Hello. My name's Daniel Julius Archdale, Wizard and Ordained Herald to the White Council, and I'm an idiot. I must be. Only an idiot would have agreed to deliver a message on Halloween.
"Keep your head down," shouted Burkwater as he pushed me down. Just in time too. A sidhe arrow, trailing vines shot through where I'd been standing.
The Plains of Eburum were afire with fighting faeries, hundreds of them, thousands. I kept my air-dagger tight in my hand and risked another look. Magic crackled under a sky which burnt with an off-red sun. The many breeds of faerie and their sidhe lords don't cast magic like us wizards. They are magic. It's in their blood, expressed by their very movements. That means while an equal number of wizards would have quickly run out of metaphysical juice, the faeries just kept on going. They cast spells as they screamed at each other and as they fought tooth and nail. Roaring waves of fire rushed across the ground, the earth broke apart and swallowed screaming forms whole and gigantic flowers belched clouds of flesh eating pollen.
"How do we get around this?" I said.
Burkwater just frowned. That made me worry. When it comes to Heralding, Burkwater is the best. He's been everywhere in the Nevernever and knows everything. He crossed the Infinite Sea, mastered the Cave of Dread and treated with the Terminus Lords of the Moon Shadow, fallen Moon Gods of still potent power. When he frowns, you know it means something.
I was only eighteen, young and inexperienced at any game, let alone being a White Council Herald. Because of this, I didn't know when to just shut my mouth and keep quiet. "But this is the Summer Court," I said. "They're not meant to be like this!" I knew the Nevernever, or thought I did. Never trust a Fae, that was one thing, but this was something else. Summer was the power of growth and healing, not carnage.
Burkwater sent me a look which made me feel very small inside. "This is Halloween," he said. "Bonds and boundaries are at their weakest. Never forget that the Erlking finds his home among the Summer Court. Tonight he rides and all of Faerie knows it."
As his words were fading, an ogre broke from the maelstrom and charged towards us, though I doubted he knew we were there. Tangled vines grew out from his skin, contorting as they tried to strangle him both internally and externally. I'd seen ogres before. They are huge humanoids, half again a large man's size, and thick with muscle. This one was even bigger.
"Aema!" I shouted without thinking and stabbed out with my air-dagger. My air-dagger's a magical focus, what we wizards use to help us cast magic. It's a good one, if a little crude, and a blunt blast of wind shot towards the ogre.
The wind took the ogre right in the chest and knocked it sideways but I didn't get away scot free. I'm no magical power house and the effort left me gasping for breath, arms shaking. On the ground the vines continued to strangle the ogre and it fast became apparent he wouldn't be getting up.
"Come on," said Burkwater as he grabbed my hand. "It'll open in thirty seconds."
"What?" I said but didn't get an answer. Burkwater yanked me forward and we dashed into the fray.
Once we were moving, Burkwater let me go and placed two hands on his staff. It was long and thick, six feet of solid oak carved with signs and sigils. All wizards have a staff, even me though I don't like to carry it. Burkwater showed why.
He muttered under his breath and lightning flew around him, around me. It formed a crackling dome, a dozen feet across. A gigantic bumblebee flew right at us and the dome cooked it like a bug zapper.
"Ten seconds," he said and stopped. "You need to shift us. Can you do it?"
The battle was almost too loud and my own blood hammered in my ears but I heard. "Up or down."
"Up."
Above the sun changed colour, going from an off-red to the colour of blood. A beam shot down, marking a circle three dozen feet wide. We were almost at the centre. This, I realised, was what Burkwater had been waiting for: a Way which only opened at a specific time, a secret passage between Nevernever Realms. That meant I had to act quickly.
Gathering my will, I closed my eyes and raised my right hand. The spell formed in my mind, a spell which lay at the very heart of my talent for Nevernever magic. "Anapiesma!" I shouted and slashed my hand down, the side bladed.
