Fey 02 - Changeling

by Rusch, Kristine Kathryn

  "Leave me alone, Titus," Matthias said and shook himself free. "I have no magic. The spell was a thin one."

  "Nightshade is — was — our best," Burden said. "No one broke from his spells. Not even Red Caps. No one except Fey with magic of their own."

  Matthias took another step. His eyes appeared glazed. Stowe stepped toward him, keeping his body between them. He knew he should get Burden out of there, but he couldn't. Not yet. He wanted to hear the end of this logic himself.

  "You're lying," Matthias said.

  "Really," Burden said, his voice ringing with sincerity, "I have no reason to lie. Especially right now."

  "You think that if I believe we're kindred spirits, I will let you go."

  "I heavily doubt that," Burden said. "But I think you should know what you are."

  "I am Rocaan!" Matthias shouted. Spittle flew from his mouth. He looked half crazed.

  "And the one who discovered that your holy water acts as a poison, right?" Burden asked.

  "He did," Porciluna said from the back. Stowe glanced at him. He didn't trust Porciluna. The man's ambition colored everything.

  "As well as escaping one of our charmed assassins." Burden shook his head. "I've been thinking about this. It seems odd that you would survive three separate attacks. I think you should talk to our Shaman."

  "So she can kill me?" Matthias said. "I am not a fool, Burden."

  "No," Burden said. "You have a very powerful magic. Your belief in the military use of that poison is so strong that you have converted all of us to your belief."

  "Are you saying holy water won't work any more if we don't believe in it?" one of the guards asked. Stowe tapped at him for quiet, but it was too late. The question was out.

  "It'll work now. He changed its properties. His magic is now part of the mix. The sign of a very powerful magic maker. And you survived an attack by a Charmed assassin."

  "He was just a boy. An Islander boy who didn't want to kill me," Matthias said in a quivering voice.

  "I Charmed him," Burden said. "I was behind the attack. Few Fey could have escaped that. And no one breaks a Dream Rider spell without magic. No one."

  "You lie!" Matthias tossed the holy water vial at Burden. Stowe moved a step closer and caught the vial in mid-air, water spilling all over his hand. He turned. Burden was crouching behind the guards.

  Safe.

  "Get him out of here," Stowe said.

  The guards didn't have to be told twice. They hurried Burden down the stairs. Titus took Matthias's hand and wrapped it in a bandage. Matthias stared after Burden as if he had struck him in the face.

  "I can't believe you were going to kill a man who was unable to defend himself," Stowe said. "You have no compassion."

  "No, I don't," Matthias said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "At least not for demons."

  THE THIEF

  (The Next Day)

  FIFTY-ONE

  Touched stepped through the Circle Door. Shadowlands felt cold and damp compared to the woods, even though he knew its temperature was warmer than the air outside. His bald head was scratched and brambles were stuck in his robe. He had some kind of rash on his arm that itched like everything. And bug bites all over his open skin.

  They had found no trace of the missing boy.

  Rotin was still out in the woods, guiding a group of Fey on their search. She hadn't listened when Touched suggested that the boy and the Islander took a path other than the road. She said that the boy had never been outside of Shadowlands. The overstimulation would cause him to balk at anything unfamiliar. Unless the Islander worked miracles, he wouldn't be able to get the boy to walk on anything except flat ground.

  She was probably wrong.

  Touched had tried to tell her that, and as a reward, he got sent back to Shadowlands. To see Rugar. And to tell him that his new Enchanter was missing.

  No one sat on the Meeting Block. Shadowlands looked deserted. It mostly was. Burden had taken a small troop with him to the Tabernacle, and Rotin had taken the rest of the Infantry to find the boy. Touched planned, after he talked to Rugar, to get a Beast Rider or two to look for the boy.

  Touched ran through the grayness. The Weather Sprites were not experimenting this morning, and Shadowlands looked odder than usual. The grayness had a flat quality to it, the ground, the walls, and the roof marked by sharp corners and a shine that normally wasn't present. He preferred days when they tried to make sunlight or rain. Both resulted in a foggy mist that gave the place a more natural air.

  Smoke was coming out of Rugar's chimney. Touched stopped at the base of the stairs, uncertain about this meeting. Rugar had charged him with the care of the boy. Perhaps that was why Rotin had sent Touched back. So that he took responsibility for his own actions.

  Probably not, though. She probably wanted him out of the way so that he wouldn't question her any more.

  He went up the steps slowly. Rugar hadn't given him an overt charge, but the implication had been there. Rugar thought Rotin incompetent, and urged Touched to take action against her. Touched had not.

  Now he was following her orders after her actions had allowed the boy to escape.

  Although he wasn't certain he would have done any differently. He wouldn't have used the skin to find the bubble, but that was personal preference. He hated using pieces of death. He preferred to use his own mind.

