The Changeling's Fortune (Winter's Blight Book 1)

by K. C. Lannon

  “I know. I know. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying,” Iain ground out, “I think she was unhappy here, as much as she loved us.”

  “Why?” James squinted at him. Iain’s words seemed to jumble in his mind, becoming incomprehensible.

  He never remembered his mother being discontented. He remembered her coming home from work, exhausted but pleased. He remembered watching her and Iain cook together, and then she would let him help them set the table and clean up after. Mealtimes were the brightest, clearest memories. One time, their father had walked into the kitchen still wearing his military boots, and she’d chased him out of the kitchen with a mop, and they’d all laughed. He remembered her stories the most.

  Iain placed a hand on James’s back, pushing him onward. They began walking slowly down the residential area. “She had a huge family, and they had to leave. She stayed behind to raise us, but she always missed them, yeah?”

  “Then why not take all of us with her?”

  “It’s… complicated.”

  “That’s what you always say.” James huffed. “I think I can work it out.”

  “We wouldn’t be welcome there,” Iain said. “We’re outsiders.”

  James frowned, knowing he was right. While their mother had raised them in her culture at home, when they were in public, she asked that they keep their heritage quiet, especially at school. Mum had told him she was mistreated in school growing up—in Ukraine and in England. They only knew a few words of Romani language, and since their mother had left, they had forgotten much of what she had taught them. Their second, Romani names, given to them by their mother a few years after their birth, hadn’t been uttered in years.

  He wondered what that meant for them then. The people in the city only saw them as Romani, while the Roma saw them as only half or none at all. He didn’t think they were very welcome in the city either. Maybe they were welcome nowhere. It wouldn’t matter to him so much, he thought, if it didn’t seem to matter so much to everyone else.

  “We are her family.” James’s chest tightened. “That doesn’t explain anything, Iain.”

  Iain looked like he was debating something internally. His lips parted to retort, but he changed his mind.

  “Regardless,” Iain said, “we have to try to make it. We have to try to make something of ourselves. She wanted that for us. She certainly wouldn’t want us hiking across the English wild to find her, yeah?”

  Iain didn’t understand. James didn’t understand him either. He gazed up at the flats and scrunched up his face, thinking there was no way she wanted them to stay in a place like this. He sighed, knowing there was no way to convince Iain to leave with him.

  “It’s good that you’ve decided to finish your schooling. It’s a decent school. Mum would be thrilled to know that.”

  James did not respond, and he heard Iain sigh softly in defeat. They began walking down the street again, James lost in thought.

  “Stop!”

  James yelped as Iain suddenly grabbed the strap of his book bag and gave him a yank backward. He nearly toppled to the ground. He turned to shoot Iain a nasty look but stopped when he noticed where they had wound up. They were right outside Ferriers Town.

  He didn’t know why they had not heard the music earlier; there was a deep, thrumming beat that pulsated from the little town. It was not like much music James had heard before, but it was exactly what he imagined street performers would play. It was inviting.

  Lights were everywhere. Lanterns were strung between buildings, illuminating little stalls and carts and shops, illuminating so many different shapes and faces and features of the faeries there. They wove their way expertly down the street, past each other. James and Iain exchanged glances. The lights flickered across Iain’s face, so much so that James could not discern his expression. He was either as enthralled as James or fearful.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Iain said and began to tug James along quickly by his book bag.

  “Wait!” he protested, digging in his heels, wanting another look. He wanted to find out what instruments were being played. He wanted to know where that amazing smell was coming from all of a sudden.

  “Unbelievable.” Iain swore under his breath. He stopped tugging, and James almost lost his balance again. “I told her to stay away. She’s lucky I don’t bust her for this.”

  James whirled around, expecting to find that Elaine had stalked them all the way from school. Instead, he saw a familiar girl with an unmistakable bright red, frizzy mane of hair, wandering inside of Ferriers Town. Deirdre.

  Lucky! She’s not got anyone to boss her around.