A ragged gap opened in the air, a gaping maw through which showed a dingy alley. It almost looked like the real world but I'd tore a hole 'upwards', deeper into the Nevernever not back towards Earth. Not wasting any more time, I jumped through. A second later Burkwater followed, walking backwards, his staff still spitting lightning. The gateway closed with a snap.
"Where are we," I said, but I already knew, my Nevernever sense kicking in. I might be new but I am good at this stuff.
Burkwater confirmed it. "Urbs Sacra, the reflection of Rome in Summer." And also where my message needed to go.
I'd never been to Urbs Sacra before but I'd heard of it; everyone has, even wizards who don't spend much time in the Nevernever. Rome is a great city, huge and ancient, with a history measured in millennia not years. Urbs Sacra contains those parts which best reflect the Summer Court's philosophy. Given what I saw on the Plains of Eburum, that made me feel a lot less safe than it once did.
"Move," said Burkwater. "We need to meet our contact."
I nodded and started to follow but that didn't mean I stayed silent. "How did you know the Way would open?"
He just smiled, a small expression on his weather worn face. "When you've been in the game as long as I have, you learn a thing or two."
We exited the alley and moved into the street proper. It was lined with three story tall buildings, made from white stone, possibly marble. It looked like no real Roman street but at the same time, it looked like all Roman streets, as seen in dreams and the mind's eye. The windows broke the illusion, however. They were boarded up and locked tight, with physical measures and spells both. Once I noticed that, the street took on a deathly quiet air.
"We're going to the Halls of Healing," said Burkwater, voice cast low, "near the Palatine Hill."
I nodded and looked about, alert for danger. Because of that I was the first to see the mob.
They burst from a side street, close to thirty sidhe youths, tall and cat-like and impossibly fair, dressed in white togas with red sashes. They came in all genders, male, female and probably those who chose something in-between. Slitted eyes locked upon us. The cry went up. Teeth became fangs to my mind. They charged.
"We're Ordained Heralds on official business!" I shouted as I sprinted away, Burkwater by my side. "The Unseelie Accords guarantee us free and safe passage!"
They didn't listen. Chances are they didn't even hear. Their voices cried out in savage joy.
Sidhe are superhuman in every way that matters. They can run faster than the world's fastest mundane human and I'm nowhere near his level. Luckily I didn't have to be.
A second group of sidhe broke out of another alley, saw the first and screamed. They were almost identical, save they wore green slashes rather than red. In an instant, the first group lost interest in us and charged the new comers. They met in a crash, clawed fingers and sharp teeth ripping into flesh.
"It's a civil war!" I shouted.
"Nothing so permanent," said Burkwater over his shoulder. The damn man was smiling now, as if he was enjoying himself. "This is just the sidhe equivalent of a riot. It will burn itself out."
About fifty feet ahead, our road met another in a T-junction. Before we reached it, two groups of sidhe smashed together, red against green, teeth against clawed fingernails. Magic slashed between them, unthinking spells to destroy and kill.
"This way," Burkwater shouted and pointed to the left, towards a narrow alley.
We ducked inside and Burkwater began counting windows. "One, two, three. Here." He raised his staff and spat a word. The bricks around the window turned to liquid and the window itself shattered as it hit the ground. The noise seemed too loud, even sounding over the echoes of battle, but no one came to investigate. "After you."
The building looked to be a shop of some kind, possibly an apothecary. Jars lined the walls and essential tools like mortar and pestle sat ready to be used.
"This is the Halls of Healing?" I asked but Burkwater shook his head.
"No but we should be able to get there from here." He tapped his staff on the ground and a doorway twisted into existence, a clean cut in space highlighted by only some spectrum shifted photons around the edges. It showed a white painted room, infused with a soft gold-white light. He saw my expression. "The Healing Orders keep useful gateways between themselves."
Once through, Burkwater close the gateway and waited. After a few seconds I began to fidget but we weren't inconvenienced long.
