The Changeling

by Helen Falconer

  As she gathered up Eva from the bed, Aoife cried, ‘Stop! You’re going to hurt him!’

  ‘He can’t feel it. Ugh, I’ve half a mind to leave him here, the big eejit.’ But she wrestled the changeling youth out of his chair, dropped him – ‘The fat fool!’ – then started dragging him towards the door by his legs, his head thumping painfully across the stone flags.

  ‘Jesus, wait!’ Shay hastily stooped and grabbed Ultan under the arms. ‘You’ll give him brain damage!’

  ‘Won’t make no difference. Come on, let’s get out of here, afore Seán Burke finds out we’ve been going through his drawers.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The bridge over the river was empty; small lavender fires burned in braziers along its length. Its parapets were made of white stone ornamented with vines and leaves and fruit, and at the far end it led to massive gates of solid bronze, which reflected the lilac light of the fires and the crimson glow of the river. Down the carved walls on either side of the gates tinkled rivulets of water, spilling from the open mouths of carved animals and from the cupped hands of tiny figures. A mighty scene was depicted on the doors – a mountain top, with figures descending from a fiery cloud, carrying spears and riding horses, and surrounded by hooded creatures.

  Aoife murmured to herself:

  ‘They landed with horror, with lofty deed,

  in their cloud of mighty combat of spectres,

  upon a mountain of Conmaicne of Connacht . . .’

  ‘What’s that, hey?’

  ‘Something I heard somewhere.’

  ‘Can’t stand poetry.’

  There was a smaller door, a postern, in the gate, and two red-headed changelings in parka jackets were sitting on either side of it, playing cards. They looked up as the others approached. Aoife was carrying the sleeping child, and Ultan – now half awake – was staggering drunkenly along with his arm around Shay’s shoulders. Caitlin fished around in her clinking bag and pulled out four passes.

  ‘Five,’ said one of the pair, a youth who looked about seventeen.

  ‘The little one’s a sheóg.’

  The other changeling, a girl of Aoife’s age wearing a very short mini-dress under her parka, stood up abruptly. ‘Whose sheóg?’

  Aoife said, ‘Mine.’

  The girl said anxiously, ‘I think we’re supposed to call someone if—’

  The youth was already opening the gate; he was smiling at Eva, who was still asleep in Aoife’s arms. ‘Take care of the kid. I had a little sister her age, back at— I mean, you know, up above.’

  ‘Ugh, Eoin,’ said the girl, disgusted. ‘You’re so full of sentimental humanized crap.’ She sat down again and threw a card onto the ground. ‘Your go.’

  ‘That’s the tenth ace you’ve used in this game.’

  ‘Bet you wish you could do that.’

  ‘Yeah, being able to cheat at cards is such an amazing power.’

  ‘Better than farting music.’

  ‘In the surface world, among my friends, that was considered pretty cool.’

  ‘Well then, why don’t you go back to . . .’

  Aoife stepped in through the small postern doorway.

  Inside, all was noise, bustle, music. She was in a large square lit by flaming torches; the place crowded with teenagers, eating, drinking, singing and shouting. On a plinth in the centre of the square stood a huge bronze statue of an elk; two girls were balancing on its antlers, and as Aoife entered, they leaped simultaneously into the air and glided away across the cobbled square, then had an argument about who had got furthest. Sitting on the side of a marble fountain was a boy playing a fiddle at great speed, smoke rising from his strings. A younger boy was juggling blue flames – as Aoife watched, he accidentally set his hair ablaze, yelped and dived headfirst into the fountain.

  Shay appeared at her side, still supporting Ultan – who threw his other arm around Aoife’s shoulders and slurred, ‘Than’ Chri’ we here at las’ – I love this ci’y . . .’

  ‘It’s amazing.’

  ‘Le’s go fin’ something to ea’.’

  ‘Me and Aoife have to—’

  Aoife interrupted Shay. ‘No, Ultan’s right, let’s eat first, just quickly. If I don’t get some food into me, I’m going to pass out and then I won’t be going anywhere even if I do get permission.’

  Caitlin came striding past, wooden beads swinging. ‘Come on, you lot – what are you hanging about here for? Temple quarter has the best street food.’

