Fey 02 - Changeling (85 page)

Nicholas walked away from Stowe.
 
The hall had a dampness and a chill that came from disuse.
 
These were old family quarters when Nicholas's family had many children, generations ago.
 
Then they became guest quarters.
 
No one had used these quarters since trade broke off with Nye.
 
No guests had come to the palace in years.

"Twists and turns, that's what you're telling me," Nicholas said. "I'll never be able to act in a straightforward manner."

"That's right," Stowe said.
 
His voice was soft, regretful, as if he knew that Nicholas would be upset about this.
 
"The days of expressing your every emotion are gone, Highness."

He was, as best he could without endangering himself, telling Nicholas that he had made a mistake confronting Matthias.
 
Perhaps he had.
 
As a king.
 
As a man, he had not gone far enough.

"I'll never be able to talk with him calmly," Nicholas said.
 
"I won't be able to tell him I approve of his methods."

"With luck, you'll never have to," Stowe said.

"With luck."
 
Nicholas spat out the words.
 
"I haven't had much luck lately, have I?"

"No, Sire."

Nicholas took a deep breath.
 
Stowe was right.
 
Nicholas had to think about Blue Isle.
 
And about his children.

"I like your idea about house arrest," Nicholas said.
 
"Set up a meeting for me with the other Elders.
 
We'll have it here so that Matthias won't know of it.
 
I'll tell them what we plan."

"No," Stowe said.
 
"The fewer who know that the guards are actually prison guards the better.
 
Let's wait until he gives away the Secrets."

"How will we know?" Nicholas asked.
 
"He might tell someone and ask them not to say a word."

"We'll know," Stowe said.
 
"He'll have to talk with someone.
 
We'll have guards on him at all times."

Nicholas shut his eyes.
 
The stinging had ceased.
 
Instead, they felt very, very dry.
 

As if he would never be able to cry.

"I don't like this path," he said.
 
"I don't like it at all."

"I know, Highness," Stowe said.
 
"I take full responsibility."

"We have no idea that we can stop the Fey."

"I'll make certain the guards have holy water as well as swords."

But that wasn't what Nicholas meant.
 
Things had changed with the death of Jewel.
 
Drastically.
 
He felt as if the power had shifted again, and that instead of being equal between Fey and Islander, Fey had regained the upper hand.
 
He had nothing concrete for that feeling, just the nagging emotion in his gut.

Perhaps it was the loss of the Rocaan as the moral center.
 
Perhaps it was all the losses combined.

Perhaps it was him.
 
He had placed his own revenge above Blue Isle, a mistake his father would never have made.

A mistake Nicholas would never have made a few days before.
 
The deaths had destroyed something in him.
 
Something fundamental.
 
Something Stowe was addressing now.

Nicholas clasped his hands behind his back and turned.
 
Stowe hadn't moved from the center of the corridor.
 
The light from the stairwell suffused around him, giving him a pale, shadowy look.

"Lord Stowe," Nicholas said, "You were my father's most valued advisor.
 
I know that, and that's why I listened to you this afternoon.
 
But do not, ever, take me to task again in front of anyone.
 
Is that clear?"

He could barely see Stowe's face in the dim light.
 
Stowe smiled, as if relieved that Nicholas had said anything at all.

"Yes, Highness," Stowe said.
 
"I understand my place."

"See that you do," Nicholas said.
 
He nodded, then continued down the corridor.
 

Alone.
 

FORTY-FIVE

Burden huddled in the tall grass beneath the great bridge crossing the Cardidas River.
 
He and eight Fey were on the Tabernacle side of the river, not far from the Tabernacle itself.
 
Night had fallen an hour before.
 
The air smelled of mud and the ground had a coolness it hadn't had earlier.
 
Tiny mosquitoes and gnats swirled around him; he continually brushed against his face and bare arms.

But he didn't move.
 
He didn't want to be seen.
 
He crouched near the edge of the bridge, invisible to passers by but able to see the road and the darkness around it.

He was waiting for Wind to return.
 
Wind, who would scout out the Rocaan's location, and tell Burden.
 
Niche hadn't wanted her mate to come --she was afraid Rugar would find out and if Rugar found out, she was afraid he would take Gift away from them.
 
But Rugar would approve of this mission.

If it succeeded.

And it would succeed.
 
Burden had planned his small troop with care.
 
He had four Infantry with him, all of whom he had worked with in Shima's troop when he had been in the Infantry with Jewel.
 
Then he brought three Foot Soldiers who were careful, meticulous and anxious to be out of Shadowlands.
 
