Fey 02 - Changeling (108 page)

Suddenly the world spun.
 
Gift grabbed the post for support.
 
It was still there, solid beneath his hands, but he couldn't see it.
 
Bright light shone through cracks in the grayness.
 
The floor was shaking.
 
People were hurrying out of buildings, screaming and crying.
 
Wind was blowing through his hair and it smelled fresh.
 
Chunks of the sky split and fell around him.
 
Big hunks of gray nothing landing on the ground, then falling through it.
 

His grandfather's cabin collapsed through the holes in the ground and shattered when it landed on the dirt below.
 
The Circle Door was spinning crazily as people jumped through it, rolling away from the Dirt Circle.
 
Big tall spindly things surrounded the dirt circle — Burden had once told him those were trees — and they were bright green.
 
Gift had only seen green that bright in his dreams, in the world where his sister lived.

Another cabin collapsed and another and another.
 
The Domicile was shaking.
 
His mother was in there.
 
She wouldn't be able to fly.
 
His father floated past him, telling him to get out.
 
People were pushing each other over to get to the Circle Door.
 
The Domestics were leaving.
 
No one was helping his mother.

Gift ran toward the Domicile, his slight weight punching holes in the ground.
 
His feet caught in the holes, but his speed kept him from falling all the way through.
 
He got to the Domicile —

— and found that he was already leaning against the post, splinters digging into his palm.
 
The post had pushed his mouth open and it was dry.
 
Drool slimed his chin.
 
He sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve.

The grayness surrounded him as it always had.
 
The mist had grown thick around his feet.
 
The Domicile was all right, and no one was screaming.
 
His heart was still pounding too fast, though.
 
He felt as if he had survived a nightmare.

Then he looked around for Dream Riders but saw none.
 
His grandfather was nowhere around either.
 
Gift was alone.
 
He had been alone all along.

He took a deep shuddery breath.
 
Everything was going wrong.
 
It would go worse.
 
He had to tell someone that he had had a Vision.
 
The whole place would be ruined.
 
People would hurt each other trying to escape.

No one would save his mom.

He had to tell someone but he didn't know who to tell.
 
His grandfather would know what to do, but his grandfather had hurt people.
 
Gift couldn't see his mother, and his father hadn't come back yet.

He was alone.

Completely alone.

SIXTY-TWO

Adrian crouched by the river bed.
 
The pants Scavenger had stolen for him were too tight.
 
They dug in all the wrong places.
 
But Adrian had to wear stolen clothes.
 
His own clothes were too dangerous.

Coulter crouched beside him.
 
The boy's new clothes were too big, but he didn't seem to mind.
 
In the last three days, he had gone from being terrified of new things to revelling in them.
 
Scavenger had said that was normal as well.
 
Once the senses got used to the load, the body celebrated.
 
Coulter would spend hours studying a leaf or a blade of grass.
 
More than once Adrian had to explain to him that sometimes these plants could poison him because Coulter loved to taste everything.
 
It was almost as though he were going through a stage of his babyhood all over again.

Scavenger cradled their old clothes close to his chest.
 
The river bank rose up here and moved a bit inland.
 
This area was sheltered by trees on either side and by tree branches above.
 
The only way the three of them could be seen would be from the river itself.

Scavenger had assured Adrian that no one would look from the river.

This outing terrified Adrian, but it was the first step in their plan to fool the Fey.
 
After they got rid of the clothes, they would head out down the road.
 
Scavenger claimed that the searchers would be looking for two people, not three.
 
They would keep Scavenger properly bundled so no one saw his Fey features.
 

The Fey, Scavenger had said when proposing this plan, wouldn't think a thing of him.
 
They always believed their own kind were taller and slimmer than Islanders, forgetting the Red Caps, as always.

Once they had made their way to the outskirts of Jahn, they would go south to Adrian's farm.
 
Scavenger would scout for Fey and if he saw no evidence of them, all three would go to the farm.
 
If he saw them, he would inform Adrian and they would make a new plan.

The problem was hiding from the Gull Riders.
 
Scavenger believed staying far enough away from the river would help.
 
He also thought that if the three of them wore the hats he had stolen, the Gull Riders would ignore them.
 
Beast Riders were simple thinkers.
 
Even Adrian knew that.
 
They wouldn't think to look for more than two people on the road.

That part of the plan seemed the most dangerous to Adrian.
 
One slip and the Riders would catch them.
 
Adrian had one other idea up his sleeve, one he would never tell Scavenger about.
 
