This time, Stowe did sigh. "I have orders, Respected Sir. My orders are to talk with the Rocaan. At least allow me to perform my duties."
"I do think this discussion can wait until morning."
"I don't," Stowe snapped. Actually, Porciluna probably was right — the discussion could wait — but it was becoming a matter of principle for Stowe.
"Milord." The voice came from behind him. It was tentative, as if it knew it shouldn't be speaking.
Porciluna had looked over his shoulder. His face had gone pale.
Stowe's heart began to beat faster. He turned.
One of the guards he had posted near the rope stood behind him. The man's face was streaked with blood.
"What happened?" Stowe asked.
The guard held out his hand. Blood was smeared on his fingers. "Forgive me, milord, but I think we should go upstairs."
"We don't provide protection in here on a whim," Porciluna snapped. "A fake emergency will not get you through the doors."
"It's not fake, Respected Sir," the guard said. "The blood isn't mine."
"Then where's it from?" Porciluna asked.
"The balcony, Respected Sir."
"The Rocaan's balcony?" Stowe asked.
"Yes, milord."
Suddenly Stowe was not going to wait for permission. "Gather the guards outside and send someone up that rope. Send five in here. Have them go up the stairs to the Rocaan's apartment."
The guard nodded and hurried out.
"You can't go up there," Porciluna said.
Stowe shoved him aside. "I don't care what you say or want. If I discover something wrong up there, I'll put you in the keep forever."
"You can't —" Porciluna started.
"I can." Stowe was already halfway up the stairs. He shouted the last. "Because your actions probably cost a man's life."
FORTY-EIGHT
Adrian could barely breathe. He had run a long way along the river's edge. His pants were torn and his legs were bleeding. Thorns on nearby bushes had scratched his arms and face. More than once he had been hit in the head by a tree branch. All the way, though, he had managed to maintain his footing, something which astonished him, considering the thick mud and the steepness of the bank.
Coulter clung to him, small body wrapped around Adrian's like a second skin. As the brambles hit them, Coulter clung tighter. The boy lifted his head once, whimpered, and lowered it again. Adrian had not planned on this. He had hoped Coulter could take care of himself. At this speed, the Fey would catch them in no time.
The darkness grew until finally, Adrian had to stop near a large oak tree that hung over the river. "Coulter," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the river's current, "let me set you down."
The boy shook his head against Adrian's chest.
"Please, Coulter, I have to rest a moment."
The boy clung tighter. Adrian leaned against the tree for support. His back ached, his shoulders ached, and his arms ached. He wasn't certain how much farther he could go. A full moon was rising, casting light almost as bright as day across the water.
The river was wide here, and the current suggested that it was deep. He couldn't wade across even if he wanted to, nor could he swim. With Coulter this panicked about the common things, he would be even more terrified in the water. Adrian couldn't swim across a calm river with the boy this scared, let alone one that raged like this one did here.
Twigs snapped behind him. The Fey were getting close. They had to be.
"Coulter," he said, "I can't keep moving and carry you at the same time. You'll have to walk, son."
Coulter shook his head.
"This is what the real world is like, Coulter. You were born here. It's all right. If it isn't, son, please, use one of your special powers. But I need to set you down."
After a moment, Coulter loosened his grip on Adrian. Adrian tried not to sigh with relief. He lowered the boy. Coulter clung to his leg with one hand like a two-year-old would, and stared at the world around him.
Adrian stared too. It had been so long since he had seen anything real. The grayness that filled the Shadowlands made even bright colors seem muted. Here, even in the moonlit nighttime, the greens were vivid, the browns vibrant, the blues astonishing. The smell of the trees and grass almost overpowered him, and the rush of the river was deafening.
"It's all like this?" Coulter asked, his voice trembling.
"All," Adrian said. There was no way to explain how different and yet similar other areas were.
"I can't," Coulter whispered. He clung so hard to Adrian's legs that his fingers were digging into the skin.
"You have to." Adrian looked around the tree. He couldn't see the Fey, but he knew they were there. Somewhere, searching for him and Coulter.
Coulter shook his head and buried his face in Adrian's thigh. Adrian pried the boy away and crouched, holding Coulter so that he could see his face. "I know you're frightened," Adrian said. "But they would have killed you back there. This is our only choice."
"They never hurt me before," Coulter said.
"They didn't know what you were before."
Tears lined the bottom of Coulter's eyes. He rubbed at them with his free hand. "I don't want to go anywhere," he said. "I hate it here."
Adrian rested his forehead against the boy's, wishing he could absorb some of the child's power and protect them both. But he couldn't.
"Try walking with me," he said. "Just a ways."
