Fey 02 - Changeling (81 page)

"I was fourteen," Titus said, "and I had survived my Charge.
 
I went into the Fey's shadow world unprotected and alone."

"You think that gives you a moral superiority over the rest of us?" Matthias asked.
 
"It shows only that they had a use for you alive."

"You see things only as they exist in this world, not as they exist in the spiritual realm," Titus said.

"I see things as they are," Matthias said.
 
He put a hand on the wall and eased himself up, holding back a moan as he did so.
 
He would be sore thanks to Nicholas's moment of temper.
 

"If you saw things as they are, you would know that the King is right.
 
God cannot allow you to live."

Matthias straightened and looked down on Titus.
 
"If there's anything I've learned in my years in the Tabernacle, it's to not second-guess God."

"Yet you speak with such surety of God's hand in the deaths you've caused." Titus stood as well.

"You know I could take your robe for this insolence."

"But you won't," Titus said.

"No," Matthias said.
 
"I won't."
 
He studied the boy for a moment.
 
Titus was shorter than Matthias, and stockier, but hardy.
 
No one would think him important because he wasn't important.
 
"I have something else in mind for you."

Titus wiped his hands on his robe, then shook the dirt from the floor off.
 
Some of the threads hung to the floor.
 
The breeze from the window had grown chill.
 
Matthias was tired.
 
He wanted nothing more than to rest in his apartments.
 
But he didn't have time for that.
 
He couldn't ignore this many warnings.
 
To do so would be foolish.

"I am not certain I will do what you tell me," Titus said.

"Based on what?" Matthias said. "I am still Rocaan."

"But not rightly so."

"You cannot determine the right or wrong of any situation.
 
You are only a Danite."

"I still know what feels proper."

Matthias smiled.
 
"You follow your heart because you're unwilling to study.
 
But now you will have to study."

Titus clasped his hands in front of him.
 
"Why?"

"Because I am going to give you the Secrets."

Titus took a step backward.
 
He hit the altar, nearly knocking it over, and caught it with his left hand.
 
"You can't," he said, finally appearing his age.
 
"I'm a Danite.
 
You have to teach an Elder."

"I don't have to teach anyone," Matthias said.
 

"But that means I'll be your successor."

Matthias shook his head.
 
"I warned you, Titus.
 
You need to study more."

Titus was gripping the altar with his left hand, the knuckles white.
 

"The 50th Rocaan gave me the secret to holy water long before he made me his successor.
 
It was custom among the early Rocaans to give the Secrets to a trusted Aud."
 
Matthias smiled.
 
"Of course, if the Aud did not progress in his studies, he often died when the next Rocaan was chosen."

"That's not true!" Titus said.

"It's very true," Matthias said.
 
"The history of the Tabernacle is full of unexplained deaths, betrayals and counterbetrayals.
 
The early Rocaans were not as secure in their powers as some of the later ones.
 
The practice died out around the Tenth Rocaan.
 
But it was allowed, even encouraged, for the very reasons you're encouraging me."

"I'll check the history before I agree," Titus said.

Matthias crossed his arms, ignoring the pull in his back.
 
"Why, Titus?
 
Are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid," Titus said.

"You're not?
 
You don't want the power of life or death over the Fey?"

"I would never use holy water as a weapon," Titus said.

"Never?" Matthias asked.
 
"Not even if I die?"

"I don't know what your death has to do with it," Titus said.

Matthias was beginning to feel stronger.
 
Titus was right.
 
The binding helped.
 
He could no longer feel the blood running down his back.
 
"If I die without choosing the next Rocaan, the Elders will choose him.
 
What if that Rocaan wants to use holy water to attack the Fey?
 
You have to teach him the Secret, Titus."

"And if I won't?"

Matthias shrugged.
 
"The death of the church will be on your shoulders, not mine."

Titus moved behind the altar, using it as a block between himself and Matthias.
 
"You're a cruel man, Holy Sir."

Matthias shook his head.
 
"A realistic one."

"Why teach me?"

"I thought you heard my conversation with the King."

"Only the parts he shouted."

"He didn't shout, Titus."

"He raised his voice."