Lines appeared on the far wall and an invisible door swung open. A sidhe swished through, moving with the effortless grace of all her kind. Her face shone with a golden light which rendered it flawless, perfect in every way. She was a sidhe among sidhe.
"Wizard Burkwater," she said and bowed her head the slightest amount. Her Latin was perfect in form and accent, better than my own to tell the truth; then again, this was Urbs Sacra, reflection of Rome in Summer.
"Lady Zlatna," said Burkwater with a bow of his head, deeper than hers. "I would tell you our plight. We are here on official business, as Ordained Heralds to the White Council. This is my companion in this endeavour, Wizard Archdale.
"Wizard Archdale, may I introduce the Lady Zlatna, Knight Commander in the Order of the Golden Panacea."
I stood gaping for a moment before remembering my manners. "It is a pleasure, Lady Zlatna," I said and bowed my head.
She smiled, a simple expression which lacked the cat-seeing-mouse nature of most sidhe smiles.
"As is it for me to meet you," she said before turning back to Burkwater. "And what do you seek?"
"We seek passage to the Palace of the Imperator Pontifex. We have a message that must be delivered tonight."
"A hard task," she said. "The city is in a chaotic state. Lord Potitia refused Lady Vitellia's invitation to the Pontifex's Halloween ball and their families did not take it well. Soon their allies were drawn in and the fighting has spread. Now bands of youths roam the city, half wearing the red of Potitia and half the green of Vitellia, though I doubt many among either group can make legitimate claim to those colours. Such is the way of riots; they exist to exist and little more."
She stood motionless for a single moment before nodding her head.
"The Unseelie Accords grant you safe passage and as a member of the Senate of Urbs Sacra, I have a duty to see that passage is granted. I shall cast a Glamour around you both. To all enemies you will look like friends, but I must warn you, to friends you will look like enemies. Such is the way it must be, balance in all things."
"We cannot ask for more," said Burkwater, careful to avoid words which might imply an obligation.
"Of course."
She raised her hands and light twisted between them. In a flash I felt a glamour settle on me, a pin-prick blanket set over my skin. I looked up and—
Before me stood a Red Court Vampire in full monster form, bat face, horrible black skin, bulging belly and deadly fangs. My hand went to my air-dagger but I stilled it, remembering Zlatna's words: friends will look like enemies.
"We shall take our leave," said the vampire in Burkwater's voice. Zlatna nodded and led us out the front door.
The Halls of Healing stood near the centre of Urbs Sacra, only a few miles from the Imperator Pontifex's palace. Still, without Zlatna's enchantment even that small journey would have been impossible.
At the heart of the city the rioters were as thick as rats, large groups on every street, some better armed and wearing proper house colours. Sidhe from the Potitia and Vitellia families fought lighting fast spell and blade battles in the street. A Potitia in obsidian armour slashed his sword and called down a torrent of flame, thicker than a building. A Vitellia lady countered by calling forth monster vines, as thick as a man's leg and able to shatter stone. We hurried passed, bothered by nether group.
Each new battle set my heart racing but Burkwater seemed calm enough, an old hand at this no doubt. Or maybe it was just the monster glamour. Only twenty meters later we reached our destination: a sprawling palace with walls of gold and flawless marvel. Columns stabbed high into the sky and a wall of guards blocked the gate, sidhe and lesser fae arrayed in military poise.
"Now," said Burkwater, his vampire face moving in alien ways. "We return to our true forms." He rippled and I felt magic against my mystical senses. His guise washed away.
Now it was my turn. I closed my eyes and gathered my energy, pulling it in from all about. Zlatna was a powerful sidhe and her glamour was potent. When I felt fit to burst, I shaped the spell and spoke a word: "Hagnizo!" My magic hit the glamour and it dissolved, coming apart in ribbons of light.
"Let's make our entrance," said Burkwater.
The line of guards let us pass when we proved we were Ordained Heralds on official business. Crazed youths might be willing to defy the Unseelie Accords but not trained soldiers. These were members of Summer's standing army, the fifty thousand troops Queen Titania kept constantly under arms. Summer was a Nevernever superpower and its troops were half the reason.