He would get holy water from the first Danite he saw.
 
Then if the Fey did catch him, they would never take him prisoner again.

The river burbled below them. Coulter sat on the edge of the bank, his feet dangling off.
 
Adrian kept a close eye on him, half afraid the boy would jump.
 
Scavenger explained drowning three times to Coulter, but neither man was certain Coulter understood it.
 
This new phase of his recovery from Shadowlands was almost as irritating as the old phase.
 
Before Coulter had endangered them with his fear; now he was endangering himself with his curiosity.

"Ready?" Scavenger asked.

Adrian nodded.
 
He glanced at Coulter.
 
Coulter was staring at the clothes.
 
He understood the importance of this.
 
If the Fey found the clothing, they might think the two of them had died.
 
Scavenger said it was a likely occurrence — people newly released from Shadowlands often made mistakes from the Overs.
 
It had happened before.

"All right," Scavenger said. "Here goes."

He tossed the clothes.
 
They soared through the air, the wind catching the sleeves of Adrian's shirt, the legs of Coulter's pants.
 
The boots dropped first, landing with a splash in the roaring current.
 
The clothes fluttered longer, whipping and turning with the wind.

Suddenly bright light hit them.
 
Adrian glanced at Coulter.
 
Coulter was frowning at the clothes.
 
If he was the source of the light, it wasn't obvious.
 
But Adrian had never seen such a thing before — except in the Warders cabin.
 
He didn't know if a person not enveloped in the light could see it.

Scavenger looked up, then around, searching for the source.
 
The clothes fell, landing in the water with a large splash.
 
As they surfaced, they appeared to be full.
 
Bodies resembling Adrian and Coulter filled the clothes.
 
Only the shoes were missing.

Adrian's mouth had gone dry.
 
He had warned Coulter not to let Scavenger see the magic, but Coulter must have thought this more important.
 
And, in the scheme of things, he was right.
 
The Fey would see these fake bodies and stop the search.

"You did that!" Scavenger screamed.
 
His loud voice was jarring, his panic almost overwhelming.
 
He had turned to Adrian.
 
"Who are you?
 
You don't look like a Doppelgänger!
 
I thought you were all dead."

"I'm not a Doppelgänger," Adrian said.

"But you're not a Spy either.
 
You look Islander."
 
Scavenger's face was pale with fear.
 
He had back against a tree.
 
"Are you a Golem?"

"I am Islander," Adrian said.

"Then it's you!" Scavenger turned to Coulter.
 
Coulter leaned away, and lost his balance.
 
For one heart-stopping moment, Adrian thought he would fall in the river.
 
Then Coulter grabbed a tree branch and steadied himself.

"What'd I do?" Coulter asked Adrian.

"I always wondered why you spoke Fey.
 
I thought maybe it was in deference to me.
 
But it was because you wanted to capture me, wasn't it?"
 
Scavenger hit his forehead with the heel of his hand.
 
"I was such a fool.
 
I helped you people.
 
I thought I was being so nice."

"You were being nice," Adrian said.
 
"You did help us and we appreciate it."

"You're going to take me back, aren't you?
 
And then they're going to kill me.
 
You just wanted all my secrets of how I escaped."

"We know how you escaped," Adrian said.
 
"Now you're helping us."

"I don't ever want to go back," Coulter said.
 
He was clinging to the branch as if it were a shield.

Adrian frowned at him.
 
If the boy got too frightened, there was no telling what he'd do.
 
And the two of them needed Scavenger.

"I knew you'd find me," Scavenger said.
 
"I knew it.
 
No one ever gets away from the Fey.
 
No one ever gets to do what they want.
 
No one."

"I'm not Fey," Adrian said again.

"No, but the boy is.
 
What are you, half Fey?
 
You're Jewel's son, right?"

Adrian started.
 
Scavenger had left Shadowlands before Jewel had her children.
 
Before she died.
 
The thought was logical.

"Well, you're not going to take me.
 
You're not."
 
Scavenger pulled out a knife.
 
It had a jagged edge to it. He had used it earlier to skin some meat.

"That's right," Adrian said.
 
"We're not."

Coulter screwed up his face.
 
Adrian recognized the look as the same one Coulter had had when he sent the light over the river.

"Wait, Coulter," Adrian said.
 
"Let me talk to Scavenger."

Scavenger whipped around.
 
He was crouching, but he moved quickly.
 
He held the tip of the knife much too close to Coulter.