Svartalves folded his fingers into a steeple. “My people are artisans, not warriors. We will fight—but our assistance in establishing defenses and providing appropriate equipment will prove a greater boon. Our armories are open to you, Baron.”
Marcone nodded and regarded Ferrovax. “Sir?”
“My contribution to the defenses must be subtle,” Ferrovax said. “To do otherwise would be to risk destroying more of the city than I save.” He nodded thoughtfully. “With Etri’s counsel and consent, I will close the underworld to them, prevent them from moving through or beneath the earth. One-Eye?”
Vadderung nodded slowly, evidently tracking Ferrovax’s line of thought. “I will close all the Ways to them within the city itself. Given who they are, that will leave them only one viable avenue of approach.”
“The water?” Marcone asked.
“Aye,” Vadderung said. “Their power is greater beneath the water. They’ll be able to bore through the defenses beneath the lake.”
“Then we’ll be able to deploy our forces against an attack from the lake,” Marcone said. “I will bring the full strength of my own organization here.”
There was a polite cough. Or it would have been a polite cough if a human had been making it. Considering it came out of River Shoulders’s chest, it sounded more like a small cannon going off. The Sasquatch straightened his bow tie, stepped forward, and pushed his wire-rim spectacles up higher on his broad nose. “My people,” he rumbled, “are not signatories of the Accords. Not yet. But if I understand things correctly, what is happening here has the potential to bring them harm. I will stand with you.”
“Hah,” said Listens-to-Wind. His worn teeth showed in a broad smile. “Be good to work with you again, River.”
River Shoulders looked toward Listens-to-Wind and winked. I was impressed. River wasn’t the kind to rush into things—and offhand, I couldn’t remember going up against anything more dangerous than one of the Forest People who meant business.
“What of the White Court?” Ebenezar asked. “Where is Ms. Raith?”
At that, there was a murmur of confusion and then all eyes fell onto the White Court’s sitting area, where only Riley was there to speak. “Ms. Raith had matters of state to attend to,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll need her authorization before engaging, but I’ve already sent a runner with orders to bring her local forces to combat readiness—a hundred guns, plus whichever members of the house are in residence at the château.”
“Communications, transportation,” Marcone said. “If that hex Ethniu threw was anything like what I’ve seen from others, and is as effective at destroying technology, we’re going to have difficulty reaching everyone and bringing them together in the proper place.”
There was a cough from the far end of the hall, where the Summer Lady had been sitting quietly with her security team, including the Summer Knight, gathered around her. Sarissa’s hair had become a cloud of silken white tresses over a dress that had been leaf green before I had drunk the blending potion. She … looked a scary amount like Molly, honestly. Or maybe Molly looked more like her.
Sarissa rose, looking intensely uncomfortable, and said, “I can help with communications. The Little Folk are well suited for such tasks. I would recommend the roof of this castle, I think, for a command center, for easy access.”
There was a rustle and then Molly slid out of the hole behind the high seat. “I’ve been handling transport for Winter troops for some time now. I can bring more of them in, as long as I know where they will be needed.”
“Excellent,” Marcone said. “Communications are, I think, the place to begin.”
“As well as a centralized collection of our military assets,” came a ragged voice.
Mab came out of the hole in the wall. She was … broken. Literally. Half her body had been crushed and mangled as if in some kind of industrial accident. She came through the hole in the wall with jerky, too-quick motions, once more the queen in purple and white, though coated with stone dust, her skin dimpled in dozens of places, as if it had been made of some kind of mostly rigid material that showed some hail damage. As I watched, there was a hideous crackling sound, and her broken shoulder snapped unnaturally in its socket and then resolved into its normal pale perfection.
She looked around the room, slowly. LaChaise avoided her gaze and looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor.
“Queen Mab,” Marcone said. “It would be good to know what forces the