  He understood Enchanters.

  Rotin did not.

  Touched took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A curse echoed from within, then the door opened.

  "I told you I don't care what —" Rugar stopped when he saw Touched. "Sorry," he said. I thought you were someone else."

  "Obviously," Touched said. He even knew who Rugar thought he was. It was common knowledge that Rugar would not go with Burden on his raid, thinking it a suicide mission. Touched had thought it odd that Burden was willing to risk his life to avenge Jewel, but Jewel's father was not. "May I come in?"

  Rugar stood aside.

  Touched went in. The small cabin was too hot. The remains of a meal sat on the table, and the place smelled of stale bedclothes. Rugar had been mourning in his own way. It almost seemed that, when he lost Jewel, he lost his fight.

  "How's my Enchanter?" Rugar asked. He didn't wait for Touched's answer. He picked the plates off the table and put them in the bin for the Domestics to take care of later. "I've been thinking about him. We might be wrong about his lack of Fey blood. He had been very young when Solanda found him —"

  "We were right," Touched said. "Rotin and I did some work with him."

  "Islander?" Rugar squinted as he spoke, as if he could see Touched's answer more clearly.

  "Completely. Not a bit of Fey in him." Touched's heart was pounding. He didn't want to tell Rugar the rest of it.

  "Makes some kind of sense, I suppose," Rugar said. "It explains why we couldn't defeat them."

  "Yes," Touched said. Rugar clearly needed the justifications. He was the first member of this Black Family to fail at such a large task. "It also explains something else."

  Rugar leaned against a stool he had pushed near the table. "What's that?"

  "How he got away."

  Rugar clasped his hands in his lap. To Touched's surprise, Rugar didn't shout, didn't even get off the stool. He put one booted foot on a lower wrung and leaned forward. "He got away?"

  That tone was even more menacing than a shout would have been.

  Touched nodded. "I — that is, Rotin and I — we were experimenting on him —"

  "You let Rotin near him?"

  "I have no jurisdiction over her, Rugar," Touched said. His arm itched. He scratched it, drawing blood from the rash. "She wanted to test him."

  "She had no right."

  "She's head of the Warders."

  "And I told you that wasn't acceptable."

  Touched swallowed. "I'm the youngest Warder. I have no way of getting rid of her."

  "You are a fool." Rugar was still speaking softly. He go
t off the stool and clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, he couldn't have gotten far. We'll let a Domestic search for him. He's probably hiding in the Domicile anyway."

  "He got out," Touched said.

  "What?" Rugar's voice was even softer.

  Touched clasped a hand over his bleeding arm. The itching was worse. "He got out."

  "You let him out."

  "No," Touched said. "He escaped."

  "From the Warders cabin?"

  "Yes, sir." Touched let his hand drop. It was sticky with blood. The itching hadn't ceased but he could do nothing about it right now.

  "How did that happen?"

  "He's — ah, he's very powerful," Touched said.

  "He had better be," Rugar said. He paced around the small room, then kicked at a leg of the table. The table shuddered.

  "We're searching for him right now," Touched said. "We've got the Infantry out looking for him. Rotin is supervising them."

  "Rotin," Rugar sneered. "Rotin couldn't find her feet with explicit written directions."

  Touched agreed with that but loyalty among Warders kept him quiet. Rotin was still the head Warder, whatever her level of competence.

  "If she's still searching," Rugar said, "what are you doing here?"

  "She sent me to tell you he was gone."

  "Afraid to face me herself, was she?" Rugar's smile was grim. Touched was glad Rugar was not referring to him. "And you were able to face me. She thinks I won't notice that. Well, the boy won't get far. He hasn't been outside Shadowlands since he was a baby. The colors and smells will overwhelm him. We'll probably find him huddled in a patch of weeds not far from the Circle Door."

  "I don't think so," Touched said.

  Rugar crossed his arms. "You don't think so."

  Touched shook his head. "We checked."

  "You and Rotin."

  "And the Infantry. If he had been by himself, maybe. But your Islander servant was with him."

  "Adrian?" Again, Rugar spoke in that low tone. "You let Adrian escape."

  "I — It seemed like they had it planned. When Adrian arrived, the boy took them both out of the Warders cabin."

  "I'm amazed you captured him in the first place," Rugar said.

  Touched nodded. "I don't think he's used to his powers yet."

  "Well, he knows them enough." Rugar ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Finally we have answers and the person who could help us disappears."

  Touched scratched at the rash on his arm. "I have — I was wondering if we could use a Beast Rider. I was thinking maybe a Gull Rider might notice the two of them better than the Infantry."

  Rugar squinted at him. "Your idea?"

  Touched nodded.

  "Of course. It's the first one that makes sense. All right, we'll get you a Gull Rider. But I expect results."

