“You can use the telephone in my office.” Uncle Weylind spoke without looking up from his paperwork. “But take the time to wash first. The telephone lines will be busy for a while yet.”
He must be a sight if his uncle was not-so-subtly nudging him toward showering.
“Yes. Shower.” Dacha flapped a hand at him as well, his eyes still closed. “It will help.”
Well, Fieran could tell when he’d been dismissed. He pushed to his feet, turning for the door.
“And you, shashon.” Uncle Weylind’s voice turned that teasingly stern tone once again. “You need to rest.”
“Not tired.” Dacha’s voice was slurred.
“If you are not tired, then you can assist me with my paperwork.”
“I will rest.”
“I thought so.”
Fieran couldn’t help a smile as he eased the door mostly closed behind him.
After a showerthat was longer than army regulations allowed—where he scrubbed and scrubbed and pretended he’d cleansed the feel of blood and death from his skin—Fieran made his way to the headquarters building. The MPs let him enter once they saw his identification.
Inside, a chaotic bustle still reigned, with aides, adjutants, secretaries, and army officers hustling to and fro, reporting to this general or that.
Another set of MPs halted him. “State your business.”
“I’m Capt. Fieran Laesornysh. My uncle King Weylind of Tarenhiel told me to use the telephone in his office to call my mother, Princess Elspeth.” If ever there was a time for name-dropping, this was it.
The MPs straightened at all that royalty in a single sentence. But they didn’t shift aside until Uncle Julien called from somewhere just out of sight, “Let him through.”
“Thanks, Uncle Julien,” Fieran called back as the MPs jumped out of his way.
Uncle Julien stepped out of one of the nearby rooms, dark shadows beneath his eyes. He pointed down the hall to Fieran’s right. “Weylind’s office is all the way at the end and to your left.”
Fieran waved to Uncle Julien before he set off down the hall. Even if elves weren’t drifting between the rooms, he would’ve been able to tell he was now in the elven section since the noise almost instantly faded into a more subdued murmur.
At the end, he turned into the room on the left. A large desk took up most of the space, a few neat stacks of paperwork waiting on it. Windows set high in the wall brightened the room while a smaller desk sat beneath the black telephone mounted to the wall.
Fieran took a seat at the smaller desk, picked up the earpiece, and jiggled the lever to call the operator. Within a few moments, he’d given the direction for Treehaven. The operators along the route didn’t seem at all surprised. Then again, given how often Dacha had likely been calling home, they were well practiced at connecting Fort Defense with Treehaven House.
A few minutes later, Mama’s worried voice filled the line beneath the static. “Weylind?”
“It’s me. Fieran.” Fieran rested his elbows on the desk, hunching forward as a lump clogged his throat. He didn’t know how to go about telling her what had happened.
“Fieran.” His name was a breath of relief, and he could picture the way her shoulders slumped.
“Dacha…he…” Fieran’s throat closed. He couldn’t manage to say it.
“I know.” Mama’s voice had steadied, her tone that comforting one he knew so well from childhood. “He’s going to be all right. He just needs sleep.”
Fieran nodded, even though Mama wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. But for a moment, he couldn’t respond.
He’d thought Dacha had been sending him to call Mama to comfort her. But perhaps this telephone call had been for Fieran’s sake as much as for hers.
“What happened?” she asked quietly, a gentle prompt.
“There was this machine. Lots of them.” Fieran found himself pouring the story out to her, barely checking himself before he said anything out loud that shouldn’t be shared over a telephone, even a secure line like this one.
Such as the fact that Pip had retrieved two of those machines. The Mongavarians likely knew that the Alliance had gotten their hands on them, but there was always a chance that had been obscured by the chaos of battle. They certainly shouldn’t be informed that the machines would soon be heading to Aldon by train to be studied by Uncle Lance, Louise, and other top mechanics, magicians, and magical engineers.
