Fey 02 - Changeling (16 page)

"No."
 
Gift picked at the rug even though he wasn't supposed to.
 
She hadn't said anything about Grandpa Rugar's statement that he wanted to use Gift.
 
She hadn't said anything at all.
 
"Will Daddy be home soon?"

"No, honey.
 
He has river duty today."

River duty, country duty, sky duty.
 
They were all words that Gift didn't completely understand but that had something to do with his parents' long disappearances.
 
All the grown-ups in Shadowlands had jobs to do.
 
Some of those jobs just kept them away from their homes for a longer period of time.
 

His mother said he was lucky because at least one of his parents remained with him at all times.

Dishes rattled in the back room.
 
The cabin was small compared to the Domicile and his grandfather's cabin.
 
His parents slept in the back room with the dishes and cookware, while Gift had a tiny room all to himself.
 
The cabin was square.
 
The main room, the fireplace room, was the largest in the place.
 
Gift's was the smallest.
 
His parents couldn't stand up inside it unless they turned to light and reappeared very small.

Maybe he should go to his room.
 
Grandpa Rugar wasn't a Wisp.
 
He didn't have wings.
 
He wouldn't be able to become small.
 

Gift got up.
 
His eyes felt crusty from the tears.
 
He rubbed at them again.
 
The conversation with his mother made him sad, and he didn't know why.
 

"Mommy?" he said. "I'm going to have a nap anyway."

"All right," she called from the back.

But before he could cross the rug, the front door opened.
 
Grandpa Rugar let himself in, and hung his long black cape on one of the pegs hanging beside the door.
 
The cape itself scared Gift.
 
The cape always moved.
 
When he was really little, he thought it was alive.
 
But he had never seen it breathe, so it just had to have extra magic.

"Little Gift," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
He didn't smile or crouch like other adults did.
 
He stood by the door, looking down on Gift.

There was a bang in the back room.
 
Gift's mother came inside the main room.

"Rugar," she said, sounding breathless.
 
"You're early."

"And not unwelcome, I hope," Grandpa Rugar said.

Gift pushed his lips together.
 
He wouldn't answer that one.
 
He wished he had had the extra moment to go to his room.
 
If he did so now, his mother would yell at him.

"Say hello to your grandfather, Gift."

"'Lo," Gift said.
 
He hadn't moved off the rug.
 

"Any progress?" Grandpa Rugar said to Gift's mother, speaking as if Gift weren't even present.

She shook her head just once, a quick uncomfortable movement.

"This is so odd," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
"Mixed children usually display sooner than this."

"We don't use that phrase," his mother said tightly.

"All of Shadowlands knows.
 
He'll have to get used to it."

Gift couldn't keep quiet any longer.
 
"Get used to what?"

"Your heritage, boy," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
Then he crouched and held out his long slender hands.
 
"Come here."

Gift glanced at his mother.
 
He wished he were littler and could run to her, and hide by her legs.

She nodded toward Grandpa Rugar.
 

Gift had no choice.

He walked across the rug to his grandfather's outstretched hands.
 
But when he got near them, he didn't touch them.

"I don't bite, boy," Grandpa Rugar said.

Gift still didn't say anything.
 
Up close, Grandpa Rugar smelled of cinnamon and leather.
 
His features were sharp and fierce, his eyes glittery.
 

"The child should get out more," Grandpa Rugar said to Gift's mother.
 
"He's too shy."

"You had wanted him clear of the other children."

"But not at the expense of his socialization."

Gift stood perfectly still, unwilling to move closer, but hating this discussion.
 
Already he had made a mistake, and he wasn't sure what the mistake was.

"He's socialized fine, Rugar," his mother said.
 
"If anything he's too precocious."
 
Her voice strangled on the final word, as if she regretted speaking it.

But Grandpa Rugar didn't seem to notice.
 
"He seems shy to me."

"You frighten him, I think."

Gift clamped his teeth together.
 
The last thing he wanted Grandpa Rugar to know was that Gift was frightened of him.
 
"I'm not afraid, Grandpa," he said, although his voice sounded odd, even to him.
 
To prove his words, he reached over and grabbed his grandfather's long hand with his short square one.

The world exploded in color and light.
 
Gift saw a Fey woman wearing a long white dress lying in the arms of a square man.
 
The man had yellow hair and pale skin.
 
The couple looked familiar, as if he had seen them before.
 
The man was crying out in an unfamiliar language.
 
The words sounded like
Orma Lii.
 
Orma Lii.
His grandpa was beside them.
 
He pulled a bottle of water from his tunic and poured it on the woman.
 
