The Office of Shadow (60 page)

And yes, Silverdun was there. But that wasn't why.

There was a knock at the door of her office, and she quickly hid the
papers under a blotter. She had no intention of saying good-bye. She intended
to simply leave the packet of documents on the stage, with a bound glamour
of herself, waving good-bye.

"Someone waiting to see you in the lobby," said Rieger.

Since the incident in his room, when she'd healed him, Rieger hadn't
been able to look her in the eye. Something inexplicable had happened to
him that night. He was both grateful and at the same time clearly frightened
of her now. They hadn't touched each other since that night.

Faella stood and adjusted her hair in the mirror. She'd deal with whoever
was waiting in the lobby and then retire back to her office with a bottle of
that cheap wine and finish signing the papers, wait for everyone to go home,
and then stage her exit.

The lobby was nearly empty; a few stragglers stood at the door: couples
prolonging their dates, lonely men and women with no place better to go.
She couldn't see anyone who might be looking for her.

"`Twine' was most remarkable," said a voice behind her.

She turned, and there was Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun, new face and all.
He was dressed not as a nobleman but as a merchant from the City Emerald,
a hat pulled low over his forehead. He looked her in the eye and smiled wide.

"Lord Silverdun," she said evenly. "What a surprise." Her heart was
bolting in her chest, threatening to break out of her and go running off down
the avenue.

"It's good to see you again," he said. His voice was plain, honest, not at
all vengeful or contemptuous. Either he'd forgiven her, or he was doing an
excellent job of faking it.

"You as well," she said. Was her voice shaking? She prayed it wasn't.

"I need to speak with you," he said. He looked around the lobby. "In private, if we might. It's a matter of some importance."

A matter of some importance.

"Of course," she said. "Come with me." She led him through the lobby,
behind the ticket counter, backstage, and into her office. He shut the door
behind them.

"What is it that I can do for you?" she asked.

He reached out and took her by the shoulders, pulled her to him. He
pressed himself up roughly against her, kissing her.

Oh.

All of her fantasies suddenly realized in a moment, Faella's head swam.
She wasn't sure at first how her body was responding, her thoughts spinning
so wildly that she almost forgot where she was.

But then she felt his hand on the small of her back, and it was clear that
her body was responding just fine without her.

She leaned back on the desk, pushing the blotter out of the way, drawing
him on top of her. As her carefully prepared documents fluttered to the floor,
she considered simply leaving them there and letting the Bittersweet Wayward Mestina work it out on their own.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to find your way back to
me," she breathed.

He stopped kissing her neck long enough to whisper, "I was wondering
how long I could resist."

It is the rare man who is both foolish enough to make a
stupid decision and at the same time wise enough to
profit from it.

-Master Jedron

his had better work," said Everess. "By my reckoning, the invasion of
the Unseelie begins any minute now, and we're making these
Chthonics angrier by the minute, mucking around in their temple like this."

Four days had passed since Ironfoot's revelation. In that time, war preparations had been completed, troops massed at the border. Jem-Aleth, the
Seelie ambassador, had been expelled from the City of Mab yesterday without
comment. War had come.

Ironfoot stood on the altar of the Temple of Bound Althoin, carefully
composing a set of bindings. The deconstructed cynosure was back in
place, floating above the altar, but now it had been rebuilt with some
crude additions: a few hard runes, a channeling glass. Several of the paperthin leaves that had once resided within the cynosure were now connected
to it by lengths of silver thread, their surfaces etched by Silverdun's Elements with additional markings of Ironfoot's design. "I told you," said
Ironfoot, not looking down. "The device is calibrated to work from this
location only. If we try to use it somewhere else, we'll end up in the wrong
place."

Royal Guardsmen had been posted at all the exits. Guide Throen had
been furious when Ironfoot had walked out with his cynosure; now he was
livid, having been ejected by the Royal Guard from his own temple. The Church elders were gathering nearby for a protest, and Everess had spent a
good part of the morning trying to placate them, to no effect.

Sela and Paet sat in a pew, watching Ironfoot. Sela was nervous; she could
feel the tension in the room, and could also sense with Empathy the resonances of old emotions in this space. Strong emotions. Fervent ones.

"I wish Silverdun would get here soon," said Paet. "We've been going out
of our way to offend every religious order in Faerie this week, and I'd like to
get this operation settled before we're damned to any number of various
hells."

"He'll be here," said Sela. "I can feel him."

"He'd better be." Paet stood up. "How much longer?" he said to Ironfoot. His voice rang out in the wide space of the sanctuary.

"Not much longer," said Ironfoot. "But as long as it takes. I assume you'd
prefer that we survive this experiment?"

Paet harrumphed, but sat back down without speaking.

Sela watched Ironfoot. He was handsome enough, clever, intelligent.
Why couldn't she have fallen in love with him instead? He had his own complications, certainly, but she could happily have overlooked them.

