Fey 02 - Changeling (116 page)

Adrian ran back across the road.
 
Coulter was chewing on a blade of grass, staring back in the direction they came.
 
When Adrian touched his shoulder, Coulter started.
 
His eyes widened for a moment and slowly filled with his personality.

"What were you doing?" Adrian asked.

Coulter swallowed.
 
"Checking my Links.
 
Seeing if I can still Send."

Adrian understood the importance of the connection.
 
Coulter had used his Link after Shadowlands stopped shaking to determine if Gift was all right.
 
He was.
 

"You coming?" Adrian asked.

Coulter shrugged.
 
"Looks like you don't need me no more."

"Because of Luke?" Adrian asked.

Coulter nodded.
 
Once.
 

"Coulter," Adrian said, "he's my son, but he's lived without me for five years.
 
You and I, we've relied on each other that long.
 
I'm not going to trade my relationship with you for my relationship with him."

Coulter kicked at the dirt beside the road.
 
His pants were so dirty that they looked as if they were made from mud.

"I want you to stay with me.
 
I wouldn't have brought you this far otherwise."

"But you love him better."

Adrian glanced at Luke.
 
Luke was a man now, no longer the uncertain boy who had been in Shadowlands.
 
Coulter, for all his bravado, was still a child.
 
A brilliant, talented child, but a child nonetheless.

"I love him," Adrian said.
 
"But I love you too.
 
It would break my heart if you leave now."

"Gift needs me," Coulter said.

"They'll kill you in Shadowlands."

Coulter bit his lower lip.
 

"The Link remains, doesn't it?" Adrian asked.

Coulter nodded.
 
"I can reach him," Coulter said.

"Then that should be enough.
 
If Gift needs you, he'll reach you.
 
You can stay here until that happens."

Coulter still hadn't said anything.
 
Adrian slipped his arm around the boy's shoulder and pulled him close.
 
"Don't leave," Adrian whispered.
 
"I'd miss you.
 
I haven't been here for a long, long time.
 
I'm as much a stranger as you are."

Coulter looked up at him, surprise on his face.
 
"You're scared?" Coulter asked.

"Terrified," Adrian said.

Coulter grinned.
 
Then he glanced across the road.
 
Luke and Scavenger were talking.
 
Actually, Scavenger was talking, his hands waving as he explained something, probably his own history and why he was trustworthy.
 
Luke was listening intently.
 
Adrian smiled.
 
He had to give his son credit.
 
No matter what he had gone through, Luke was still willing to give a Fey a chance.

"Come on," Adrian said.
 
He took Coulter's hand.
 
"Let's go home."

Together they crossed the road and walked down the incline toward the farm.
 
With each step, Adrian felt his old self returning.
 
He couldn't wait to put his hands in the soil, to plant the new crop, to feel the sun on his back.
 

He had a boy to raise.
 
He had to get reacquainted with his son.
 
And he had to force his family to get used to a Fey.
 
But he could do it.
 
In the air, and the sunshine, away from the shadows, he could do anything he wanted.

SEVENTY-TWO

Gift put his hands over his ears.
 
He hunched down and closed his eyes.
 
He didn't want to hear any more.
 
He wished they would all go away.

Ever since he fixed the Shadowlands, all the grownups had come to him with questions, just like they used to go to his grandfather.
 
Gift had left the Domicile and had gone back to his cabin.
 
It wasn't badly damaged by the near collapse.
 
Only a few boards had fallen off the walls.
 
His father had stuffed the holes with rags.
 

A fire burned in the grate next to Gift and it provided the only warmth in the room.
 
His mother was stretched out on pillows beside him, and his father was manning the doors.
 
The Healers had let his mother come home because they needed the space for all the Fey injured in the Collapse.
 
Almost fifty Fey hurt, and another fifteen died in that short span of time.

The Shaman said that she was sure it meant that Gift's grandfather had died.
 
He had never returned from his trip, and now the Fey were acting like Gift was in charge.

The only one who wasn't was his father.
 
Gift had asked that everyone leave him alone.
 
His father had let in that Spell Warder, Touched.

Touched wore a bandage over the side of his face, half covering his eye.
 
Apparently some wood sliced his cheek open, and bits of the sky had bruised his arms.
 