Matthias remembered Nicholas speaking in whispers.
 
He would have to see if there were echo chambers built around this room.
 
It was old enough, and it had been used as a headquarters once.
 
Such devices might make sense.

"I will teach you because you are a Danite," Matthias said.
 
"You cannot, even by a vote of Elders, become Rocaan.
 
You cannot kill me for the privilege of taking my power.
 
And one of the conditions of knowing the Secrets is that you reveal that knowledge to no one."

"That can't be a condition," Titus said.
 
"We know you know them."

"I am Rocaan," Matthias said.
 
"You know I now possess the Secrets, but you don't know when I learned them."

"We know you learned holy water the day of the Invasion."

"Did I?" Matthias asked.
 
"Or did the Rocaan say that to reassure the others?"

"Are all Rocaans as devious as you?" Titus asked.

"If they want to survive," Matthias said.
 
"Only if they want to survive."

FORTY-THREE

The boy huddled in the middle of the table, his arms wrapped around his legs.
 
He peered over his knees, watching Touched's every movement.
 
Rotin sat at the head of the table, staring at the boy.
 
She had not had any herbs since the morning, and was clearer than Touched had seen her in a long time.

The other Warders were gone; they had scattered after the meeting.
 
Touched had tried to send for them, but Rotin said she had already done so.
 
He didn't believe her, but he didn't know how to countermand her.

It felt as if she were testing Touched, seeing if his judgment was as good as he claimed.
 
And she was using the boy to do it.

At the moment, the boy, Coulter, seemed very small and powerless.
 
He hadn't moved since Touched grabbed him and dragged him to the Warders cabin.
 
Touched had been afraid the boy would defend himself in some way, but the boy had done nothing.
 
Still, Touched was prepared.
 
He had all of his guards up, waiting for some blistering bit of light, some elegant piece of magic to come his way.

So far nothing had.

The boy had been sitting on the table for a long time.

"Awfully young," Rotin said.

"So's Gift," Touched said.
 
"They have to have some differences."

"Untapped magic.
 
Do you know what possibilities that has?"

Touched nodded.
 
He knew.
 
He wondered how it was funneled, how the Islander society used such magic.
 
Aside from the poison, he had no idea.

Rotin stood and put her hands flat on the table.
 
"You gave him all the mental tests and he passed.
 
There are others."

"Shouldn't we wait for the other Warders?"

She shook her head in a way that made Touched realize the other Warders weren't going to come.
 
"Get me a pouch," she said.

He had been afraid of that.
 
"Rotin, we need him alive."

"The Islanders don't need an Enchanter."

"He's not theirs," Touched said.
 
"He's ours.
 
Raised here, remember?"

"I'm not anybody's."
 
The boy's voice was high and childlike, but his inflection had strength.

"It would be better for all of us if you worked with the Fey," Touched said.

"Not necessarily," Rotin said.
 
"We can certainly test some poison theories with this little one."

"It's not the magic," Touched said.
 
"We were wrong about that.
 
There's something about being Fey that makes us react to the poison.
 
We lost Red Caps because of it."

"Did we?" Rotin said, her gaze still on the boy.
 
"Or did they take advantage of the situation and run away?"

"I saw one of the bodies myself," Touched lied.
 
The boy gave him a sharp look, the only real movement he had made since he huddled on the table.
 
The boy had heard the lie.

But Rotin hadn't.
 
"You saw one?"

Touched nodded.
 
He wasn't about to lose this boy because Rotin wanted to test poison on him.
 
If things went right, the boy could provide the antidote to the poison.
 
But Touched wasn't about to tell her that yet.
 

She might be jealous enough to block him.
 
Warders were odd that way, particularly Warders who had been twisting their mind with herbs.

"Then I need a pouch," she said.

He swallowed.
 
He couldn't refuse her on this.
 
They had a lot of pouches left from the battles years before.
 
The pouches contained blood, skin and muscle from the dead; some from Fey, some from Islanders.
 
The matter was used in spell-making, in power expansion, and in experimentation.
 
They had used some with the poison, but discovered what they already knew:
 
Fey skin melted and transformed in the poison.
 
Islander skin did not.