Once they had made their way to the outskirts of Jahn, they would go south to Adrian's farm. Scavenger would scout for Fey and if he saw no evidence of them, all three would go to the farm. If he saw them, he would inform Adrian and they would make a new plan.
The problem was hiding from the Gull Riders. Scavenger believed staying far enough away from the river would help. He also thought that if the three of them wore the hats he had stolen, the Gull Riders would ignore them. Beast Riders were simple thinkers. Even Adrian knew that. They wouldn't think to look for more than two people on the road.
That part of the plan seemed the most dangerous to Adrian. One slip and the Riders would catch them. Adrian had one other idea up his sleeve, one he would never tell Scavenger about. He would get holy water from the first Danite he saw. Then if the Fey did catch him, they would never take him prisoner again.
The river burbled below them. Coulter sat on the edge of the bank, his feet dangling off. Adrian kept a close eye on him, half afraid the boy would jump. Scavenger explained drowning three times to Coulter, but neither man was certain Coulter understood it. This new phase of his recovery from Shadowlands was almost as irritating as the old phase. Before Coulter had endangered them with his fear; now he was endangering himself with his curiosity.
"Ready?" Scavenger asked.
Adrian nodded. He glanced at Coulter. Coulter was staring at the clothes. He understood the importance of this. If the Fey found the clothing, they might think the two of them had died. Scavenger said it was a likely occurrence — people newly released from Shadowlands often made mistakes from the Overs. It had happened before.
"All right," Scavenger said. "Here goes."
He tossed the clothes. They soared through the air, the wind catching the sleeves of Adrian's shirt, the legs of Coulter's pants. The boots dropped first, landing with a splash in the roaring current. The clothes fluttered longer, whipping and turning with the wind.
Suddenly bright light hit them. Adrian glanced at Coulter. Coulter was frowning at the clothes. If he was the source of the light, it wasn't obvious. But Adrian had never seen such a thing before — except in the Warders cabin. He didn't know if a person not enveloped in the light could see it.
Scavenger looked up, then around, searching for the source. The clothes fell, landing in the water with a large splash. As they surfaced, they appeared to be full. Bodies resembling Adrian and Coulter filled the clothes. Only the shoes were missing.
Adrian's mouth had gone dry. He had warned Coulter not to let Scavenger see the magic, but Coulter must have thought this more important. And, in the scheme of things, he was right. The Fey would see these fake bodies and stop the search.
"You did that!" Scavenger screamed. His loud voice was jarring, his panic almost overwhelming. He had turned to Adrian. "Who are you? You don't look like a Doppelgänger! I thought you were all dead."
"I'm not a Doppelgänger," Adrian said.
"But you're not a Spy either. You look Islander." Scavenger's face was pale with fear. He had back against a tree. "Are you a Golem?"
"I am Islander," Adrian said.
"Then it's you!" Scavenger turned to Coulter. Coulter leaned away, and lost his balance. For one heart-stopping moment, Adrian thought he would fall in the river. Then Coulter grabbed a tree branch and steadied himself.
"What'd I do?" Coulter asked Adrian.
"I always wondered why you spoke Fey. I thought maybe it was in deference to me. But it was because you wanted to capture me, wasn't it?" Scavenger hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I was such a fool. I helped you people. I thought I was being so nice."
"You were being nice," Adrian said. "You did help us and we appreciate it."
"You're going to take me back, aren't you? And then they're going to kill me. You just wanted all my secrets of how I escaped."
"We know how you escaped," Adrian said. "Now you're helping us."
"I don't ever want to go back," Coulter said. He was clinging to the branch as if it were a shield.
Adrian frowned at him. If the boy got too frightened, there was no telling what he'd do. And the two of them needed Scavenger.
"I knew you'd find me," Scavenger said. "I knew it. No one ever gets away from the Fey. No one ever gets to do what they want. No one."
"I'm not Fey," Adrian said again.
"No, but the boy is. What are you, half Fey? You're Jewel's son, right?"
Adrian started. Scavenger had left Shadowlands before Jewel had her children. Before she died. The thought was logical.
"Well, you're not going to take me. You're not." Scavenger pulled out a knife. It had a jagged edge to it. He had used it earlier to skin some meat.
"That's right," Adrian said. "We're not."
Coulter screwed up his face. Adrian recognized the look as the same one Coulter had had when he sent the light over the river.
"Wait, Coulter," Adrian said. "Let me talk to Scavenger."
Scavenger whipped around. He was crouching, but he moved quickly. He held the tip of the knife much too close to Coulter.
"You're not taking me," Scavenger said softly.
"That's right," Adrian said. "If we were, we would have done so by now. We would have taken you in your sleep on that first night."
Scavenger didn't move. He acted as if he hadn't heard Adrian.