Coulter's lower lip trembled. A tear spilled down his cheek. Adrian took Coulter's hand, but before he could stand, Coulter grabbed Adrian's wrist with his other hand. "Don't leave me," he said.
Adrian frowned. He didn't know where that comment had come from. "I would never leave you," he said.
"But if I can't — if something tries — if they catch us, please don't leave me," Coulter said.
"I will be beside you the whole way," Adrian said.
Coulter nodded. Adrian glanced around the tree, but saw nothing. He hoped something in Coulter's heightened senses would notice if the Fey were following.
They took a step forward. Coulter was staring at his feet, placing them gingerly between brambles and fallen twigs. Each time he moved forward, he winced as if he expected something to bite him. He had never seen ground beneath his feet, only grayness.
"Pretend like you're inside," Adrian said. "It's like being on a floor."
"What is all this stuff?" Coulter asked.
"Grass and sticks and plants. Growing things," Adrian said.
They took only a few steps, before the bank rose to a muddy edge. Adrian glanced over his shoulder again. Their footprints were visible in the mud.
"Can you tell if they're coming?" he asked.
Coulter shook his head. His face was streaked from the tears.
Great. The boy was terrified of everything, the Fey were after them, and Adrian didn't know where they would go. He couldn't take them to Luke because the Fey knew how to turn Luke into someone else. That left the palace as his only choice, but after the murder of King Alexander and the attempt on the Rocaan, he wasn't certain if he'd be welcomed there.
The Fey would come. They would find Coulter. They had to. They couldn't let this boy escape. He held too many secrets, too much information within his small person. Even if they killed him, they would learn whether or not he was similar to the Fey.
Adrian carried a lot of secrets too. They didn't want him to get away either.
They reached the narrow bank. A mud slide had formed into the river. Tree roots were hanging over the water. They couldn't go around the tree because of the tangled undergrowth on the other side. They would have to cross on the roots. Coulter would never stand for that, and Adrian wasn't sure if he could cross and handle Coulter's weight.
No Fey yet. They were safe on that front.
Coulter stopped in front of the uncovered roots, his eyes wide. "What is it?" he asked. "A frozen monster?"
"A tree," Adrian said. "A plant." The
n he realized that Coulter probably had no idea what plants were. "Remember when the Domestics tried to grow things in the dirt box? They were trying to grow plants."
Coulter ignored him. The boy was staring at the water several feet below the roots. "What happens if I slip?"
"You fall in."
The voice made Adrian jump. He scanned the bushes. He saw nothing, no one, not a face among the undergrowth.
Coulter wrapped his arms around himself. He was standing too close to the edge of the bank for Adrian's comfort.
Adrian put his hand on the boy's shoulder and pulled him closer. "That was Fey," he whispered to Coulter.
"I would hope so," the voice said, just as loud as it had before. The voice was male. "That's what you were speaking."
"Touched?" Coulter asked, his voice shaking, but the strength he had shown earlier returning. "Rotin?"
"Bah, Warders," the voice said. The comment was followed by the sound of spitting. "If you're bringing them, I'm going now. You can get across on your own."
"No, wait!" Adrian said. Coulter pressed close to him. They wouldn't get much farther tonight, and he still wasn't certain where they were going. If they found a safe place to bed down, they might be all right in the morning. "We're trying to get away from the Warders."
"Sure you are," the voice said. "And what kind of reward do you get now that you found me?"
"Found you?" Adrian said. "You're the one who found us. We didn't even know you were here."
"We can't even see you," Coulter said.
"Well I can see you," the voice said, "and, unless I miss my guess, you're either Doppelgängers or Spies sent to flush me out."
"We're Islanders," Adrian said. "You can check our eyes or touch us. If I remember right that should prove to you that we aren't Fey."
"You're hiding from the Warders too?" Coulter spoke softly, almost hesitantly.
"Evil, evil creatures those Warders," the voice said. "They have no value for life. I'm not even sure if they know what life is."
"Really?" Adrian said. He wasn't sure if he should keep going. He didn't know if this was a trap. Maybe it was a trap, or a way to force Adrian and Coulter to hurry across the fallen bank, and plunge to their deaths.
"Really," the voice said. "They experiment on living people. Try to get those people to die for their spells. They figure anyone without magic isn't a person, so it doesn't matter. I say it does."
"I have magic," Coulter said, his voice small. "But they experimented on me."
"Sure you have magic, kid. You have as much magic as I do."
"I do," Coulter said. Adrian squeezed his shoulder to silence the boy. Something about this meeting wasn't right. If the voice's owner knew about the Warders and spoke Fey, then Adrian would have to assume the speaker was Fey. But the bitterness that came out over the Warders and the lack of magic sounded distinctly unFey.
"That kid has quite a complex," the voice said, apparently addressing Adrian.
