Isle of Winds (The Changeling Series Book 1) (5 page)

“Okay. I see,” said Robin, who honestly didn’t. “But what am I supposed to unlock? This inheritance, what is it?”

Irene looked thoughtful. “The answer to all our problems, I hope,” she said. “Or the cause. It remains to be seen.”

Robin didn’t think this was a very good answer.

“All you need to understand for now is this,” she said. “You are very young, Robin, and through no particular fault of your own, you are very important to a lot of people. Your grandmother knew this, though she never told you. She was a very clever woman, no matter what a lot of people thought. She was able to keep you … safe. For twelve long years, which is no mean feat. I can do the same here, at Erlking. That is within my remit. That will have to do for now.”

She patted his knee, which seemed, from a lady such as herself, quite a forced and unnatural show of affection. “No more questions about all that now though. You have enough on your mind settling in here.”

Robin wanted to protest. He wanted to know about Mr Moros, and all this lock and key business, and most importantly why Aunt Irene thought he needed to be kept safe.

“You seem to have been taken under young Henry’s wing,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. “He’s a good sort. A complete dunderhead, and he doesn’t always act too bright, but it is probably good for you to have someone close to your own age to knock about with.”

Robin nodded.

“In the morning, you shall meet the rest of us. Hestia, my housekeeper, who will no doubt be brimming with excitement to give you the rules of the house. And of course, your tutor.” She leaned back, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose tiredly.

“Hopefully, when he arrives, things will begin to make more sense to you, Robin. He should have been here by now, though I gather he was delayed. I do so abhor tardiness. But I am sure he will clear most things up.”

Robin was not sure he was looking forward to meeting a tutor. He was uneasy with the idea of being taught at home, with just him and a teacher breathing down his neck all the time.

“Couldn’t I just go to the village school?” he asked. “Henry goes there, so I’d already know someone.”

Irene looked at him. “No, no. That would never do,” she said dismissively. “They don’t teach the right kind of things there.”

“Am I going to be taught here in the house then?” he asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied. She smiled a little. “Don’t worry about it. I think you may enjoy your lessons.”

* * *

Later that night, after a hearty supper, he spent a few hours musing around the large study, looking in old books filled with strange maps and pictures. Robin was feeling a little odd about his first night in a new house. It didn’t feel like home at all.

It was only when he was getting undressed for bed and into his pyjamas that he noticed he was still wearing the little horseshoe on the silver chain. He slipped it over his head and dropped it in his top drawer.

A faint howl floated in from the open window. It was long and mournful. It reminded Robin of the noise he had heard outside the train. It gave him goose bumps, so he crossed the room and shut the window.

Or at least he tried to, but the window pane jammed on a set of fingers and wouldn’t close, and a short yelp of pain came up from the darkness outside.

Robin looked down at the fingers on the sill. They were blue. He opened the window again and looked out. There was a small boy clinging to the ledge, hanging in thin air, legs flailing wildly beneath him.

“What are you trying to do?” the boy said angrily. “Kill me?”

Robin stepped back in alarm as the blue-skinned boy vaulted up with a strange, graceful ease. He flipped in through the window and landed softly with a catlike crouch on the floorboards in front of Robin.

He stared wide-eyed at the intruder. The boy stood up and sucked at his recently trapped fingers, glowering angrily at Robin with narrowed yellow eyes. Around his neck, on a black leather lace, hung a small smooth gem, like a misty opal. It was half the size of a chicken egg and glittered in the light from Robin’s bedside lamp.

“Wha—what…” Robin tried. This didn’t make much sense, so he tried again.

“Who … are you?” he asked shakily.

The blue-skinned boy blinked at him.

“How did you get up here?” Robin asked. The house itself was four tall stories high, and the tower higher still.

The blue boy’s tail swished a little. “It was easy,” he said testily. “An idiot could have done it. A moron, a pixie.”

“I saw you before,” Robin accused him. “You were spying on me. I saw you in the bushes! Why are you dressed like that?”

The boy looked down at his makeshift clothing. “What have my pants got to do with it?” he asked snappily.

