Matthew Sturges - Midwinter

"Forget it," said Purane-Es, handing over his sabretache. "Here's more than five hundred, in gold and gray. Now you've got my horse and a month's pay. Will there be anything else?"

"Only your head when the time comes." Mauritane took the satchel and placed it on the desk. "Anything else, sir?"

"Don't push it, Mauritane. If you were simply to disappear between here and Hawthorne, no one would ever know."

"If I were to disappear between here and Hawthorne, you would no doubt be cursed by your own father as a fool and likely lose your commission. I won't be looking over my shoulder."

"You overestimate your own importance."

"I don't think so."

Purane-Es swept out of the room, slamming the double doors behind him, nearly knocking over Ce'Thabar, who was led in handcuffed by a guard.

"What is this?" said the lanky Ce'Thabar, looking over the two Fae seated at the desk. "Where's Jem Alan?"

"Ce'Thabar, we would like a word with you," said Mauritane, rising. "There is an offer you should consider."

"I can take no offer from you," said Ce'Thabar. "I'm sworn against you on behalf of Dumesne. He's covenanted against you for what you did in the courtyard today."

Mauritane and Silverdun looked at each other. Mauritane sighed. "Fine. You are excused."

After Ce'Thabar was led away, Silverdun said, "That leaves only two."

"I'm certain of Honeywell. If Raieve doesn't work out, we can take Adfelae as a last resort. He wasn't so bad."

"I hope for all of our sakes that Raieve works out. Adfelae is an idiot."

Silverdun fell silent, and Mauritane heard the odd sound again, this time a bit louder, coming from the south side of the room. A girl's scream.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

"I don't hear anything. What?"

"It sounded like a girl screaming."

"Probably one of the cats in the courtyard. They're all freezing to death out there. Someone should put them out of their misery."

"You're probably right."

Geuna Eled, called Honeywell, saluted when he was presented. "Sir," he said, his voice strong and firm in a way that his body was not. Prison life had not been kind to Honeywell. Without exercise his weight had increased over the past two years, and his face was puffy and red.

"Honeywell, you served me ably as lieutenant when I was Captain of the Guard. Will you ride with me again?"

Honeywell bowed deeply. "I would be honored, sir."

Mauritane recounted the Chamberlain's offer for the eighth time that night, barely listening to himself speak. Honeywell's mouth was an "0" of wonder throughout.

"This is such an honor, sir," said Honeywell. "I don't know how to thank you enough."

"You can thank me by surviving until we reach the City Emerald. I was responsible for your imprisonment; I'd hate to be responsible for your death as well." Mauritane rubbed his chin.

"I know we've agreed to disagree on that one point, sir. But for Lord Silverdun's benefit, I must say that I am here by my own leave, and it wasn't anyone convinced me to be here other than me."

Silverdun forced a smile. "It is… good of you to say so."

"Thank you, milord."

"Just cut the `milord' crap. I only require it of the guards because it annoys them so. You may call me Silverdun."

Honeywell bowed low, his outstretched wrist nearly scraping the floor.

Though it was still hours from First Watch, the sounds of prison morning life were beginning to seep in from all directions. Somewhere nearby the kitchen staff were lighting their fires, clattering their heavy skillets and pots. Elsewhere the laundry vats rumbled to life, their gears turned by the pale white slaves from Edan.

"Only one more, then Arcadia," said Silverdun, resting his chin in his cupped hands, once Honeywell had managed to bow his way out of the room.

"We ride for Hawthorne in three hours," said Mauritane. "Don't tell me you're going to fail me before we reach the gates."

Silverdun smiled ruefully. "No, I'll have a witch in Hawthorne spell me some awake time. That'll keep me until we camp tonight. Which reminds me. Should we stop in Colthorn," he asked, turning to the maps. "Or do we press on and make camp in the hills to the south?"

"We'll bed at inns until we cross the border. No reason to deplete ourselves before then."

"You'll get no argument from me."

They passed the next few moments in silence, then Raieve was brought in.

She was less enthusiastic than Honeywell.

"Do you think me mad?" she laughed. "It's not enough that I rot in your prisons, but you want me to follow you on some twisted errand of fealty to your bitch queen?"

Mauritane held his tongue so he would not speak without thinking. Her words made him furious, but Silverdun was right. She was beautiful. Her long, metal-tipped braids framed an angular face, blue eyes inlaid over high cheekbones, arched eyebrows in a permanent slant of anger. There was something wild about her.

"You may hold what opinions you wish," he said. "But in my presence you will refer to the Queen as Her Majesty or Regina Titania. If not out of respect for her, then out of respect for me."

Raieve had been standing, pacing across the floor as Mauritane delivered his pitch. Now she sat, pulling her braids forward and peering down at them. "As you wish."

"You have the offer, parole in exchange for your services. How do you answer?"

Raieve pursed her lips. "The only thing you could offer me is guaranteed transport back to Avalon when this is finished and the arms that I came here to purchase. Then I might accept."

"I can probably guarantee your return to Avalon, but beyond that I make no promises," said Mauritane.

"You can promise to do your level best. I would accept that." She glared at him.

"I've watched you since your arrival here," said Mauritane. "I believe you can be of great value to me. I'll do what I can to help you when our task is complete, but it may not be possible."

"You said it yourself," she said. "The alternative is dying here. I don't hate your queen enough to punish myself for spite. You have my word; I will fight by your side. I'll take what you can offer."

"I'm pleased," said Mauritane. "Perhaps when this is done you will not think so badly of us."

"I hardly see how it matters either way," she said.

Mauritane started to say something else but stopped. "Fine. The guard at the door will take you for provisions. Move quickly; we leave in an hour."

Mauritane watched her leave, feeling the curve of her legs with his eyes as she left. He forced himself to remember his wife, the Lady Anne, and put Raieve out of his mind for the moment.

He opened his mouth to speak to Silverdun and heard the scream again, even louder this time, definitely from the south. Could it be one of the Edani? They usually had lower voices and did not often allow their young to be taken captive. Raieve was one of four female inmates. The other three were locked in their cells on the other side of the prison.

"I'll be right back," said Mauritane. Silverdun nodded wearily, reviewing the list of provisions for the fourth time in an hour.

He picked up one of the guards at the door. "Where are we going, sir?" the guard said.

"Do you hear that sound?" said Mauritane. The girl's cries were insistent, pleading. Mauritane wondered for a moment that a woman's cries of pleasure and pain could sound so similar. Raieve's face flashed unbidden across his mind. He frowned.

"I don't hear anything," said the guard.

"Come with me," Mauritane said.

They passed from the North Tower into the main yard, where a trio from the night watch warmed their hands in the guardhouse. Snow continued to fall in its angled sweep, casting irregular diagonal lines across the faces of the guards.

"No!" the girl's voice cried. The sound emanated from the South Tower.