Fey 02 - Changeling (109 page)

"You're not taking me," Scavenger said softly.

"That's right," Adrian said.
 
"If we were, we would have done so by now.
 
We would have taken you in your sleep on that first night."

Scavenger didn't move.
 
He acted as if he hadn't heard Adrian.

"But we didn't," Adrian said.
 
"And we didn't take you the next night or the next night.
 
We waited until now to reveal the magic we had.
 
Now, when you're going to help us escape."

"I'm not helping you any more," Scavenger said.
 
He sounded like a petulant child.

"All Coulter did was make sure the Fey wouldn't follow us.
 
That's all."

"I thought you said he was Islander."

"He is Islander."

"But he's part Fey."

"He's not Fey at all."

"How do you know?" Scavenger said.

"Because," Adrian said, "he was born before the Invasion."

"But he has magic."

Adrian nodded.
 
"I think it's because he grew up in Shadowlands."

"Magic can't be learned," Scavenger said.
 
"Believe me, I know.
 
I've tried."

His words hung in the air for a moment.
 
He would know.
 
And there would be no convincing him if he thought Coulter was truly Islander.

Coulter apparently understood too.
 
He glanced at the knife, then at Adrian, then back to Scavenger.
 
"I'm Linked," Coulter said.

"What?" Scavenger said.

"Linked," Coulter said.
 
"To a Fey boy.
 
I think I use his powers."

Scavenger whirled again, this time facing Adrian. "You didn't tell me he was Linked.
 
Now they'll be able to find us."

"Gift won't turn us in," Coulter said, his voice pleading.

"He might if Rugar gets his way."

Coulter shook his head.
 
"Gift is my friend."

"Friends turn on you, son," Scavenger said, his back to Coulter.
 
He held the knife tightly.
 
Adrian finally understood how the little man had committed such a spectacular murder all those years before.

"Not Gift," Coulter said.
 
"Besides, I'd know."

"Only if you made the Link, boy."

Adrian was trembling.
 
He could, with a quick kick of his foot, shove Scavenger into the water.
 
But the man had helped them.
 
He didn't want to do that.

"They would have found us by now," Adrian said.
 
"If they were going to use the Link.
 
We're not that far away."

Scavenger lowered the knife.
 
"I never heard of Links giving anyone magical powers," he said.

"You never heard of a Link with an Islander before, have you?" Adrian asked.

"No," Scavenger said.

"We're different from you.
 
Maybe Links affect us in different ways."

"Why didn't you tell me he had magic?" Scavenger said.

"Because it's not always there," Adrian said.
 
"If it were, then we could have gotten farther on our own, right?"

Scavenger shook his head.
 
"Different magic acts in different ways."

He seemed more comfortable now that he could act the authority again.
 
He hefted the knife, grinned at it as if he were embarrassed, and pocketed it.
 
Adrian let out a breath.
 
Coulter scrambled up the side of the hill, away from the edge of the river.

"You spooked me," Scavenger said.
 
"I thought you were coming for me."

Adrian shook his head.
 
He was trembling but he didn't want to show it.
 
"You've helped us.
 
We would never cross you."

"I hope not," Scavenger said.
 
"I don't react well to it."

Adrian grinned, hoping that it looked sincere.
 
"I'll remember that," he promised.

SIXTY-THREE

The palace gates were open.
 
Rugar adjusted his Aud's cowl, then shoved his hand back in the pocket of the pale robe.
 
The robe was too long and wide for him.
 
It had to cover his boots since Auds went barefoot, and it had to allow room for him to hunch.
 
He was much too tall to be an Islander.
 
But everything else he wore made the hunch obvious.
 
He walked with his back straight, his knees bent, and his cowl pulled so far over his face that he couldn't see to either side.
 
He hoped no one looked inside the cowl. They wouldn't see pale skin, blue eyes and round cheeks.

They'd see a Fey.

And sound some kind of alarm.
 
That was the last thing he wanted.

He had to get inside.
 

So far no one had even stopped him.
 
He was standing just outside the gates.
  
The guards were chatting beside the door.
 
