Paet approached the gate and placed his palm on one of the bronze bars. He said a word of unbinding, and the gate swung open.
Paet led them up the walk. It was darker here than outside, the mosshung willow branches filtering out what remained of the daylight. It smelled of roses and loam.
The front door of the house was black; the paint on the door and the trim was chipped and peeling in places.
'The servants have clearly been on holiday for some time,' said Silverdun.
'You can grab a paintbrush and take care of it if you like,' said Paet. He took a ring of keys from his pocket and placed one in the front door.
The door opened into a totally empty room. Dust lined the windowsills and blanketed the wooden floors. A soot-blackened fireplace hulked on one wall. Very little light found its way through the drawn shutters. Paet produced a tiny witchlight torch from his pocket and lit their way toward the stairs.
'Come on,' he said. As they walked, Silverdun noticed that while their steps kicked up dust from the floor, they left no footprints.
They climbed the stairs to the second story, which was as dusty and empty as the first. Their steps made hollow echoes. Paet led the way to a back bedroom, where an empty bed frame lurked in a corner.
'Through here,' said Paet, indicating a closet door. He opened the door and stepped in, beckoning for Silverdun and Ironfoot to follow. Silverdun stood in the closet, crowded against Paet and Ironfoot, feeling foolish. Paet smelled like pipe smoke. He closed the door and they stood in the cramped space for a moment while Paet found another key on his ring in the torchlight. He placed it in the closet door lock and turned. The closet seemed to turn upside down, and Silverdun's stomach heaved. Ironfoot gulped.
Silverdun looked down, and now he could see light coming from under the closet door. Paet opened it and they stepped out of the closet into a small reception room. A pretty young Fae woman stood when they entered.
'Good evening, Chief Paet,' she said.
Silverdun looked around, disoriented at first, until he realized what was going on. The entire house had been quite expertly spellturned. They had simply stepped into a turned version of the bedroom they'd just left.
'Good evening, Brei,' said Paet. He removed his cloak and handed it to her. 'I'd like you to meet Ironfoot and Silverdun, our newest Shadows.'
'A pleasure, gentlemen,' said Brei, reaching for Silverdun's and Ironfoot's cloaks as well. She smiled at Silverdun. 'I've got keys for the two of you, and there's tea or coffee if you'd like some.'
Silverdun and Ironfoot looked at each other. Perhaps this wasn't going to be so bad after all. 'Tea, if you please,' said Silverdun.
Paet led them from the reception office into what should have been the hallway. In this turning of the house, however, all of the other upstairs inner walls had been removed, creating an open office space that was filled with desks.
'Welcome to the Office of Shadow,' said Paet. 'Your new home.'
Paet walked them through the office, briskly introducing them to a dozen different office workers: two copyists, a translator, and a cluster of analysts, whose job it was to read all of the documents and memos pertaining to intelligence, and to prepare briefs. One shelf along the wall was lined with message sprite jars; all the other walls were covered with maps. Papers were stacked high everywhere, on desks, in baskets; more bulged from a row of special drawers along the wall beneath the message sprites.
One of the analysts was a young woman with a strong Eastern accent, a lilt that Silverdun had grown accustomed to in his days at the prison of Crete Sulace, and now found that he missed. When Ironfoot was introduced, she smiled, her eyes wide. 'I've so been looking forward to meeting you,' she said. 'I've read all of your monographs on forensic thaumatics.'
'Well, I'd be happy to discuss the subject with you anytime you like,' said Ironfoot.
'Come along,' said Paet. 'You can flirt with the help another time.'
Ironfoot shrugged. 'We'll talk later,' he told the analyst, who grinned at him.
Paet pointed to the stairs. 'My office is down there, as is the mission room and the Shadows' lien, which is where you'll be spending most of your time.'
They went downstairs. Here, the layout of the house hadn't been altered. The main room with its fireplace was here, but it now held several tables surrounded by chairs, all covered in maps and scrolls. A row of books-atlases, almanacs, and censuses-lined one wall.
'The mission room,' said Paet. 'This is where you'll be briefed on your various assignments.'
Through one door was a large office that was Paet's. It was sparse and
