Fey 02 - Changeling (62 page)

Enchanters were the most powerful, the most feared of the Fey.

"All right," Rugar said slowly.
 
"The quicker we resolve this, the better."
 
He walked down the steps with the purpose he appeared to have regained.
 

Touched got up and followed him.
 
Touched was thinner than Rugar and younger, but at the moment, the older man led him.
 
They made their way to the Domicile.
 
Rugar bade Touched wait, and Rugar went in.

Touched hadn't expected the Domicile.
 
He had thought they were going to the Wisps' cabin.
 
The Domicile made him nervous.
 
The size of the building was intimidating, and its multitudinous rooms were full of Fey he didn't know or like.
 
The Healers' section up front always made him feel uncomfortable and inadequate, as if he couldn't quite measure up to the gentle part of his art.

He had never been able to do Domestic spells, although they were supposed to be the easiest of all the spells, the most logical.
 
Perhaps because of how he was raised, and because of his early friendships, "easy" tasks were never easy for him.
 
But he could weave wonderful labyrinthian spells, perfect for Enchanters or other Warders.

Enchanter Spells are easy for all of us, boy,
Caseo had said.
 
They fill in the gaps for us, make spells that are awkward seem elegant.

Perhaps.
 
Or perhaps that was Caseo's jealousy speaking.
 
Perhaps Enchanter spells were more difficult than the others.
 
Perhaps Touched had had a skill Caseo hadn't.

It would come into play now.

The door opened.
 
Rugar came out.
 
Touched moved to one side so that he could see Gift with a new perspective. But Gift did not follow Rugar.

Coulter did.

The Islander boy.

Touched frowned.
 
The Islander boy.
 
When had he first felt that Enchanter signature?
 
When Solanda brought Coulter into camp?
 
Was it that long ago?
 
If it was, the signature had been so faint that no one else had felt it.

Faint because the sender was a baby?

"It's not possible," Touched said to Rugar.

Rugar nodded.
 
"Perhaps we've underestimated them all along."

Touched crouched in front of the boy.
 
He had never really looked at Coulter before.
 
Coulter did not hide behind Rugar's leg as most children would have done.
 
He stood and stared at Touched as if Touched were the one being judged.

Coulter was shorter than a child should have been at — what? — five?
 
six?
 
His hair was the pale blond that Touched had only seen in the Islanders.
 
His eyes were an ice blue, and they were round.
 
His eyebrows didn't rise like wings, they hugged the bone over the eye and turned downward, toward his fat cheeks.
 
His nose was small and stubby, his lips pink and full, and his ears had rounded, not pointed tips.
 
If he had any Fey blood at all, it was buried in all his Island ancestry.

Fey blood told.
 
Not a single race had mingled with the Fey without obvious change.
 
Even Gift, whose father was as blond and icy-eyed as Coulter, had dark skin, upraised brows, and ears whose tips pointed slightly.

"It's not possible," Touched said again.

Coulter frowned at him.
 
Something in the boy's eyes made Touched peer deeper.
 
No gold rims to the pupils.
 
This was not even a Doppelgänger.
 
This was a real Islander child.

Touched cast through his brain, remembered the Enchanter spells he had been taught.
 
Warders, like Enchanters, had a facility for all nature of spells.
 
Unlike Enchanters, however, Warders had a limited range and ability with them.
 
Warders could not actually use the spells to good or long effect.
 
Warders could, though, develop more spells.
 
No other Fey could do that, except accidentally, as new talents emerged.

Coulter was watching him, mouth a thin line.
 
The boy's eyes were different.
 
They had an adult wariness, and a large intelligence behind them.
 
He seemed to know that Touched was there to evaluate him.

Touched found the Enchanter spells.
 
He sent a small lick of fire across the air.
 
The flame was blue, almost invisible in the gray of Shadowlands.
 
If it hit the boy, it would burn him slightly, and they would have to take him inside to have Domestic heal him.

Coulter's gaze darted toward the flame, then back to Touched.
 
A frown creased the boy's forehead.
 
Suddenly he held up his hand and the flame stopped mid-air as if it had collided with a wall.
 
Then the flame went out, leaving a tiny black puff of smoke.

Rugar had missed the entire exchange.
 
He was still watching Touched, as if Touched were going to say something.

But Touched wasn't.
 
He had deliberately started with flame, something even an Enchanter should not be able to control at Coulter's age.
 
The powerful Enchantments didn't arrive until after puberty.
 