She cried out as if in great pain.
 

Gift knew her voice.
 
His mother.
 
And he had never seen her before.
 
Part of her face had melted.
 
Her dress covered her wings.
 
But her hands looked wrong, and her chin.
 

The yellow-haired man said, "
Ne sneto. Ne sneto
" over and over to the woman.
 
She reached for him only to have Grandpa Rugar snatch her away.
 
Grandpa carried her out of the room with the yellow-haired man running after him.

Then Gift opened his eyes.
 
He was lying on the floor, his head resting on his grandfather's booted legs.
 
His mouth was open and drool ran down his cheek.
 

He felt funny.
 
His head felt as hollow as his mother's bones.

His mother knelt over him.
 
She was holding his hands, her eyes small with worry.

"You'll be all right, child," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
"Sit slowly."

Grandpa Rugar supported Gift's back as he sat up.
 
His heart was racing, and he found it hard to breathe.
 
His mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with dried leaves.

"Get him some water," Grandpa Rugar said to his mother.
 
When she didn't move, he added, "He'll be fine.
 
But he needs some water."

She nodded, let go of Gift's hands, and stood.
 
For a moment, it seemed as if she didn't know where the water was.
 
Then she ran for the back room.

"Now," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
"Tell me what you Saw."

"Saw?" Gift asked.
 
How did Grandpa Rugar know?
 

"You have the Vision, boy.
 
It runs strong in my family, but it will be strongest in you.
 
No Fey has Seen this young.
 
But it is important to share what you Saw."

It was hard to think.
 
Gift wiped the drool off his face, hoping his mother would return before he had to answer.
 
"Is this my power?" he asked.

"Yes," Grandpa Rugar said, "and it's the one I had hoped for."

"That was a Vision?" Gift's mother asked as she came back into the room.
 
She was holding a mug, its sides beaded with water.

"A powerful one," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
"It knocked him flat."

"How come it happened when I touched you?" Gift asked, remembering the burn of his fingers as they grabbed at his first Wisp.

"Visions come that way sometimes," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
"The first is usually triggered by an event, but only when the Sight is ready."

"Children this young never come into that kind of power," Gift's mother said.
 
"Jewel didn't get her Vision until she was an adult full-grown.
 
He won't understand how to use it."

"I'll teach him," Grandpa Rugar said.
 
"But he needs to tell me what he Saw."

Gift's mother handed him the mug.
 
Gift drank.
 
The water was cold and clear.
 
It had come from the wooden pitcher, his favorite because it made all water sweet.
 

The water made him feel a little better.
 
"Is it all right that I got this Vision?" he asked.

His mother didn't answer, but Grandpa Rugar did.
 
"It's wonderful," he said.

Gift looked at his mother for confirmation.
 
Her smile was the tight, disapproving one.
 
"Should I tell him what happened?" he asked softly, wishing he could speak to her alone.

"I think it best," she said.
 
"You'll need help with this."

Grandpa Rugar's hand never left Gift's back.
 
His palm was warm through the fine weave of Gift's shirt.
 
"You'll need to leave us.
 
Visions are for Leaders and Shamans only."

"No!" Gift cried.
 
He grabbed for his mother, almost dropping the mug.
 
"No!"

She put her arms around him, cradling him as if he were a baby.
 
Then she rocked him back and forth, her warmth like a balm to him.
 
Her wings rustled slightly.
 
He clung to her, unwilling to let her go.

"I think I better stay," she said to Grandpa Rugar.
 
Gift felt the words rumble through her chest.

"You will not say this to anyone."

"There is much I've kept quiet for you," Gift's mother said.

"All right.
 
Gift, I need to know what you Saw."

Gift clung tighter to his mother.
 
She kissed the top of his head, smoothed his hair, and gently worked her hands under his, forcing him to let go.
 

"Talk to your grandfather, honey.
 
It's important."

Gift leaned against his mother, his fist against his mouth.
 
He looked over at his grandfather.
 
Grandpa Rugar was still sitting as he had been when Gift woke out of his strange dream.
 
There was a small dent on the side of his boot from Gift's head.

"I was in a place I never been and there were all these yellow people," Gift said, the words coming out in a rush.

"Yellow people?" his mother asked.

Grandpa Rugar shushed her.
 
"It's better to let him speak."

"And one of them was sitting like you."
 
Gift inclined his head toward his grandfather.
 
"But he was holding Mommy, and she was hurt."

His mother's body stiffened.
 
He glanced up at her, but her face hadn't changed.
 
She nodded to him to continue.