water and a plate of dried fish. Silverdun ate and drank, slowly at first and then faster.
'More water, please,' he said, holding out the cup. Ironfoot refilled it once, and then again.
'How do you feel?' asked Ironfoot. 'The captain thought you were done for.'
'Not I,' said Silverdun, pulling himself up slowly to a standing position. 'We Lords Silverdun are made of hardier stuff than most. Extraordinarily difficult to kill.'
'I need to change your bandage,' said Ironfoot. 'Sorry about the wrapping, but we couldn't get you to stop scratching at the thing; you kept reopening the wound. The captain says you'll have to get it sewn up properly by a physician as soon as we get to Mag Mell or you're liable to get gangrene.'
'Lovely,' said Silverdun.
Ironfoot removed the belt holding the cloth in place and pulled the sailcloth off the bandage. Underneath was a bloody mess, but despite the confusion of blood-caked bandaging one thing was very clear.
'Auberon's balls!' said Ironfoot. 'Your hand's grown back!'
Silverdun pulled off the bandages and held up his hand. It was there, good as new. He flexed his fingers and thumb; everything worked. There was no itching, no tenderness, no pain.
'That's a nice trick,' said Ironfoot, eyes wide. 'What did you do?'
Silverdun pinched the skin on the new hand hard and thrilled at the pain. 'I have no idea.'
He lay on his stomach and reached into the water, washing the blood from his hand. When he held it up again it was as if nothing had ever happened to it.
'Look at this,' he said to Ironfoot. 'Right here on the palm. That scar. I got it when I was a boy, falling off a wall.'
'I see it,' said Ironfoot.
'Let's assume for a moment that it's somehow possible to regrow a hand,' said Silverdun. 'How do you explain regrowing a scar?'
'I have no compelling scholarly response to that one,' said Ironfoot.
By boat they traveled south along the river to Glaum, the gold mining center. Dressed as mine officials, they walked on board a transport ship bound through a waterborne industrial lock connecting the river with a shipping port in Mag Mell, a few days' sail from Isle Cureid. When they arrived at the embassy, Aranquet greeted them with open arms.
If the Seelie ambassador was surprised to see them alive, he gave no indication of it. Either he wasn't the one who'd sold them out to the Annwni, or he was an exceptionally good liar. He feted them with shellfish and liquor, and brought them as his special guests to a water ballet in the atoll's lagoon. The male and female partners performed a complex and deeply stylized dance, part above the water and part below. Beneath the water, female spectators watched the bottom half of the dance. Aranquet explained in whispers that there were in fact two different ballets occurring simultaneously; the Dance Above and the Dance Below. Each had its own secret meaning, and no one except the gods knew it in its entirety.
Silverdun tried to pay attention to the performance, but all he could think about was the hand.
A Chthonic priest complained to me about the tax on his property. I told him that the tax rules applied to everyone in my lands. He responded that the rules clearly did not apply to everyone, as I myself was exempt from them.
I doubled his tax.That shut him up.
-Lord Gray, Recollections
hen Silverdun and Ironfoot arrived in the City Emerald, it was the middle of the night. That was despite it having been midday in Mag Mell, which they'd just left. The time change was disorienting, but Silverdun was still thrilled to be back in Faerie. The air was cleaner, more pure. Silverdun felt lighter on his feet the instant he emerged from the lock.
They stepped outside onto the street from Chancery Station, and both of them breathed deeply.
'Here we are,' said Ironfoot.
'We are indeed,' said Silverdun.
'It appears to be just past two in the morning. I can't say I'm particularly sleepy, though.'
'No, neither am I,' said Silverdun. 'And I don't want to wait until the morning to talk to Paet.'
