Fey 02 - Changeling (72 page)

"He is the Black King's son."

"Yes," Nicholas said, "and the Black King sent him here, to fail, so that he wouldn't pretend to the throne."

"You don't understand," the Shaman said.
 
She almost spoke in a whisper.
 
"The Fey are sworn to protect all who aspire to the Black Throne."

"Anyone?" Nicholas asked.
 
For anyone could aspire to any throne.
 
Achieving it was another matter.

"Anyone in the Black King's family," the Shaman said.
 

"But Rugar lost his chance to become Black King," Nicholas said.
 
"You and Jewel both told me that."

The Shaman shook her head.
 
"It's not so simple."

"It doesn't seem that difficult.
 
He will plunge you back into a war you cannot win.
 
Why defend him?
 
Give him to me.
 
I'll be responsible for his life."

The Shaman closed her eyes.
 
Her eyebrows met in a single line.
 
"That would be worse."

"I have no stake in your throne," Nicholas said.
 
"Blame me."

"Your stake is greater than mine," The Shaman said.
 
She opened her eyes.
 
They were so dark they almost seemed black.
 
"Your children will inherit.
 
They both have aspirations."

Nicholas sighed.
 
"Jewel had brothers whom she was certain would become Black King.
 
Surely my children have no chance at that Throne.
 
Rugar was effectively sent away, sent to fight and win or fight and lose.
 
Apparently his father didn't care.
 
You make it sound so ominous.
 
It can't be.
 
Let me have Rugar."

"If you have Rugar, the world will erupt in flame."

As if to accent her words, a gust of wind stirred the fire.
 
The flames shot almost to the chimney.
 
Nicholas got up and closed the grate so that no sparks would escape.

"You're very good," Nicholas said.
 
"Does Rugar know how well you defend him?"

"Don't make light of what I'm telling you," she said.

"What I do or what my children do will not affect the world," Nicholas said.

"The Black Throne is held together by Blood Magic.
 
That Blood flowed through Jewel.
 
It flows through your children now.
 
If the Blood turns on itself, insanity reigns.
 
And when insanity reigns, whole cultures die.
 
Your children are part of the Blood now.
 
You are part of the Blood.
 
Do not take responsibility for Rugar's life.
 
If he loses it while you hold responsibility, the Blood will have turned on itself.
 
You will unleash a fury."

Nicholas shook his head.
 
"I may not know much about the Fey, Shaman, but I do know the stories.
 
I know that one Black King went Blind and the Shamans and Warders picked another to succeed him, from a different line.
 
I know that an entire family who would have inherited the Black Throne was slaughtered almost a century later.
 
I know that you have provisions for this sort of thing.
 
Jewel said Rugar was Blind.
 
You are here, talking with me.
 
Obviously you think something is wrong."

"You know the stories?" the Shaman said, her voice thrumming.
 
"You do not know the stories.
 
You do not know the stories.
 
Only one Black family turned on itself.
 
The deaths you mentioned were in that family.
 
Three thousand people died after the Black Queen and her family killed each other.
 
Three thousand.
 
It was said to be a raging madness that made fathers turn upon sons, sons upon mothers, mothers upon daughters.
 
And it happened throughout the Fey Empire.
 
Only one in ten survived.
 
The Fey Empire was small in those days.
 
Now it covers over half the world.
 
Do you want to be responsible for such a slaughter?"

"I don't believe old myths," Nicholas said.
 
"If I believed in myths, I would not offer our Rocaan to you."

The Shaman stopped, her eyes glittering.
 
Her hair had stopped shimmering.
 
Now it was a soft, brittle white.
 
"What fate do you tempt?"

"The Rocaan is Beloved of God," Nicholas said.

"You tempt your own God?" the Shaman asked.

"I have never met my God," Nicholas said.
 
"In the last week, He has taken my father and my wife from me.
 
He leaves me with a child who cannot hold her form and another who has no real mind.
 
He lets me rule a nation that may not survive another day.
 
If I will gamble for the lives of two cultures versus an angry God, I will save the lives."

The flames in the fireplace had died down.
 
The Shaman's hands had let go of each other and were clenched, her knuckles almost as white as her hair.

Her silence felt like a judgment.

Nicholas's heart was pounding so hard he thought she would be able to hear it.
 
But he didn't move either.

Finally, she stood.
 
"You have courage that I lack."

He stood too.
 
"It's your lack of courage that will kill us all."