  They followed her up a narrow street of glittering houses carved from the solid rose-quartz pyramid. They passed bronze arches that led into courtyards full of fruit trees. Chaffinches and blackbirds hopped in and out of open doorways. Three young changelings with hair of varying shades of red – from orange-gold to crimson-black – were sitting on a step; they were busy knocking down a set of small wooden dolls, shooting blue blasts of power from outstretched fingers. Eva, now awake and clinging around Aoife’s neck, laughed delightedly.

  Caitlin turned aside into another wider thoroughfare, this one lined with food stalls – wooden trestles heaped with toffee apples and dried plums, roast birds, pale golden cheese. Plenty of the blue-green money was changing hands. Down the street towards them, pushing through the crowd, came a group of older men and women in white robes, holding leather books, branches of mistletoe and small harps. Aoife stopped at a cheese stall, then looked around for the changeling girl; she was hurrying away from them along a darker, less crowded laneway. ‘Hey, where’s she going? She’s got all the money . . . Caitlin! . . .’

  The girl did not turn. When they finally caught up with her, she said coolly, ‘Took your time.’

  Ultan protested, ‘You ran off on us without saying!’

  ‘Did not. Just, I know a better place further on.’

  ‘Ah, Caitlin, the best eats are all back there.’

  ‘Didn’t you see the mistletoe-and-harp brigade? I’m not staying here while a bunch of druids is on the prowl looking for sacrificial eejits. Come on, follow me.’ Caitlin dived into an even narrower side street, and then another and another, until there was no light of fires or passers-by, but only moonlight. Several turns later, they were in a narrow alley lined with plum trees, the fruit rolling and slippery beneath their feet. A high wall blocked their way, unexpected in the dark.

  Ultan, just ahead of Aoife, peered around. ‘Where’s she gone now—?’

  ‘Over here!’ Caitlin’s pale green eyes were on a level with the pavement, glinting like the eyes of a rat. ‘Come on down!’

  ‘Ah Jaysus, where are you taking us?’

  ‘Didn’t you say you wanted Barry’s tea?’

  ‘You mean . . . What? Caitlin, these are serious guys!’

  ‘Which is why this is a good place to keep our heads down. No druids in here.’ Her eyes disappeared below pavement level.

  The bronze basement staircase led down to a wooden door, through which Caitlin disappeared as they followed her down. It led into a vaulted cellar, poorly lit by four or five candles.

  Once her eyes got used to the dimness, Aoife could make out a number of changelings much older than the norm – in their thirties, even forties – standing arms folded at a stone-built bar, drinking out of wooden cups in absolute silence. Very young changelings of Donal’s age were moving between them, carrying clay bowls.

  Caitlin seemed to know the place well – she stopped a little girl in a flounced white communion dress. ‘Anything interesting on the menu today, Katie?’

  The child consulted the piece of slate in her hand, written on with chalk. ‘Tinned frankfurters, Laughing Cow cheese, Tayto crisps.’

  ‘Cheese and onion?’

  ‘Course. A packet of Kimberleys but they’re a bit stale. Wedding cake. Fanta. Barry’s tea.’

  Ultan breathed, ‘Excellent.’

  ‘We’ll have the wedding cake, Laughing Cow cheese, a few cans of Fanta and some Taytos. And a pot of Barry’s for Fat Boy there. And bring us some light int
o that corner.’ Caitlin marched off towards the back of the bar, where there was a collection of sturdy sugán stools.

  As they followed her, Ultan murmured to Aoife, ‘These guys are dangerous, but the food here is great.’

  ‘What on earth is this place all about?’

  ‘Some of the older changelings like to get their hands on human food. I don’t know how they manage it, but they source some really nice stuff. They claim they get it off new changelings who happen to have it on them when they’re called down. But everyone knows one or two of them are sneaking it in from above.’

  ‘They know a way to the surface world?’

  Shay looked round sharply. ‘Is that true?’

  Ultan whispered, ‘Ssh, keep your voice down – you’ll get us thrown out.’

  As she took her seat, Aoife turned to study the drinkers at the bar. They were soberly dressed, most wearing suits and ties, and all keeping themselves to themselves. One of them had a small plastic bottle of Coca-Cola in front of him, from which he was sipping very slowly.