“Not that!” Robin said exasperated. “The paint. Why are you painted blue? Why have you got a thing stuck in the back to look like a tail? And…”

“I’m not painted blue,” the small boy interrupted. “This is just me.”

Robin snorted. “No it isn’t! That’s ridiculous!”

“Yes it is!” the boy snapped back. “I should know.” He pointed a finger at Robin, who looked far less intimidating in his striped pyjamas. Robin noticed that the nails on the end of the boy’s fingers were quite long and sharp. “What about you? Why are you painted pink?”

“Don’t be stupid!” Robin said.

They stared at one another for a moment.

The boy sighed, and then suddenly dropped into a crouch and sprung into the air. He landed on one of the bedposts of Robin’s bed, perching there impossibly on the balls of his bare feet. His tail switched back and forth, helping him balance.

“You weren’t supposed to see me,” he said grumpily. “I’m going to be in a right load of trouble now.”

Robin sat down, very slowly. All the blood seemed to have drained out of his head. Of all the things that had happened recently, this was the strangest. There was no point trying to explain it away – whatever this boy was, it wasn’t paint and false tails.

“This,” Robin said finally, “… is too bizarre for words.”

“Well, I would have come to see you sooner,” the boy said sulkily. “But I couldn’t get close ‘cause of the ward. I’ve been skulking around in the grounds all night, waiting for you to get rid of it.”

“What?” Robin asked.

“The ward,” the boy said short-temperedly. “The thing you were wearing round your neck.”

Robin looked at the drawer with the horseshoe pendant in it. He looked back at the animal-like child, then back at the drawer.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “… we should start again.” He took a deep breath. “I’m Robin.”

The boy grinned, showing his white teeth. “I know. I knew it. I’m good at finding people. Much better than she is anyway, she couldn’t find her backside with both hands … Don’t tell her I said that though. Boss says she’s the best tracker but I’m better.”

“What’s your name?” Robin asked, trying to stop the creature talking. “And what … are you?”

“Forgot my manners,” he said. “Forget my tail if it wasn’t attached.” He grinned impishly. “I’m Woad, and though I’d expect any reasonable person to be able to tell instantly, I’m a faun.”

“A faun?” he asked. “But fauns aren’t blue. And they have goat’s legs and beards. There’s a statue of one in the garden.”

Woad rolled his eyes in a tired fashion. ”Honestly, what imaginations you have.” He raised his eyebrows at Robin. “I mean, how many people do you know who’ve ever seen one of us?”

“Well … none,” Robin had to admit. “Because fauns aren’t real. They’re make-believe, like … like fairies and centaurs and … and dragons.”

“Ohhhh,” Woad nodded sagely. “That explains that then. I met a centaur once. Nearly gored me to death. Evil creatures. No wonder they work for Lady E.”

Robin counted to five in his head. It was all too strange. Lady
who
? He looked at the blue boy scratching his stomach. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No. I can never be bothered,” Woad replied dismissively. “Too busy, spying on you, making sure you got to Erlking safely, which you did.” He looked pleased with himself. “Mission accomplished.” He put his hands behind his head and lay back on the floor, contented.

Robin peered over the edge of the bed.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why is everyone so careful to make sure I’m safe? And who are you people?!”

“Hasn’t your tutor told you yet?” Woad asked lazily, looking up.

“Told me what?” asked Robin angrily. He was tired of being given the run around.

“Oh…” Woad said quietly. “I guess not.” He sat up, cross-legged. “Told you,” he said, peering intently at Robin. “About whom … you … are.”

Robin was not impressed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, irritated. “I know whom I am – I mean, who I am.”

“Do not,” Woad argued petulantly.

“Yes I do!” Robin said angrily.

“Don’t,” Woad said playfully.

“Yes I damn well do!” Robin said.

“Who then? Who are you, Robin?” Woad demanded, suddenly challenging. “Tell me if you think you know, ‘cause I bet you don’t, and then you’ll look stupid. Dumb as a pixie.”

“I’m … I’m just … Robin. I’m no one. Just me!” Robin almost yelled.

Woad cackled. “You haven’t got a clue,” he taunted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, you brontosaurus.”