She placed one fist against her stomach.
  
"I can See your daughter, your almost grown daughter, standing in that garden, holding the hand of her brother, their dark heads glistening in the sunlight.
 
I hear birds and I know that all is right in our world.
 
But I don't know how we get to that place.
 
I can't See next week or even next year.
 
I know Rugar's father lives, and I know he has not abandoned Blue Isle.
 
And because I know those two things, I am unwilling to risk even the least of the Black King's family.
 
I am unwilling to strike the tinder that will light the wrong flame.
 
And if that means I condemn us to a decade of battle, so be it.
 
Better a hundred lives than a hundred thousand."

"Better two lives than a hundred," Nicholas said.

"Your lack of belief gives you such certainty," the Shaman said.
 
"It is a certainty I cannot afford."
 
She bowed her head to him, then walked to the door.
 

As she put her hand on the handle, he said,
 
"I will avenge my father."

She rested her forehead against the door for a brief moment.
 
Then she said, "But first, you will avenge your wife."

THIRTY-EIGHT

Burden was sitting at the Meeting Rock, waiting.
 
Shadowlands was nearly full.
 
Since Jewel's death, most of the Fey remained inside.
 
The Fey from the Settlement were trying to see if their families would take them back into the cabins.
 
The other Fey appeared to be waiting for Rugar.

Burden had seen Rugar go into the Warders' cabin, and then leave, taking Touched with him. They were heading toward the Domicile.
 
Burden had been about to give up waiting when the Circle Door opened and a man slipped through.
 
He was wearing an Islander face.
 
It shimmered and became his own for a brief moment as he stepped through the door, then it returned to the illusion:
 
round eyes, round cheeks, blond hair.
 

"I was expecting you last night," Burden said.

The illusion shimmered and vanished.
 
Veil stood before Burden, slender, dark, almost a shadow himself.
 
Spies had a wispy quality that placed them in the same category as Dream Riders and other creatures of the night.
 
Almost invisible, barely existing, with little personality of their own, Spies had only the power to create a simple illusion around themselves.
 
They could change their appearance and the unwary wouldn't notice.
 
The watchful would see the dark eyes peering through, the Spy's real height, the lips that didn't quite move with the words.
 
Burden hated the Spies among the Fey, but this time he needed them.

And he might need them again.

"I couldn't get away," Veil said.
 
His voice was as shadowy as he was.
 

"Right," Burden said.
 
Spies never had trouble escaping a situation.
 
They established their illusions and left.
 

"No," he said.
 
"I couldn't.
 
I had to see what the Islanders would do."

Burden crossed his legs and rested his arms on his thighs.
 
"I don't care what they would do," he said.
 
"I want to know how the murderer died."

"He didn't," Veil said, and cringed.

"He didn't?" Burden made his voice cold.
 
The plan was simple and fool-proof.
 
Jewel had told him about the Charmed boy years ago.
 
Burden had gone to the Domestics to get the boy's name.
 
Once he had that, he was able to send a message which the boy received and then the boy left.
  
No one would question an Islander in the Tabernacle.

"The murderer woke up, tossed poison on the boy, and the spell was revealed."

Burden pushed himself off the Meeting Block.
 
The gray mist of Shadowlands swirled around him.
 
He hated this place.
 
It was like being in a perpetual fog.
 

"Spells are never revealed," he said.

"This one was.
 
I saw it."

"You saw it?" Burden asked.
 
"Don't tell me you had enough courage to go into the Tabernacle."

Veil raised his chin and stretched himself to his full height.
 
He looked like a shadow at twilight, long and black and too thin.
 
"You told me to report.
 
I had to be able to see to do that."

"You went into the Tabernacle and came out to tell of it."

Veil nodded.
 
"I pretended to be one of their lower religious ones, the Auds.
 
I watched the boy climb the wall, then I went in myself.
 
I went to the proper floor, dismissed another man there, and said I would take his place as guard.
 
So I did.
 
When he was gone, I went to the door, but by then, there was a horrible green glow.
 
I heard the murderer run toward the door, and I could barely get to the stairs where I was supposed to be."

"So you saw nothing," Burden said.
 
Incompetence again.
 
If he had known when he signed on this mission almost six years before that he would be surrounded by incompetence, he would never have come.

Although, in truth, he would have.
 
He was only seventeen, then, and deeply in love with Jewel.
 
He would have followed her anywhere.