Midwinter

Mab led the way from the council chambers, creating a frenzy among the attendants and servants both of the Royal Person and of her Prefects. A swarm of valets saw to the robes and tunics, assuring that they hung correctly for walking. A pair of servants dusted the ground before the Queen, lest she tread on dirt. It was a group of over fifty that left the council chambers in a double-file line through the main entrance. A two-story teak door with brass knobs fit for giants opened for them. Hy Pezho stroked the wood as he passed, three paces behind the Queen.

They ascended a wide spiral ramp at the top of which Hy Pezho could see blue sky stippled with cirrus clouds. Along the ramp's path were hung bright scarlet banners bearing slogans in Old Court Fae depicting the past triumphs of Mab.

Hy Pezho drank it all in with a hidden smile. Already heads were beginning to turn when he entered rooms. And, no doubt, the tall, thin ladies-inwaiting were whispering his names from behind their pillows and fans. It was all he could have asked for, and soon it would be more than that.

Queen Mab's observation deck was a generous tiled expanse overlooking the entire city and the lands below. Terraced gardens overflowed with marigolds and chapelbells laced with flowering vinca and begonias. A fountain in the shape of the city sparkled in the afternoon sun, its worn stones scrubbed and polished to a shine. Servants had placed deck chairs near the south-facing railing, and the assembled Prefects jockeyed politely with each other for seats nearer Her Majesty.

Hy Pezho, accepting an iced coffee from a servant, looked out over the railing and saw what the Queen intended them to see: the city of Gefi.

Gefi was smaller than the city of Mab, but what she lacked in size she made up for in architecture. Golden spires pushed up past the city's mainmast, glittering in the sunlight. On the city's main deck, the streets were laid out like the spokes of a wheel, with a great fountain in the center. Even from this distance, Hy Pezho could see the rainbow that hung eternally over the fountain. Streamers of red and gold silk hung from the lower decks, and when the wind gusted, they twisted with the currents of warm air. The city's sails were at full mast, and she was tacking against what appeared to be a strong crosswind.

"Behold the city of Gefi," said Mab. The assembled Prefects slyly checked each other's faces for a sign of the attitude one ought to take toward it. No one seemed certain.

Mab called forth a messenger and dictated a note to the Chambers of Elements and Motion. "Bring the wind at Our back," she said, "and pull Gefi nearer." The messenger bowed and ran from the deck.

The Queen took her seat and, as one, each of the Prefects did so as well. Hy Pezho found himself again at the Queen's right.

"Is Our demonstration ready?" she asked him, beaming broadly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Hy Pezho. He sipped his coffee.

Mab waited a few moments, wearing no discernable expression, her attendants hanging with ever-growing suspense on her next motion. Finally, she clapped her hands.

"Have the prisoner brought forth," she called.

A pair of legionnaires dragged a man onto the deck, holding him by a pair of manacles on his wrists. He was dressed in the robes of a tax collector and had been beaten severely. He had difficulty keeping up with the legionnaires and stumbled often.

The legionnaires brought the man before the Queen and pushed him to the ground, then retreated a single pace, at full attention.

The Queen stood, precipitating a mass arising within the rows of deck chairs.

"Your name is Marar Envacoro?" Mab said to the man.

The man lifted his head toward her and took a deep breath. "Your Majesty," he said. His voice was strained.

"You are an Arcadian spy, are you not?" The Queen lifted a single eyebrow, a refined gesture.

Marar shook his head slowly. "No, Your Majesty."

Mab smiled. "Do you know the human tale of the disciple who denies his Lord three times before the cock crows? Will you do the same, Marar Envacoro?"

Marar said nothing.

Mab nodded to the legionnaire. "Are these not your Arcadian prayer beads, Marar Envacoro?" The legionnaire held a string of red beads aloft.

A tear formed in Marar's eyes. "No, Your Majesty, they are not."

Mab smiled again, the grin of a predator. "Turn around, Marar Envacoro." The legionnaires stepped forward and dragged Marar around to face afore the city. "Do you recognize the city of Gefi? Have you not spent many days there with the Arcadians who have infected that place, coordinating their evangelical efforts?" She strode toward him and pushed down on Marar's shoulder, bringing him to the ground. "Are you not, in fact, the chief operative for the Arcadians among Our people?" Her voice was stern, deep. Some of the Prefects cringed.

"No, Your Majesty, I am not." Marar's head hung.