“Well, what am I then?” Robin was beginning to find the young blue boy very irritating. “If you’re so clever, you little blue … thing! You tell me.”

“You’re the Scion,” Woad said gleefully.

Robin blinked. “The what?”

Woad rolled his eyes again. “Oh, this is useless,” he said. “I’ll come back after you’ve had your first lesson. Then at least it won’t be like trying to have a conversation with a head of lettuce.” He sprang to his feet energetically.

“Wait,” Robin said with alarm. “You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers!” He made a grab for Woad, but the blue creature was far too fast and darted out of reach.

“Wrong again!” Woad said merrily. “See you later, if you wise up and don’t get yourself eaten by skrikers that is.”

Woad jumped onto the window ledge.

“Go to sleep, Robin,” he called back. “Things will make sense in the morning.”

He flicked his hand, the milky orb around his neck flashed, and Robin, who was just about to let forth a string of extremely angry swear words, found himself sinking to the floor. He was asleep before his head hit the floorboards, which it did with a very final and deep thud.

Chapter Five –
Phorbas’ First Lesson

Robin didn’t mention Woad at breakfast the following morning. Partly because he suspected that he’d be carted off to an insane asylum if he did, but chiefly because there was no one at breakfast to mention it to. He had awoken on the floor of his bedroom, with his pyjama top twisted round his throat and one of his buttocks completely numb. He made his way downstairs after washing and dressing, only to find that there was apparently no one in the vast house but him.

In the dining room, there was a place set for one at the end of the long table. A cooked breakfast had been laid out. The plate was still hot.

A note had been tucked under the knife and fork beside the plate. It read:

Robin,

I have been called away on business. I shall be back at precisely 1pm this afternoon. My housekeeper, Hestia, is back, should you require anything in the house.

Your tutor is due to arrive at 11am. I will not be there to greet him, so the onus is upon you. I trust you to make a good impression. And try not to act too surprised, as he is easily offended.

Until then, you have, as always, free rein of the house. Do not get stuck in any chimneys. Do not fall out of any windows. Do not leave the grounds of Erlking Hall for any reason whatsoever!

Irene.

Robin thought this was quite an odd note. He checked his watch as he wolfed down his mysteriously cook-free breakfast. It was already almost ten. He had slept very late and his tutor was due in an hour. He supposed that meeting make-believe creatures, especially extremely annoying blue ones, took up a lot of energy.

After breakfast, he went outside, where the stone fountain was babbling merrily. It must be old, he thought. One of the satyrs horns was missing, broken off long ago. It looked rather sad and dejected.

With his hands thrust deep into his coat pockets to ward off the cold, he looked around for a while, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting. Robin scanned the tree-line at the edge of the forest, but if Woad was hiding in the trees, he was hiding very well.

He circled Erlking Hall completely, discovering a large vegetable plot and a walled rose garden. There was an extremely large and old-fashioned looking conservatory, filled with lots of large leafy plants. There was a vast lone oak tree and a sundial in a shadowy nook. There was a well, covered with a large and, as Robin discovered, utterly immovable stone. But there was no blue faun.

Robin wished that Mr Drover and Henry would show up. He didn’t know whether to tell Henry about his encounter last night or not. He probably thought Robin was half-cracked anyway. But it would be better to have someone to talk to while he waited for his tutor.

His wish was granted in a way. He circled around the great hall to the front door and its tall, imposing columns. A person stood there.

Unfortunately, it was not Henry, or Woad, or anyone he knew. It was a woman, short and dumpy with a pinched, humourless face. Her black hair was scraped back off her face and she had her arms folded tightly across the front of her black dress.

She stared at Robin with such clear disapproval that he almost checked his shoes to see if he had stepped in something.

“Master Robin is it?” she snapped.

“Er … yes,” said Robin, not too sure about the ‘master’ part. “Hello.”

“Well, what are you doing out on the wet grass, you foolish little boy? Do you think you are going to come now and spread mud all through this hall?”

