not. The air rattled in his throat, but the gun was steady, trained on the Sidhe before him.
"No, please!" the Sidhe cried, raising empty hands.
The room was almost quiet. Keeping the gun leveled at the Sidhe, FitzRoy looked around. There was nothing to fight for any more. The mortal who was supposed to remove Elizabeth's cross was dead. The Sidhe who had been fighting Nyle and Gerrit huddled on the floor, moaning with the pain of steel-poisoned wounds. Rhoslyn had lost all interest in Elizabeth; she knelt by her brother, trying to block both the poison of the steel-inflicted wound and the elf-shot. Blood gleamed wetly on Vidal Dhu's black doublet; he was unconscious but still breathing.
FitzRoy saw movement by the door to the dressing room. He stepped back so he could cover both the Sidhe and that doorway, but it was Blanche Parry, dragging Aurilia by the feet. He looked at the Sidhe.
"I can kill you all," he said, lifting the gun, fighting the strange tightness and pain in his chest, "and remove your ears so there will be no hint you are not mortal. Then my men will bury you, and you will be no embarrassment. Or, you can remove the living—and go—"
Rhoslyn had turned her head to listen and rose to her feet. "Quick. Help me with Pasgen and I will help you with the others. We can use the Gate Pasgen built, but hurry. I don't know how long it will last with him unconscious."
The Sidhe cast a nervous glance at FitzRoy, but he nodded and gestured with the gun. Pasgen was quickly moved through the Gate, then Rhoslyn and the Sidhe carried Vidal Dhu through it. The Sidhe moaning over his steel-poisoned wounds was dragged to his feet by his unsympathetic companion and shoved through the gate. Rhoslyn returned, stood beside the sole unwounded Sidhe, and looked to see if there were any more survivors.
"Here," Blanche called, "don't forget this one," shoving the limp, softly moaning Aurilia in his direction. "Nor this." Her face hardened as she picked up the still-covered bundle and thrust it at Rhoslyn. "Remember," she added, as Rhoslyn took the blanket-wrapped changeling, dead before it had ever been awakened to life, not ungently into her arms. "I can smell them at twenty feet, and there's always this." She lifted the black iron necklace with its dangling crosses. Rhoslyn shrank back. "Look at that other one when she wakes up, if she wakes up, and decide whether it's worth it to try again."
"To me she is
"No, please!" the Sidhe cried, raising empty hands.
The room was almost quiet. Keeping the gun leveled at the Sidhe, FitzRoy looked around. There was nothing to fight for any more. The mortal who was supposed to remove Elizabeth's cross was dead. The Sidhe who had been fighting Nyle and Gerrit huddled on the floor, moaning with the pain of steel-poisoned wounds. Rhoslyn had lost all interest in Elizabeth; she knelt by her brother, trying to block both the poison of the steel-inflicted wound and the elf-shot. Blood gleamed wetly on Vidal Dhu's black doublet; he was unconscious but still breathing.
FitzRoy saw movement by the door to the dressing room. He stepped back so he could cover both the Sidhe and that doorway, but it was Blanche Parry, dragging Aurilia by the feet. He looked at the Sidhe.
"I can kill you all," he said, lifting the gun, fighting the strange tightness and pain in his chest, "and remove your ears so there will be no hint you are not mortal. Then my men will bury you, and you will be no embarrassment. Or, you can remove the living—and go—"
Rhoslyn had turned her head to listen and rose to her feet. "Quick. Help me with Pasgen and I will help you with the others. We can use the Gate Pasgen built, but hurry. I don't know how long it will last with him unconscious."
The Sidhe cast a nervous glance at FitzRoy, but he nodded and gestured with the gun. Pasgen was quickly moved through the Gate, then Rhoslyn and the Sidhe carried Vidal Dhu through it. The Sidhe moaning over his steel-poisoned wounds was dragged to his feet by his unsympathetic companion and shoved through the gate. Rhoslyn returned, stood beside the sole unwounded Sidhe, and looked to see if there were any more survivors.
"Here," Blanche called, "don't forget this one," shoving the limp, softly moaning Aurilia in his direction. "Nor this." Her face hardened as she picked up the still-covered bundle and thrust it at Rhoslyn. "Remember," she added, as Rhoslyn took the blanket-wrapped changeling, dead before it had ever been awakened to life, not ungently into her arms. "I can smell them at twenty feet, and there's always this." She lifted the black iron necklace with its dangling crosses. Rhoslyn shrank back. "Look at that other one when she wakes up, if she wakes up, and decide whether it's worth it to try again."
"To me she is