The Changelings Series, Book 1 (16 page)

Hen shimmied across the marble floor in her socks. “Don't you wish we had roller skates right now?” she whispered.

“I can think of a million other things to wish for,” said Izzy. “Are you sure you know where you're going?”

“Definitely sure.”

At the far end of the room, Hen counted the panels along the bottom of the wall. “…twelve…thirteen. This is the one!” She knelt down and felt all around the molding. “Peter pushed it a certain way…like this…”

Click.
The panel swung inward on a hidden hinge, revealing a black passageway.

“Hen, you're amazing!” said Selden.

Hen lit one of the last matches and held it into the passage. Selden and Izzy leaned in over her shoulder. A wooden spiral stair wound up and down, disappearing into darkness in both directions.

Hen pointed to the steps leading up. “Peter said that's where Lacrimo lives. At the very top. And those”—she pointed at the downward stair—“go down to another secret entrance in the stables. That's the only other way to get into the tower.”

Izzy stood up and looked out the ballroom windows. The lowest stars were already starting to fade. “We have to hurry. It's almost dawn, and that's when the goblins said Morvanna was going to take Selden to the Weaver. Our blackbird trick isn't going to fool her for long.”

Selden looked down into the passage and frowned. “Once we get Lug and Dree, we could escape out through the stables. But what if Morvanna comes while we're still on the stairs? We're dead if she catches us on those narrow steps.”

“What if she couldn't get to them?” asked Hen.

“What do you mean?”

Hen grinned like she just found out where their parents hid the Christmas presents. She pulled a small bag out of her pocket and showed it to Izzy. Izzy could smell what it was before she even opened it.

“Blitzing powder! Did you take this from Tom's house too?”

Hen scratched her nose. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you earlier.” She jumped up and ran to the nearest column. She rubbed her palm over the stone and double-checked the bag. “I think I've got enough. I can take out these three columns at the same time. That should totally block this entire wall.”

“Are you
nuts
?”

“No, no, listen to her,” said Selden.

Hen drew imaginary lines on the ground with her finger. “I can set it up so that we can light it, then make it out the secret passage before it blows. We can time it just right so it'll block Morvanna and give us enough time to escape out of the castle!”

Selden nodded. “It's a great idea. You get it all ready, and Izzy and I will go upstairs and get Lug and Dree.”

“Ugh, fine,” said Izzy. “But I'm taking these.” She plucked the matchbox out of Hen's pocket and stuffed it into her own. “Knowing you, you'd get too excited and blow us all up.”

Selden pulled Izzy by the sleeve. “Come on. Let's get moving!”

Izzy followed him reluctantly. As they crawled into the secret passageway, she got one more look at Hen. Her sister held the drawstring bag in her teeth while she made a little mound of powder on the floor.

“You do realize you just put our lives in the hands of a seven-year-old?” Izzy whispered to Selden.

He shushed her and started heading up. The steps were so steep they had to climb hand over hand, like a ladder. The air in the tower smelled old. Izzy tried not to touch the walls. She wondered if Selden felt it too—the fear that the very stones held some kind of secret. Izzy wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

When they finally reached the door at the top, they paused for a moment to catch their breath.

“Are you ready?” Selden whispered.

She nodded. Together, they leaned on the door and pushed it open.

The smell of decay and dust flew in their faces. As they stepped inside, they heard a hoarse voice. “All is ready, Your Maj—oh! How nice! Do come in, children. The Weaver welcomes you!”

Sickly candlelight threw dark shadows around the room. In the corner, a very old man sat on a wooden stool in front of a large spinning wheel. His shoulders were so stooped that his back mounded up behind him like a tumor. He motioned to them to come inside. Izzy clutched Selden's sleeve. The man had six skeletal arms, with one long, bony finger at the end of each one.

“At long last! Someone to admire my masterpiece!” croaked the old man. “Come, come! Surely you are not frightened of frail, old Lacrimo? I so seldom have visitors here, so seldom. For months, I see no one but the flies.” His beady eyes skimmed the room as if searching for one.

“Who are you?” asked Selden, his voice echoing off the walls.

The old man's many joints clicked and popped as he stood up from his stool and walked toward them. “Isn't that a pity? There was a time when you would not have had to ask that question. My name was once known by every fairy in this part of the world. But no more, no more. Poor old Lacrimo, kept in obscurity, his talents hidden away. But no matter. It is not the recognition I seek. I am satisfied that my life's work will live on after I am gone.”

Lacrimo continued limping forward as he spoke. He was a head shorter than Selden, but his long arms had twice the span. “Have you not heard of me, children?” he asked pitifully. “The Master Weaver?”

Izzy clung to Selden as he took a step back. “No, we haven't heard of you,” he said. “And we don't have time to talk about the past. We were told this is where the Changelings are kept. If that's not true, then we'll leave.”

“You heard right, my boy! You heard right!” Lacrimo's eyes danced excitedly. “That is what I am trying to explain. They are here!”

