“They have consistently lied to me about their allegiance,” Fiona
continued, pointing at Strauss, “I wouldn't be surprised if they
were lying to you, right now.”
“We are deeply sorry, M'lady,” that Strauss creature replied, “We
are afraid our very nature requires more than a soupçon of
subterfuge.”
“Whatever,” Fiona said dismissively, “You've said your piece,
relayed your master's orders, now just be quiet.”
“Your concerns have been noted,” Earth rumbled, “Now, what
message would your master have you present to this council?”
If I'd thought she was angry before, that was nothing compared to the
effect this last question had. Her eyes blazed with an indignation
I'd never seen before, her cheeks flushed, mouth almost snarled.
Thankfully, she took a deep breath to compose herself before
speaking.
“I have no master,” she said at last, “I walk in the Weave, as
well as the Warp, according to my nature, but I serve no one: neither
man nor dream lord.”
“But you do speak for one of these princes in the Weave, do you
not?” Water splashed.
Fiona paused, as if listening to something unheard, before replying.
“Yes, yes, I'll get to that,” she said quietly, before addressing
the room. “I speak on behalf of the Peacock Angel,” she said,
“Who bids you all good day.”
