“Goodbye,” Cole called after him.
As they passed through the Wild Wood, they began to notice more eyes following their progress. A lithe fox crept up over a log, pausing to sit in plain sight as they walked by. A silvery white stag lifted its head to watch from the bushes. All around them, creatures of the forest had come to observe their march. Fable pointed eagerly as a pair of twinkling creatures with wings like dragonflies’ peered at them through the branches.
“Hey! You came back!” she yelled, bounding into the bushes after them. “You came back and you stayed! Wait! Can I touch your wings? I’m really good at being gentle!”
The queen shook her head. She was smiling softly when she turned to the twins. “The forest is grateful for what you have done. The Wild Wood has grown accustomed to being a place of magic. Kull was right. It was becoming something less without it.”
“It just needed a little,” murmured Tinn. “Just enough.”
The queen nodded. “I owe you a great debt for what you have done, changeling. You will always be welcome in the Wild Wood.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to know I can be safe here.”
“Safe? That isn’t remotely what I said. But you are most welcome. Now, I’m afraid it is time for us to leave you. We have much to do. The bramble is dead, but it must still be pulled up by its roots to ensure it does not return. And that Thing—”
“I let it escape,” Tinn said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t think that you did,” said the queen. “Not completely. You showed kindness to the monster. A Thing like that will not easily be free of such a gesture.” She looked over her shoulder into the green woods behind her. “If it ever shows itself in my forest again, however, I cannot promise that I will be as merciful.”
Fable bounded back to the path, panting. “I touched a pixie’s hair! And teeth. Well, it bit me. It bit me for touching its hair. It was so soft. And then pointy. My finger is kinda tingly now.”
“Come, Fable,” said the queen. She stepped off the goblin path, not waiting to see that her daughter was behind her. “It’s time.”
“Awww,” Fable groaned.
“Just a moment,” Annie said, letting go of her boys for the first time since they had begun the journey home. She knelt down and put a hand on Fable’s arm. “Thank you, young lady. You gave me my sons back. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”
“Were you really gonna take me in,” Fable asked, “if my mama wasn’t my mama?”
Annie grinned. “It would have been my pleasure. I don’t think there’s any mother in the world who will look after you like yours, though. She’s a very special mother. And you’re a very special young woman. You can still come and visit us anytime, if you like.”
Fable beamed. “Oh! Can I, Mama? Can I go to the people city? Sometimes? Just for a little while?”
The queen stiffened. “That would be severely ill advised.”
Fable nearly vibrated with excitement. “So, yes?”
“Not remotely yes.”
“But not technically no!”
The queen sighed.
Fable turned around, beaming, and gave Annie Burton a bear hug that nearly tipped the woman over, and then bounded to the twins and hugged them each in turn.
“So, we’re actual, real friends now, forever and ever and ever, right?” she said, her eyebrows rising so high they vanished into her curls.
“Friends,” Tinn confirmed. “Forever and ever and ever.”
“And we can keep saying things out loud to each other in people words? And maybe do a game or play a sports?”
“Of course,” Cole laughed. “We would love to play sometime.”
“Yesss.” Fable spun on her heel and hopped after her mother. “Goodbye for now, friends! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“You most certainly will not. We have much to attend to, Fable,” the queen was saying as they slid between the trees. “And what have I told you about pixies?”
“To not poke them when they don’t want to be poked.”
“And when do they want to be poked?”
“Not ever?”
“Correct.”
“Sorry, Mama. I have friends now, though. Did you hear?” Fable’s singsong voice carried through the forest. “People friends. Forever friends.”
Soon their voices faded into the rustle and hum of the forest.
The rest of the trip was brief. Kull brought them right to the edge of the forest. Across the stream they could see the old climbing tree, and peeking over the rise was the roof of their house.
“There y’are,” Kull said. “Safe an’ sound. An’ na more spyin’ on ya, I promise. Nor attemptin’ ta kidnap ya an’ sell ya ta the fairies. Na even a little bit from now on.”
Annie scowled, but she let it pass.
“Oh, an’ one more thing, ’fore I go.” Kull took a deep breath. What came next emerged in a rush. “Yer a good mum, Annie Burton,” he said. “Been watchin’ a long time, so I’m sure. I only spent an hour wit’ my changelin’ an’ I near ruined the wee thing’s life forever. Ya been raisin’ the twain, all by yer lonesome, fer years, an’ every day ya turn their chaos inta somethin’ special. Yer no goblin, but ya might be a better goblin than me. Yer sure a better parent.” When he was done he gnawed on his bottom lip.
Annie stared. “Thank you,” she managed at last.
“Thanks for everything, Mr. Kull,” said Cole. He held out his hand. Startled and a little uncertain, Kull shook it.
Tinn came forward next. Kull shuffled his feet. “Well. Yer free o’ me now,” he said to his toes. “I’m sorry fer messin’ up yer life, lad. Just . . . just be careful iffin ya do go back inta these woods. Witchy’s blessing or na, there’s still plenty that’ll eat ya in here. An’ mind that ya don’t let that brother o’ yorn talk ya inta anythin’ too cockamamy. An’ dinna give yer mothern too much trouble. But, ya know, do give her a bit.” He chuckled meekly. “Yer still a goblin underneath, after all. Got a heritage ta remember.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” said Tinn.
Kull raised his eyes.
“If it’s all right with my mom,” Tinn said, “I think I’d like to learn more.”
“More?”
“More about myself. About goblins. About where I came from. If you wouldn’t mind. Not right away, but maybe someday I could visit? Just for a little while.”
Kull’s eyes widened, and they both looked at Annie.
