Fey 02 - Changeling

by Rusch, Kristine Kathryn

  Coulter blocked the light as easily as he had blocked the flame. When the light went out, Touched felt a small tug on his forehead. The boy had tweaked him. Purposely.

  "Either you let me in voluntarily," Touched said, "or I find a way in on my own."

  Coulter jutted out his lower lip and shook his head. The movement was slight. Touched wasn't even certain that Rugar saw it.

  The boy was defended. That's why the flames didn't go past him, why the light broke around him as if he were wearing a shield. He was wearing a shield. All over.

  But he was a child. He had probably forgotten to shield one place.

  Touched sent a new message — Who helps you? — and had the light drill a hole in the ground in front of Coulter's feet, then bend up and touch his toes. Coulter tried to send his shield down, but too late. The message went in.

  Coulter frowned.

  Then the air shimmered around him, and a bolt of light shot from his forehead. Touched didn't even have time to put up his hands to ward it off. The light beam hit him with the force of ten men and knocked him backwards. The air left his body, and as he gasped for air, he felt rather than heard Coulter's response.

  No one helps me. No one ever helped me. No one ever will.

  The boy turned and ran up the stairs. He let himself into the Domicile, the door slamming behind him.

  Rugar started to go after him but Touched grabbed his leg. Rugar looked down and Touched shook his head.

  Touched took several deep breaths. Rugar crouched beside him. "You all right?"

  Touched nodded. He rubbed his head, amazed that it didn't ache. The boy had deliberately hit him with that force. Deliberately and yet gently.

  But not all his skills were in place. If they were, he would have known that Touched and Rugar needed to see him. He wouldn't have been caught off guard, and he would never have allowed Touched to get the better of him.

  The boy had power, but not all of it was ready for use.

  When the boy became a man, he would be astonishingly talented. Perhaps the most talented Enchanter the Fey had ever seen.

  Only he wasn't Fey.

  Now Touched was getting a headache, but it had nothing to do with the bolt of light Coulter had sent to him.

  "He must have developed young," Touched said. "There's no way he can be Islander."

  Rugar had a hand behind Touched's back. "I remember when he arrived here. Solanda brought him. His parents were killed during the First Battle For Jahn. They were Islander. An elderly woman took him from the Foot Soldiers and hid him away in a village. But he had left a trail for the parents to follow. Solanda followed it instead, and brought him here. The Domestics did everything when they saw he had some magic. But he never proved to be Fey. Not ever."

  "Why didn't you know he was this powerful until now?" Touched's head was spinning. An Enchanter. An Islander Enchanter.

  "He never called attention to himself. I had forgotten he was here," Rugar said. "Then he saved Gift's life."

  Touched knew that Gift nearly lost his life when Jewel died, but he hadn't heard how Gift survived.

  The boy.

  Coulter.

  The Enchanter.

  "This changes everything," Touched said.

  "I know," Rugar replied.

  THIRTY-THREE

  The air glowed green around him. Bright green like light filtering through an algae-covered pond. Matthias opened his eyes. The room was dark. The green was gone.

  A board creaked in the main room of his suite.

  His hand went to the tiny sword around his throat. Someone was in the room with him. The guards outside should have kept him out.

  Then Matthias remembered.

  No guards. The Auds refused to stand near his door, as did the Danites. There were no Officiates in the Tabernacle.

  He was alone.

  The sound of the blood in his ears was so loud, he was convinced the stranger could hear it too. He tried to breathe evenly so that he sounded as if he were still asleep. Then he pulled his left arm slowly from under the blankets.

  Another board creaked.

  Matthias scanned the darkness. He could see nothing. He slept with his tapestries pulled down, the fabric so thick it kept out the moonlight. The layout was as familiar to him as the back of his hand: the bed in the center of the second room, a fireplace on the wall at the foot, two tables on either side, and two chairs in the corners.

  The other room had sofas, chairs, tables and another fireplace, as well as windows that opened onto the balcony. He had been in these suites since he had become an Elder. When he became Rocaan, he had the option of taking the old Rocaan's suites, but didn't.

  Now he was glad he had chosen to stay here.

  He slowly slid his arm to the bedside table. The hair on the back of his neck rose. He had no idea who was out there: Someone Nicholas had sent? Someone from inside the Tabernacle? A Fey?

  A Fey.

  The prospect made him cold. He hadn't thought until now that they too would want revenge. Even if Jewel wasn't doing what they had wanted, she was, after all, their leader's daughter.

  She was important to them.

  His hand was shaking. He could no longer hear anything from the front room. His eyes still hadn't adjusted to the darkness. He had been too successful at shutting out the light, and the fact that he hadn't made a fire tonight meant that not even coals illuminated the room.