  “You stay right here, yeah?” Iain planted his beret back on his head. He fiddled with his baton that was clipped to his belt, checking it was still there. “I’m going after her.”

  “What? Why?” James gawked.

  “Because she’s clearly got no sense if she’s planning on meeting Elaine here—”

  “I mean, why do I have to stay here?”

  Iain glared at him so harshly that James took a step back, sensing an impending smack to the back of his head. Then Iain started in after Deirdre.

  James stuck his tongue out at him as he left. He waited for a moment before following. It wasn’t fair that Iain and Deirdre got to explore Ferriers Town when James had wanted to do such a thing for most of his life.

  As he walked down the street, he found his senses instantly assaulted but not in an unpleasant way. The music intensified in his ears. Faeries and humans brushed past him. He was dizzy from taking in all the different sights and colors and lights. He smelled sickeningly sweet foods and sharp, earthy herbs.

  It was not long before he caught up to Iain. He couldn’t imagine why his brother seemed so alert and tense. Iain kept looking all around as if expecting someone to jump him, and he stuck out his elbows to give himself a wide berth.

  He soon reached his brother, but Deirdre was just ahead, keeping a steady pace in front of them. “Iain—”

  James flinched as Iain stopped short of elbowing him in the gut reflexively. Iain cursed at him. “Just stick with me. Don’t wander off. Stay away from the food.”

  James’s eyes widened. He did notice many stalls selling different kinds of food and wondered which one was Pan. His mouth felt dry, and he wished he hadn’t started thinking about it.

  He clearly remembered how Iain had been that night after Elaine had dropped him off, unconscious, lying in the street, cars swerving around him. He had been nearly unrecognizable, nothing like his strong and stubborn brother. James had never seen him so vulnerable before or since.

  Those memories and concerns were instantly forgotten when he heard a voice calling out, inviting faeries to have their fortunes and destinies told. James grabbed his brother’s arm, but before James could open his mouth, Iain said, “No.”

  “I just want to look. I don’t want my fortune told. I just want to see how—”

  “Remember what Mum said? She said that fortune-tellers are a hoax. It’s a way to make a living from the gazhe. It’s for idiots.”

  James pouted. He remembered. When James had wanted his palm read by a fake fortune-teller at a festival in town, she had told him exactly that. It was certainly a hoax, but that hadn’t stopped most from believing the ridiculous falsehood that the Roma had inherent ties to witchcraft and faeries. If that were true, James certainly wouldn’t have to scour bookshops for forbidden tomes on magic to satisfy his scholarly curiosity anymore. It was all a load of rubbish, as Iain would say.

  “But that’s where Deirdre’s going!” James announced.

  Iain smirked. “She’s just proved my point.”

  * * *

  The moment Deirdre turned the corner and stepped onto the street of Ferriers Town, she let out a loud, shameless gasp that turned into a beaming smile. Lanterns lined the street, some hanging by string, others with no visible support. Open-air vendors sold trink
ets and foods of all kinds, including fruit that smelled sweet and strangely familiar. The people, of course, were just as interesting.

  She passed a crowd of faeries bartering at an enormous, open leatherworks booth and paused to listen to their chatter. The goods in the booth were gorgeous: braided halters for horses, twisted hair ties, and belts with birds, flowers, and trees embroidered around them. And not only were there all hues of leather, when she reached out and traced her fingers over some goods hanging near her, they were softer and smoother than any she’d felt before.

  “Back again, I see?”

  Deirdre jumped and turned, hand on her heart. Walking toward her was the green-skinned, white-haired faery she had seen on the corner only hours earlier.

  She relaxed, answering, “I was just curious. Plus this is all really pretty!” She gestured at the leather.

  The faery grinned her sharp smile once more. “And why else are you here? What is your goal?”

  “I…” Quickly she searched her mind for an answer. “I suppose I just wanted something to do, somewhere to go. Plus it’s so lively here!”