Unlike some Fey, though, he didn't let that stop him.
 
He was going back to work.

Unfortunately, his work meant bothering Gift.

"Gift," he said, crouching down and prying Gift's hands away from his ears.
 
"I know you and Coulter are friends.
 
I want you to tell him to come back."

"It makes sense, Gift," his father said.
 
"Coulter will know how to stop those Islanders."

Gift didn't understand all this stop and prevent and keep them away stuff.
 
The only Islanders he had ever seen were Coulter and Adrian.
 
He had seen some on his Link journey, and one of the ones he had seen was his real father.
 

"Coulter doesn't want to come back," Gift said.
 
That much he understood.
 
That much he knew.
 
Coulter liked the Outside.
 
He said it was pretty.
 
He asked Gift to visit sometime.
 
What Coulter didn't know was that Gift had been visiting the Outside his whole life --without leaving Shadowlands.

"We need him," Touched said.

Gift pulled his hand free and clapped it over his ear.
 
"No."

He could still hear through his hands.
 
But the symbolism worked.
 
His father said softly to Touched, "I think you'll have to try again later."

Touched stood.
 
"That's what you said the last time.
 
Can't you make him understand — ?"

"He's still a child."
 
His mother spoke softly, tiredly, as if each word were an effort.
 
"It seems clear to him.
 
And frankly, I think it is.
 
What you and Rotin did to that boy in the Warders cabin would frighten anyone away for good.
 
Even if you bring him back he won't help."

Gift frowned.
 
Help? Help with what?
 
That was the thing they never explained.
 
They said that Coulter could stop some poison, but Gift had never seen that poison.
 
Then they said that poison had killed his real mother — and that had been icky — but Gift had a better answer than bringing Coulter back.
 
Never get near a black robe.
 
Never leave Shadowlands.
 
Then no one needed to stop the poison.
 
The poison wouldn't get to them.

Gift's father said it wasn't that easy, but Gift wondered.
 
They weren't explaining everything to him, and until he understood, he would listen to Coulter.
 
Coulter had saved his life.

Touched put a hand on his head.
 
Gift moved away.

"Gift," Touched said very loud, "please let me talk to you."

"No!" Gift said.
 
He was done with this.
 
He had saved them, like the Shaman said, and now they wanted more.
 
When they found more holes in Shadowlands, he fixed them.
 
When they asked for a new way to open the Circle Door, he found it.
 
He was tired.
 
He hadn't had a nap in days, and he wanted to talk to his mom.
 
She still seemed really sick and he was worried about her, even though everybody said she was getting better.

"Gift," his father said.
 
"Please."

"No!" Gift said.
 
"Go away."
 
Gift stood up.
 
The only way he would get what he wanted was to be bad.
 
He hated it when no one listened to him.
 
Even when he was important no one listened. But they would listen now.
 

He took his hands off his ears, looked up at Touched, and screamed, "Get out!"

"Gift …" His mother sounded disappointed in him.

Gift didn't care.
 
"Get out! Get out! Get out!"

Touched took his hand off Gift's head. "I wish you'd listen Ñ"

"No!" Gift yelled.
 
"Get out!"

Touched shot a glance at Gift's father, who shrugged.
 
Then Touched opened the door and left.
 
Gift's father closed the door and leaned on it.

"That was wrong, Gift."

Gift shook his head.
 
"You guys are wrong.
 
You tell me to listen.
 
I did listen.
 
I said no.
 
He didn't listen."

"But if Coulter comes back," his father said, "then he'll help us."

"No, he won't," Gift said. "He likes those people.
 
He says it's pretty out there."

His mother propped herself on one elbow.
 
Some color had returned to her face, but there were still deep shadows under her eyes.
 
"You've talked to him?"

Gift nodded.
 
"He wanted to know if I was all right.
 
And then he wanted to know if he could still talk to me when I was far away."
 
Gift made it sound simple, but it wasn't.
 
Coulter had let him look through Coulter's eyes at the new place, the small square building amid all the dark brown.
 
The sky was blue and the air smelled sharp, unlike anything Gift had ever experienced before.
 
Adrian and a yellow-haired man were hugging and laughing and they looked really happy.
 
A Fey was standing with them, and he seemed safe.
 
Gift couldn't understand why everyone here made things seem so difficult.