Fey 02 - Changeling (53 page)

"I cannot force answers where there may be none," Rugar said.

"Your father could, and did," Burden said.
 
"So did your daughter.
 
Learn from that."

"You want me to divide this community," Rugar said.

"I want you to get revenge for your daughter," Burden said.
 
"I want you to save our lives."

"Killing their holy man will only create more problems."

"Like killing their king did?"

Rugar stood, forcing Burden to let go of him.
 
But the effort to stand appeared to be all that Rugar had in him.

"If you don't lead, I will," Burden said.

"You can't," Rugar said.
 
"No one will follow you."

"Like no one followed me to the Settlement?"
 
Burden stood as close as he could to Rugar.
 

Rugar took a step back.
 
"I'm the Leader here."

"And they're all waiting for you to do something," Burden said.
 
"Your daughter was murdered.
 
Fey do not let that happen."

"Jewel had a treaty with those people."

"A treaty which you broke before her death.
 
Don't hide behind things you never believed in, Rugar.
 
You subverted that treaty the moment you stole Jewel's child."

"I didn't steal the boy," Rugar said.
 
"He belonged here."

"Without his parents' permission?
 
When he was supposed to represent the unification of both states?
 
The improvement that Jewel sought?
 
I agree with the Shaman, Rugar.
 
You engineered your daughter's death.
 
You did it slowly and over time, probably from the moment you agreed to have her come to Blue Isle.
 
Were you afraid your father would pick her to take the Black Throne, passing you over entirely?
 
That would have been humiliating, wouldn't it?"

"I had nothing to do with Jewel's death," Rugar said.
 
His voice rose.
 
"The holy man killed her."

"Maybe I'm wrong about you," Burden said.
 
"Maybe you have Vision. Maybe you saw Jewel's death from the beginning and that's why you brought us all here.
 
Well, Rugar, what does the future hold?
 
More Fey deaths?
 
A union with Blue Isle?
 
Or is your father due at any moment?"

"The situation here is as it has always been," Rugar said.
 
"We're in Shadowlands, besieged by the outside, and my father is nowhere in sight."

"Because," Burden said, "your father did not believe us worth rescuing.
 
He wanted you dead, Rugar, just like you wanted Jewel dead.
 
It makes me wonder what you want for her son."

"The boy has Vision."

"And so did Jewel."

They stared at each other, breathing in unison, their chests rising and falling together as if they had just had a pleasurable joust instead of a verbal tussle.

"You should get out of here," Rugar said.

"I think I will."
 
Burden walked toward the door.
 
He grabbed the handle and stopped.
 
"But I want you to realize something.
 
If you do not act, I will.
 
The holy man will die, the Warders will work on the antidote, and the Fey will become powers again."

"You can't do that without my help."

"I can and will.
 
No one believes in you any more, Rugar."

Rugar hadn't moved.
 
He was still breathing hard.
 

So was Burden.
 
The anger that had brought him here had not abated.
 
"One more thing," he said.
 
"The Shaman thought your grandson died.
 
You care enough to find out that the boy lives, but not how he lives.
 
Or what saved him.
 
The Shaman thought the boy was doomed without her help.
 
I remember.
 
I was there.
 
Have you ever wondered what really saved him?
 
I would wager the Shaman had nothing to do with it."

"Sometimes," Rugar said through his teeth, "even the Shaman is wrong."

Burden shook his head.
 
"Not like you," he said.
 
"No one has ever been quite as destructive to our people as you have."

TWENTY-NINE

They made him sit in a small room off the Great Hall.
 
Tel rubbed his hands on his knees.
 
The tiny window was actually an old arrow slit.
 
He was in an ancient part of the palace.
 
Lord Enford had promised that the King would be here soon.

Tel hoped so.
 
He couldn't stand being inside Islander dwellings unless he knew that the Islanders had no interest in their awful religion.

He stood and walked the length of the room, from door to arrow slit, then back again.
 
There wasn't much point walking the width.
 
The room was the size of a closet, and the four chairs that lined its walls had the look of old furniture little used.
 
He almost felt like a prisoner, although he knew they had no reason to suspect him of anything.

As far as they were concerned, he was a groom with a story, not a Fey.
 