The children had only lines and ties until then.
 
Binders attached to them through which they could send and receive, but never initiate.

Touched blinked, then mentally felt through the grayness for a Binder.
 
One led from Coulter to Gift.
 
Touched glanced at Rugar, wondering if he knew.
 
Probably.
 
This was probably what led him to Coulter in the first place.
 
Another led through the Domicile and to the cabins beyond.
 
Touched did not explore that one.
 
It had the blue of a parental bind.
 
Whoever had raised the boy here benefited from that.

It was the strong blue strands that disappeared out the Circle Door that Touched traced for a moment.
 
These strands were old, a path laid for someone who had not — or could not — follow them.

"How old were you when you came to Shadowlands?" Touched asked.

Coulter started.
 
He had not expected Touched to speak aloud.
 
Had he felt Touched's presence on his Binders?

"Since I could walk."
 
The boy's voice was strong and beautiful.
 
With his Binding sight, Touched could see sparkles along the edge of the boy's mouth.
 
He had Charm as well.

These skills were too developed for a child.

"Solanda brought him here," Rugar said.
 
"He was little more than a toddler."

Touched ignored Rugar.
 
He didn't want Rugar's answers, he wanted Coulter's.

"Who taught you spells?" Touched asked.

"No one," Coulter said.
 
"You all think I'm not like you."

"You look different," Touched said.

"Doesn't mean I am."

—Ah, but you are,
Touched sent the message to the boy in a flicker of light.
 
The light left a small trail between them.

Coulter blocked the light as easily as he had blocked the flame.
 
When the light went out, Touched felt a small tug on his forehead.
 
The boy had tweaked him.
 
Purposely.

"Either you let me in voluntarily," Touched said, "or I find a way in on my own."

Coulter jutted out his lower lip and shook his head.
 
The movement was slight.
 
Touched wasn't even certain that Rugar saw it.

The boy was defended.
 
That's why the flames didn't go past him, why the light broke around him as if he were wearing a shield.
 
He was wearing a shield. All over.

But he was a child.
 
He had probably forgotten to shield one place.

Touched sent a new message —
Who helps you?
— and had the light drill a hole in the ground in front of Coulter's feet, then bend up and touch his toes.
 
Coulter tried to send his shield down, but too late.
 
The message went in.

Coulter frowned.

Then the air shimmered around him, and a bolt of light shot from his forehead.
 
Touched didn't even have time to put up his hands to ward it off.
 
The light beam hit him with the force of ten men and knocked him backwards.
 
The air left his body, and as he gasped for air, he felt rather than heard Coulter's response.

No one helps me.
 
No one ever helped me.
 
No one ever will.

The boy turned and ran up the stairs.
 
He let himself into the Domicile, the door slamming behind him.

Rugar started to go after him but Touched grabbed his leg.
 
Rugar looked down and Touched shook his head.

Touched took several deep breaths.
 
Rugar crouched beside him.
 
"You all right?"

Touched nodded.
 
He rubbed his head, amazed that it didn't ache.
 
The boy had deliberately hit him with that force.
 
Deliberately and yet gently.

But not all his skills were in place.
 
If they were, he would have known that Touched and Rugar needed to see him.
 
He wouldn't have been caught off guard, and he would never have allowed Touched to get the better of him.

The boy had power, but not all of it was ready for use.
 

When the boy became a man, he would be astonishingly talented.
 
Perhaps the most talented Enchanter the Fey had ever seen.

Only he wasn't Fey.

Now Touched was getting a headache, but it had nothing to do with the bolt of light Coulter had sent to him.

"He must have developed young," Touched said.
 
"There's no way he can be Islander."

Rugar had a hand behind Touched's back.
 
"I remember when he arrived here.
 
Solanda brought him.
 
His parents were killed during the First Battle For Jahn.
 
They were Islander.
 
An elderly woman took him from the Foot Soldiers and hid him away in a village.
 
But he had left a trail for the parents to follow. Solanda followed it instead, and brought him here.
 
The Domestics did everything when they saw he had some magic.
 
But he never proved to be Fey.
 
Not ever."

"Why didn't you know he was this powerful until now?"
 
Touched's head was spinning.
 
An Enchanter. An Islander Enchanter.

"He never called attention to himself.
 
I had forgotten he was here," Rugar said.
 
"Then he saved Gift's life."

Touched knew that Gift nearly lost his life when Jewel died, but he hadn't heard how Gift survived.