Then again, there was a reason she'd been taken with Silverdun. As much
as she hated to admit it, she could never have fallen for Ironfoot. He wasn't
hard enough. At Silverdun's core was something dark and bitterly tough, and
that was what drew her.

As if her thoughts of him had summoned him, Silverdun appeared at the
entrance to the sanctuary, a young woman on his arm. Faella.

She was pretty, but not as pretty as Sela. She was young, too, barely out
of her teens. She took in the sanctuary with a glance, her face haughty, her
eyes fierce. She was used to having all eyes on her. Sela despised her instantly.
She could have happily murdered her right there and then. She knew plenty
of ways to do it.

For an instant Faella's eyes met hers, and she sensed that Faella knew
exactly who she was, and exactly how she felt about Silverdun. Sela consciously avoided creating a thread with her. She had no desire to feel what this
girl was feeling.

Faella smiled at her. Oh, how Sela wanted her dead.

"You must be Faella," said Ironfoot, bowing slightly in her direction.
"Silverdun believes that you can help us with this. Is he right?"

Faella strode almost regally down the aisle, her gold-embroidered skirt
brushing the carpet. "I'm certain that Lord Silverdun has overestimated my
capacities," she said. "But I have a great power and I will do my best."

What horse dung. Great power, indeed. Insecure little girl. Sela couldn't
help it; she reached out and let the thread form. It sprung up, perfectly white.
Sela was baffled. She'd never seen a white thread before. She didn't know
what it meant. Examining it more closely in her perceptions, though, she
realized that this thread was actually many threads, of all colors intertwined.
Only when she examined it from a distance did it appear white.

Who was this woman?

Her emotions, as she strode toward Silverdun, eased into Sela, and Sela
saw something she couldn't believe. This haughty woman, this young
ingenue, believed every word she said. Faella really did believe herself to be
great, but believed it with a purity that astonished Sela. Not insecurity; quite
the opposite. Utter confidence.

Faella stopped halfway down the aisle and looked at Sela. A small smile
spread across her face. "Not what you expected?" she said. Embarrassed, Sela
looked away.

Silverdun looked to Faella, then to Sela, and cringed visibly. Clearly a
fear of his was being realized. So much the better.

Sela needed to stop being petty. There was work to do here.

"Lord Silverdun explained some of what needs to be done," said Faella,
"but he left the technical details to you, Master Falores."

"Ironfoot will be fine, miss."

"As you wish."

Ironfoot began to explain the workings of his plan to Faella. She asked a
number of questions, urging Ironfoot to put the more esoteric details into
terms she could grasp.

"I must say," she finally said, frowning, "I'm not sure I quite
understand."

Sela bit her lip. "Perhaps I can help," she said.

Faella looked at her and smiled that same seductive smile. "Can you?"

Sela walked to the altar and let the threads spring up between her and
Ironfoot and Faella. It would be tricky to connect the two of them to one
another, but not impossible.

But before she even began to channel Empathy in order to relate the two
of them, Faella picked up on what she was doing and handily did it herself.
Sela did her best to hide her feelings of resentment, but knew that they were
spinning out from her on the thread and that Faella was receiving them.

Images, thoughts, words, incantations flowed freely between Faella and
Ironfoot. It was tiring to channel actual thoughts as opposed to emotions, but
each new channeling that Sela opened, Faella expanded. Within a few minutes, Ironfoot had shared everything that needed sharing, and they were
ready.

"Thank you, Sela," said Faella. And she meant it. Sela snapped the thread
away, feeling stupid and inferior. She wanted to hate Faella, but couldn't.
Faella was better than she was. Silverdun's love for her was justified.

"Then let's begin," said Ironfoot. "Just to be clear, I have no idea what
we'll find on the other side of this fold. As far as I know, we could all be killed
instantly. But if all of this re is being folded there, it must be there for a
reason, and there must be something there to contain it. Which means that
others have gone before us."

Silverdun looked at her. "Sela, I know you don't want any more missions,
but we don't know what we're about to face. We need you."

Sela's heart jumped. If anyone other than Silverdun had asked her, she
would have said no.

"Of course I'll go," she said.

"Then let's begin," said Silverdun.

"Yes, please," said Ironfoot. "I have a feeling that any minute now a
judge in the Aeropagus is going to send an order for us to clear out of here,
war or no war. So by all means, let us begin."

"You know what to do?" said Ironfoot.

"I do," said Faella.

Without warning, the world disappeared.

Sela is finally happy. She has Milla.

They sleep in the same bed. They eat their meals together. They play
together on the lawns, weaving the daisy chains that Sela has taught Milla
how to make. They put on plays for one another, read aloud (mostly Sela reads
and Milla listens), sing each other to sleep. They make rude jokes about the
crones and even sometimes about Oca. Sela learns a new word from Milla-
"eunuch"-about Oca. They are inseparable. Except for Sela's "special
studies" each morning.