  Caitlin slapped her arm. ‘Don’t be staring at them! They don’t like it!’

  ‘But if they know the way—’ Aoife met Shay’s eyes.

  ‘Danu’s sake, let’s at least get some food into us before the two of ye start asking stupid questions and we all get our throats cut.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m telling you, these are serious hard guys. You got to be a lunatic to risk getting your name called by a dullahan just for a bag of Taytos – even if you can get good money for it.’

  The child came over with a lighted candle, which she jammed into a crevice in the wall beside them, and then with two tin bowls which she set on a fifth stool. The Laughing Cow cheese came in individually wrapped triangles; the wedding cake was roughly cut, and one of the figures that had topped it – the bride – was still stuck into the icing of one slice, though her head was missing. Caitlin unwrapped a cheese triangle with ill-concealed relish. ‘God knows why anyone would still want to eat this human crap.’

  ‘I’m in heaven – cheese-and-onion Taytos!’ Ultan ripped open a packet with his teeth and began cramming them into his mouth. ‘Where’s my tea?’

  ‘Coming.’ The child ran off again.

  Eva sat on Aoife’s knee looking around. ‘Is this home?’

  ‘No, honey – later. Do you want some cake?’

  ‘Crisps and Coke.’

  ‘Is it possible to get her some Coke?’

  ‘No, it’d cost every coin we have, and I wish you’d stop lugging that stupid kid around with us,’ Caitlin said irritably. ‘You’re like a banshee with her. People are looking.’

  ‘No one’s looking.’ It was true – every single patron of the bar had their backs firmly turned.

  Except for one small man, who had just come down the stairs and was staring straight at them across the shadowy room. Aoife became horribly aware of the wealth of stolen enamelled money and red passes at the bottom of Caitlin’s kitbag. ‘Crap.’

  Shay, a slice of wedding cake in his hand, followed her eyes. ‘What’s the—? Oh, I see.’

  The zookeeper was coming towards them, almost bowing – his usual peculiar mixture of servility and authority. ‘Come along now, lads and lassies.’ The drinkers and eaters at the bar didn’t look behind them or move a muscle.

  Caitlin stood up, face flushed. ‘You owed us them passes and money, Seán Burke – those cooshees are worth a fortune and you know it.’

  ‘Quite right, quite right. Come on now, yer carriage awaits. The Beloved wants a word.’

  Ultan nearly choked on his crisps. ‘The Beloved?’

  ‘Lovely man, lovely man . . . Gave me my first job here, insisted I was the man for it, even though I warned him about my heart . . .’

  Caitlin said in a trembling voice, ‘Is it this stupid sheóg here that’s got us in trouble? You can take her and good luck.’

  Also standing up, Aoife snapped, ‘No, you can’t!’

  ‘Leave her or bring her, whichever ye decide, girlies. ’Tisn’t the sheóg the Beloved is after. And no one’s in any trouble. All he wants is to get a good look at ye all, ’cos ye’re all so lovely. Come along, stand up there, lads.’

  ‘Oh God . . .’ Ultan was cramming the rest of the crisps into his mouth as fast as he could, cheeks bulging. ‘At least let me eat another bag . . .’

  ‘Take it easy, lad, there’ll be plenty more meals for all of ye. ’Tis just an invitation to a pleasant chat, not a walk down death row.’

  Taking a slow, unhurried bite of his cake, Shay said, ‘Supposing we don’t want to be going anywhere?’

  ‘Ain’t no one here going to help you, my lad, if force turns out to be necessary. But why would it be? Sure, there’s nothing wrong here at all. Now get up and follow me.’

  And still the men at the bar sat with their backs turned.

  The coach blocking the narrow lane at the top of the steps reminded Aoife of the horse-drawn vehicles travellers used for funerals in Clonbarra – high-wheeled, polished black. It sat in silence, the door open. The coachman was hunched on the box, the hood of his cloak pulled up, a long white whip in his hand. A lantern hung from a hook beside him, burning with a rotten scent. Four small black horses were harnessed to the vehicle; they stamped and tossed their heads.