Selden and Izzy looked around the bare room. “Where? Tell us!” demanded Selden.

The old man swept four of his arms to the wall beside them. “Here! Before your very eyes!”

The dark shadows had prevented them from noticing an enormous tapestry that covered the entire wall, stretching from floor to ceiling.

Lacrimo clattered back to his stool and retrieved a second candle to illuminate the tapestry. “Is it not grand? Is it not the finest piece of art you have ever laid eyes on?”

Izzy and Selden stepped closer to it.
Grand
was an understatement. The tapestry depicted a woodland scene of plants and animals. Over a dozen birds and beasts danced in a circle in the clearing between the expertly woven trees. The many-colored fibers were woven so tightly that it looked more like a painting than a piece of fabric. When the light flickered across the threads, the figures almost looked alive. But there was also something sinister about it. The looks on the animals' faces were of surprise or fear, as if they had been frightened and frozen in that position.

“This is the masterpiece of all my work,” said Lacrimo. “It has been the most laborious by far. Just look at how I have captured their very breath within the threads. It looks as if they could leap out of the weaving, does it not?” He chuckled to himself. “But they cannot. No, they cannot.”

Selden went from one animal to the next, looking at them closely. He spun around. “What did you do to them?”

Lacrimo paid no attention to him. He chattered on like a madman, staring at his beloved tapestry. “When she brought them to me, the pitiful little creatures, I doubted my abilities. Oh yes, even I did not believe I could execute such a request. But after years of work, I have fulfilled her wish.
Make the knots tight
, she said.
It must bind them for eternity.
As if I would do less!”

His face screwed up into a miserable pout. “Of course, she never told me she would come from time to time and snatch away their heart-threads. Oh, she says she only takes a few at a time, but it has marred the effect of my work.” He clucked his tongue. “I suppose not everyone shares my artistic vision.”

Izzy leaned closer to the tapestry. She noticed tiny frayed patches at some of the animals' chests where strands of thread had been pulled away. “Selden,” she whispered, pulling him close so he could see. “One of the ingredients in Morvanna's elixir was a
thread
!”

Selden had found a section of the tapestry where the thread was a brighter color, like it had been freshly woven. A shaggy bear cowered with his hands over his head. A white butterfly clung to his shoulder.

Selden turned to Lacrimo. “Get them out of there. Unweave them, or whatever it is you do.”

“Unweave them?” scoffed Lacrimo. “My powers are in creation, dear boy, not destruction. I cannot unmake my work once it is finished.”

“Then you're a murderer,” said Selden through clenched teeth.

Lacrimo put one finger to his heart. “Murder? No, this was not murder, but a sacrifice. For art.”

In a ripple of black, Selden transformed into a snarling leopard. He turned to the tapestry and, with one swipe of his claws, drew a gash through one of the trees.

Lacrimo's shriek rang off the stone walls.

Selden rent another deep cut into the corner of the tapestry.

“No! Get away from it, you monster!” Lacrimo ran to his stool. He looped two bony fingers around a pair of silver shears. Holding them out, he ran straight at Selden.

“Watch out!” shouted Izzy.

The leopard ducked aside at the last moment. Lacrimo lost his balance and fell toward the tapestry. The scissors ripped another hole. He flung them away from him and clung to the folds of fabric for support.

“Oh, my masterpiece!” he sobbed. He clutched at the ruined tapestry, wrapping himself in it like a robe.

Izzy heard a creaking sound and looked up. With each tug, the heavy brass rod that supported the fabric bowed outward on its brackets. Selden knelt at the foot of the weaving, back to his boy form, staring at the madman in disgust.

“Selden! Hurry, get away from there!” Izzy rushed over to him, pulled him up to his feet, and dragged him to the far side of the room.

With a crunching crack, the brass rod tore free from its brackets, pulling out huge pieces of stone from the wall. Lacrimo screamed as the folds of his tapestry fell on top of him. The rod and chunks of stone landed on him with a heavy thud.

Selden and Izzy huddled on the floor until the rock dust settled from the air. The tapestry lay in a rumpled, massive heap. There was no movement or sound from its folds.

“Oh my gosh,” whispered Izzy. “Do you think he's—”

Selden drew himself up to stand. “Come on. Help me.”

Together, they lifted each end of the heavy brass rod and dragged it to the other side of the room. The tapestry spread out along the floor, covering it nearly from wall to wall. At the foot of the weaving lay a small, crumpled heap.

“I can't look,” said Izzy, covering her eyes.

Selden went over to the heap and knelt down. “He's dead,” he said flatly. He stood up and stepped lightly on top of the masterpiece. He walked to the center, where the animals danced in their ring, sat down, and put his head in his hands. “Now no one will ever get them out.”

Izzy walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder, not knowing what to say. The tapestry was dusty, with three huge gashes near the bottom border where Selden and the scissors had slashed it. Even from the underside, it was still breathtaking. When the light flickered, it almost looked as if the fur on the animals shivered a bit.

