The Office of Shadow

This book is dedicated to

MY PMTni-)

reat thanks are due, as always, to the boys of Clockwork Storybook: Bill Willingham, Chris Roberson, Mark Finn, and Bill Williams, for providing encouragement and feedback during the writing of this book.

As with Midwinter, a special debt of gratitude is owed to Bill Willingham, who again graciously allowed me to borrow a couple of concepts that he included in his (as yet!) unfinished novel Just Another Ranker, back in the days when we all wrote stories set in the same worlds. If he ever asks for them back, I'll be in dire straits.

Thanks to Dave Justus, who worked tirelessly to comment upon and proof the original manuscript, and to my editor at Pyr, Lou Anders, who is basically awesome.

Thanks to Margaret and Kevin for watching the girls that time.

Thanks to Samantha, Amy, Jenn, Terrie, Lynn, Emma, Jacob, Abby, Patti, Nate, Jeremy, James, Alison, and Yvonne for keeping me fueled up throughout.

And especially, thanks to my wife, Stacy, and my daughters, Millie and Mercy, for allowing me to essentially abandon them for two months while I finished.

Pibil.

Uvenra slept among the ash at Belekh; the daughter of Uvenchaud was dead by the hand of Uvenchaud and slept among the ash. For a week and a day the king wept. Then Uvenchaud took his chariot and drove it to Prythme, where the gods dwelled.To confront the gods he went there. He shook his sword at the gate; he shook his shield at the gate. Uvenchaud struck the earth with his sword and the earth trembled. The gate opened. At Uvenchaud's threat did it move upon its mighty hinge.

Uvenchaud went into the courtyard at Prythme. In the courtyard Uvenchaud called out. "I am Uvenchaud, whose fist is iron, who united the wild Fae clans; the Fae clans have submitted to my will. As the ruler of them I demand parley."

Uvenchaud stood in the courtyard for a week and a day. For another week and for another day he stood and there was no answer. Uvenchaud struck the earth again with his sword and called out. One of the gods came.The bearded god Althoin, god of Wisdom whose Gift is Insight, came to match his wits against Uvenchaud.

"Why do you come here?" said wise Althoin. "Why does Uvenchaud come here to disturb the thoughts of the gods?"

"Uvenra my daughter sleeps among the ash. She is dead by my hand, for she betrayed me to my enemy Achera, the dragon who has slain many."

"You have come here to be judged by the gods."

"I do not come to be judged by the gods. I come to defy the judgment of the gods."

Althoin spoke. He said,"You cannot escape the judgment of the gods.We are seated above you to judge you and to command you."

"Who seated you there?"

"We seated ourselves."

"Then I will unseat you" Uvenchaud struck the earth with his sword, and the god laughed at the sword.

"You cannot kill a god," said Althoin.

Uvenchaud struck at Althoin for a week and a day. After a week and a day he stopped and Althoin was unharmed. "You cannot kill a god," said Althoin.

Ein, god of War, whose Gift is Leadership, came to match his strength against Uvenchaud. For a week and a day Uvenchaud struck Ein with his sword. For a week and a day they struggled, but Ein was not slain.

"You cannot kill a god," said Ein.

"What I cannot kill I can bind," said Uvenchaud. Uvenchaud had a rope, made of fibers from the tuluk plant.The rope was dipped in dragon blood. Uvenchaud bound Ein with the rope. Ein strained at the rope, but he was bound.

One by one the other gods came to answer the challenge, and Uvenchaud bound them. He bound Senek. He bound Urul. He bound Penithe and Althoin. He bound Tur and Loket. Obore and Reinul he bound. Ehreg and Purek he bound.Tenul he bound.

In this way did Uvenchaud bind each of the twelve gods at Prythme.

In Prythme the gods lie. In Prythme they are bound. In Prythme they are held by tuluk fibers and dragon's blood.

No god judged Uvenchaud for the slaying of Uvenra.

from The Chthonic Book of Mysteries, translated by Feven IV of the City Emerald

The sun in Annwn perches eternally on the horizon, swimming in lazy circles that allow it to fully rise for only three hours each day. Never lighter than morning nor darker than dusk,Annwn exists in perpetual transitionalways arriving, never arrived.

Annwn was discovered by the Fae long ago and was, for many centuries, a bastion of the pure Elvish folk. But it was later discovered by men from the Nymaen world, those called human, and conquered by them. Over time the two races mingled, and have now become one. Neither Fae nor Nymaen, they are simplyAnnwni,with some of the qualities of each.

There are many villages in Annwn, but only one city, named Blood of Arawn.The city is built upon seven great ramparts of earth and stone dug out of the otherwise flat grasslands of that world.The oldest buildings of that city-the coliseum, the Penn's villa, the temples-are built of marble, but many of these structures have since crumbled and have been replaced with more modest structures of brick. Only the obelisk at the center of the great market, called Romwll's Needle, remains unblemished after fifteen centuries. Conventional wisdom holds that a pair of thaumaturges sit in a stone room beneath the obelisk, whispering bindings without cease, for it is believed that if the needle were ever to fall, then Blood of Arawn would fall soon after, and all of Annwn crumble into dust.

Stil-Eret,''Light in Annwn;' from Travels at Home and Abroad

Five Years Ago

he flashes of witchlight began to streak the horizon shortly after midnight and continued through the night, growing closer by the hour. Paet ran through the dappled darkness, ignoring the sky.

The attack had come as no surprise to anyone, but Mab's Army had beaten even the most alarmist estimates in its timing. Back at the Seelie Embassy, the packing and burning of documents, which had begun in an orderly fashion three days earlier, had become a frenzy of activity. Bags were hurriedly packed; valuables were sewn into the linings of garments; empty kerosene barrels were stuffed with dossiers and set aflame.

None of this was of any concern to Paet.

Blood of Arawn was an ancient city. Not as old, perhaps, as one of its Seelie counterparts, but it appeared much older as a result of governmental indifference down the ages. The cobbles in the streets were uneven, some missing, and Paet could hear carts and carriages jouncing across them in the street beyond his darkened alley. He could also hear shouts and occasional shrieks, as certain of the populace considered the reputation of the encroaching conquerors and decided not to take their chances. Paet could hardly blame them; life under the Unseelie was certain to be a disappointment for those who decided to stay.

A group of a dozen Chthonic coenobites clattered past Paet, their faces calm, their legendary indifference suiting them well this night. Their saffron-dyed robes brushed the cobblestones, the bells sewn into their fabric quietly jingling. As the state religion in all but name, the Chthonics would be allowed to continue so long as they acknowledged Mab as a goddess, and superior to their own. This the Chthonics would happily agree to do, praising Mab publicly and ignoring her in private. Their own deities had been subdued eons earlier and could scarcely take offense. Or so the stories went; Paet had no use for religion.

There was a scintillating flash in the sky. A moment later the ground shook and Paet stumbled. He stopped and listened as the low rumble of reitic concussions echoed down the alley. Waves of heat from the battle outside had begun to roll over the walls before Paet had left the embassy, and now the city both felt and smelled like a tavern kitchen: stifling, stinking of sweat and overripe food. Paet felt the prickling of perspiration beneath his heavy linen shirt. He continued running.