Fey 02 - Changeling (99 page)

He cringed as that portion of the Words Written and Unwritten rose unbidden in his mind.
 
That was what Burden had said in a different way — that Matthias was just like the thing he hated.

The foot traffic on the bridge was heavy this morning; women crossing with children at their sides and baskets on their backs, men carrying tools and pouches.
 
Auds passed him on horseback, not even noticing him, and King's guards rode in the opposite direction, greeting the guards that followed him.

Except for the occasional greeting, Matthias felt as if he were invisible to all who passed him, as if he didn't matter at all.
 

He wasn't certain he liked that feeling.

The bridge seemed longer than it used to, and the walk took more effort.
 
He hadn't walked across it since the Fey came.
 
He had ridden, of course, but never walked.
 
He used to enjoy the bridge — its masterful engineering, the wide wooden surface that the bridgeworkers kept clean and in good repair.
 
He had forgotten the view, how the waters of the Cardidas sparkled below him, how the sun felt warm against his head and shoulders.
 
Since the Fey had come, his life had been the Tabernacle, being Rocaan, and defeating them.

Sometimes he felt as if he were the only person who concentrated on defeating them instead of accepting them.
 
No one else seemed to realize that the Fey wouldn't stop with acceptance.
 
They wouldn't stop until the entire Isle was theirs.

Demons.
 
Evil, evil demons.

Just like he was.

If Burden was right, if Matthias's desire had somehow changed the purpose of holy water, then he would be responsible for all the deaths.

Every single Fey death since the Invasion.

He shook his head as if he could dislodge the thought.
 
A woman leading a little girl carefully across the boards frowned at him.
 
He probably seemed crazy.
 
He felt crazy.
 

He was terrified.
 
Now that the old Rocaan was dead, he had no one to talk with, no one to confide in, no one who believed in him.
 
He didn't even believe in himself.

When he reached the other side of the river, he glanced down the forked road.
 
To his left was the remains of the Settlement.
 
The buildings were already falling down.
 
The Fey who had moved there hadn't known much about carpentry.
 
They hadn't known much about living like Islanders.
 
Perhaps that was why they conquered, because they couldn't do so many mundane things on their own.

The shops weren't yet open.
 
Some children played in the cobblestone street, and a dog sniffed at the side of the road.
 
He missed the cats.
 
At least Nicholas had changed that edict.
 
Matthias had come to believe it extreme.
 
God's creatures were God's creatures.

Except when they were Fey.

He took the road that wound behind the palace.
 
As he got closer to the palace, the guards moved closer to him.
 
He suspected they weren't protecting him, but protecting Nicholas.
 
Even the guards assigned to him didn't trust him any more.

He didn't even glance at the palace.
 
Instead he walked to the keep.
 
It was located at the back of the guards' quarters on the other side of the palace gate.
 
The keep itself was isolated from the rest of the city by a row of trees, planted in a square around the building.
 
Guards stood inside the grove, watching the entrances any time there was a prisoner.
 

The building was also square and made of whitewashed stone.
 
It had no windows, and the doors were reinforced with iron.
 
Matthias had last been inside as a Danite, when it was his duty to minister to the condemned.
 

Decades ago.

The two guards before the main entrance blocked it as he approached.

"I would like to see the prisoner," Matthias said.

The first guard, a stocky man barely twenty, shook his head.
 
"I'm sorry, Holy Sir.
 
We have orders that no one is allowed to see him."

They all knew who Matthias was talking about, even though he was certain there were other prisoners inside.
  
He wanted to see Burden.
 
They weren't done with their discussion yet.
 
He had to get Burden's words out of his mind.

"You'll refuse him religious counsel?" Matthias asked.

"Our orders are from the top," the guard said.
 
"He's not to be bothered."

"I will see him," Matthias said.
 
"By law, only the King can overrule me.
 
Are your orders from King Nicholas?"

The young guard glanced at his companion.
 
The other guard shrugged.
 
"The head of the guards told us that no one could enter," he said.

Monte.
 
He wasn't even a lord, although he was accorded equal status.
 
"Then I may enter," Matthias said.

The young guard held out his hand, both blocking and supplicating Matthias.
 
"Forgive me, Holy Sir, but we have orders that no holy water may be brought inside the premises."

An anger surged through Matthias.
 
He hadn't realized his own plans.
 
Revenge had become so ingrained in him that he went after it without a thought.