One of the guards was keeping an eye on the flow in and out of the gates, but not checking the people going through.

No wonder something had happened to Jewel.
 
Rugar had never seen security this lax in his life.

Except, of course, the day he invaded Blue Isle.
 

This day couldn't be more different than that one.
 
The sun shone brightly overhead, and the cobblestone was dry.
 
The air had a bit of a chill that would burn off as the day got longer.
 
And there was no fear anywhere, at least that he could see.
 
Despite the tensions between the Fey and the Islanders, the Islanders were going about their business as if nothing were wrong.

Perhaps they didn't know.
 
Perhaps only the leaders understood the extent of the problem.

Rugar walked through the gate, his back aching from the odd position.
 
The guards didn't stop him.
 
A horse shied as he got too close to it, and a dairymaid nodded at him as she passed by.
 
He nodded back, hoping she hadn't gotten a good look at his face.

The courtyard was full.
 
The day of the coronation — the day Jewel died
 
— the courtyard had been protected and empty.
 
Only the people attending the coronation had been visible, and the only doors that had been open were the ones in use.
 
Everything else had been barred shut.
 
Somehow Rugar expected the same thing.

He expected them to know he was here.

But no one knew.
 
No one even thought a Fey would sneak into the palace.
 
Even after the debacle with Burden and the holy man, the man who had murdered Jewel.

Burden had failed.
 
Ten of Rugar's best people were dead from a scheme that Rugar knew was doomed from the beginning.
 
But Burden hadn't checked it with him.
 
By the time Rugar learned of the scheme, Burden had already left.
 

Wind was the only one who survived.

Rugar would have been happier if someone else had.
 
But Wisps were lucky.
 
They usually survived battles.
 
All they had to do was change size and fly away.

Rugar had no such options.
 
He actually had to disguise himself, one of the reasons a Visionary never went into battle.

He carried a knife in the pocket of his robe.
 
It destroyed the line, but with his hand inside, he could cup the sheath and use his arm to hide the weapon.
 
He knew his luck would have to be excellent in order for him to make it all the way to the nursery without being caught.

The way out was easy.
 
The tip of the blade to the baby's throat, shouted threats, and lots of speed.
 
He would be away in no time.

No.
 
The difficult moments were these.

He decided to go the way he knew.
 
He rounded the stable.
 
One of the grooms watched him pass, a frown on his face.
 
The groom had a familiar look to him, but Rugar didn't spend much time glancing at him.
 
Too dangerous.
 
Much too dangerous.

The groom did nothing though.
 
Rugar went beyond him.
 
The path round to the far side of the palace.
 
So far only some of the doors he had seen had guards on them.
 
Others didn't.
 
The kitchen door was wide open, with heat pouring out, and no one guarding the entrance at all.
 
Rugar had avoided it, however, because he thought an Aud might be suspicious, even there.

He had his story ready.
 
He had a message from the Rocaan for the King.
 
Rugar remembered from all those years before that Auds brought messages from the Rocaan.
 
A young Aud had brought him a message five years before, telling him to meet with the Old Rocaan.
 
That was the meeting in which the Old Rocaan died.

No guards stood in front of the doors leading to the coronation hall.
 
The hall was tucked way back in the courtyard, so far from the main gate as to be considered impenetrable.
 
The head of the guards probably thought this place needed no protection either.

The head of the guards was wrong.

Rugar tried the doors.
 
They were unlocked.
 
He pulled on the handles and let himself in.
 
The air in the palace was warmer than it had been outside and it smelled stale.
 
The corridor was full of dust.
 
No one had been here since Jewel died.

He walked through the narrow hallway.
 
The first time he had come through here, he had marveled at the marble floors, the ornate trim, the obvious expense someone had gone to build this place that was used only once a generation.
 
He had been right to come to Blue Isle in that regard: the rumors of wealth had been true.

It had been all the other things he had been wrong about.

His Vision was really gone.
 
He had admitted that completely to himself with Jewel's death.
 
He should have been able to see that, as well as his granddaughter's birth.
 
He should have foreseen the initial defeats and the traps that this Isle held.

But he had seen none of it.

And Gift was refusing to help him.