  "You'll get them," Touched said. "We have to find that boy."

  "Actually," Rugar said, "we don't. We have learned most of what we needed to know from him. The Islanders have their own magic, that much is clear. Types of magic differ from person to person, and its usage apparently differs from culture to culture. This means that we'll have to treat the Islanders like equals instead of like people we can easily conquer." He dropped his arms and rubbed his hands nervously on his breeches. "It's something we probably should have done from the beginning."

  Touched agreed with that, but didn't know how to answer Rugar's comment. Rugar might take his agreement as a criticism. And as much as Touched found to criticize about Rugar, Touched was still aware that Rugar was the Black King's son, and the Leader of this band of Fey.

  "Actually," Touched said cautiously, "I think we need to find him for another reason."

  "What's that?" Rugar said.

  "The poison." Touched licked his lips. He hadn't told anyone what he was about to tell Rugar. "When Caseo was still alive, I thought of an Enchanter's spell to get rid of the poison. But Caseo rejected it because we didn't have an Enchanter in camp."

  Suddenly Rugar's entire being looked alive. He moved forward until his face was inches from Touched's. "You have a spell?" he asked. "A spell that will counteract the poison?"

  "I thought I'd lost it," Touched said. "But as I was roaming the woods last night, I remembered all of it."

  "And it'll work?" Rugar asked.

  "Perfectly," Touched said.

  "It's an antidote?' Rugar asked.

  Touched shook his head. "Actually, it would turn the poison back on them. That's what stalled us. We needed an Enchanter spell from the beginning."

  "An Enchanter spell," Rugar murmured. Then he clapped Touched on the arm. "You'll get your Gull Rider, and any other Beast Rider we can find. We have to locate this boy."

  "I know," Touched said.

  "No, you don't know," Rugar said. "We have to find him soon. If he realizes he's Islander, he'll never help us. We have to find him while he still thinks of himself as Fey."

  FIFTY-TWO

  Adrian awoke to the sound of birds chirping. He lay on the thick mattress, breathing shallowly, listening to something he had thought he would never hear again.

  The sunlight, filtered through the trees, came in the windows and warmed him. Scavenger's cabin, built over many years, was divided into several sections. He called this the Recovery From Shadowlands section. It had windows cut into two walls, windows without glass, so the floor was littered with dirt and leaves. But it also smelled of pine trees, the river, and grass, scents that Adrian adored. A lilac bush was blooming outside the nearest window and the overpowering smell filled the room.

  Coulter huddled against him, face buried against his side. The boy grew calmer when they got inside the cabin, as Scavenger predicted he would. Coulter was used to wood walls, floors and ceilings. It was the brightness he had trouble with.

  And the sounds.

  And the smells.

  The cabin was long and narrow. It wound around the trees, and branches rested on the roof. Adrian had glanced at it the night before, noted the strangeness, but waited for Scavenger to tell him about it.

  Scavenger did not.

  But it was clear whoever had built the cabin had gained skills as time progressed. The Recovery From Shadowlands room had boards nailed every which way. Some of the boards had knots in them that opened to the outside. But the room farthest in the back, Scavenger's private room which he promised he would only show them once, had even boards and no windows. It was clean to the point of immaculate, and nothing got in.

  Nothing at all.

  Adrian stretched. He felt a joy he hadn't felt since his son was born. The simple things made him happy. He hadn't known that, wouldn't have known that until someone took the outdoors away from him, with its weather and flowers and mud.

  Coulter was another problem.

  The boy was almost gibbering by the time he got into the cabin. Scavenger had said such a reaction was normal for someone imprisoned in Shadowlands, maybe a bit extreme, but what did Adrian expect? The boy thought the world was gray, not alive with color and beings. It would take time and patience to get him to accept the difference.

  The problem was that Adrian had neither. Now that he was outside Shadowlands, he wanted to get as far from it as he could.

  He wanted to see Luke.

  He wanted to see the rest of his family and the farm and the river in the daylight and Jahn and the bridge and —

  And everything. Everything he had missed for so very long.

  Scavenger unnerved him a bit, too. The Red Cap had given his history, including his own escape from Shadowlands after killing Caseo, but he hadn't said much about what he had been doing since he left. Adrian could guess. An undisguised Fey couldn't be too welcome in any Islander communities. Scavenger had probably spent the intervening years alone.

  No wonder he was happy to have them here.

  Adrian pulled the blanket over Coulter, then adjusted his own pillow so that Coulter would still have something to shield his eyes. Then Adrian rolled off the mat
tress. Scavenger could not have made this mattress. He had to have stolen it from one of the Islander communities nearby. It was too soft, the stitches too perfect, the stuffing too even to be made out of twigs and brambles and leaves. Besides, Scavenger had no weaving equipment or sewing tools anywhere in the cabin.