"You would too if you had grown up among the Fey," Adrian said.
"Oh, trust me. I understand completely." The voice chuckled and the sound carried across the river.
"Shhh," Adrian said. "I don't know how close they are."
"I do," the voice said. "They sent a contingent down the main path and another to Daisy Stream. They haven't figured out yet that you're too smart to travel on the road, but it will only be a matter of time. They'll probably send out Gull Riders for you and you won't even know you've been spotted."
This conversation was growing stranger, and it was making Adrian very uncomfortable. He pulled Coulter even closer. "Thank you for your help," Adrian said. "But we need to continue. I hope to make Jahn by morning."
"Not at the pace you're going," the voice said. "And the Riders will be out by then. Beast Riders, Gull Riders, some soft furry little Rider, anything that you won't notice. They'll snatch you back up and bring you to the safety of the Shadowlands in no time."
"You sound very knowledgeable about the Fey," Adrian said.
"Well, by the Powers, what do you think I am?"
"Nooo!" Coulter cried and pushed himself hard against Adrian's leg. Adrian lost his balance and nearly fell off the bank. He grabbed a tree branch and held on, heart pounding.
"Well," Adrian said, trying to sound calm, "if you're going to take us back, you'd better do so now."
"Take you back?" The bushes rustled. "Why would I do that?"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Follow your orders and return us to Shadowlands?"
"I haven't followed orders in years." The bushes rustled some more and a little man emerged from them. He was just a few inches taller than Coulter, and built very square. His skin was dark though and his features were Fey. He looked like a Fey inexpertly carved from a tree stump.
"You're a Red Cap," Adrian said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
"I was a Red Cap," the little man said. He held out his hands and pirouetted. "If you'll notice, no smell of decay, no dead flesh hanging off the skin, no blood coating the garments. I have been clean since Caseo's death and I plan to stay that way until I die."
Coulter had brought his head up. He was staring at the Red Cap as if he had never seen one before. Adrian must have been staring the same way. Neither of them had seen a clean Red Cap. Caps were usually tending the dead --those killed in battle --pulling skin and blood off them. When they weren't doing that, they were doing similar duties for the Domestics, taking the place of Butchers (whom Rugar had not brought along) by butchering the animals for meat.
Adrian frowned. He hadn't heard of a missing Red Cap, except, of course, for the ones that died during the Invasion.
And the one who murdered the head Spell Warder.
"You killed Caseo," Adrian said softly.
The Red Cap shrugged. "A man has to do a good deed at least once in his life."
"You killed someone?" Coulter asked, his voice breathless. Red Caps were forbidden to kill people. Such actions were punishable by death.
"He was trying to kill me. Seems only right, don't you think?"
Coulter didn't answer. Adrian didn't want to address the question. "You've been hiding ever since?"
"It was either that or let them kill me." The little man glanced toward the sky. The moon was directly overhead. "They're going to start searching the woods soon. Tell me, boy. Are you folks running from Warders?"
Coulter nodded despite Adrian's grip on his shoulder.
"Good," the little man said. "Then come with me."
"I'm sorry to question you," Adrian said, "but where would you take us?"
"To my home," the little man said. "We'd better hurry."
"And why should we trust you?"
"Because I hate Warders, same as you."
"There's no proof of that."
The little man crossed his arms and grinned. "There's no proof that you folks are running from the Fey either, but I figure you wouldn't be here otherwise. Now, why would I be here?"
"Because you're looking for us. Because you expect some sort of accolade for finding us," Adrian said.
"As if they'd pay any attention to a Red Cap. Bet you never even heard my name. Bet as far as you're concerned my name is That Red Cap Who Killed Caseo."
Adrian's cheeks grew warm. He was glad that the Red Cap wouldn't be able to see that in the dark.
"I'll bet most of them don't know my name either. I bet my name is long forgotten."
"What is your name?" Coulter asked softly.
"See? If I were anything but That Red Cap Who Killed Caseo, the boy would know." The Red Cap crouched in front of Coulter and stuck out his hand, Islander fashion. "I'm Scavenger. Nice to meet you."
Coulter gave Adrian an uneasy look.
"Take his hand," Adrian said, "and introduce yourself."
Gingerly, the boy slipped his hand in the Cap's. "Coulter," the boy said. "And Adrian."
"Well," the Cap said, "Now that the social niceties are over, I suggest we
get out of the light."
"Where is your cabin?" Adrian asked.
"Through the woods," the Cap said. "Someone else built it for me, but I fixed it up. And I've been wanting company for a while." He ducked under the bushes. Adrian stared at the hole for a moment, uncertain what to do next. If the Cap were actually working for the Fey, he would take them back to Shadowlands. But the little man's arguments sounded convincing.
Fey 02 - Changeling Page 51