When we reached the reception chamber the ball was already in full swing. The great and high of Summer danced in intricate patterns and their magic swirled with them, a crackling mass against my mystical senses. Delegates from other Nevernever Realms were there too, potentates from the Brambles, kings and queens from the Wyldfae realms, and people and things I didn't recognise. A whirling construct of cogs and springs made small talk with a leprechaun. A clay golem in a tux stood awkwardly next to the punch bowl. A creature with more tentacles than eyes seemed to be seducing a dozen sidhe ladies at once. They seemed quite enamoured with it.
Tearing my eyes away from the sights, I scanned the crowd until I found the Imperator Pontifex, sitting at the apex of the hall on a gold and crystal throne.
"This is your message," said Burkwater, quietly. "My job was just to get you here."
I swallowed, nodded and strode forward.
Somewhere off to the side, a herald announced me.
"Wizard Archdale of the White Council of Wizards, Ordained Herald."
The Imperator Pontifex looked up as I approached but I remembered my training and waited for him to motion before approaching. When he did, I stepped forward and swept a bow.
"Your Grace," I said. "I bare message and tiding from the White Council. May I give them?"
The Imperator Pontifex was chosen from and by the Senate of Urbs Sacra and served for a single year. The current holder of the office looked old for a sidhe, maybe a healthy forty, but his hair was still a vivid chestnut. His eyes shone too, green and slitted like a cat.
"You may."
I drew the missive from my dispatch pouch, broke the seal and read.
"To His Grace, the Imperator Pontifex of Urbs Sacra,
"Thank you for your kind invitation to your ball, but I must respectfully decline. Prior engagements make my attendance impossible.
"Yours, Wizard Langtry, Merlin of the White Council of Wizards."
I'd risked my life, faced insane rioting sidhe and been glamoured by someone who I had a sneaking suspicion could crush me like a bug for two sentences and pleasantries. Inwardly, I sighed. Such was the life of an Ordained Herald. Truth be told, I'd probably do it all again.
"Keep your head down," shouted Burkwater as he pushed me down. Just in time too. A sidhe arrow, trailing vines shot through where I'd been standing.
The Plains of Eburum were afire with fighting faeries, hundreds of them, thousands. I kept my air-dagger tight in my hand and risked another look. Magic crackled under a sky which burnt with an off-red sun. The many breeds of faerie and their sidhe lords don't cast magic like us wizards. They are magic. It's in their blood, expressed by their very movements. That means while an equal number of wizards would have quickly run out of metaphysical juice, the faeries just kept on going. They cast spells as they screamed at each other and as they fought tooth and nail. Roaring waves of fire rushed across the ground, the earth broke apart and swallowed screaming forms whole and gigantic flowers belched clouds of flesh eating pollen.
"How do we get around this?" I said.
Burkwater just frowned. That made me worry. When it comes to Heralding, Burkwater is the best. He's been everywhere in the Nevernever and knows everything. He crossed the Infinite Sea, mastered the Cave of Dread and treated with the Terminus Lords of the Moon Shadow, fallen Moon Gods of still potent power. When he frowns, you know it means something.
I was only eighteen, young and inexperienced at any game, let alone being a White Council Herald. Because of this, I didn't know when to just shut my mouth and keep quiet. "But this is the Summer Court," I said. "They're not meant to be like this!" I knew the Nevernever, or thought I did. Never trust a Fae, that was one thing, but this was something else. Summer was the power of growth and healing, not carnage.
Burkwater sent me a look which made me feel very small inside. "This is Halloween," he said. "Bonds and boundaries are at their weakest. Never forget that the Erlking finds his home among the Summer Court. Tonight he rides and all of Faerie knows it."
As his words were fading, an ogre broke from the maelstrom and charged towards us, though I doubted he knew we were there. Tangled vines grew out from his skin, contorting as they tried to strangle him both internally and externally. I'd seen ogres before. They are huge humanoids, half again a large man's size, and thick with muscle. This one was even bigger.