If they knew what kind of Fey he was, they never would promise to bring the King into such a small room. They would have to stand near each other.
 
Tel could find a knife, leap across the room, and be transforming into the King before anyone realized what had happened.

He just didn't want to.

He never wanted to leave this post as groom.

He owed a debt to Jewel.

He also wanted to do something about Matthias.
 
If Tel could strike a blow against the Tabernacle — a damaging blow — he would.
 
And after hearing about Jewel's death, he knew he could.

The door opened.
 
Tel froze in place, uncertain what kind of greeting he faced.
 
He had seen a lot of reactions this morning, from anger to disbelief to barely hidden joy, and he wasn't sure which he would get now.

Lord Enford entered.
 
He was shorter than most Fey but tall for an Islander, and slender to the point of gauntness.
 
His complexion was an unhealthy waxy yellow, and his hair was thin in front.
 
It hung down his back in a thin queue.
 
No matter how much wealth and opportunity some people had, they still looked as if they would die tomorrow.
 
Lord Enford was one of them.
 

"The King will see you," Lord Enford said.
 

Tel's throat closed up.
 
Enford had come into the room alone.
 
This meant more travel through the corridors of the palace, more chances of seeing someone who might be religious, more opportunities to touch holy water.

"Follow me."

Tel nodded.
 
Enford went out the door, the skirt of his robe swaying, and entered the corridor.
 
Tel had to hurry to keep up.
 
Enford moved silently, but Tel's boots slapped the polished floor.
 
He made himself swallow.
 
He had come this far.
 
He could go to the King.

Early that morning, Tel had awakened with the knowledge that he had to speak out about Jewel's death.
 
He had gone to the head groom, Tapio, who had urged him not to get involved.
 
When Tel insisted upon being involved, Tapio had pointed him to the Master of the House, who had sent him to the Second Assistant to the Lords, who had sent him to another assistant who had finally led him to Enford.
 
Enford had listened silently, left Tel alone in that tiny room, and now had come back with the news that the King would see him.

Guards stood in front of large double doors.
 
Tel clenched his hands.
 
He had heard that anyone who got close to the King got tested with holy water.
 
If they tried that with him, he would run.
 
He would run and then he would lose his comfortable home.

But the guards nodded to Enford and two of them pushed the door handles down, sliding the doors open to reveal one of the largest rooms Tel had ever seen.
 
Ancient spears lined the walls, looking almost decayed.
 
At the room's far end, a throne stood on a dais.
 
Behind it was a coat of arms. Tel had never seen that before.
 

Two swords crossed over a heart.

Curious.
 
If Rugar had known that somewhere in their past the Islanders had had a military tradition, would he have attacked this place?
 

Probably.

Rugar had believed that he was invincible.
 
And, until he had arrived on Blue Isle, he had been.

A man moved in the corner, near the curtains hanging on either side of the dais.
 
Tel hadn't seen him at first because the red of his robe matched the red curtains.
  
He recognized the King — indeed, had spoken to him many times — but something was changed about him.

The King looked older.
 
Decades older.
 
His face was lined, his eyes weary.
 
His hair, which he normally wore in a queue like Enford did, was hanging free.
 
His movements had a quick, odd nervousness to them, as though he wasn't concentrating on anything, even walking.

"What now, Enford?
 
We have the lords any moment."

Enford bowed. Tel did the same.

"Forgive me, Sire," Enford said.
 
"But I believe this groom has something you need to hear."

The King peered at Tel, but remained on the dais.
 
How odd to be in a room alone with the King.
 
There should have been guards inside.
 
Perhaps there were.
 
Perhaps they had secret hiding places, like the guards in the throne rooms at L'Nacin.

"You're Tapio's assistant," the King said.
 
"Ejil, is that correct?"

Tel was both astounded and flattered that the King remembered his Islander identity.
 
Especially with all the trauma and turmoil of the last week.
 
"Aye, Sire," he said.
 
"Tis sorry I was ta hear of yer wife."

The King waved a hand, dismissing Tel's comment.
 
"I trust you didn't ask for an audience to give me your condolences."

"No, Sire."
 
Tel walked down the long runner in the center of the room.
 
He stopped at the stairs below the throne.
 
The King looked down on him.
 
"I came because I saw something the day yer Queen died that I think ye need ta know."