He complemented the group with one Dream Rider who would give them extra protection, and Wind the Wisp who could scout locations without being seen.

This was the best troop that Burden could put together given the limitations of Shadowlands, Rugar's leadership, and the deaths since the Fey had arrived on Blue Isle.
 
He had toyed briefly with bringing a few Beast Riders, but they would actually make this small group more conspicuous than it was.

He knew the Tabernacle grounds as well as any Fey.
 
His Settlement had been across the river from it, and he had stared at the spires of the building every day.
 
Some weeks he went past it, almost as a personal dare, to see how close he could get to the most feared place for the Fey without risking his own life.
 
He had a map that Veil had made for him, and he understood the dangers.

Any Fey seen in the Tabernacle would probably die from the poison.

Any Fey.
 
No matter what his reason for being inside.
 
Especially now.

Lights burned on the ground floor of the Tabernacle, but in the private apartments above only a few lights shone.
 
The moon hung over the river, big and golden.
 
It was still early, but apparently the religious Islanders went to sleep early.

Better for him.

A spark floated toward him on the breeze.
 
It flashed like a firefly, but fireflies didn't exist on Blue Isle.
 
They belonged in Galinas, but not here.
 
Blue Isle didn't even have will-o'-wisps, which presented quite a problem for Fey Wisps.
 
They had trouble masking themselves as anything except fire sparks.
 
And a fire spark this close to the river looked suspicious.

Or perhaps that was Burden's own nervousness showing.
 
No one would even see Wind if they didn't know he was nearby.

The spark landed at Burden's feet.
 
The light went out as the Wisp grew to his full size.
 
He huddled, naked, in the tall grass, his wings wrapped around him for warmth.
 
With his change came the smells of sulfur and smoke.

"He is in the room that Veil promised he'd be in," Wind whispered.
 
His voice had a soft reedy quality.
 
His eyes glowed in the darkness, reflecting the light of the moon.
 
"His fire is still burning near his bed, but his breathing sounds even.
 
He's asleep, or close to it."

"Good," Nightshade said from beside Burden.
 
Nightshade was the Dream Rider.
 
He was twice as old as Burden and bent with the years.
 
His body absorbed light, and he could often pass for a black shape moving across the landscape.
 
Like most Dream Riders, Nightshade could travel in complete silence.
 
His speech was clipped, odd, as if he had learned Fey as a second language which, Burden supposed, he had.
 
"This is the perfect time, then."

"We still have to get across that yard," Amar said.
 
He was Rugar's age and had been in the Infantry since he was a boy.
 
Burden had asked him along hesitantly, wanting experience, but knowing he might not get it.
 
To his surprise, Amar had agreed.
 
On the trip to Jahn, Amar had explained.
 
He liked Jewel.
 
He thought it horrifying that Rugar was doing nothing about her death.

"We have another problem," Wind said.
 
"There's religious guards around the room.
 
One on the balcony, and two in front of the door."

"They didn't see you, did they?" Burden asked.

Wind shook his head.
 
"The one on the balcony didn't notice me at all.
 
The Islander boy left a rope tied to the balcony's edge which they haven't removed.
 
I think it would be our easiest way up."

"The guard will notice us for certain." Owrie leaned back on her haunches.
 
She was slender and strong, but restless like most Foot Soldiers.
 
She rocked on her toes, and hid her hands under her arm pits.
 
Burden was just as glad for that.
 
Foot Soldiers had an extra set of fingernails in the fingertips, thin, razor sharp nails that could slice with such accuracy that they could remove a single layer of skin and keep it intact.
 
There was a magic involved there as well, but he was uncertain of it.
 
He only knew that it was dangerous once evoked --as it was now.

Wind shook his head.
 
"You forget, Owrie.
 
They're not used to us."

"You have a plan?" Amar asked.

Wind smiled.
 
His face looked almost ethereal in the moonlight reflecting off the river.
 
"Surprise always works."

"Not good enough," Burden said.
 
"Let's hear it."

Wind shrugged.
 
"I'll just transform in front of the guard."

"Too dangerous," said Condi.
 
She had been part of Burden's unit in the Infantry, and she was one of the calmest soldiers he had ever seen.
 
"Startle him like that and you'll be poisoned for certain."

Burden shivered.
 
A mosquito brushed his arm and he swiped at it.
 
They were all terrified of the poison.
 
Some of the Fey were so frightened that when he asked them to come with him, they refused.
 
Some even refused the Charm.