"Aema!" I shouted without thinking and stabbed out with my air-dagger. My air-dagger's a magical focus, what we wizards use to help us cast magic. It's a good one, if a little crude, and a blunt blast of wind shot towards the ogre.
The wind took the ogre right in the chest and knocked it sideways but I didn't get away scot free. I'm no magical power house and the effort left me gasping for breath, arms shaking. On the ground the vines continued to strangle the ogre and it fast became apparent he wouldn't be getting up.
"Come on," said Burkwater as he grabbed my hand. "It'll open in thirty seconds."
"What?" I said but didn't get an answer. Burkwater yanked me forward and we dashed into the fray.
Once we were moving, Burkwater let me go and placed two hands on his staff. It was long and thick, six feet of solid oak carved with signs and sigils. All wizards have a staff, even me though I don't like to carry it. Burkwater showed why.
He muttered under his breath and lightning flew around him, around me. It formed a crackling dome, a dozen feet across. A gigantic bumblebee flew right at us and the dome cooked it like a bug zapper.
"Ten seconds," he said and stopped. "You need to shift us. Can you do it?"
The battle was almost too loud and my own blood hammered in my ears but I heard. "Up or down."
"Up."
Above the sun changed colour, going from an off-red to the colour of blood. A beam shot down, marking a circle three dozen feet wide. We were almost at the centre. This, I realised, was what Burkwater had been waiting for: a Way which only opened at a specific time, a secret passage between Nevernever Realms. That meant I had to act quickly.
Gathering my will, I closed my eyes and raised my right hand. The spell formed in my mind, a spell which lay at the very heart of my talent for Nevernever magic. "Anapiesma!" I shouted and slashed my hand down, the side bladed.
A ragged gap opened in the air, a gaping maw through which showed a dingy alley. It almost looked like the real world but I'd tore a hole 'upwards', deeper into the Nevernever not back towards Earth. Not wasting any more time, I jumped through. A second later Burkwater followed, walking backwards, his staff still spitting lightning. The gateway closed with a snap.
"Where are we," I said, but I already knew, my Nevernever sense kicking in. I might be new but I am good at this stuff.
Burkwater confirmed it. "Urbs Sacra, the reflection of Rome in Summer." And also where my message needed to go.
I'd never been to Urbs Sacra before but I'd heard of it; everyone has, even wizards who don't spend much time in the Nevernever. Rome is a great city, huge and ancient, with a history measured in millennia not years. Urbs Sacra contains those parts which best reflect the Summer Court's philosophy. Given what I saw on the Plains of Eburum, that made me feel a lot less safe than it once did.
"Move," said Burkwater. "We need to meet our contact."
I nodded and started to follow but that didn't mean I stayed silent. "How did you know the Way would open?"
He just smiled, a small expression on his weather worn face. "When you've been in the game as long as I have, you learn a thing or two."
We exited the alley and moved into the street proper. It was lined with three story tall buildings, made from white stone, possibly marble. It looked like no real Roman street but at the same time, it looked like all Roman streets, as seen in dreams and the mind's eye. The windows broke the illusion, however. They were boarded up and locked tight, with physical measures and spells both. Once I noticed that, the street took on a deathly quiet air.
"We're going to the Halls of Healing," said Burkwater, voice cast low, "near the Palatine Hill."
I nodded and looked about, alert for danger. Because of that I was the first to see the mob.
They burst from a side street, close to thirty sidhe youths, tall and cat-like and impossibly fair, dressed in white togas with red sashes. They came in all genders, male, female and probably those who chose something in-between. Slitted eyes locked upon us. The cry went up. Teeth became fangs to my mind. They charged.
"We're Ordained Heralds on official business!" I shouted as I sprinted away, Burkwater by my side. "The Unseelie Accords guarantee us free and safe passage!"
They didn't listen. Chances are they didn't even hear. Their voices cried out in savage joy.