But he could go in without the holy water and still clear his mind.
 
A conversation.
 
That was what he had initially told himself he was after.
 
That was what he would pursue.

He reached into his pockets, pulled out both vials of holy water and handed them to the guard.
 
Then he clasped his hands behind his back.
 
"May I go in?"

"Forgive me, Holy Sir," the young guard said again.
 
"But we have to make sure."

A shudder ran through Matthias.
 
They were going to search him.
 
For a moment he didn't know what to do — suffer through the indignity or to order them to desist.
 
Finally he decided to suffer.
 
It suited his mood.

He held out his arms and looked at the door while the guard patted his sides.
 
The door was made of thick wood.
 
Iron ran along its strips.
 
Unlike most doors in the Tabernacle, this one had no carvings, nothing to make it unusual.

When the guard finished, Matthias put his arms down.
 
"Take me to the prisoner," he said in the most imperial tone he could manage.

The guard's face was flushed.
 
He nodded, clearly embarrassed by the position the job had placed him in.
 
The other guard pulled out a large ring of keys and unlocked the main door.
 
The first guard went inside.
 
Matthias's guards started to follow, but he held up his hand.
 

"I doubt the Fey will attack me in here, don't you?" he said.

They stopped.
 
Matthias turned his back on them and followed the first guard through the door.

The stench made him recoil.
 
The building hadn't been cleaned in a long time.
 
It smelled of urine and fouled clothing.
 
The odor was so strong he could almost touch it.
 

Torches hung on the walls, their flame casting a dim light on the narrow hallway.
 
They were an arm's length from each door, casting each door in darkness.
 
The doors all had narrow slits in them — Matthias remembered that from his Danite days — but he could see nothing through them.
 
He recalled this hallway as being noisy, but he heard nothing now, although he suspected the keep had more prisoners than it had ever had.
  
He had not checked on conditions as the old Rocaan occasionally did.
 
A thread of unease worked its way down his back.
 
A man imprisoned in darkness should cry out at any sound, for help if nothing more.
 

The guard took him through twisty corridors until Matthias lost track of the way.
 
The corridors got narrower as they got older, and the torches were farther apart.
 
Finally, the guard took a torch off its peg, and carried it the rest of the way.
 
Using his own ring of keys, the guard unlocked the heavy oak door and went inside.

This room didn't smell as strong as the hallway. Very few prisoners had been kept here.
 
The guard went inside and lit a row of torches with the one he carried.
 
The light revealed a cage at the back of the room.
 
The cage was made of metal bars.
 
Hay stood in one corner, and water in another.
 
Burden leaned against the stone wall, his arms crossed.
 
A spark from one of the torches floated around his head like a mosquito.

"Ah," Burden said to Matthias in Islander.
 
"Your curiosity bested you."

The words struck home.
 
Matthias did not respond.
 
He didn't know what he could say without sounding defensive.
 
He turned to the guard and took the torch from the man's hand.
 

"Leave us," he said.

"But, Holy Sir —"

"Leave us."

The guard couldn't countermand the Rocaan.
 
Still Matthias felt a moment of compassion for the situation he put the man in.
 
If the Rocaan died, the guard would be executed.
 
If the prisoner died — well, that would depend on Nicholas.
 
And considering how he had been enchanted by the Fey, the guard would probably die in that case as well.

"I'll have to lock you in," the guard said.

Matthias nodded.
 
He had done this a hundred times as a Danite.
 
He was prepared.
 

"I'll be outside," the guard said.

He left, pulling the door closed behind him.
 
After a moment, the lock clicked, imprisoning Matthias just as it imprisoned Burden.

Another spark had found its way into the cell.
 
Matthias frowned at it.
 
If it fell wrong, it would start the hay on fire.
 
Then the spark hit the wall and winked out.

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to kill you?" Burden asked.

"If you could do that across this distance, I would have died in the hallway," Matthias said. "You need others to do your killing for you."

"Like you need poison."

Matthias shrugged.
 
"It works."

"Only because you created it."

This was what he had come for.
 
This revelation — or this lie.
 
"Every Rocaan makes holy water."
 

"But until you it had no magic properties."

"We don't know that.
 
Until you, we had no Fey."

Burden laughed.
 
The sound was deep and warm, a sound Matthias could like if he gave himself half a chance.
 
He would not give himself half a chance.