Her brow creased and she looked wary. “Well,” she began, “it might not hurt to understand a little more, but—”
“Oh, aye! There’s na goblin in the horde who’d be happier ta teach ya a thing or two about our lot!” Kull was rocking back and forth on his feet, his eyes glossy with excitement. “Learnt a good bit more myself in the years since ya were born. Been collectin’ books an’ papers an’ all manner o’ such ta be learnin’ from.”
“We can discuss it,” Annie conceded.
Kull remained watching from the bushes beside the stream as Annie Burton and her boys finally marched up the path toward home.
Back in their bedroom, with the dust and grime rinsed from their hair and their bellies full of potatoes and green beans and, at long last, several scrumptious marmalade tarts each, Tinn and Cole settled in to compare scars by the light of the rising sun.
“What about this one?” Tinn pulled up one leg of his pajamas to show off a scrape that ran nearly the length of his shin.
“Ohhh. Nice,” Cole marveled. “Check out the bruise on my knee.”
“That’s a good one.”
When they had finished taking inventory of their injuries, they were silent for a while. They felt a strange fascination at being different for the first time in their lives.
Their mother came in shortly afterward to kiss them good night half a dozen times each before drawing the curtains closed against the morning light and ordering them to get some sleep.
Birds chirped in the field outside.
In the dim golden haze, Tinn silently unwrapped the bandage from his hand. The bite was barely visible, although his palm was still tender. He turned his hand this way and that, gazing at his own skin.
“Hey, Cole,” he whispered. “Are you awake?”
Cole’s heavy breathing was his only reply. Tinn decided not to wake him. He couldn’t blame his brother for being exhausted.
He turned his attention back to his hand. He never again had to fear looking down to see someone else’s fingers at the end of his arms. Whatever magic had been inside him had gone back to where it belonged—that was how Nudd had explained it. Changeling magic was not meant to last forever.
If only he had known how to use his power when he still had it. What wonderful madness might transforming have added to their daily mischief? He held his breath for a minute, listening to the quiet house. Tinn concentrated, tensing his arm.
For a moment, just a fraction of an instant, his fingers flickered to the exact color of the woolly blanket beside him. Tinn’s eyes widened, and a smile crept across his face. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.
EPILOGUE
Chief Nudd breathed in deep, taking in the smell of the forest and the sight of the old cabin. He had left his usual entourage of lieutenants behind. This trip was for Nudd, alone. He had been a much younger goblin the last time he had come to this place.
“What are you doing here, thief king?” There was no warmth in the voice that greeted Nudd.
“I met her, ya know,” the chief answered, conversationally. “Right here. Many times. Yer mother was a fine woman, witch.”
The Queen of the Deep Dark eyed Nudd bitterly as she stepped into the light. “You knew my mother?”
“Aye.”
“And you let her die alone in the woods.” The witch’s voice was as soft and as cold as a fresh snowfall. “We are not friends, you and I.”
Nudd chuckled softly. “Na a soul on this earth let yer mother do anythin’, lass. She did or she didn’a as she pleased. Force o’ nature, that one. I believe she stayed because she was waitin’.”
“Don’t call me lass,” said the queen. Nudd could see waves of emotion rolling just behind her stony countenance. “Waiting?” she added. “For what?”
“Fer ya.”
“It would be unwise to toy with me, thief king.”
“She loved ya, lass.”
“I said don’t call me—”
“She loved ya, Raina.”
The Queen of the Deep Dark froze. “What did you say?”
“Yer name. She said it often enough. I ’spect ya probably dinna remember it, ya were such a wee little thing when we—”
“I remember.” The queen stared at Nudd, although something in her eyes told him what she was seeing was infinitely farther away. When she spoke again, the ice had begun to melt away from her words. “You really knew her?”
Nudd nodded.
“Will you—” She hesitated. “Will you tell me about her?”
Nudd considered for a moment. “That child o’ yorn. Fable, is it? She crossed inta the veil last night. She took hold o’ the very fabric o’ the universe, an’ when she had it in her hands, she shook it. That’s the spirit o’ yer mother, right there.”
The queen, Raina, smiled in spite of herself.
At the same moment, Nudd’s own grin vanished. “A human should na have survived that. A human could na have survived that. I’ll tell ya anythin’ ya want ta know about yer mother, witch.” His eyes narrowed. “If ya tell me about the girl.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Research for this book began a long time ago, with a different pair of troublemaking boys tromping through the trees in search of impossible things. I want to thank Alex Reisfar for filling the forests of my childhood with magic. I haven’t stopped tromping.
There are good people in the world who do difficult work, navigating the real Deep Dark to help lost children find their way through the shadows and back into the light of day. I would also like to thank Erin Farrell for walking that path. Without her, our story might never have been.
And, as ever, I cannot adequately express my gratitude for Katrina, the most indomitable force of nature I have ever met. If you look for her in this story, you will find her. Her hands have brushed the leaves of the Wild Wood, and the forest has grown more vibrant at her touch.
WILLIAM RITTER is an Oregon author and educator. He is the proud father of the two bravest boys in the Wild Wood, and husband to the indomitable Queen of the Deep Dark. The Oddmire is Ritter’s first series for middle-grade readers. He is also the author of the New York Times bestselling, award-winning Jackaby series for young adult readers. Visit him online at rwillritter.wordpress.com and find him on Twitter: @Willothewords.
Also by William Ritter
Jackaby
Beastly Bones
Ghostly Echoes
The Dire King
Published by
Algonquin Young Readers
an imprint of Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill
Post Office Box 2225
Chapel Hill, North Carolina 27515-2225
a division of
Workman Publishing
225 Varick Street
New York, New York 10014
© 2019 by William Ritter.
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Printed in the United States of America.
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eISBN 9781616209322
Changeling Page 16