“No … I…”

“Well, you can think again!” she spat. “As if I don’t have enough to do in this place, without clearing up after another mucky, thoughtless little child! Perhaps you think I get bored, is that it? Cleaning windows and hoovering the stairs and washing the dishes?” Her beady little eyes glared at him in barely suppressed fury. “Maybe you think you are doing me a favour? Keeping me busy?”

“No … I don’t think…”

The woman threw her hands up dramatically. “You think this house cleans itself? Do you!? No. I do it! All of it, on my own. And what would happen if I didn’t? Eh? Does anyone ever stop to think about that? No, they do not!”

Robin gave up trying to join in the conversation. She seemed to be getting along fine without him.

“I’ll tell you what would happen!” She pointed a finger at him portentously. “This place would fall apart without me! Then there would be trouble! Yes there would!” There was a strange gleam of manic triumph in her eyes. “They don’t notice when it’s done, do they? No. But they’d notice quick enough if it wasn’t! Quick as a flash!” She snapped her fingers, presumably to show Robin how quick a flash was.

“Are you the housekeeper?” Robin asked, coming up the steps, as she paused to take a breath.

Her eyes flew wide. “I have JUST washed those steps!” she cried. “Look at them. Look what you have done, you horrible, horrible child!”

Robin had indeed traipsed a fair amount of mud up the steps. He looked at the horrified woman, his eyes widening with panic at her expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to … I’ll clean it up…”

“You’ll clean it up, will you?” she snapped. “Oh yes? And what do you think you know about cleaning steps? Have you cleaned steps in this house for the last hundred years? Think you know so much better than stupid old Hestia?”

Robin looked up horrified. The frantic woman looked halfway between bursting into tears and screaming with rage.

“I didn’t mean…” he began.

She flapped her arms at him like a furious chicken. “You never
mean
! None of you ever
mean
! But you still
do
!”

Robin backed down a step in the face of her outrage.

“You will take off your shoes! That is what you will do! Thoughtless child! Take them off right now and carry them to the kitchen and leave them on newspaper on the table! Then you will go straight to your room, and make no fingerprints in the polishing on the way! You will wash and clean and try to look more like a human child and less like a savage. Your tutor is due any minute! Think I want him coming here and seeing my steps all covered with mud? Are you trying to shame me?”

Robin dropped down and frantically unlaced his scruffy old trainers, while the woman ranted above him. He ran up the last two steps in his socks.

“Gone with you!” she cried after him as he slipped inside, mumbling sorrys. “And leave no footprints!”

Robin thought Henry was right. Hestia the housekeeper was a battleaxe, and she did have a face like a spade. He wondered briefly if anyone in this house apart from him was sane. Then he considered that he had spent the previous evening talking to a blue creature with a long tail, and shrugged it off.

He deposited the offending trainers in the large and austere kitchen, but didn’t bother going to his room to clean up. It was only his shoes that were dirty and he didn’t have a spare pair. By the time he had dawdled back to the lobby again, the front steps were gleaming and clear, Hestia gone. He was just wondering where he was supposed to be meeting his tutor when the large grandfather clock chimed eleven.

At the last melodic and genteel ‘bong’, there was a polite cough behind him.

“You must be the young master of the house,” a voice said.

Robin stopped in mid-step. He turned to face the owner of the sudden and unexpected voice, only to find that there was no one behind him. He blinked in confusion.

“You’ll have to do better than that, young Master Robin,” the voice came again genially. Robin spun in confusion.

The hallway was empty. There was no one on the stairs or the distant shadowy landing.

“Who’s there?” Robin called, searching the room. There was no one in sight.

“Your first lesson,” the voice said, so close to his ear it made him jump, “… is to learn to see.”

Robin found himself turning in a circle. “Where are you?” he asked, slipping slightly on the polished floor in just his socks.

“You have to learn to look at things and be prepared for what is actually there,” the dislocated voice said again. “If you think you know what you are going to see, then all you will see is what you will expect … and that would be terribly dull.”

The voice seemed to be coming from above him. Robin looked up, but there was nothing but the chandelier, glittering in the shadows above.

“Close your eyes, young Master Robin,” said the voice.

Robin was at a loss. If this was a trick, he didn’t know how it was managed.

