safety of his kingdom,' said Glennet. 'I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but we must consider the larger issues here. If we strike now, then there will be no invasion of the Seelie Kingdom. We will take them by surprise.'
'And you agree with this assessment?' asked Pact.
Glennet shrugged. 'My role in this, as always, is to try to reach consensus. There are factions in the House of Lords who feel as you do, but most of the guilds feel otherwise, and they've brought a number of the lords over to their way of thinking. Elvish memory is long, Chief Paet, and Selafae is far from forgotten. Some of these members were furious when Mauritane didn't continue north after the Battle of Sylvan and finish Mab off entirely.'
'That would have been suicide,' said Paet.
'I didn't say I agree with them,' said Glennet.
'Well, what's done is done,' said Everess. 'If we're going to war, then we need to prepare for it. Paet, you'll need to shift your focus onto developing intelligence on Mab's tactics and strategy.'
'I feel deeply uncomfortable with this,' said Paet.
'You feel deeply uncomfortable about everything,' said Everess. 'Now go and do as you're told.'
Paet stormed into Blackstone House, hurling his cloak at Brei, the receptionist, and glowering at the copyists and analysts on his way downstairs, all of whom knew better than to disturb him in this mood.
He came downstairs, went into his office, and slammed the door, fuming. Would Everess ever stand up for what was right? Or would he spend his entire career doing only what brought him more influence? And Glennet, so well known as a peacemaker, hadn't done anything that Paet could see to remove the fire from the boiling pot the Seelie government had become.
And where was the queen in all this?
There was a knock at the door. 'What is it?' he shouted.
A timid analyst hurried into his office and handed him a slip of paper, a summary of a sprite's message. The analysts all knew better than to provide transcripts from such conversations. Paet's hatred for message sprites was legendary.
He read the paper once, then again. 'Shadows!' he shouted. 'Get in here now!'
Silverdun, Ironfoot, and Sela filtered into the office, as always slower than he preferred.
'What are you bellowing about now?' said Silverdun.
'We've just received word from your man Estiane, Silverdun. He received a horrified note from an Arcadian housemaid in Mab's palace.'
'What was in the note?' asked Ironfoot.
'Hy Pezho is alive. Hy Pezho. The Black Artist. The man who created the Einswrath is alive.'
'But we'd heard from numerous sources that he'd been executed by Mab herself,' said Ironfoot.
'Well, Silverdun died,' said Paet. 'And there he is.'
'What do we do now?' said Sela.
'We panic,' said Paet. 'And I go back to Glennet and Everess. Maybe now they'll reconsider their preemptive strike.'
'What should we do?' asked Silverdun.
'Silverdun, you go get your old friend Mauritane and have him meet us at the foreign minister's office. I don't care what he's doing. If he's making love to his wife, tell her she can finish on her own.'
'Done,' said Silverdun. 'Though, having spent some time with Mauritane's wife, I pray it doesn't come to that.'
'Ironfoot,' said Paet, standing and stuffing the slip of paper in his pocket, 'you get back to your map and your books and you figure out how that weapon works. I don't care what it takes. I don't care how much you have to spend or who you have to kill to do it. Am I understood?'
'No one is more eager to make that happen than I am,' said Ironfoot. 'I'll do my best.'
'Your life literally depends on it, Ironfoot. If you can't figure it out, I believe we are all dead.'
He strode out of his office. 'And now I'm off to see if I can at least put our deaths off for a little while.'
Sela called out to him. 'Paet,' she said. 'I really would like you to look at the dispatches I've found.'
