Midwinter

may work out for the best.'

'And how might that be?' Mauritane said.

'Nafaeel has promised us half of the proceeds of the mestina in return for my participation. He's received a message sprite from his agent in Estacana saying that the City Guard is looking for five escaped prisoners and that they're stopping everyone who tries to cross the western border into the Contested Lands.'

'Meaning we'll have to bribe our way out of Estacana.'

'Exactly.'

Mauritane sighed. 'Is there no other way to satisfy Nafaeel?'

'None that would generate such a large profit for him. Apparently the locals are infatuated with anyone related to the Seelie Court.'

Mauritane handed Satterly his sword. 'I wish I could say the same right now. Let's go speak with Nafaeel.' He pointed at Raieve. 'You and Satterly keep practicing. Try not to kill him.'

When they'd gone, Raieve and Satterly took turns at Mauritane's favorite parrying drill.

'I have to admit,' said Satterly between thrusts, 'even after two years in this world I really don't understand Fae propriety at all.'

'Most humans don't,' said Raieve, easily blocking his attacks.

'What I don't get,' Satterly continued, ignoring her, 'is why Silverdun and Mauritane take this situation so seriously. Why don't we just ride off and leave the mestina behind? If Silverdun agrees to appear in some show, won't that jeopardize our mission?'

'It could get us killed,' said Raieve. 'But that doesn't matter.'

'So you're saying that Silverdun has no choice?'

'That's correct. Let's switch.' Raieve waited for Satterly to set himself, then leapt at him, thrusting low.

'Ow!' said Satterly. 'You're not trying to kill me!'

Raieve smirked.

'Can you just explain to me why Silverdun has no choice?'

Raieve finished her thrust. 'Let me make an analogy,' she said. 'Imagine that you were at a wedding and you had to urinate. Would you raise your tunic and piss on the bridal party?'

'Well, no,' said Satterly smiling.

'Neither can Silverdun ignore his obligation to Nafaeel. As much as he'd like to do otherwise, if he is to retain any honor he must answer his impropriety.'

'And that doesn't bother you?'

She lunged again, hard. 'Of course it bothers me. I find Silverdun odious. But now my honor is tied with his, as is Mauritane's, as is yours.'

'But I'm not Fae. I don't have any honor to wound,' said Satterly.

'Truer words were never spoken,' Raieve said, preparing for her next leap. 'Now shut up and defend yourself!'

Estacana boasted the distinction of being the only city in all of Faerie never to have been built by Fae hands. Rather it materialized, fully formed, from the halated mists of a Midwinter a thousand years gone, its mammoth spires and wide archways perfectly constructed from granite and marble, untouched by wear or weather. Shepherds out watering their flocks along the banks of the upper Ebe stumbled across the glittering walls and named the city Estacana ('by the water's source'), because it overlooked the headwaters of the river.

Frightened to enter, the shepherds led a garrison of the Royal Guard to the site; the garrison entered the city, found its buildings uninhabited, its streets and rooms empty. The city was built for giants; the doorways soared twenty feet high in places, with stair steps that reached a man's knee. In the center of the abandoned metropolis stood a massive, terraced spire that towered over the rest of the city. Like the other buildings-vacant storefronts, apartment blocks, and town homes-the spire was deserted, but there was a message scrawled in the stone floor in Elvish. The message said simply, 'We concede,' and nothing else.

No giants ever came to claim the city. The City Emerald was silent on the matter, returning all correspondence from the nearby lords with variations on 'It is no concern of ours.' Eventually, despite their fears of bad omens and witchcraft, the shepherds of the surrounding valleys moved in to Estacana and fashioned it into a Fae city. Over the years, many of the buildings were torn down to make way for progress, and the walls lost their sheen, but the spire remained unoccupied (for no one would live or work there) and the scrawled message remained to be puzzled over for eternity.

The Bittersweet Wayward Mestina performed before a capacity crowd in the Amphitheater Estacanal. As promised, Lord Silverdun made an appearance, however bashful. He stumbled over his lines, glamoured some purple trout that swam up the aisles and out the great open gates, then took a deep bow and was met with a standing ovation. Waiting in the wings by the stage, Raieve muttered noises of disgust while Mauritane and Satterly looked idly on. Gray Mave, unaccustomed to city life, chose to remain with the horses in the public stable.

After the show, all of the mestina's players and their entourage were invited to a fete at the home of a city Alderman. Backstage, Silverdun removed his costume, trading it for his silk and fur attire, and caught Faella as she passed carrying a pair of dresses used in the show.

'How was l?' he said.

'You were adequate, I suppose,' she giggled. 'You were wonderful. I told you that you would be.'

'And your father? Is he satisfied?'

'He's thrilled. He's back in the wagon counting the receipts. If I were you I'd send Mauritane over to get his money now, before father makes off with it.'

Silverdun took her in his arms. 'If he's in the wagon, then he can't see us.' He kissed her, pulling her close.

'Not so fast, your lordship,' said Faella, waving a finger. 'We have a date.'

'Yes,' said Silverdun. 'I wonder if the Alderman's ever hosted a Seelie lord? What do you think?'

She whispered in his ear. 'If he hasn't, he's going to get an eyeful tonight, and I'm not going to let go of your arm even for a moment.'

'I trust you'll let me off to visit the latrine, at least.'

'Pig. Watch your mouth or I'll take this room at the Sable Inn all for myself.' She held out a silver key with a numbered tag dangling by a chain.

Silverdun took the key. 'I'll be the perfect gentleman,' he said.

The Alderman's party was a gay affair. A pair of doormen waited in the home's spacious foyer, taking the guests' snow-dusted cloaks and sprinkling them with flower petals. Music drifted out from somewhere deeper in the house, lutes and violins and other instruments Mauritane couldn't recognize. He stood outside in the courtyard, leaning against a tree, smoking his pipe. He watched the guests arrive in twos and threes. Estacana was not the City Emerald, and its nobility were not that of the capital, but their finery was impressive enough, he decided. Such things had never interested Mauritane in the slightest, despite the Lady Anne's protestations. It was to Mauritane's great relief that custom allowed for soldiers to attend such affairs in their dress uniforms-had it been otherwise, Mauritane would have refused outright.

Mauritane had arrived in a coach with Silverdun and Faella, the two of them as cozy as lovers in a court ballad. If Silverdun wasn't careful, he could jeopardize everything. He'd assured Mauritane that nobody at this party could possibly recognize him; that they were much too far from the City Emerald for anyone to make the connection, but Mauritane was unconvinced. The only reason he allowed it at all was that Nafaeel refused to pay them their share of the mestina proceeds unless Silverdun put in an appearance. So he waited, his saber comfortably heavy under his cloak, and hoped for the best.

Another carriage arrived, and out of it stepped Satterly, dressed in one of Nafaeel's suits, followed by a woman in a sable cloak. It took Mauritane a moment to realize that the woman was Raieve. Her hair was pulled up, glamoured a reddish gold, and she was wearing makeup as well; her face was powdered white, her lips painted red. She was beautiful.

Satterly looked right past him, but Raieve caught Mauritane's eye and crossed the courtyard toward him, holding up the hem of the cloak to keep it from dragging on the ground.

'How do I look, Captain?' she said, smiling wickedly. She opened the cloak and Mauritane caught his breath. Beneath it was a dress the color of sapphires, its bodice low and bordered with lace. It conformed closely to her