Midwinter

In the melee, however, even Mauritane had forgotten about the sentry, who was stunned but not unconscious. He rose and lunged at his nearest opponent, who happened to be Satterly.

Raieve watched helplessly while the sentry rushed the hapless human. Satterly gamely held his sword up, but at the last moment, his arm dropped. Raieve winced, waiting for him to be run through. But instead of flinching away, Satterly leaned forward and rushed at the sentry's midsection. The sentry, expecting a sword thrust, had his sword aloft and Satterly's unexpected attack caught him off guard. The two men collided and Satterly drove the sentry backward. The man tripped and fell, catching the back of his skull on a stone, and was still. Raieve shrugged; all that counted in battle was victory.

Raieve turned back to the fire just in time to see the lieutenant turn his head back to where his horses were tied and shout, "Cas! Una'ar, cas!" There was a flash from one of the saddlebags and a tiny winged shape flitted into the air.

"Okay, okay! I'm going as fast as I can!" it shouted.

Mauritane plucked a knife from his belt and flicked it. The knife whirled in the air and bisected the message sprite neatly. It fell to the ground, and Mauritane walked slowly to it and ground it beneath his heel.

"Anything else?" he asked the lieutenant.

* * * *

Mauritane ordered the Unseelie stripped naked and searched thoroughly, then placed in a line by the fire, on their knees. Their hands were tied behind them. The men acceded glumly, though Raieve did her best to humiliate them as thoroughly as possible. "Your cavalry favors a shorter lance, I see," she said to the unfortunate sentry; even Mauritane chuckled at that before cautioning her against impropriety.

Their search revealed little of note other than a few maps of the Contested Lands; these were probably equal parts cartography and imagination but still better than anything they'd been able to secure in Hawthorne.

Mauritane stood over the lieutenant. "You are in command?" he said.

"I am Lieutenant Ma Denha of the Eagle Regiment," the man answered, eyes forward.

"And I am Mauritane, former Captain of the Seelie Royal Guard."

"I've heard of you," said Ma Denha. "You're a traitor, if I recall correctly."

Mauritane squinted at him. "I've never heard of you, however, so I have no knowledge of the crimes you've been convicted of. But now that we're acquainted, let us speak."

"I am required only to give my name, rank, and posting when captured by the enemy."

"Ah, but we are not enemies, you and I. We are merely travelers who have engaged with you in an unfortunate altercation."

Ma Denha shrugged.

"Ordinarily," said Mauritane, "I would respect your oath of service, and I would not press you further. But I am engaged on a matter that is far out of the ordinary, and I believe that you possess information that may be valuable to me."

Ma Denha's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing; the Seelie don't torture prisoners. This is common knowledge."

Mauritane moved aside and Raieve stepped forward, running a dagger idly across a whetstone, a tight smile on her face. "You are correct," said Mauritane. "But this woman is not Seelie. In fact, she is not even Fae."

Raieve knelt in front of the lieutenant and touched the dagger to his face. "Mauritane speaks the truth. I'm not Fae. I'm from Avalon. The Heavy Sky Clan."

The man kneeling next to Ma Denha stiffened and swallowed hard.

"You've heard of us?" said Raieve.

"I was stationed near the Heavy Sky territory during the Avalon campaign," the man muttered.

Ma Denha's head snapped toward him. "Be silent, Ensign Miter!"

Miret shook his head. "The Avalona do not consider torture dishonorable, Lieutenant."

"Not against foreigners, no," said Raieve.

Lieutenant Ma Denha sneered at Mauritane. "Your honor allows this?"

Mauritane rocked back on his heels, lighting his pipe. "My honor was stripped from me long ago, as you mentioned. All that remains to me is my duty. Talk and we'll release you. No one but yourselves need ever know. Refuse to talk and I let the woman practice her knife skills."

Ma Denha was silent for what seemed to Raieve a long while, looking into the fire. "Do what you will," he finally said.

Raieve hesitated; Ma Denha was calling her bluff. Despite the rumors the Avalona happily spread among the Unseelie, the clans all abhorred torture. She felt dirty even pretending. If anyone other than Mauritane had asked her to perform this charade, she would have clouted them. She knew for sure then that her feelings were clouding her judgment; she would have to be more careful.

Just as she was about to lower the dagger, Mires spoke out. "I'll speak!" he nearly shouted.

"Mires!" snarled Ma Denha.

"I can't die!" cried Mires. "I can't be tortured. Please!"

Ma Denha struck Miter's face with his shoulder. "Coward! This is treason!"

Mauritane took Mires by the elbow and led him a few feet away from the others, motioning Silverdun to join him. Raieve watched them from the corner of her eye.