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.
