A bell rang somewhere in the house. A few moments later, an armor-clad courier stepped out onto the terrace bearing a tiny parcel. He bowed deeply, his breath heavy beneath his closed helmet.
'I am for Mauritane,' he said.
Kallmer twisted in his chair, looking at the baron with surprise. 'Since when is his mail being delivered here?' He rose. 'I'll take that,' he said.
'Apologies, sir,' said the courier, his voice tinny behind his faceplate. 'I am for Mauritane only.'
The baron scowled. 'This is most irregular, Kallmer,' he said. 'No one is supposed to know he's here. Whom have you told?'
'I've told no one!' said Kallmer, defensively. 'Who sent you?'
The courier bowed. 'I come from the Chamberlain Marcuse himself, sir, in the City Emerald.'
Kallmer had no response.
'Get on with it, then,' said the baron. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair.
Mauritane rose slowly and accepted the package. He took a pen from the courier and affixed his signature to a paper receipt.
'What are you waiting for?' said Kallmer, when the courier did not leave. 'A gratuity?'
The courier was impassive. 'I am to wait until the package is opened by Captain Mauritane.'
Mauritane sat at the table, confused. The parcel was small, no wider than the palm of his hand, wrapped in rough paper and tied with twine. He undid the knot and tore the wrapping away, revealing a small wooden box, inlaid with diamonds and painted with a bright blue lacquer. The box had no latch and opened easily. Inside was a smaller velvet box and a note. The note read, 'This belonged to a relative of yours. Your Queen now asks that you earn one for yourself, after the same fashion.' It was signed and sealed by the Chamberlain Marcuse.
Mauritane opened the tiny velvet box. Inside, nestled on a padded cushion, was a bronze medal, black with age. He recognized it immediately; the blue striped ribbon and bronze star were the hallmarks of a Special Commendation from the Seelie Royal Guard. Mauritane had himself awarded dozens of them. He turned the medal over and read the inscription on the back. It was faded but legible: 'To Bersoen, son of Berwan, for distinguished service.'
Mauritane raised his head. His eyes caught those of the girl, Elice. Like everyone else at the table, she was gawking at him, only hers was a look of… was it anticipation?
'I saw this in a dream,' Elice whispered to Mauritane over the table. 'I thought I recognized you…'
'Silence, child!' shouted the baron. 'You'll speak when spoken to.' He stood and turned on the courier. 'Your man has opened his bauble. I suggest that you now be on your way.'
The courier nodded and made for the wide double doors, making no reply.
Kallmer tore the box and the medal from Mauritane's hands. 'What is this about?' he said. He handed the items to the baron. 'What is this about?'
The baron scanned the note and dangled the medal in front of his eyes. 'I can make no sense of it.' He pursed his lips. 'I do not like the looks of this, Kallmer. I fear you may have gone too far…'
The baron's words were cut short by a cry from inside the palace. A moment later, the courier staggered back onto the terrace, a knife's hilt protruding from his belly just beneath the chest plate of his armor.
'You are under attack,' the courier groaned. He sank to one knee, clutching his stomach, then fell face forward onto the tiles.
Five men, dressed in thin gray cloaks, raced out of the house with long knives in hand. They overwhelmed the already-surprised guards, subduing all four of them in a matter of seconds.
Kallmer drew his sword and stood. The baron clutched his dinner knife like a dagger. 'How dare you!' shouted Kallmer.
One of the cloaked men stepped forward, lowering the hood of his cloak. He was a young man; a wisp of a beard stood out from his chin. 'I would not recommend that, Commander,' he said. Twelve more men stepped onto the terrace wearing similar cloaks, dragging the bodies of Kallmer's personal guard with them.
'What is the meaning of this?' said the baron, his face purple. He crossed the table to stand behind his wife and daughter, both of whom where shaking with fright.
'I mean you no harm, Baron,' said the man. His hair was cut close, no braids, and his eyes were the color of slate. 'At least, no more than usual. I am here to liberate Captain Mauritane.'
'You'll do no such thing,' said Kallmer. He leapt at the man, his sword flashing.
'Ko ve anan,' the man said, making a circular gesture with his hands. Kallmer sat down hard on the ground, his face twitching, then slumped sideways, leaning against a table leg.
'Who are you?' said Mauritane. He felt instinctively for his own sword and cursed silently when he remembered it had been taken.
'My name is Eloquet,' the man said. 'I am a cell leader in the Beleriand Resistance. We've been watching you since you entered Sylvan.'
'Why did you come for me?' Mauritane asked.
'You are a hero to my people for slaying the butcher Purane-La. You have suffered much for that sacrifice. Now Aba has brought you to us and it is our duty to aid you.'
Mauritane shook his head. 'I don't believe in Aba.'
Eloquet shrugged. 'I do not think He minds.'
Suddenly Mauritane understood. 'The page in the cellar. She was one of you.'
'Our eyes are many,' said Eloquet, nodding. 'We must go. More troops will come.'
'What of my companions?' said Mauritane. He reached for Kallmer's sword, fastening it to his own belt. 'And Kallmer. Is he dead?'
'No, the commander's time has not yet come. Your companions have already been freed. Now come quickly.'
'Wait,' said Mauritane. 'We need to take her as well.' He pointed at Elice.
'Absolutely not!' said the baron. 'You'll take my daughter over my corpse!'
'Will you come willingly?' said Eloquet, pointing his blade at Elice.
The girl nodded, her face unreadable. She stood from the table, dropping her napkin. The Lady Geracy fainted.
'Come back here with my daughter!' shouted the baron, but Eloquet had already whisked her off the terrace.
'Thank you for your hospitality, Baron Geracy,' Mauritane said without a hint of sarcasm. 'The meal was delicious.'
Chapter 33
Mab sat in Her throne room, surrounded by butterflies. The tinkling music of chimes, the smoke of glowing braziers, the steady hum of the city flowing through the Unseelie sky.
'Bring me Wennet,' she said, to no one in particular. A pair of servants hurried from the room.
One of them returned a moment later. 'On his way, Majesty.'
Mab leaned back on her throne, consulting a map of the Seelie lands in her head. First she would have Selafae, then Sylvan. From that well-fortified spot, she could take her time, moving slowly southward until the City Emerald lay in her grasp and she set her dogs loose in the Seelie Grove to piss all over Regina Titania's potted plants. She had only to find the man named Mauritane and all else would fall into place.
Wennet, Master of the Chambers of Elements and Motion, stepped quietly into the throne room, squeezing his cloth skullcap tightly in his fists. Beads of sweat stood out from his red forehead.
'What is your status?' said Mab.
'Majesty, we have redoubled our efforts in order to accede to thy orders. We are at full sail and pushing the limits of the load-bearing struts and the plinth courses, according to the Chamber of Structure.'
'Ignore Fulgan,' said Mab. 'He is always complaining about his precious structures. We'll break more than one