With no other more sensible option at hand, he did as he was told and closed his eyes.

“Now,” the voice said. “What do you see?”

“Nothing,” Robin replied, thinking that this was a very stupid question.

Something moved right in front of him. “What do you expect to see? When you open your eyes?” the voice asked, very close to him.

“Erm … my tutor?” Robin guessed. He couldn’t think who else it could be.

“Correct,” the voice said, sounding very pleased by this answer. “Now of course, when you open your eyes, you will no doubt expect to see a tutor of general disposition. A man of middling age perhaps, with a sour expression and maybe a jacket with tweed involved and leather patches at the elbows, yes?”

“Erm … I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Nonsense,” the voice replied. “It is impossible to hear of a thing without seeing it in your mind. Your Plato had the right of it there. And as I have said, once your mind has made its mind up, you will only see what it expects to see. And that will never do.”

“O-kay…” Robin said. He had to admit, he did have a vague impression of a dusty, bad-tempered old schoolteacher in mind. “So…?”

“So get rid of that image,” the voice said. “Allow it no quarter in your mind, or we will be off to a very poor start indeed.”

Robin nodded. “Okay … I think,” he said uncertainly.

He felt a fleeting pressure on his eyelids, as quick and light as the brush of a moth’s wing, then it was gone.

“Now you can open your eyes.”

Robin did so.

There was a man standing in front of him. Or at least, that was Robin’s first thought. He was concentrating on not having any image in his mind, and for a moment, his vision wavered, a trick of his confused brain, and then there was something else standing in front of him instead.

It looked fairly like a man, thinnish with wild tufty brown hair and a pointy beard. Robin noticed was that the man was not wearing tweed of any kind. He was in fact wearing nothing at all. His skin was very darkly tanned, nut coloured, and his arms and chest were decorated with swirling tattoos in berry-coloured ink.

Fascinating though this was, Robin’s attention couldn’t help but be drawn to the fact that the man’s legs were covered in sleek fur the same colour as his hair and, ending in ivory-coloured hooves which stood innocently and quite firmly on the well-polished floor.

The final thing Robin noticed, when he dragged his eyes away from the goat legs, was that sticking out of the man’s thatch of curly brown hair there were two small, stubby horns, like large acorns.

The man smiled at him. His eyes were very bright and alert. His teeth were alarmingly white.

Robin stared.

“Very good,” the man said, sounding genuinely pleased. “That is very impressive on a first try.” He held out his hand in greeting. “I, Master Robin, am Phorbas, and I am to be your tutor in the arts of the Arcania.”

Robin stared at the offered hand for a while, feeling a little stunned.

“It is customary,” Phorbas said politely after a moment, “to shake it.”

Robin shook the hand, suddenly feeling very impolite. His was numb with shock. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

The silence dragged out. Phorbas politely waited for Robin to get to grips with things. “You’re a … you’re a … faun,” he said eventually.

Phorbas raised his eyebrows. “A faun indeed! Do I look blue to you? Have I displayed an irritating urge to do acrobatics? No. I am a son of Pan. A satyr. The two are quite,
quite
distinct. It’s the humans who clump us all together.”

Robin said nothing. He stared at the satyr. This wasn’t really happening.

“Aunt Irene … hired you?” he asked, trying not to stare at the goat legs. Phorbas had released his hand and was walking in a slow circle around him, his ivory hooves clacking neatly on the floorboards.

“Oh yes,” Phorbas said. “I come with excellent credentials.”

“And she knows … she knows that you’re a … a…?”

“Satyr?” Phorbas supplied. “Yes, of course. She’s very bright you see. She would never have the temerity to confuse satyrs and fauns.”

“I think maybe I should sit down,” Robin said weakly. His feet suddenly felt a very long way away at the end of his legs.

Phorbas snapped his fingers under Robin’s nose. “No time for that, Master Robin. Your education has already begun. Your aunt informs me that due to a terrible series of mishaps and misunderstandings, you have no idea who you are, where you are from, or of what you are capable. You have been living in the human world far too long.” He shuddered slightly at this. “Which is most unfair on you. But all can be put right.”