"But we didn't," Adrian said. "And we didn't take you the next night or the next night. We waited until now to reveal the magic we had. Now, when you're going to help us escape."
"I'm not helping you any more," Scavenger said. He sounded like a petulant child.
"All Coulter did was make sure the Fey wouldn't follow us. That's all."
"I thought you said he was Islander."
"He is Islander."
"But he's part Fey."
"He's not Fey at all."
"How do you know?" Scavenger said.
"Because," Adrian said, "he was born before the Invasion."
"But he has magic."
Adrian nodded. "I think it's because he grew up in Shadowlands."
"Magic can't be learned," Scavenger said. "Believe me, I know. I've tried."
His words hung in the air for a moment. He would know. And there would be no convincing him if he thought Coulter was truly Islander.
Coulter apparently understood too. He glanced at the knife, then at Adrian, then back to Scavenger. "I'm Linked," Coulter said.
"What?" Scavenger said.
"Linked," Coulter said. "To a Fey boy. I think I use his powers."
Scavenger whirled again, this time facing Adrian. "You didn't tell me he was Linked. Now they'll be able to find us."
"Gift won't turn us in," Coulter said, his voice pleading.
"He might if Rugar gets his way."
Coulter shook his head. "Gift is my friend."
"Friends turn on you, son," Scavenger said, his back to Coulter. He held the knife tightly. Adrian finally understood how the little man had committed such a spectacular murder all those years before.
"Not Gift," Coulter said. "Besides, I'd know."
"Only if you made the Link, boy."
Adrian was trembling. He could, with a quick kick of his foot, shove Scavenger into the water. But the man had helped them. He didn't want to do that.
"They would have found us by now," Adrian said. "If they were going to use the Link. We're not that far away."
Scavenger lowered the knife. "I never heard of Links giving anyone magical powers," he said.
"You never heard of a Link with an Islander before, have you?" Adrian asked.
"No," Scavenger said.
"We're different from you. Maybe Links affect us in different ways."
"Why didn't you tell me he had magic?" Scavenger said.
"Because it's not always there," Adrian said. "If it were, then we could have gotten farther on our own, right?"
Scavenger shook his head. "Different magic acts in different ways."
He seemed more comfortable
now that he could act the authority again. He hefted the knife, grinned at it as if he were embarrassed, and pocketed it. Adrian let out a breath. Coulter scrambled up the side of the hill, away from the edge of the river.
"You spooked me," Scavenger said. "I thought you were coming for me."
Adrian shook his head. He was trembling but he didn't want to show it. "You've helped us. We would never cross you."
"I hope not," Scavenger said. "I don't react well to it."
Adrian grinned, hoping that it looked sincere. "I'll remember that," he promised.
SIXTY-THREE
The palace gates were open. Rugar adjusted his Aud's cowl, then shoved his hand back in the pocket of the pale robe. The robe was too long and wide for him. It had to cover his boots since Auds went barefoot, and it had to allow room for him to hunch. He was much too tall to be an Islander. But everything else he wore made the hunch obvious. He walked with his back straight, his knees bent, and his cowl pulled so far over his face that he couldn't see to either side. He hoped no one looked inside the cowl. They wouldn't see pale skin, blue eyes and round cheeks.
They'd see a Fey.
And sound some kind of alarm. That was the last thing he wanted.
He had to get inside.
So far no one had even stopped him. He was standing just outside the gates. The guards were chatting beside the door. One of the guards was keeping an eye on the flow in and out of the gates, but not checking the people going through.
No wonder something had happened to Jewel. Rugar had never seen security this lax in his life.
Except, of course, the day he invaded Blue Isle.
This day couldn't be more different than that one. The sun shone brightly overhead, and the cobblestone was dry. The air had a bit of a chill that would burn off as the day got longer. And there was no fear anywhere, at least that he could see. Despite the tensions between the Fey and the Islanders, the Islanders were going about their business as if nothing were wrong.
Perhaps they didn't know. Perhaps only the leaders understood the extent of the problem.
Rugar walked through the gate, his back aching from the odd position. The guards didn't stop him. A horse shied as he got too close to it, and a dairymaid nodded at him as she passed by. He nodded back, hoping she hadn't gotten a good look at his face.
The courtyard was full. The day of the coronation — the day Jewel died — the courtyard had been protected and empty. Only the people attending the coronation had been visible, and the only doors that had been open were the ones in use. Everything else had been barred shut. Somehow Rugar expected the same thing.
He expected them to know he was here.
But no one knew. No one even thought a Fey would sneak into the palace. Even after the debacle with Burden and the holy man, the man who had murdered Jewel.