  Could the Fey see in complete darkness? He had no idea.

  Slowly he eased his hand onto the bedside table. The cool, polished wood felt reassuring under his fingers. He walked them along the surface, careful to move slowly so that he wouldn't knock anything down.

  A soft exhalation of breath, not his. He paused. He wasn't sure if he had actually heard the sound or not. No more creaks, no banging against furniture, nothing.

  The person had to be familiar with his room.

  His whole body tingled with anticipation. He continued to walk his fingers along the surface of the table until his index finger brushed cut glass.

  The vial.

  He resisted the urge to grab it. Instead he eased his hand around it and lifted it just high enough to pull it back to the bed.

  Another breath. Soft. Almost impossible to hear. But this time he knew he heard it.

  The person had to be in the same room.

  Matthias rested the vial against his own chest. With his free hand, he pulled out the stopper. If the person in his room wasn't Fey, this would do no good.

  Except maybe to startle him.

  A slight "huh" of air beside him, a faint warmth near his left side. Someone was standing beside him.

  Matthias tossed the water in that direction. It splashed on the bed, on the table, on Matthias's hand. A voice made an odd, almost panicked cry.

  And suddenly the green glow that he had been dreaming about filled the room. A young man stood in the center of that glow, radiating light throughout the room. He was short and stocky, his features Islander, and he was blinking as if the light had blinded him.

  The holy water made him glow. Did that mean he was a Doppelgänger? Or another kind of Fey?

  Or was he an Islander, like he appeared to be?

  Then the man moved his right hand and light flashed off a blade.

  He was carrying a knife.

  Matthias rolled away from the man and got out of the opposite side of the bed. The light made everything green as if they were underwater. Matthias breathed shallowly, half afraid that water would fill his lungs.

  The man turned. He was wiping his face with his left hand. As he did, the green glow faded. It was the contact of his skin and the holy water that caused it.

  Matthias thought all these things as he ran through the door. He banged a shin on a table and the thunk resounded through the room. The glow came after him, casting that same eerie green light throughout the suite.

  The balcony doors were open and a cool breeze rattled the tapestries.

  "You stop!" the
man shouted. He had no accent. His Islander was perfect.

  Matthias didn't stop. He weaved his way around the soft sofas toward the double doors. His nightrobe had gathered around his thighs making movement difficult. The tiny silver sword banged against his chest with every movement.

  He had forgotten to grab more holy water. Perhaps if he threw more at the ghostly vision, it would dissolve.

  But he didn't have time for that. The man was gaining on him. A table fell over with a bang, and the green light got closer. Matthias's shadow looked like a bruise on the far wall. The green made the etchings glow.

  The man was almost upon him when Matthias grabbed the door handles and pulled them down with all his strength.

  The candles were lit in the corridor, but no one stood outside his door. He scurried through the doors and, with a flick of the wrist, yanked them closed.

  The green light glowed from underneath them.

  The man was close.

  Matthias screamed for help, half afraid that help wouldn't come.

  But he lived with the other Elders on this floor. They had to help him. Had to.

  He ran down the hall, pounding on doors with his fists. The doors finally opened, the Elders peeking out. Danites came up the stairs, and a sleepy Aud pushed off the wall where he had been dozing instead of guarding.

  Matthias was taking deep pulling breaths. His hair was matted and falling over his face. The stench of his own sweat was overpowering. He pointed toward his rooms.

  "In … there," he gasped. "… A …man …"

  The Danites hurried in that direction. Elder Reece held Matthias's shoulder in a light grip, as if afraid to touch him more. Elder Linus was peering down the hallway as if he wasn't sure whom to believe.

  Porciluna came out of his doorway, breathing heavily. Even the slight exertion seemed to tire him.

  "What kind of man?" he said, and from the bluntness of his question, Matthias could tell that the man had not come from the Elders. He had come from outside the Tabernacle.

  "… I … don't … know …"

  He was shaking and ashamed of it. Not once had he thought of God or his faith or the Roca. Not once had he turned to his religion for help. Instead he had used the holy water as a weapon.

  Like the Old Rocaan feared it would be used.

  "Don't know?" Porciluna sounded disbelieving. He slept in a satin robe that hung off his bulk. His hands looked naked without their jewelry, his eyes oddly vulnerable as they squinted from lack of sleep. "Didn't you see him?"

  "I saw … him," Matthias said. His breath was coming back. " … Later. Much … later. The room was so dark …. I heard … him first."

  He wasn't explaining this well. One of the Danites had come back down the corridor from Matthias's room.

  "The balcony doors were open. There's a rope still tied to the railing. That's how he got in. He climbed up." The Danite appeared to be reporting to Porciluna, not Matthias. "We're looking through the rooms, but we don't expect to find anyone."