Izzy's forehead broke out into beads of sweat in the close, musty room. She shrugged off her jacket and let it fall beside her. As it fell, something tiny and blue rolled out of the inside pocket and onto the fabric. Izzy hurriedly bent down to pick up Marian's little bottle. She'd forgotten all about it. The bottle's stopper had come loose. Before she could replace it, one drop of bloodred liquid seeped out onto a woven rosebud. Izzy bent closer and watched as the liquid soaked into the fibers. She could hear a faint hissing sound. She jumped back as the threads surrounding the bud unraveled and it blossomed into a real rose whose fragrance began to fill the dank room.

“No way,” Izzy whispered.

She turned the bottle over and read the label.
Root Revive.
What had Marian said it was for?
Dead trees.
Izzy remembered all the books about magic she had seen on the coffee table in the old woman's house. Maybe there was more to the little bottle than just a country garden remedy. Izzy bent down and plucked the rose free from the tapestry.

“Selden, you have to see this!”

He looked up. His eyes grew wide when he saw the rose in her hand. “Do you think—”

Izzy didn't wait for him to finish. She ran to kneel beside the bear and butterfly. She placed two drops of the liquid on both of their heads. She stood up and stepped back as the drops soaked in. The tapestry heaved upward with a ripping sound, and they both popped out of the fibers onto their feet. Dree and Lug nearly fell over as they Changed back into themselves.

Izzy grabbed Dree's elbow to prop her up. Dree blinked over and over, adjusting her eyes to the light. Finally, she focused on the face in front of her. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Izzy laughed and hugged her tight.

Selden had his arms around Lug, who sat on the floor. “Terrible, so terrible,” said Lug with a shiver. “Morvanna—she wrapped us up in—in spiderwebs!”

Selden blew warm air onto his friend's hands. He looked up at Izzy. “What about the rest of them? Do you think it will work?”

Izzy started with the figure of a little red squirrel with a frayed patch on his white chest. She set two drops from Marian's bottle onto him and held her breath. The fibers hissed, and the squirrel sprung up to stand. With a shake of his head, he transformed into a young boy with a shock of auburn hair.

Selden approached him slowly, like he might turn to dust and vanish. “Olligan?” he whispered.

The boy reached out his hands. “Selden? Is that really you?” he said weakly.

Selden threw both arms around the boy's shoulders. “Yes, it's me!” He stepped backward and held Olligan at arms' length, looking him up and down. “Are you all right, Olli?”

“I—I think so. But I feel like I can't quite catch my breath.” He rubbed his hand over his chest and shut his eyes. After a moment, they sprang open again. “Oh my goodness! Where are all the others?”

Izzy was already quick at work. She did the same to a golden antelope, a turtledove, then a greyhound. As each animal emerged from the tapestry and Changed into their child form, Lug and Dree rushed to them, calling out their names.

“Hiron! Chervil! Hale!”

Soon, fourteen boys and girls stood on the folds of the ruined masterpiece. They ranged in age from younger than Hen to a little older than Selden. They all shared the same bewildered expression. The Changelings with frayed heart-threads were weaker than the others. Their friends supported them until they could catch their breath and stand on their own. Izzy could tell from the tapestry that Morvanna had taken the heart-threads sparingly. She didn't want to think about what might have happened if the queen's harvesting had gone on much longer.

Dree had tears in her eyes, and Lug was hopping from one foot to the other in a joyful dance. Selden stood apart from everyone, watching. That cloud that had hung over him for so long was finally gone, replaced with an enormous smile.

Lug suddenly turned and picked Selden up in one arm and Izzy in the other. “You did it! You did it! Three cheers for Selden and Izzy!”

The other Changelings let out a whoop. They crowded around Selden and alternated between hugging him and jabbing him in the ribs. He laughed as they knocked him around. Izzy laughed too but stopped when she looked up at the tower window. All the stars were gone, and the sky glowed light gray.

“Selden, it's morning! We have to get back to Hen!”

Selden nodded. “Come on, everyone. Down the stairs and don't stop until you reach the stables at the very bottom!” He held the door open for all the Changelings as they filed out of Lacrimo's room.

Izzy followed behind, trying not to rush them. They were moving so slowly, still weak from their time spent in the tapestry. When they reached the secret panel that led to the ballroom, Selden turned to her.

“Do you want me to wait with you until the powder's lit?” he whispered.

“No, you need to go with the others,” said Izzy. “I think they're all still a little dazed. We'll light the powder, then Hen and I will be right behind you.”

Izzy nudged open the panel with her boot. She ducked down and crawled into the ballroom. The panel swung shut behind her. “Hen!” she said as she stood up. “It's time. Let's—”

The words died in her throat.

Hen stood in the center of the room. Good Peter stood behind her, both hands firmly on her shoulders.

Izzy started to run at him. “No, get away from her!”

A hand grabbed the back of her head and twisted its fingers into her hair.

“Not so fast,
sullen girl
.”