Me?" he said.

"All of you."

"But my wife…" Mauritane began.

The Chamberlain looked at him. "There will be time for that."

They were led through the Inner Court, where the nightingales on their perches trilled and the troubadours and skalds sang and danced. Already, someone had composed a ballad of Sylvan, and it was performed throughout the palace grounds

The ancient palace rose before them in the Inner Court, its stones worn to their essential shapes, its towers dark and shrouded in the past. The blue and gold flag of Titania flew outside the gates, fluttering in a gentle breeze.

They were admitted to the palace via a seldom-used side entrance, although it was one Mauritane knew well, since it was convenient to his old office. Walking through the corridors there, he experienced a feast of emotions, not all of them painful.

The throne room was plain, compared to the rest of the palace. The walls were mostly bare, and the thrones themselves were simple, high-backed stone chairs that were built of the same material as the palace. To Mauritane, who had never been allowed here before, the sight was an awesome one regardless. The trio of guards led them into the room and left, closing the door behind them.

Only one of the thrones was currently occupied. King Auberon sat slumped in his chair, his eyes open but vacant, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the arm of his throne. He neither moved nor looked at them as they entered.

Momentarily, a small door behind the Queen's throne opened and Regina Titania swept into the room, leading Elice, daughter of Geracy, by the hand. The Queen's appearance belied her many thousands of years; if Mauritane had to guess he would say she was too young even to be a grandmother, and yet the children to whom she had given birth had lived so long ago that they had spoken a different language. She was tall, very tall, her movements precise and sinuous. Her face was open but fierce, all proud angles and lines of concern. Her violet eyes, about which many poems had been written, were at once gay and serious. She wore a simple white gown that flowed to her bare feet, and the Seelie Crown rested lightly over her close-cropped hair.

Mauritane had not seen Elice since that morning. After Purane-Es's death, Raieve had dragged her, kicking and screaming, into the automobile. She'd calmed down a bit once in the Pontiac but had not spoken a word. She remained silent and agitated even when they arrived in the city amidst a hail of trumpet calls and confetti, and she was whisked away by the Chamberlain and his men. Now she was calm, and her hair had been cropped short to match the Queen's.

The Queen let go of Elice's hand and ascended her throne, sparing a quick glance at her husband. Elice sat at the Queen's side, looking down at them, an odd smile on her face.

"Welcome home, Captain," said the Queen. "We are honored to have your in Our service."

Mauritane bowed low. "The honor, Majesty, is mine. I am… it is my greatest joy in life to have served thee."

Regina Titania smiled briefly, showing a line of perfect white teeth. Her smile was that of a gently scolding mother. "It pleases Us to hear it, although We are aware that the road has been difficult."

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. "You do not know it, Mauritane," she said, "but you are a hero in more ways than one. In more ways than you can possibly imagine, in fact. And for that you shall be both rewarded and reviled in your time. But today, you are a hero to Us and to Our people."

Mauritane bowed again. "It is my pleasure to serve thee, Majesty."

"Bring your companions forward, let me look at them," she said.

Satterly came first. She stood and took his face in her hands, peering into his eyes. "You are human. Do you wish to return to the world of your birth?"

"May I stay instead?" said Satterly. "I have a friend in Sylvan that I'd like to see again."

"As you wish," said the Queen. "I am feeling generous of spirit today. And those who engage in the changeling trade are no friends of the kingdom."

She waved Raieve forward. "You are Raieve, of the Heavy Sky Clan of Avalon."

Raieve nodded.

"You do not care much for the Seelie Fae."

"I am from a different place," said Raieve, unafraid.

The Queen smiled again. "Indeed. What boon may I grant you?"

"I wish only to return to my homeland. I came to this world for assistance in bringing peace to Avalon. I was arrested and imprisoned for my trouble."

"You will be provided with what is necessary," said the Queen. "Though your experience may show otherwise, We sympathize with the plight of our neighbor world and wish her peace and prosperity. You may speak with my Guard Captain about the matter after I am through with him."

The Queen looked over her shoulder at Silverdun, who stood still at attention. "Are you Lord Silverdun?" she asked. "You are altered."

Silverdun bowed. "I am, Highness."

"Come forward."

The Queen rose and examined Silverdun's ruined face with great care. "There is no glamour here," she said, sadly.

"No, it will not come off."

"Do you know what this is?" she said.

Silverdun shook his head.

"This is the work of the thirteenth Gift. The Gift of Change Magic. It has not been seen since the Great Reshaping."

Silverdun touched his face. "Change Magic? But it was only a girl that did this to me."

"We were once only a girl, Lord Silverdun, and look what We have accomplished." She looked away, sadly. "All of these things are coming to pass as We have always known they would." She leaned in toward him and spoke quietly. "You have been marked, Lord Silverdun, by the one who will eventually unseat Us, though that day is far from today."

"Unseat Your Highness?" said Silverdun. "Impossible."

"Hear me, Lord Silverdun," the Queen whispered in his ear. "In your lifetime, the magic will go out of the world, and the one who did this to you will be the cause of it. When that time comes, We will no longer be fit to rule. You must be prepared for that day, for I will call on you by name. This is for your ears alone."

The Queen gently stroked Silverdun's face with her fingertips. As she touched him, the lines of his face stretched and rearranged themselves. When she moved her hands away, he was nearer to the old Silverdun, recognizable at least, and no longer misshapen. But he was not the same.