13 Treasures (23 page)

Tanya gathered the stack in her arms and set them down next to Red.

“Back to the day you took him. My grandmother hoards newspapers for lighting fires with, and I bought a couple in Tickey End too. There’s a local one there as well as the national ones.”

“Anything in them?”

Tanya lowered her eyes, nodding.

“I’ve folded the pages over of everything I’ve found. There are six articles total, all of them in the national papers… except this one.” She pulled a three-day-old
Tickey End Gazette
bearing what appeared to be a gravy stain on the front from the selection. “It’s not good.” She flicked to a few pages in, then passed the newspaper to Red, who stopped shaking the plastic bottle and began to read.

Her lips moved soundlessly as she followed the words on the page. The article was a short one, but by far the most incriminating that Tanya had seen. As well as labeling Red a ruthless, coldhearted kidnapper, it had issued a detailed description of her from an eyewitness: sixty-six-year-old Rosie Beak, the owner of Tickey End’s most successful teashop and the town’s biggest gossip.

Red finished reading and nodded thoughtfully.

“So they know I’m in the area. What I look like. What I’m wearing. That old battle-axe. She seemed the nosy type, asking questions about everyone and everything. Gossiping with every person who came through the doors. Good thing I left when I did.”

She got up from the bed, pulling the towel off her head. Tanya followed her to the bathroom and stood in the doorway. Red leaned over the basin and began to rub the dye into her hair. For the next twenty minutes Tanya watched her, speaking distractedly of the morning’s events with one nervous eye fixed on the bedroom door. She was fully aware of the terrible risk she was taking by having Red in the room, and of the consequences if anyone should find out.

“So how did the fairies get your hair?” Red asked.

“What do you mean?”

Red stood up straight, piling her hair on top of her head, and then took off her gloves. “To do something on that scale—to enchant your hair in that way—they must have had some of it.” She paused and gave Tanya a suspicious look. “When you brush your hair, what do you do with the stray hairs that get caught in your brush or comb?”

Tanya looked away sheepishly. She did not want to admit that leaving hairs in her brush was a bad habit of hers.

“Show me,” Red snapped. She took Tanya’s elbow and marched her back into the bedroom, where Tanya guiltily pointed to her brush on the dressing table.

Red stared at it in disbelief.

“Disgusting. You might as well have sent them a written invitation!” She grabbed the brush and began pulling Tanya’s hair from it in clumps.

“You don’t leave your hair lying around for them to find. You get rid of it, right away.”

“All right,” said Tanya, bewildered. “I’ll… I’ll throw it away.”

Red shook her head. “Wrong. You don’t throw it away. You
destroy
it. You burn it. The same goes for anything else that they could use to control you.”

“Like what?”

“Blood. Saliva. Fingernail and toenail clippings. Teeth. All the stories of witchcraft, of people being controlled by a witch in possession of a lock of their hair or a tooth—it all stems from the truth. You don’t leave anything to chance.”

From her pocket she pulled out a box of matches, lit one, and placed it carefully in the empty grate of the fireplace. Then, with a flick of her hand, she threw a tangled ball of hair from Tanya’s brush to the flame. It was swallowed immediately with a hungry hiss, leaving the little match to burn out.

“I think my mother has some of my baby teeth,” Tanya said slowly. “But you can’t burn teeth, can you?”

“Anything you can’t burn, you bury,” said Red. “Either in a bag of salt or on consecrated ground. If you cut yourself, burn any tissues you may have used to wipe up the blood along with any bandages or dressings. Don’t lick envelopes. Use water. Clip your nails straight into a fire. Do whatever you can to protect yourself.” She paused. “What did you do with the hair you cut off?”

Tanya pointed to the bed. “It’s under there, in garbage bags. I thought burning it would be the best way to get rid of it—I was waiting for a chance to do it without being discovered.”

Red bent down and began pulling the sacks out from beneath the bed. “It’s not a question of the best way,” she said grimly. “It’s the only way.” She used her knife to slit a hole in one of the bags, and pulled out a handful of hair, which she handed to Tanya along with the matches. “Burn it. Now.”

Tanya threw the hair into the grate and set fire to it. It fizzled and hissed, eaten by the flame in seconds. She reached into the sack and pulled out another fistful, repeating the process, then looked on dismally as Red removed the sixth and final bag from beneath the bed. Tanya gestured helplessly. “It’s going to take hours to burn it all.”

“I suggest you get on with it, then.”

Tanya shoved another pile of hair into the grate. “How… how do you know all these things, Red? How come you know so much, and I know so little?”

Red shrugged. “Most of it I learned from others—

others like us. The rest I learned the hard way—from experience.”

“I want you to teach me what you know,” Tanya said. She gestured to the tote bag of items. “I’ve kept my side of the bargain. Now it’s your turn. I want information—I want to know what
you
know.”

“I can’t teach you everything in the time we have,” Red said. “But I can teach you a little. The good news is that you already know many of the things that are most important. You know about changelings and the link to the second sight. You know a little about glamour. And you know of ways to protect yourself. But to really understand the fairies’ connection to us, we need to go back to the beginning. So that is what I will do now.

“The fairy realm is ruled by two opposing courts, the Seelie Court and the Unseelie Court. The Seelie Court is known to be the most benevolent, or helpful, toward their own kind and to humans, whereas the Unseelie Court is known to be vicious and cruel. Each court detests the other, yet each must tolerate the other in turn.”

“But how can the realm be ruled by two opposing courts?” Tanya asked, pausing to wince after letting a match burn down to her fingers. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“They take turns to rule,” Red answered. “They are bound to honor an old agreement that ties in with a little-known legend. The two courts were once one great court made up of the thirteen wisest and most powerful fairies in the realm. Upon its formation, each leader put forth a special gift of great power that was to be bestowed predominantly upon the human race whenever—and upon whomever—the court deemed worthy. These gifts were known as the Thirteen Treasures.”

