Fey 02 - Changeling (94 page)

"No, I don't," Matthias said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
 
"At least not for demons."

THE THIEF

(The Next Day)

FIFTY-ONE

Touched stepped through the Circle Door. Shadowlands felt cold and damp compared to the woods, even though he knew its temperature was warmer than the air outside.
 
His bald head was scratched and brambles were stuck in his robe.
 
He had some kind of rash on his arm that itched like everything.
 
And bug bites all over his open skin.

They had found no trace of the missing boy.

Rotin was still out in the woods, guiding a group of Fey on their search.
 
She hadn't listened when Touched suggested that the boy and the Islander took a path other than the road.
 
She said that the boy had never been outside of Shadowlands.
 
The overstimulation would cause him to balk at anything unfamiliar.
 
Unless the Islander worked miracles, he wouldn't be able to get the boy to walk on anything except flat ground.

She was probably wrong.

Touched had tried to tell her that, and as a reward, he got sent back to Shadowlands.
 
To see Rugar.
 
And to tell him that his new Enchanter was missing.

No one sat on the Meeting Block.
 
Shadowlands looked deserted.
 
It mostly was.
 
Burden had taken a small troop with him to the Tabernacle, and Rotin had taken the rest of the Infantry to find the boy.
 
Touched planned, after he talked to Rugar, to get a Beast Rider or two to look for the boy.

Touched ran through the grayness.
 
The Weather Sprites were not experimenting this morning, and Shadowlands looked odder than usual.
 
The grayness had a flat quality to it, the ground, the walls, and the roof marked by sharp corners and a shine that normally wasn't present.
 
He preferred days when they tried to make sunlight or rain.
 
Both resulted in a foggy mist that gave the place a more natural air.

Smoke was coming out of Rugar's chimney.
 
Touched stopped at the base of the stairs, uncertain about this meeting.
 
Rugar had charged him with the care of the boy.
 
Perhaps that was why Rotin had sent Touched back.
 
So that he took responsibility for his own actions.

Probably not, though.
 
She probably wanted him out of the way so that he wouldn't question her any more.

He went up the steps slowly.
 
Rugar hadn't given him an overt charge, but the implication had been there. Rugar thought Rotin incompetent, and urged Touched to take action against her.
 
Touched had not.
 

Now he was following her orders after her actions had allowed the boy to escape.

Although he wasn't certain he would have done any differently.
 
He wouldn't have used the skin to find the bubble, but that was personal preference.
 
He hated using pieces of death.
 
He preferred to use his own mind.

He understood Enchanters.

Rotin did not.

Touched took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
 
A curse echoed from within, then the door opened.

"I told you I don't care what —" Rugar stopped when he saw Touched.
 
"Sorry," he said.
 
I thought you were someone else."

"Obviously," Touched said.
 
He even knew who Rugar thought he was.
 
It was common knowledge that Rugar would not go with Burden on his raid, thinking it a suicide mission.
 
Touched had thought it odd that Burden was willing to risk his life to avenge Jewel, but Jewel's father was not.
 
"May I come in?"

Rugar stood aside.

Touched went in.
 
The small cabin was too hot.
 
The remains of a meal sat on the table, and the place smelled of stale bedclothes.
 
Rugar had been mourning in his own way.
 
It almost seemed that, when he lost Jewel, he lost his fight.

"How's my Enchanter?" Rugar asked.
 
He didn't wait for Touched's answer.
 
He picked the plates off the table and put them in the bin for the Domestics to take care of later.
 
"I've been thinking about him.
 
We might be wrong about his lack of Fey blood.
 
He had been very young when Solanda found him —"

"We were right," Touched said.
 
"Rotin and I did some work with him."

"Islander?" Rugar squinted as he spoke, as if he could see Touched's answer more clearly.

"Completely.
 
Not a bit of Fey in him."
 
Touched's heart was pounding.
 
He didn't want to tell Rugar the rest of it.

"Makes some kind of sense, I suppose," Rugar said.
 
"It explains why we couldn't defeat them."

"Yes," Touched said.
 
Rugar clearly needed the justifications.
  