Burden had failed. Ten of Rugar's best people were dead from a scheme that Rugar knew was doomed from the beginning. But Burden hadn't checked it with him. By the time Rugar learned of the scheme, Burden had already left.
Wind was the only one who survived.
Rugar would have been happier if someone else had. But Wisps were lucky. They usually survived battles. All they had to do was change size and fly away.
Rugar had no such options. He actually had to disguise himself, one of the reasons a Visionary never went into battle.
He carried a knife in the pocket of his robe. It destroyed the line, but with his hand inside, he could cup the sheath and use his arm to hide the weapon. He knew his luck would have to be excellent in order for him to make it all the way to the nursery without being caught.
The way out was easy. The tip of the blade to the baby's throat, shouted threats, and lots of speed. He would be away in no time.
No. The difficult moments were these.
He decided to go the way he knew. He rounded the stable. One of the grooms watched him pass, a frown on his face. The groom had a familiar look to him, but Rugar didn't spend much time glancing at him. Too dangerous. Much too dangerous.
The groom did nothing though. Rugar went beyond him. The path round to the far side of the palace. So far only some of the doors he had seen had guards on them. Others didn't. The kitchen door was wide open, with heat pouring out, and no one guarding the entrance at all. Rugar had avoided it, however, because he thought an Aud might be suspicious, even there.
He had his story ready. He had a message from the Rocaan for the King. Rugar remembered from all those years before that Auds brought messages from the Rocaan. A young Aud had brought him a message five years before, telling him to meet with the Old Rocaan. That was the meeting in which the Old Rocaan died.
No guards stood in front of the doors leading to the coronation hall. The hall was tucked way back in the courtyard, so far from the main gate as to be considered impenetrable. The head of the guards probably thought this place needed no protection either.
The head of the guards was wrong.
Rugar tried the doors. They were unlocked. He pulled on the handles and let himself in. The air in the palace was warmer than it had been outside and it smelled stale. The corridor was full of dust. No one had been here since Jewel died.
He walked through the narrow hallway. The first time he had come through here, he had marveled at the marble floors, the ornate trim, the obvious expense someone had gone to build this place that was used only once a generation. He had been right to come to Blue Isle in that regard: the rumors of wealth had been true.
It had been all the other things he had been wrong about.
His Vision was really gone. He had admitted that completely to himself with Jewel's death. He should have been able to see that, as well as his granddaughter's birth. He should have foreseen the initial defeats and the traps that this Isle held.
But he had seen none of it.
And Gift was refusing to help him.
It galled Rugar that a three-year-old boy could outsmart him. But the boy had more power than Rugar. When Gift made that mental turn away from Coulter and headed toward the palace, Rugar had been powerless to follow the abandoned Links, even though he had tried. He had had to follow Gift along Gift's paths. Gift could thwart him and his wishes in this way every time.
But if Rugar raised the girl right, she would be able to do nothing to thwart him. She would help him in every way she could. And judging by her instant Shifts at birth, she would be one of the most powerful of the Fey.
When he reached the double doors leading into the Coronation Hall, he stopped. The doors had been bolted shut, and a chain lock had been wound around the handles. Nicholas wanted no one in there ever again.
No one to see where Jewel died.
The Fey had accused Rugar of not mourning her. But they hadn't known what he was thinking or how he felt. She had Seen that moment many times; Gift had Seen it too. But Jewel's Vision had made it sound as if she would live, and Rugar had just listened to the surface of it. Sometimes words were wrong. It was feelings that were important. Jewel had always felt dizzy and injured after those Visions. Once she had passed out in his arms. He should have understood that sign.
He blamed himself that he didn't.
But he knew that such signs were sometimes easy to miss. The one he should have paid attention to was Gift. The boy's Vision had been powerful; Rugar should have realized that the boy Saw a Turning Event, not a Moment. But Rugar had thought it a Moment. The death of Niche would mean nothing to anyone except her close family. The death of Jewel affected lives on several continents.
He had been wrong from the moment he decided to come to Blue Isle, and staying here only compounded the mistakes. He should never have allowed Jewel to marry, or live away from Shadowlands. He should have forbidden her to participate in that ceremony, and he should have raised her son himself.
He would make no more mistakes.
He would raise the girl, no matter what the Shaman said.
The Shaman was another matter entirely. He had heard that she
was talking to the King, that she was giving Islanders advice. His father had forced her to come along as a kind of guardian, not usual behavior in an invasion force, and Rugar should have opposed the move. She was incompetent, young for her profession, and too power-hungry.
She didn't want Jewel's children in Shadowlands because they were too powerful for a Shaman to deal with.
He touched the door. The wood felt warm against his fingertips. He and Jewel had fought the last time they saw each other. She had berated him for not seeing his grandson — as if she knew — and then she had left him for good.
Fey 02 - Changeling Page 61