  “That’s all?”

  “Well…” She briefly considered saying “This is the only place without all those awful iron gates and bars,” but even she realized how odd that might sound. So she stood there in awkward silence for a bit before shrugging.

  The faery looked her up and down. “You are confused. Why don’t you come to my shop? My fortunes will set you right.”

  “No way.” Deirdre shook her head. “Fortune-telling is either done by using evil spirits, or it’s a hoax. Forget it!”

  “You would be true… if you were referring to human fortune-telling. We use our own magic, what we were born with. And I cannot look into the future. I can only see what was or what is.” The faery raised a thin eyebrow at her. “And you must have some questions about your own life, your history. As I said, you are confused.”

  “I…” Deirdre looked at the faery squarely in the eye. “So you could tell me anything?”

  The faery nodded. “Anything that was or is. What would you like to know?”

  It was a tempting offer: all manner of mysteries ran through her head. Was there a nicer school in the city she could transfer to, where she might stay in a dormitory with roommates? Or one that was close to the orphanage? Or why did everyone dress like it was warmer than midsummer?

  “You have lovely hair.” The faery interrupted her thoughts, craning her long neck forward to squint at Deirdre’s curls. “Do they say you are Scottish or Irish?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know where my parents are… from…” Her eyes widened. “Can you… tell me where I’m from? Where I’m from originally?”

  The faery replied brightly, “Of course, if that is your wish. Come! Come to my tent.” When Deirdre hesitated to follow, the faery pressed, “My fortunes are very accurate, if that’s what worries you. Or… are you scared to know the truth?”

  “I’m not scared,” Deirdre replied immediately, though her stomach churned nauseatingly.

  “Then come.” The banshee waited until Deirdre started to follow, twisting her change purse in her hands.

  “What will it cost?”

  “Oh, very little. You need not worry.” She glanced back at Deirdre. “I’m doing this out of self-interest, as well. I’m curious about you. For some it’s easy to tell… Just look at me.” She gestured to herself. “I cannot be mistaken for anything but a banshee. But you…”

  “I could be Irish or Scottish, huh? All right then. I suppose it couldn’t really hurt.”

  They turned off the street toward the entrance of a small tent the color of damp moss. She could see partially inside through the narrow entrance. The interior was brightly lit; there were no chairs or sofas, only vividly patterned cushions arranged in a circle. In the center of the circle was a large, thick stone bowl, filled with water as dark as the ocean at midnight.

  As she stepped inside, Deirdre looked up; hanging from the tent’s ceiling were lanterns filled with a light green-yellow glow that was unlike fire and had no warmth. But the glow was not unpleasant, and she smiled at it as she sat down on the pillow the banshee gestured her to.

  “Now, what do you wish me to find, exactly?” the banshee asked, sitting down cross-legged on a pillow opposite Deirdre, her bony knees sticking out underneath her thick cloak.

  Sucking in her breath, Deirdre gnawed meditatively on her bottom lip, trying to figure out how to word her thoughts. “I want to know where I’m from.”

  “Do you want me to tell you your birthplace then? Or do you want to know about your parents and where they are now?”

  Deirdre’s eyes widened. “What? Are you…” She gulped. “Are you saying my parents are alive?”

  The banshee nodded.

  After gaping for a moment, she asked hesitantly, “So, you could tell me where they are? How I could maybe find them?”

  “Yes. Do you want to know where they are, or do you want to know how to find them?”

  She cocked her head. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Even if I tell you where they are, you may not be able to go to them. Some places are hard to reach, especially without directions.”

  Deirdre leaned forward slightly, hugging herself. They’re alive? I always just assumed they were… No, I just wanted to believe they were dead. I hoped that was the reason I wound up at the orphanage… What if they don’t want me? But still, if they ARE alive… I could see them. I wouldn’t have to talk to them, but I could still see them. And maybe… The corner of her mouth twitched. Maybe they are just as weird as I am. Maybe all my family is weird… Her eyes widened. I might even have sisters or brothers of my own!