He was the first member of this Black Family to fail at such a large task.
 
"It also explains something else."

Rugar leaned against a stool he had pushed near the table.
 
"What's that?"

"How he got away."

Rugar clasped his hands in his lap.
 
To Touched's surprise, Rugar didn't shout, didn't even get off the stool.
 
He put one booted foot on a lower wrung and leaned forward.
 
"He got away?"

That tone was even more menacing than a shout would have been.

Touched nodded.
 
"I — that is, Rotin and I — we were experimenting on him —"

"You let Rotin near him?"

"I have no jurisdiction over her, Rugar," Touched said.
 
His arm itched.
 
He scratched it, drawing blood from the rash.
 
"She wanted to test him."

"She had no right."

"She's head of the Warders."

"And I told you that wasn't acceptable."

Touched swallowed.
 
"I'm the youngest Warder.
 
I have no way of getting rid of her."

"You are a fool." Rugar was still speaking softly.
 
He got off the stool and clasped his hands behind his back.
 
"Well, he couldn't have gotten far.
 
We'll let a Domestic search for him.
 
He's probably hiding in the Domicile anyway."

"He got out," Touched said.

"What?" Rugar's voice was even softer.

Touched clasped a hand over his bleeding arm.
 
The itching was worse.
 
"He got out."

"You let him out."

"No," Touched said.
 
"He escaped."

"From the Warders cabin?"

"Yes, sir."
 
Touched let his hand drop.
 
It was sticky with blood.
 
The itching hadn't ceased but he could do nothing about it right now.

"How did that happen?"

"He's — ah, he's very powerful," Touched said.

"He had better be," Rugar said.
 
He paced around the small room, then kicked at a leg of the table.
 
The table shuddered.
 

"We're searching for him right now," Touched said.
 
"We've got the Infantry out looking for him. Rotin is supervising them."

"Rotin," Rugar sneered.
 
"Rotin couldn't find her feet with explicit written directions."

Touched agreed with that but loyalty among Warders kept him quiet.
 
Rotin was still the head Warder, whatever her level of competence.

"If she's still searching," Rugar said, "what are you doing here?"

"She sent me to tell you he was gone."

"Afraid to face me herself, was she?"
 
Rugar's smile was grim.
 
Touched was glad Rugar was not referring to him.
 
"And you were able to face me.
 
She thinks I won't notice that.
 
Well, the boy won't get far.
 
He hasn't been outside Shadowlands since he was a baby.
 
The colors and smells will overwhelm him.
 
We'll probably find him huddled in a patch of weeds not far from the Circle Door."

"I don't think so," Touched said.

Rugar crossed his arms. "You don't think so."

Touched shook his head.
 
"We checked."

"You and Rotin."

"And the Infantry.
 
If he had been by himself, maybe.
 
But your Islander servant was with him."

"Adrian?" Again, Rugar spoke in that low tone.
 
"You let Adrian escape."

"I — It seemed like they had it planned.
 
When Adrian arrived, the boy took them both out of the Warders cabin."

"I'm amazed you captured him in the first place," Rugar said.

Touched nodded.
 
"I don't think he's used to his powers yet."

"Well, he knows them enough."
 
Rugar ran a hand through his thick black hair.
 
"Finally we have answers and the person who could help us disappears."

Touched scratched at the rash on his arm.
 
"I have — I was wondering if we could use a Beast Rider.
 
I was thinking maybe a Gull Rider might notice the two of them better than the Infantry."

Rugar squinted at him.
 
"Your idea?"

Touched nodded.

"Of course.
 
It's the first one that makes sense. All right, we'll get you a Gull Rider.
 
But I expect results."

"You'll get them," Touched said.
 
"We have to find that boy."

"Actually," Rugar said, "we don't.
 
We have learned most of what we needed to know from him.
 
The Islanders have their own magic, that much is clear.
 
Types of magic differ from person to person, and its usage apparently differs from culture to culture.
 
This means that we'll have to treat the Islanders like equals instead of like people we can easily conquer."
 
He dropped his arms and rubbed his hands nervously on his breeches.
 
"It's something we probably should have done from the beginning."