The Office of Shadow by Matthew Sturges Read Free Book Online Page B

and the river valley below them was farmland, much of it gone fallow
now that the city it once fed was gone.
    "Do you know what my position is, Ironfoot?" asked Everess.
    "I don't, I'm afraid. As you pointed out, knowledge of politics isn't
among my many astonishing qualities."
    "I'm the minister of foreign affairs, which means I have a great responsi bility to this land. And in order to execute that responsibility I must have
only the best and most talented men and women working under me."

    "Are you offering me a job, sir?"
    "What if I told you that if you were to come work for me, I would fund
any thaumatic research you chose to pursue while at the same time allowing
you some physical diversion as well?"
    "Sir?"
    "It was you who stole across the border through the Contested Lands in
order to examine an ancient Arami excavation, was it not? An Unseelie expedition, at that?"
    "It was interesting."
    "Indeed! We thought you were a spy for the longest time until we vetted
you."
    "You've been watching me? I don't understand."
    "Only the best and most talented," repeated Everess. "I don't approach
just everyone with these offers."
    "What makes you think I'd leave the university?" asked Ironfoot.
    "I know exactly why you'd leave it, and that you're considering leaving
already."
    "You do? And why is that?"
    "Because you're bored."
    Ironfoot had no rejoinder to that.
    "I appreciate the offer," said Ironfoot after a moment, "but as you're well
aware, I'm in the middle of something fairly important here."
    "Oh, I quite agree," said Everess. "And one of my preconditions for your
coming to work at the Ministry would be that you complete that work. As
you can guess, we're more than a little interested in its outcome."
    "I know," said Ironfoot. He turned away from the river and looked down
at the crater. "I'm not sure I know how I feel about potentially handing the
plans for the thing that did that over to anyone."
    "If it's to be used," said Everess, "I prefer that it be used on the Unseelie
rather than us."
    "Yes," said Ironfoot. "I suppose I do, too."
    "Good then. When you get back to the City Emerald, I'll send you a sprite."

    They stood silently together, looking down at what was once Selafae, and
then turned and walked back down the path.

    Four days later it was finished. Ironfoot collected the last of the readings,
which would be mapped in the comfort of his rooms back at Queensbridge.
The tents were struck, the army guard removed. The Arcadian priests and
loved ones, kept away for so many months, streamed into the ruined citythe priests to administer beatitudes; the relatives looking for keepsakes,
bones, trinkets ... anything to remind them of what they'd lost. It was an
emotional moment, and Ironfoot had no desire to get caught up in it any further than he already was.
    Returning to the Queensbridge campus was like coming home. He
couldn't remember the air in the City Emerald smelling so fresh, or the colors
being so vivid. For weeks and weeks his entire life had been gray dust and
acrid tar, and nights spent hunched over the map. Despite his urgent need to
finish the project, he was almost pleased that the minor emergencies that had
cropped up in his absence took him away from it for a time. He needed to get
some distance from it.
    There were message sprites lined up against the office window, bored out
of their little minds, all of them clamoring to be the first to deliver its message and disappear. He took them all in turn, scribbling little notes to himself. A dinner invitation from a love-struck female colleague; a meeting
request from the dean that could certainly wait. And a simple message from
Lord Everess.
    "He says he wants you to come over to his office and talk and so on and
so forth," said Everess's sprite.
    Ironfoot took the tiny creature in hand and said, "Maybe you could just
tell him I'm busy."
    The sprite's face took on an air of abused hospitality. "Well, he's not
going to be