Sidhe are superhuman in every way that matters. They can run faster than the world's fastest mundane human and I'm nowhere near his level. Luckily I didn't have to be.
A second group of sidhe broke out of another alley, saw the first and screamed. They were almost identical, save they wore green slashes rather than red. In an instant, the first group lost interest in us and charged the new comers. They met in a crash, clawed fingers and sharp teeth ripping into flesh.
"It's a civil war!" I shouted.
"Nothing so permanent," said Burkwater over his shoulder. The damn man was smiling now, as if he was enjoying himself. "This is just the sidhe equivalent of a riot. It will burn itself out."
About fifty feet ahead, our road met another in a T-junction. Before we reached it, two groups of sidhe smashed together, red against green, teeth against clawed fingernails. Magic slashed between them, unthinking spells to destroy and kill.
"This way," Burkwater shouted and pointed to the left, towards a narrow alley.
We ducked inside and Burkwater began counting windows. "One, two, three. Here." He raised his staff and spat a word. The bricks around the window turned to liquid and the window itself shattered as it hit the ground. The noise seemed too loud, even sounding over the echoes of battle, but no one came to investigate. "After you."
The building looked to be a shop of some kind, possibly an apothecary. Jars lined the walls and essential tools like mortar and pestle sat ready to be used.
"This is the Halls of Healing?" I asked but Burkwater shook his head.
"No but we should be able to get there from here." He tapped his staff on the ground and a doorway twisted into existence, a clean cut in space highlighted by only some spectrum shifted photons around the edges. It showed a white painted room, infused with a soft gold-white light. He saw my expression. "The Healing Orders keep useful gateways between themselves."
Once through, Burkwater close the gateway and waited. After a few seconds I began to fidget but we weren't inconvenienced long.
Lines appeared on the far wall and an invisible door swung open. A sidhe swished through, moving with the effortless grace of all her kind. Her face shone with a golden light which rendered it flawless, perfect in every way. She was a sidhe among sidhe.
"Wizard Burkwater," she said and bowed her head the slightest amount. Her Latin was perfect in form and accent, better than my own to tell the truth; then again, this was Urbs Sacra, reflection of Rome in Summer.
"Lady Zlatna," said Burkwater with a bow of his head, deeper than hers. "I would tell you our plight. We are here on official business, as Ordained Heralds to the White Council. This is my companion in this endeavour, Wizard Archdale.
"Wizard Archdale, may I introduce the Lady Zlatna, Knight Commander in the Order of the Golden Panacea."
I stood gaping for a moment before remembering my manners. "It is a pleasure, Lady Zlatna," I said and bowed my head.
She smiled, a simple expression which lacked the cat-seeing-mouse nature of most sidhe smiles.
"As is it for me to meet you," she said before turning back to Burkwater. "And what do you seek?"
"We seek passage to the Palace of the Imperator Pontifex. We have a message that must be delivered tonight."
"A hard task," she said. "The city is in a chaotic state. Lord Potitia refused Lady Vitellia's invitation to the Pontifex's Halloween ball and their families did not take it well. Soon their allies were drawn in and the fighting has spread. Now bands of youths roam the city, half wearing the red of Potitia and half the green of Vitellia, though I doubt many among either group can make legitimate claim to those colours. Such is the way of riots; they exist to exist and little more."
She stood motionless for a single moment before nodding her head.
"The Unseelie Accords grant you safe passage and as a member of the Senate of Urbs Sacra, I have a duty to see that passage is granted. I shall cast a Glamour around you both. To all enemies you will look like friends, but I must warn you, to friends you will look like enemies. Such is the way it must be, balance in all things."
"We cannot ask for more," said Burkwater, careful to avoid words which might imply an obligation.
"Of course."
She raised her hands and light twisted between them. In a flash I felt a glamour settle on me, a pin-prick blanket set over my skin. I looked up and—
Before me stood a Red Court Vampire in full monster form, bat face, horrible black skin, bulging belly and deadly fangs. My hand went to my air-dagger but I stilled it, remembering Zlatna's words: friends will look like enemies.
