“I’m really sorry, Saf. I’ve been distracted. I think it’s time we pull Rhys into this to get Hornbeck to go away.”
Saffin nodded her acceptance of the apology, but the sad look on her face pained Laura. “Sorry to disappoint you, but Hornbeck already called the Guildmaster, and they referred him to you.”
Laura slumped against the door in frustration. “Okay, dammit, I’ll talk to him. But if Rhys doesn’t want to deal with it, then I can’t be responsible for what I say.”
Saffin followed her into her office. “Speaking of which, Rhys’s office has been calling all morning. They want your edits to his speech.”
As Laura walked around her desk, she found a small Talbots bag on the chair, Saffin’s favorite spot to leave things she absolutely wanted Laura to see. Slipping her hand into the bag, she pulled out a large piece of silk folded in a neat square. She let it slide against itself to reveal a large paisley scarf in shades of red. “Oh, Saf! This is gorgeous.”
Some of the stress lines in Saffin’s face relaxed. “It’s the wrong red for me, but I thought it would look great with your hair. It was an insane deal.”
Laura gathered the fabric and slipped it loosely around her neck. “I love it. How much do I owe you?”
Saffin waved her hand. “Nothing. It’s a gift.”
Laura learned long ago not to argue when Saffin called something a gift. Part of her nature was in the giving of things, whether help or tangible items, and Saffin sometimes perceived even a courteous demurral as a failure on her part. “Thank you, Saffin. I’ll get on the speech right now.”
Saffin brightened considerably, the tautness nearly gone. “Okay. I’ll be right outside.”
Laura took her seat and adjusted the scarf. She really did like it.
She opened her email and retrieved the Guildmaster’s document. Orrin ap Rhys wrote most of his own speeches. He was good at it. In recent years, he had taken a liking to Laura’s editing suggestions, probably because they shared similar approaches to problems. She hardly ever needed to contradict him or attempt to change his position. Usually, all she did was update his language for a modern audience and let him know about current affairs that would enhance his arguments.
His Archives speech demonstrated their mutual concerns. Laura didn’t add much for most of the speech. Rhys had hit all the key points in the relationship between modern humans and the Celtic fey. In fact, he had lived through all of the last century’s interactions and been a significant player himself, even participating in the negotiation of the Treaty of London.
Near the end of the speech, though, Laura massaged the language with an eye to current politics. She brought in the achievements of a recent summit between Maeve and the Elvenking. It wasn’t a resounding success, but enough progress had been made to ensure that the process would probably continue. Except, not everyone was pleased with the idea that the Celts and the Teuts might settle their differences. Some human factions feared that an allied fey was a dangerous fey. Therein lay the difficulty for her—events had different meanings to different groups. Laura tried to keep tabs on all of them and make sure that Rhys soothed the right egos and slapped back at the politically inconsequential and the dangerous. Nuance was key.
As a commander of fairy-warrior forces, Rhys liked to talk too much about conflicts. Laura thought it undermined the message of success and unity of the recent negotiations and the benefits that they would provide the human population. She cut the troublesome material in half, wrote “too negative” in the margin, and slanted the language into a stronger message of triumph, despite the inevitable obstacles naysayers would throw in the way of progress. She made one more pass through the speech and emailed it off to Rhys.
She glanced at her watch and called out the door to Saffin. “I sent the speech, if
Saffin nodded her acceptance of the apology, but the sad look on her face pained Laura. “Sorry to disappoint you, but Hornbeck already called the Guildmaster, and they referred him to you.”
Laura slumped against the door in frustration. “Okay, dammit, I’ll talk to him. But if Rhys doesn’t want to deal with it, then I can’t be responsible for what I say.”
Saffin followed her into her office. “Speaking of which, Rhys’s office has been calling all morning. They want your edits to his speech.”
As Laura walked around her desk, she found a small Talbots bag on the chair, Saffin’s favorite spot to leave things she absolutely wanted Laura to see. Slipping her hand into the bag, she pulled out a large piece of silk folded in a neat square. She let it slide against itself to reveal a large paisley scarf in shades of red. “Oh, Saf! This is gorgeous.”
Some of the stress lines in Saffin’s face relaxed. “It’s the wrong red for me, but I thought it would look great with your hair. It was an insane deal.”
Laura gathered the fabric and slipped it loosely around her neck. “I love it. How much do I owe you?”
Saffin waved her hand. “Nothing. It’s a gift.”
Laura learned long ago not to argue when Saffin called something a gift. Part of her nature was in the giving of things, whether help or tangible items, and Saffin sometimes perceived even a courteous demurral as a failure on her part. “Thank you, Saffin. I’ll get on the speech right now.”
Saffin brightened considerably, the tautness nearly gone. “Okay. I’ll be right outside.”
Laura took her seat and adjusted the scarf. She really did like it.
She opened her email and retrieved the Guildmaster’s document. Orrin ap Rhys wrote most of his own speeches. He was good at it. In recent years, he had taken a liking to Laura’s editing suggestions, probably because they shared similar approaches to problems. She hardly ever needed to contradict him or attempt to change his position. Usually, all she did was update his language for a modern audience and let him know about current affairs that would enhance his arguments.
His Archives speech demonstrated their mutual concerns. Laura didn’t add much for most of the speech. Rhys had hit all the key points in the relationship between modern humans and the Celtic fey. In fact, he had lived through all of the last century’s interactions and been a significant player himself, even participating in the negotiation of the Treaty of London.
Near the end of the speech, though, Laura massaged the language with an eye to current politics. She brought in the achievements of a recent summit between Maeve and the Elvenking. It wasn’t a resounding success, but enough progress had been made to ensure that the process would probably continue. Except, not everyone was pleased with the idea that the Celts and the Teuts might settle their differences. Some human factions feared that an allied fey was a dangerous fey. Therein lay the difficulty for her—events had different meanings to different groups. Laura tried to keep tabs on all of them and make sure that Rhys soothed the right egos and slapped back at the politically inconsequential and the dangerous. Nuance was key.
As a commander of fairy-warrior forces, Rhys liked to talk too much about conflicts. Laura thought it undermined the message of success and unity of the recent negotiations and the benefits that they would provide the human population. She cut the troublesome material in half, wrote “too negative” in the margin, and slanted the language into a stronger message of triumph, despite the inevitable obstacles naysayers would throw in the way of progress. She made one more pass through the speech and emailed it off to Rhys.
She glanced at her watch and called out the door to Saffin. “I sent the speech, if
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