Read Online The Office of Shadow by Matthew Sturges - Free Book Online
Authors: Matthew Sturges
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before his long
journey with Mauritane, before his disfigurement at the hand of Faella, they
would all have known him, the ladies especially. But those days were gone.
As always, thoughts of Faella haunted him. Despite what she'd done to
his face, he could not blame her, or be angry with her. He'd deserved it. And
if not for breaking off their brief affair, then for any number of similar insensitivities in his checkered past.
The servant stopped at the entrance to a private dining room, where Lord
Everess sat with a man Silverdun recognized as Baron Glennet, who held one
of the highest posts in the House of Lords, and an elderly woman he didn't
recognize. They were sipping on a floral broth that smelled wonderful.
Everess and Glennet rose when Silverdun entered, and the woman
nodded. Her sash identified her as a guildmistress.
"Am I late?" asked Silverdun.
"Not at all," said Everess, pumping his hand. "Right on time!"
Silverdun bowed. "Baron Glennet I know by reputation, but I'm afraid
the guildmistress and I haven't had the pleasure."
"Of course," said Everess. "Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun, may I introduce
Guildmistress Heron, our illustrious secretary of states."
"I hardly think myself illustrious," said Heron. "The foreign minister
exaggerates, as is his wont." She was elderly, just this side of ancient, but her
eyes shone with intelligence. She cast a slight disapproving glance at Everess,
who did not miss it. Silverdun liked her already.
"Come, Silverdun, sit," said Glennet. "We've much to discuss!" Glennet
had a long reputation as a conciliator; he'd engineered any number of compromises within the House of Lords, and between the House of Lords and the
House of Guilds, two bodies that could scarcely agree on the time of day, let
alone governance. He too was old, but his exuberance gave him a semblance
of youth.
"I'm afraid my conversational skills have atrophied in recent months,"
said Silverdun, sitting. A waiter noiselessly placed a bowl of broth in front of
him.
"Ah, yes," said Glennet. "The aristocrat monk! I'm pleased we were able
to steal you from your contemplation for dinner."
"It would appear that monastic life does not suit me," said Silverdun, a
bit embarrassed and trying not to show it.
"Well, you are to be commended for attempting such an ... unusual path," said Heron. "But I believe that the wider roads are wider for a reason,
if you take my meaning."
"Of course," said Silverdun, taking her meaning and liking her somewhat less as a result.
"I'm just glad Baron Glennet was able to pull himself away from the card
table in order to join us," said Heron.
Glennet's easy smile faltered. "We all have our little sins, Guildmistress."
Not "Secretary."
Secretary Heron was about to comment further when waiters appeared,
removing the broth and replacing it with roasted quail, in a sauce of raisins
and bee pollen and a liquor Silverdun couldn't identify. He took a slow bite
and waited for someone to tell him what the point of this dinner was. Not a
social gathering, to be sure, as Everess and Heron clearly disliked one
another.
Glennet dabbed at his chin as though it were a fine art. "Secretary
Heron," he asked, "what news have we of Jem-Aleth? Has his social life
improved at all?"
"No," Heron said primly. "Our beloved ambassador to Mab continues to
be politely tolerated at court, mostly ignored, and never invited to state dinners. Or teas. Or children's spinet recitals."
"He told me that a city praetor invited him to a mestina once," said
Everess, "but it was one of the bawdy type and he left ten minutes in."
"Yes," said Secretary Heron, rolling her eyes, "but what Jem-Aleth didn't
tell you is the that only reason Praetor Ma-Pikyra invited him in the first
place was that he'd confused him with somebody else."
Silverdun watched the back-and-forth, mildly interested in the idle
chatter, but his thoughts were more concerned with the reason for his own
presence
journey with Mauritane, before his disfigurement at the hand of Faella, they
would all have known him, the ladies especially. But those days were gone.
As always, thoughts of Faella haunted him. Despite what she'd done to
his face, he could not blame her, or be angry with her. He'd deserved it. And
if not for breaking off their brief affair, then for any number of similar insensitivities in his checkered past.
The servant stopped at the entrance to a private dining room, where Lord
Everess sat with a man Silverdun recognized as Baron Glennet, who held one
of the highest posts in the House of Lords, and an elderly woman he didn't
recognize. They were sipping on a floral broth that smelled wonderful.
Everess and Glennet rose when Silverdun entered, and the woman
nodded. Her sash identified her as a guildmistress.
"Am I late?" asked Silverdun.
"Not at all," said Everess, pumping his hand. "Right on time!"
Silverdun bowed. "Baron Glennet I know by reputation, but I'm afraid
the guildmistress and I haven't had the pleasure."
"Of course," said Everess. "Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun, may I introduce
Guildmistress Heron, our illustrious secretary of states."
"I hardly think myself illustrious," said Heron. "The foreign minister
exaggerates, as is his wont." She was elderly, just this side of ancient, but her
eyes shone with intelligence. She cast a slight disapproving glance at Everess,
who did not miss it. Silverdun liked her already.
"Come, Silverdun, sit," said Glennet. "We've much to discuss!" Glennet
had a long reputation as a conciliator; he'd engineered any number of compromises within the House of Lords, and between the House of Lords and the
House of Guilds, two bodies that could scarcely agree on the time of day, let
alone governance. He too was old, but his exuberance gave him a semblance
of youth.
"I'm afraid my conversational skills have atrophied in recent months,"
said Silverdun, sitting. A waiter noiselessly placed a bowl of broth in front of
him.
"Ah, yes," said Glennet. "The aristocrat monk! I'm pleased we were able
to steal you from your contemplation for dinner."
"It would appear that monastic life does not suit me," said Silverdun, a
bit embarrassed and trying not to show it.
"Well, you are to be commended for attempting such an ... unusual path," said Heron. "But I believe that the wider roads are wider for a reason,
if you take my meaning."
"Of course," said Silverdun, taking her meaning and liking her somewhat less as a result.
"I'm just glad Baron Glennet was able to pull himself away from the card
table in order to join us," said Heron.
Glennet's easy smile faltered. "We all have our little sins, Guildmistress."
Not "Secretary."
Secretary Heron was about to comment further when waiters appeared,
removing the broth and replacing it with roasted quail, in a sauce of raisins
and bee pollen and a liquor Silverdun couldn't identify. He took a slow bite
and waited for someone to tell him what the point of this dinner was. Not a
social gathering, to be sure, as Everess and Heron clearly disliked one
another.
Glennet dabbed at his chin as though it were a fine art. "Secretary
Heron," he asked, "what news have we of Jem-Aleth? Has his social life
improved at all?"
"No," Heron said primly. "Our beloved ambassador to Mab continues to
be politely tolerated at court, mostly ignored, and never invited to state dinners. Or teas. Or children's spinet recitals."
"He told me that a city praetor invited him to a mestina once," said
Everess, "but it was one of the bawdy type and he left ten minutes in."
"Yes," said Secretary Heron, rolling her eyes, "but what Jem-Aleth didn't
tell you is the that only reason Praetor Ma-Pikyra invited him in the first
place was that he'd confused him with somebody else."
Silverdun watched the back-and-forth, mildly interested in the idle
chatter, but his thoughts were more concerned with the reason for his own
presence
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