  "Get … someone down … to the courtyard," Matthias said. "See if we … can catch him."

  The Danite nodded and hurried down the stairs. The sleepy Aud followed him. Reece stared after them.

  "Someone should have been guarding your door. Don't the Auds keep care of you any more, Holy Sir?"

  Beside Matthias, Porciluna shook his head slightly. Matthias pretended that he didn't notice. "Apparently," Matthias said dryly, "only God watches … out for me."

  His heart was still pounding, but his breathing was slowly coming under his control. Reece frowned at Porciluna. Not all the Elders were agreed, then, about ostracizing the Rocaan.

  Matthias put a hand on his back and made himself take a deep breath. He would say no more about the man in his room. No one needed to know that holy water made the man turn green. He would investigate that himself. The man may not have been Fey, but something about him had a reaction to the holy water. Matthias seemed to remember hearing something about that before. He would see what he could recall.

  The Danites trooped out of his room. Another came toward him. "Did you throw holy water on him, Holy Sir?" the Danite asked.

  Matthias nodded. "Why?"

  "Because you had an empty bottle on the bed, and the blankets are wet. We sent for an Aud to replace the blankets, but we weren't certain if the intruder had done something to them. We can't be too careful any more."

  "No," Matthias said. "We can't."

  "If you threw holy water on him," another Danite said, "then he wasn't Fey. No smell, no body in the room."

  "It startled him, nothing more," Matthias said. It felt odd to lie to the Danites. They had once had complete truth in the Tabernacle.

  Porciluna was watching him. Matthias felt his own skin crawl.

  An Aud came up the stairs. He was older, and took the stairs cautiously, hand on his back as he walked. When he reached the Elders and Matthias, he stopped.

  "They found nothing in the courtyard," the Aud said. "It looks as if the intruder got away."

  "We need someone to stay in the Rocaan's rooms," Reece said.

  Matthias shook his head. "No. I'll remain alone."

  "At least let us put an Aud on the balcony —"

  "No," Porciluna said. "He would like to be alone."

  Porciluna was agreeing a bit too easily. Matthias studying him until Porciluna squirmed and looked away. Then Matthias turned to Reece.

  "You're right, Reece. An Aud on the balcony would be a good idea and two more at the door."

  Reece smiled and touched Matthias's arm once more as if for reassurance. "I will see to it, Holy Sir."

  He disappeared down the stairs. Despite everything that happened, Matthias still trusted Reece. Porciluna was the one who looked guilty. Of what, Matthias was not certain. Perhaps he was just guilty of impure thoughts.

  Thoughts of overthrowing the Rocaan.

  Linus excused himself and peered into Matthias's rooms. The Danites went down the stairs.

  Matthias's heart rate had slowed. An exhaustion like one he hadn't felt in years crept over him. "It has never worked, you know," he said softly to Porciluna. "No one has ever overthrown a Rocaan."

  "But more than a few have left voluntarily," Porciluna said. "You're the scholar. What are the circumstances behind those?"

  "If a Rocaan leaves each time the Elders find his actions unpardonable, no Rocaan would have remained in office."

  "No Rocaan has murdered before."

  "You forget the 35th Rocaan."

  "Tis said those deaths were an accident."

  Matthias smiled. "A happy accident then, facilitated by the arrow slits he carved in the old kirk worship room." With his left hand, Matthias moved the hair off his face. "Don't be deceived by history, Porciluna. None of the Rocaans were saints. They were all too human."

  "I am aware of that," Porciluna said.

  "Then don't punish me for taking the right action. Elders have been forced to resign under less trying circumstances."

  "The right action doesn't lead to assassination attempts in the middle of the night."

  "Sure it does," Matthias said. "That's why the Rocaan usually doesn't live on the same floor as the Elders. Rocaans are always threatened by their assistants."

  "Perhaps I phrased that wrong," Porciluna said. "The right action doesn't lead to assassination attempts whose source can't be determined. An Islander attacked you? Was he from the King? Or did he have ties with the Tabernacle? Or was he acting alone? And those examples don't count what would have happened had the Fey been involved. You didn't take the right action, Matthias. Your action may have doomed us all."

  "You have a flair for the dramatic, Porciluna," Matthias said.

  Porciluna squinted at him. "No, Matthias. I have a penchant for truth."

  "Really?" Matthias said. "Then you wouldn't pass yourself off as a believer, Porciluna."

  Matthias pushed past him and went back to his own rooms. The Danites had left the door opened, and t
he furniture moved. The balcony doors were closed and bolted, and someone had pulled the blankets from the bed.

  Matthias's heart pounded just upon reentering the room. No green glow. No man. How odd he had been dreaming about it before the man appeared. Perhaps the man had been glowing green even then.