Midwinter

Estacana boasted the distinction of being the only city in all of Faerie never to have been built by Fae hands. Rather it materialized, fully formed, from the halated mists of a Midwinter a thousand years gone, its mammoth spires and wide archways perfectly constructed from granite and marble, untouched by wear or weather. Shepherds out watering their flocks along the banks of the upper Ebe stumbled across the glittering walls and named the city Estacana ("by the water's source"), because it overlooked the headwaters of the river.

Frightened to enter, the shepherds led a garrison of the Royal Guard to the site; the garrison entered the city, found its buildings uninhabited, its streets and rooms empty. The city was built for giants; the doorways soared twenty feet high in places, with stair steps that reached a man's knee. In the center of the abandoned metropolis stood a massive, terraced spire that towered over the rest of the city. Like the other buildings-vacant storefronts, apartment blocks, and town homes-the spire was deserted, but there was a message scrawled in the stone floor in Elvish. The message said simply, "We concede," and nothing else.

No giants ever came to claim the city. The City Emerald was silent on the matter, returning all correspondence from the nearby lords with variations on "It is no concern of ours." Eventually, despite their fears of bad omens and witchcraft, the shepherds of the surrounding valleys moved in to Estacana and fashioned it into a Fae city. Over the years, many of the buildings were torn down to make way for progress, and the walls lost their sheen, but the spire remained unoccupied (for no one would live or work there) and the scrawled message remained to be puzzled over for eternity.

The Bittersweet Wayward Mestina performed before a capacity crowd in the Amphitheater Estacanal. As promised, Lord Silverdun made an appearance, however bashful. He stumbled over his lines, glamoured some purple trout that swam up the aisles and out the great open gates, then took a deep bow and was met with a standing ovation. Waiting in the wings by the stage, Raieve muttered noises of disgust while Mauritane and Satterly looked idly on. Gray Mave, unaccustomed to city life, chose to remain with the horses in the public stable.

After the show, all of the mestina's players and their entourage were invited to a fete at the home of a city Alderman. Backstage, Silverdun removed his costume, trading it for his silk and fur attire, and caught Faella as she passed carrying a pair of dresses used in the show.

"How was l?" he said.

"You were adequate, I suppose," she giggled. "You were wonderful. I told you that you would be."

"And your father? Is he satisfied?"

"He's thrilled. He's back in the wagon counting the receipts. If I were you I'd send Mauritane over to get his money now, before father makes off with it."

Silverdun took her in his arms. "If he's in the wagon, then he can't see us." He kissed her, pulling her close.

"Not so fast, your lordship," said Faella, waving a finger. "We have a date."

"Yes," said Silverdun. "I wonder if the Alderman's ever hosted a Seelie lord? What do you think?"

She whispered in his ear. "If he hasn't, he's going to get an eyeful tonight, and I'm not going to let go of your arm even for a moment."

"I trust you'll let me off to visit the latrine, at least."

"Pig. Watch your mouth or I'll take this room at the Sable Inn all for myself." She held out a silver key with a numbered tag dangling by a chain.

Silverdun took the key. "I'll be the perfect gentleman," he said.

* * * *

The Alderman's party was a gay affair. A pair of doormen waited in the home's spacious foyer, taking the guests' snow-dusted cloaks and sprinkling them with flower petals. Music drifted out from somewhere deeper in the house, lutes and violins and other instruments Mauritane couldn't recognize. He stood outside in the courtyard, leaning against a tree, smoking his pipe. He watched the guests arrive in twos and threes. Estacana was not the City Emerald, and its nobility were not that of the capital, but their finery was impressive enough, he decided. Such things had never interested Mauritane in the slightest, despite the Lady Anne's protestations. It was to Mauritane's great relief that custom allowed for soldiers to attend such affairs in their dress uniforms-had it been otherwise, Mauritane would have refused outright.