  “Tell me how to find them, please,” she asked.

  “It shall be done.” The banshee peered around Deirdre, saying, “And you’re back again, I see. I will tell you now, my readings have not changed.”

  Looking over her shoulder, Deirdre’s mouth fell open as James’s brother Iain, his hand on his nightstick, stepped into the tent.

  Although he kept his eyes on the banshee, he addressed her. “You shouldn’t be doing this. It’s dangerous for humans to be here.”

  Staying in her seat, she frowned at his abrasive tone and said, “It’s not against the law to come here. I’m just getting my fortune told. And nothing bad has happened. I’m fine.”

  He looked away from the banshee just long enough to narrow his gaze on her. “You do know what time it is, yeah? You don’t want to break curfew on your first night here.”

  Deirdre’s eyes widened. “Curfew is this early? It’s not even dark out! I mean, not completely. When does curfew start exactly?”

  “Soon enough.” He gestured outside the tent, saying, “You’re going to allow James to break curfew as well then?”

  Deirdre brightened instantly, craning her neck to peer around Iain. “James is here? Why doesn’t he come in?”

  “He’s waiting outside.”

  Deirdre slumped a little in her seat, frowning. “Why don’t you just leave? I’m fine here on my own.”

  “James isn’t walking back home by himself, and you shouldn’t either. It’s not safe,” Iain said, his tone softening. “So either you leave now with us and we all make it home in time, or you stay here and we’re all breaking curfew.”

  “Don’t I have a little more time?” She gestured at the banshee. “This won’t take long!”

  Iain opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted.

  “Back and forth you go like children on a seesaw.” The banshee finally spoke up, tilting her head up to grin at Iain. “If you keep at this, you’ll be the one making her late.”

  He blinked, silent for a moment as he registered what she said. His face went a little red when the banshee let out a low chuckle. “I’ve got you there, soldier,” the banshee said.

  “Cheeky.” Iain shook his head, either at her or at the banshee, or both. If Deirdre didn’t know any better, she
could have sworn he’d almost cracked a smile.

  It was probably just a trick of the light.

  “All right,” Deirdre said, focusing on the banshee again. “Let’s do it.”

  Iain sputtered uselessly for a moment before sighing and crossing his arms, apparently giving up. “I’m not leaving,” he insisted, “so don’t try to overcharge her or anything.”

  James walked up from the crowd behind him and looked past him inside the tent. A faint smile began to form as he looked at the lanterns and the dark bowl of water, but he gulped at the sight of the banshee.

  “Oh, hi!” Deirdre waved at him merrily.

  Iain twisted around, saw his brother, and sighed. “I told you to wait outside,” he protested half-heartedly, not seeming at all surprised to see him.

  The banshee grinned at him. “Would you like your fortune told, boy?”

  “I…” James glanced at Iain, who shook his head firmly.

  “Very well.” The banshee held out her hand toward Deirdre. “A strand or two of your hair is necessary.”

  “You’ll use them to tell the fortune?” Deirdre asked as she plucked out the strands and dropped them into her palm.

  “Yes, and they’re also my payment.” The banshee glanced at James again. “I can use these to tell many, many fortunes.”

  She dropped the strands into the dark water in the basin, and immediately the water lit up, clear as a blue sky. The strands went stiff and began to spin around in the bowl, swirling the water with them. Deirdre leaned forward, and she heard James gasp behind her as flashes of the world showed in the tiny waves of the churning water. She could see tall trees, sunlight, moonlight, thatched houses, crowds of people, abandoned factories, deep caves—but it was all too quick, too small, too fleeting to make anything out of it.

  The banshee held her hands out over the basin, her wide eyes glinting from the light of the bowl. “To meet your parents, child, you must leave the city. In order to find them, you must travel into the country, to the land of the Summer Court. Seek the Summer Prince; only with his aid will you be able to meet your parents.”