Fey 02 - Changeling (79 page)

She shook her head.
 
"Those spells are minor.
 
It is this one you need to know of.
 
Burden used your son as an Assassin."

"What?" Adrian asked.
 
"Is he all right?"

"I believe so," Mend said.
 
"But I don't know."

"How could he use Luke?
 
Luke was outside Shadowlands."

"Burden has Charm.
 
Solanda brought him to the awareness of that, and Luke was Charmed.
 
He was also given many orders so that he would be useful to us if anything happened to you.
 
But that was the key, Adrian.
 
As long as you kept your bargain, Luke would remain untouched."

Adrian felt as if he had just been punched in the stomach.
 
He was glad he was sitting down.
 
"I had been warned not to bargain with the Fey.
 
I knew that you people never kept your word.
 
I had just thought that this was different."

"It was different in two ways," Mend said.
 
She put her hand on Adrian's.
 
He pulled away.
 
"First, Jewel made the bargain with you and she's dead.
 
Second, it was to our advantage that we maintain that bargain."

"And it's not any more?"

Mend bowed her head.
 
"Burden wasn't thinking clearly."

"Such an excuse for using my son as a weapon."

Her jaw worked as if she were trying to find the words to express what was on her mind, but couldn't.
 
"Burden loved Jewel."

"And I love Luke.
 
I gave my entire future so that Luke would have one.
 
And you people Spelled him and Charmed him and made a mockery of what I did."
 
Adrian stood up.
 
The cabin seemed even smaller than usual.
 
He was glad now he hadn't gotten involved with Mend.
 
Glad that he had found his own way in this place.
 
Glad the only person he had truly allowed himself to care about was the other Islander.

"It was just a protection," Mend said.
 
"We always make protections.
 
It
 
is our way."

"Just as it's your way to break agreements." Adrian rubbed his temple.
 
His whole body was shaking with the rage he felt inside.
 
"What a fool I've been.
 
A stupid, stupid fool."

Mend watched him from the cot, her hand resting in the spot he had vacated.
 
"Not all of us are bad," she said.
 
"I came to you as soon as I found out."

"And what do you expect me to do now?
 
Warn my son?
 
I'm sure he knows about your little spells."

She shook her head.
 
"We broke the agreement," she said.
 
"I think you're free to go."

He held his breath.
 
Of all the things he had expected her to say, this was not one of them.
 
Had they other powers he didn't know about?
 
Could they read his mind?
 
Did they know he had already decided to leave, taking Coulter?

"I'll help you," she said.
 
"I think this is wrong.
 
I will open the Circle Door for you and you'll be free."

"And Luke will die."

She shook her head.
 
"I'm not sure anyone will even notice when you leave.
 
You haven't had duties for a long time."

Again, his thought.
 
A chill ran down his back even though the cabin had grown too hot.
 
"You'll know," he said.

"Adrian, you and I have been friends.
 
Good friends, I thought."

"A man cannot be friends with his captors," he said.

"I'm not your captor.
 
I'm willing to set you free."

"After five years!
 
What did you people do to Luke during those five years?"

"Nothing, Adrian."
 
She turned her hand over so that the palm was out.
 
A small, but obvious supplication.
 
"You saw him each year as we agreed.
 
You know that."

He shook his head.
 
"I only know what he told me.
 
And you people could have Spelled him to tell me anything."

"Adrian."
 
Her voice was soft.
 
"I took a risk, coming to you."

"Did you?" he asked.
 
"Did you really?
 
Or are you merely here to tempt me.
 
I'm in the way, aren't I?
 
I no longer have a use to you people, so you'll kill me and continue to use my son as a weapon."

"We could use him without killing you," she said.
 
Her cheeks were flushed.
 
He was clearly making her angry.

"Then why not just slaughter me in my sleep?
 
Why go through such a ruse?"

"Good question."
 
She stood and pushed past him, grabbing the door.
 
"Perhaps you should ponder it as you remain in this prison of your own choosing.
 
I gain nothing from helping you.
 
It's better for the Fey if you die.
 
Yet I offered, at great risk to myself.
 
I offered."

She shoved the door open and left.
 
Adrian winced as the door slammed shut behind her.
 
He had done that wrong.
 
Clearly wrong.
 
But the closeness of her words, her decision to tell him now, unnerved him.
 
No waiting for Coulter any longer.
 