Tanya frowned. The words sounded familiar… then she remembered the book from the library. It had mentioned the Thirteen Treasures, but the goblins had scrambled the contents before she’d had the chance to read it properly.

“They were the Halter, a ring that would render its wearer invisible,” Red continued. “Glamour, a mask of illusion to fool an onlooker for as long as one wished. The Light, a magic candelabrum that would never diminish. Next, the Sword, which would allow only victory and never defeat. The
Book of Knowledge
would open to answer any question the reader might want answered. A Key that would open any door, including doorways to other worlds. There was a Goblet, said to bestow eternal life on any who should drink from it. A Platter that would remain full, never allowing its owner to go hungry. A Staff for strength; the Dagger, dripping blood that could heal any wound. There was a Cup of divination. A Heart of courage. And finally, the Cauldron, which could restore the dead to life.

“The power of each gift could be given freely by its maker, provided that the rest of the court was in agreement that the recipient was deserving. From the beginning, one of the treasures caused unease and excitement in equal measures: the Cauldron. Six of the members of the court agreed that death should be respected, not toyed with, and pointed out the chaos it would create if it could be reversed. The remaining seven members—including the Cauldron’s creator—believed that if a life ended prematurely—the life of a child, for instance—then the Cauldron was a way to give the deceased another chance, as well as easing the pain for those mourning.”

Red paused momentarily to check her watch.

“Another ten minutes and I need to wash this dye out. Don’t let me forget.”

“I won’t,” said Tanya, impatient to hear the rest of the story. “Go on.”

“The stage was set for a division in the court,” Red continued. “And it came to pass when the Cauldron’s creator was fatally wounded by an arrow fired by a human. The court split into two. Six members pressed for the death to be reversed, declaring war and hatred upon the human race. The other six refused to let it happen. Without a united decision from the appointed court, the Cauldron, like the other twelve treasures, could not be used.

“Neither side of the court would back down, each believing their stance to be correct. As the division grew, the chances of reconciliation diminished. Bitter negotiations took place. Eventually, a compromise was reached. There were to be two courts, each ruling for one half of the year as they wished, with no intervention from the other side. The Thirteen Treasures remained in the great court, forever unused, for neither court could bring itself to consult with the other to gain a united agreement, such was the intensity of their hatred.

“And so, for six months of the year, one court—the court that opposed the resurrection of the dead—governed the realm and its inhabitants and led them in order, peace, and goodwill. The fey people named them the Seelie Court, for under their rule the earth was as fruitful and productive as it is today.”

“Today?” Tanya interrupted. “You mean—”

“The seasons of spring and summer.”

“So autumn and winter are when the Unseelie Court is governing?”

Red nodded. “The earth withers and dies. Chaos ensues. Banquets are held in which prisoners are taken, tormented, and made to suffer for the court’s entertainment. More often than not, these prisoners are humans who have got lost or been lured into the realm. Most of them never return. Of those who do, few are sane.”

Tanya shuddered.

“Many fairies flee the realm when it is the time of the Unseelie Court,” Red continued. “They fear for their safety, and the safety of their young. The Unseelie Court finds the changeling trade amusing. To switch the children of their enemies—supporters of the Seelie Court and humans—is commonplace.

“Most of those who leave return when it is safer for them. Some of them never return, preferring to stay out of the realm altogether.”

“Where do they go?” Tanya asked.

“They come here. To our world. Where they can live as they please, with their own rules.”

“So… so the ones we see here are the ones that have left their own realm?”

“Yes. Either that, or they’ve been banished by the courts.”

“Banished?”

“For wrongdoing,” said Red. “Those are the ones you need to watch out for. They’re usually the most dangerous of all. Luckily, they’re also easy to spot. A common method that’s used to punish them upon banishment is for them to be cursed with the ability to speak—and be spoken to—only in rhyme. It discourages them from communicating with humans and other fairies. The alternative is having their tongues cut out.”

Tanya grimaced, thinking of the goblins. Now their strange way of speaking made sense.

Red glanced at her watch again and got up, stretching. “It’s time.”

Tanya nodded mutely as Red shut herself away in the bathroom. She heard the faint rush of water as Red began rinsing her hair. The sound continued for several minutes, then was replaced by the distinctive sound of scissors cutting hair. Other than that there was only one sound, and it was that of the changeling’s breathing as he slept.

As Red had predicted, the glamour had begun to wear off. One of the child’s ears had elongated, and the tip was now pointed. His hair had grown at an alarming rate since Tanya had last seen him, and his skin had begun to take on a pale, greenish hue. He had grown weaker, too. He needed medicine, she knew, but it was the medicine of his own people, not humans.

Abandoning the sack of hair, Tanya got up and went over to him, reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. He smelled of baby shampoo and milk. His skin was soft and cool. Instinctively the child stirred a little, nuzzling her hand in his sleep, and she felt unexpected tears pricking her eyes. What became of him depended entirely on Red—and her. Yet he had no idea, no concept that he was merely a pawn in the cruel war between his own kind.

“I’ll take good care of him,” Red said softly from behind her.

Tanya wiped her eyes.

“I didn’t hear you come out of the bathroom,” she muttered. She looked up—and started. For Red did not look like Red anymore.

Tanya’s eyes lingered on the scruffy men’s trousers and shirt. She had bought them cheaply in a charity shop that very afternoon. They fitted Red’s boyish figure perfectly, as did the scuffed brown boots on her large feet. Her long hair had been cropped severely. It was now the color of straw.

“How do I look?” Red asked.