"We shall take our leave," said the vampire in Burkwater's voice. Zlatna nodded and led us out the front door.
The Halls of Healing stood near the centre of Urbs Sacra, only a few miles from the Imperator Pontifex's palace. Still, without Zlatna's enchantment even that small journey would have been impossible.
At the heart of the city the rioters were as thick as rats, large groups on every street, some better armed and wearing proper house colours. Sidhe from the Potitia and Vitellia families fought lighting fast spell and blade battles in the street. A Potitia in obsidian armour slashed his sword and called down a torrent of flame, thicker than a building. A Vitellia lady countered by calling forth monster vines, as thick as a man's leg and able to shatter stone. We hurried passed, bothered by nether group.
Each new battle set my heart racing but Burkwater seemed calm enough, an old hand at this no doubt. Or maybe it was just the monster glamour. Only twenty meters later we reached our destination: a sprawling palace with walls of gold and flawless marvel. Columns stabbed high into the sky and a wall of guards blocked the gate, sidhe and lesser fae arrayed in military poise.
"Now," said Burkwater, his vampire face moving in alien ways. "We return to our true forms." He rippled and I felt magic against my mystical senses. His guise washed away.
Now it was my turn. I closed my eyes and gathered my energy, pulling it in from all about. Zlatna was a powerful sidhe and her glamour was potent. When I felt fit to burst, I shaped the spell and spoke a word: "Hagnizo!" My magic hit the glamour and it dissolved, coming apart in ribbons of light.
"Let's make our entrance," said Burkwater.
The line of guards let us pass when we proved we were Ordained Heralds on official business. Crazed youths might be willing to defy the Unseelie Accords but not trained soldiers. These were members of Summer's standing army, the fifty thousand troops Queen Titania kept constantly under arms. Summer was a Nevernever superpower and its troops were half the reason.
When we reached the reception chamber the ball was already in full swing. The great and high of Summer danced in intricate patterns and their magic swirled with them, a crackling mass against my mystical senses. Delegates from other Nevernever Realms were there too, potentates from the Brambles, kings and queens from the Wyldfae realms, and people and things I didn't recognise. A whirling construct of cogs and springs made small talk with a leprechaun. A clay golem in a tux stood awkwardly next to the punch bowl. A creature with more tentacles than eyes seemed to be seducing a dozen sidhe ladies at once. They seemed quite enamoured with it.
Tearing my eyes away from the sights, I scanned the crowd until I found the Imperator Pontifex, sitting at the apex of the hall on a gold and crystal throne.
"This is your message," said Burkwater, quietly. "My job was just to get you here."
I swallowed, nodded and strode forward.
Somewhere off to the side, a herald announced me.
"Wizard Archdale of the White Council of Wizards, Ordained Herald."
The Imperator Pontifex looked up as I approached but I remembered my training and waited for him to motion before approaching. When he did, I stepped forward and swept a bow.
"Your Grace," I said. "I bare message and tiding from the White Council. May I give them?"
The Imperator Pontifex was chosen from and by the Senate of Urbs Sacra and served for a single year. The current holder of the office looked old for a sidhe, maybe a healthy forty, but his hair was still a vivid chestnut. His eyes shone too, green and slitted like a cat.
"You may."
I drew the missive from my dispatch pouch, broke the seal and read.
"To His Grace, the Imperator Pontifex of Urbs Sacra,
"Thank you for your kind invitation to your ball, but I must respectfully decline. Prior engagements make my attendance impossible.
"Yours, Wizard Langtry, Merlin of the White Council of Wizards."
I'd risked my life, faced insane rioting sidhe and been glamoured by someone who I had a sneaking suspicion could crush me like a bug for two sentences and pleasantries. Inwardly, I sighed. Such was the life of an Ordained Herald. Truth be told, I'd probably do it all again.