If they were going to leave, they had to leave now.

Adrian paced around the small room.
 
Coulter had gone to see Gift. If Rugar was there, the escape would be ruined.
 

But that was a risk Adrian would have to take.
 

He rummaged through his clothes pile until he found the clothes he was captured in.
 
The Domestics had cleaned them at his insistence.
 
They had wanted to throw out the clothes instead.
 
He hoped they hadn't Spelled the clothing, but there was less of a chance to have Spells woven into his Islander clothes than in the Fey clothes he now wore.

He put on the shirt.
 
It hung on him.
 
He had known that he had lost a lot of weight since he came into Shadowlands, but not how much.
 
The sleeves were torn on the wrists and the shoulders — flayed from his bindings and the beatings — but there were no bloodstains.

The pants fit so loosely that he had to double-knot the waist.
 
His boots were long gone.
 
He had only the soft shoes the Fey had given him.

It had been so long since he had seen the sun that he wasn't even certain of the season.
 
He might emerge in winter, and then he would need the shoes.
 
But if it were summer, he could leave the shoes in the Dirt Circle.

He had to get out of here quickly, before anyone noted the clothing.

He pushed open the door and looked both ways.
 
The Sprites were messing with the weather again — they should have given up long ago
 
— and the mist was thick and damp.
 
He stepped into it, actually glad for the cover it gave him.
 
He rounded the large Domicile and headed for the Wisps' cabin.
 

Gift's cabin.

By Shadowlands standards, the Wisps' cabin was small.
 
By his standards, it was huge.
 
They had an extra room to work with, space enough for three people, when he and Coulter were crowded with two.

He rapped on the door and took a step back when it opened.
 
Niche answered.
 
Her bandaged wings looked fragile and useless, bound to her back, her eyes shadowed and haunted.
 
It probably wasn't easy raising Rugar's grandchild.
 
A thankless, ugly task at best.

"I am supposed to bring Coulter to the Domicile," he said in Fey.

Gift sidled up beside her and clung to her legs.
 
In action and gesture, he was closer to a young boy than Coulter had ever been.
 

"He's not here," Niche said.

Adrian sighed.
 
He hated this part.
 
A lot of Fey wouldn't trust him with children, not even an Islander child.
 
"He came here a while ago.
 
It's important that he get to the Domicile.
 
They want me to bring him."

"He hasn't been here," Niche said.
 
"If he were, I would let him go with you."

Adrian looked at Gift.
 
The boy's face was eerie.
 
His features were Fey, but his look belonged to the Royal House of Blue Isle.
 
He was so clearly Nicholas's son that Adrian wasn't certain why he had to be told in order to see it.

"I never seen him," Gift said.
 
His eyes were large, frightened.

Coulter had nowhere else to go.
 
Sometimes he hid by the Domicile, but Adrian had walked past his spot.
 
Coulter had been very clear; he wanted to see Gift.
 
After that, they would leave.
 
When Coulter was clear, he did what he said he would.

"Not at all?" Adrian asked.

"Why are you doubting my son?" Niche said.

Nicholas's son. The thought came unbidden, but Niche didn't seem to react to it.
 
Perhaps they couldn't read minds after all.

"I'm not," Adrian said.
 
"I just know Coulter.
 
When he says he's coming somewhere, he does it."

"How come they don't like him?" Gift asked.

Niche looked down at him, a frown on her face.
 
"Who?"

Gift watched Adrian.
 
"My grandfather.
 
My grandfather and his friends, they don't like Coulter."

Adrian went cold.
 
The experiments.
 
Touched and Rugar had no reason to wait.
 
The next time they saw Coulter, they would take him.

"Do you know where Coulter is?" he asked Gift.

The boy shook his head.
 

Adrian looked at Niche.
 
"When two people are Linked," he said, "can they see each other across that Link?"

"Sometimes."
 
She said the word slowly as if she were thinking through it.

Adrian crouched in front of Gift.
 
"Can you See Coulter?"

Gift glanced at his mother, looking even younger than his years.
 
She nodded at him.
 
He closed his eyes.
 
Adrian could almost see the boy stretching across Shadowlands.

"No."
 
Gift's voice sounded very far away.
 
"He's wearing a wall."

A wall.
 
Adrian glanced at Niche, but she didn't seem to understand the reference either.
 
A wall.