  ‘Climb up, take a seat!’ The zookeeper gleefully ushered them up the steps of the coach. The interior was empty. Two hard benches faced each other across a narrow aisle. There were no windows apart from a small rectangular shutter behind the rear seat, which was bolted. A whip cracked up front, the carriage jerked, jangled; the high wheels creaked and began to roll away. Seán Burke ran alongside them for a few paces, holding open the door. ‘Say hello to the Beloved from me, and if he has any other kind of a job going – something in an office, say . . .’ He slammed the door on them, plunging them into darkness. Aoife kneeled up on the back seat, fumbling for the shutter and jerking it open; the coach was already thundering along very fast, careering wildly round torch-lit corners.

  Caitlin threw herself down on the opposite bench, a furious expression on her freckled face. ‘I don’t know what this is about but it’s definitely nothing to do with me. I didn’t steal anything.’

  Ultan crouched down holding his hand out to Eva, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back to the bench, eating Taytos. ‘Come on, just one.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Poor Ultan’s tiny tum is hollow with the hunger—’

  ‘No!’

  Shay joined Aoife on the back seat, also kneeling to look out, his head close beside hers. He said under his breath, ‘I’d say if all this buck wants with us is a chat, we should sit quiet and let him do all the talking.’

  She smiled – it was so like Shay Foley to advise silence as a strategy. ‘But if we want to find the way home, maybe he’s the best one to ask.’

  ‘I’m serious, Aoife. I don’t think we should let him know what’s in our minds. I don’t like being dragged off to see him like this, whether we want to or not.’

  ‘Me neither, but I suppose it’s not as if he’s the devil. The people of Danu left him in charge of the queen’s daughter, so he can’t be a monster. He was the queen’s Beloved.’

  ‘Then what does he want with us? We’re nothing to him.’

  ‘Maybe he likes to welcome new arrivals. Or maybe he wants to know how we captured all those cooshees. The zookeeper said he’d only ever seen a dead one before.’

  Shay fell silent, staring out of the small window, his cheek so close to Aoife’s that she could feel the heat of his skin. They were rattling along more crowded streets now, the driver making very little attempt to avoid what was in his path. Changelings who had just leaped out of their way remained frozen in position as the coach crashed by – mouths open, arms wide. A stall shuddered and nearly keeled over, ripe plums smashing on the cobbles. Clouds of pink chaffinches rose twittering.

  Caitlin suddenly unfolded her arms and slappe
d Ultan across the head. ‘This is your fault, ya thick eejit!’

  ‘Ow! No it’s not! How is it?’

  ‘You went mouthing off about my book!’

  ‘Your book?’

  ‘And that aul slobberer of a zookeeper must have heard you and told the Beloved!’

  ‘Ow! Give over hitting me! You shouldn’t have stolen it in the first place!’

  ‘How else would we have managed out there? It saved our lives a ton of times!’

  ‘Caitlin, you can’t even read it—’

  ‘I can so! You’re just jealous. And now I’m going to have to dump it before they search my kit.’ She stood up and pushed in between Aoife and Shay, the leather volume in her hand, readying herself to toss it from the moving coach; then sank back onto her seat again, mournfully turning pages. ‘But it’s been so useful.’

  The coach thundered on between thick marble columns. Heavy bronze gates swung shut, and a long dark tunnel began to unfurl behind them, echoing violently with the sound of their passing. The walls curved away into dimness as the coach travelled upwards in increasingly steep circles, leaning more and more to the left. As it swung round the tightest curve yet, Shay slid heavily against Aoife. ‘Ah – sorry.’

  She laughed. ‘It’s OK.’

  But he grabbed the back of the seat and jerked himself away from her, looking pale, as if what had happened were far from OK – as if the very feel of her against him was a violation of his space. Not looking at Aoife, he said loudly to Caitlin, ‘So, this Beloved guy – what’s he like?’

  The girl said grumpily, ‘How would I know?’

  ‘Doesn’t he run this show?’

  ‘Yeah, but I never, like, met him.’

  Ultan asked pointedly, ‘Then why don’t you read us all about him out of your precious book?’

  Scarlet-faced, Caitlin stood up again, and this time didn’t hesitate but hurled the book out of the back window. It bounced several times along the stone road, pages flying open, and ended up face down. ‘There! Happy now?’