Changeling's Island - eARC (15 page)

She waved a hand languorously. A misty cloud appeared, and then the middle of it became transparent…and Tim could see a green, soft land. A huge pavilion was pitched on it, like a wedding marquee, only bigger than he’d ever seen. There was a long table set there, with, it looked like, everything that could possibly be roasted, from huge platters loaded with a circle of some kind of fowl, with smaller roasted birds speared on their own long beaks piled inside, to whole roasted pigs, and huge steaming platters of meat carved from a roasting ox over the fire pit just outside the tent. The table was full of platters of other things too, bread in twisted crusty loaves, pies, fruit—peaches and apples, huge clay bowls that steamed. On another table there were what had to be desserts. Huge fancy arrangements of tarts and cakes and what could be jellies. It wasn’t like TV or a movie; he could smell the roasted meat, feel the heat of the fire, and there was a sort of real depth to what he saw. It was almost like he could just step into it. And there were people…well, not exactly like any other people he’d ever seen, outside of a movie or his imagination, talking and laughing as they dismounted their horses. They were dressed in bright, rich-looking clothes, clothes that looked like they belonged in a history book. The trousers were weird, and the guys wearing them tall, fair and handsome…but the women were all beautiful. Every single one of them was in the supermodel class. The horses—and the pack horses, which were loaded with different kinds of game—were being led away by little gnomelike creatures with dark eyes.

And then it all faded into a misty distance, and he was standing perched on an underwater rock as the cold sea surged around him.

“That is Finvarra’s kingdom, beneath the mound of Cnoc Meadha,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Time passes differently there, and the vastness of it is beyond any encompassment. You could go there, or stay here and age and die, in the endless toil of mortal men.”

It was crazy…but hard to doubt right now. He had to admit it was sort of tempting. And…who wanted him here? Hadn’t he come down to the beach mad as a cut snake because Mum and Dad didn’t care about him? And hadn’t the thing bugging him been that there didn’t seem much sense in saving to go back to Melbourne…if he didn’t have anywhere to go when he got there? “So, um, if I got this key…how do I get this key?” he asked.

“You would go across to that island there…”

“Prime Seal Island. Yeah.”

“And command your lesser spirit to lead you to the hiding place. The little one can smell it out.”

“Like some kind of spell? Sort of demons and stuff?” Tim knew enough to know he wasn’t going there.

“No. He is one of the little people. You would reward him with a bowl of fine
usque bagh
or mead.”

“What?” Mead was something he’d read about…some kind of drink made with honey, wasn’t it?

“A little beer would do.”

Tim began to connect the dots, from his grandmother’s kitchen…to all of this. “Yeah? And then? I’d want to see this place. Like, actually see it. Not illusions or something.”

“You go to Finvarra’s mound and place the key on the enchanted ground, and it will open for you.”

“Go to…where is this place?”

“Across the oceans. A place your one ancestor fled from: Ireland. In County Galway, near the town of Tuam.”

That was enough to make Tim chuckle, despite the fact that he was out in the middle of the sea, talking to a seal-woman. “You have no idea, have you? I can’t just go to Ireland. I mean I would have to fly, and it costs a fortune, and I would need a passport…”

It struck him suddenly that he actually did have his passport. Maybe this was all intended, all arranged? He’d go and be a prince. A prince in a place where no one would ever know he’d been caught shoplifting, ever been a kid in trouble. Away from that nagging threat of being shamed, forever. And it would be kind of cool to be important. And he hadn’t ever really belonged in Melbourne. He was, sort of, a changeling. Really, he belonged somewhere else. He’d been left here to live a horrible dull life, where he was always a bit of a loser…It was a pity it was so far. It was tempting. Really tempting. “Kinda cool, but I can’t get there. Not for years,” he said, regretfully.

“I could swim you there,” offered the seal-woman.

“No way! You nearly drowned me already. And I’d freeze, and starve. It’s thousands and thousands of miles.”

“Then you could fly in your metal birds,” she said.

“I could. If I was that rich. It costs a lot, you know. And I’d have to fly from here to Melbourne and then to Europe. And they might catch me.”

“Your servant, the lesser spirit of air and darkness, who is now fussing on the beach over there, can bring you the gold and silver from the chests of men. Áed will do what it can to please its master, and the locks and sealed rooms are no proof to the likes of it. Not even cold iron. It has helped you with your wishes before. They always do.”

“Like what?”
What was she talking about? The beer in the saucer in the corner?

“They are not strong, but he will fetch, carry, break, or use minor magics to summon wind…I am sure yours has done so.”

“If it has, all it has ever done is get me into trouble!” said Tim.

She nodded. “There is often such a price on magic selfishly applied. But I can also provide. There is treasure in the ocean. Gold coins, lost long ago, jewels. Other things men find precious.”

It sounded so good…only, if he was going to get out of here, that wasn’t going to help much. You couldn’t just walk into the airport with a bunch of doubloons or something. They’d freak. Probably call the cops. And if he tried to sell it to someone…to whom? He didn’t know anyone he could sell jewels to. There was a guy back at St. Dominic’s who Hailey knew, who bought car sound systems and stuff. But that was in Melbourne. Anyway, hadn’t he gotten busted? “I can’t use that. I need real money,” he said regretfully. “You know. Dollars. I’m earning some. I work for the diver…you leave him alone or I won’t even think of doing a deal with you. I sold the souvenir shop in town some paper nautilus shells I found with Nan; they’ll believe that’s okay. But if I show up with gold and jewels…I reckon they’d take them away from me. Want to know where I got them from.”

“I will send such flotsam as may help you, and many of the shells to the beach here, if you will agree to return the key.”

It might have worked better if she had just talked to him, not dragged him out here. “It’s my birthright, you said. So I’ll decide. And that kind of rests on you behaving yourself. I think you did this to my father…”

“He escaped me, and I never had a chance to talk to him,” she said. She shrugged. “I have waited long. I can wait longer. He fled me, but you won’t. I have woven the water-spell to bind—”

And she abruptly changed back into a seal, and turned away, because coming out toward them was a large, hairy dog, barking fiercely and swimming at the same time.

On the beach, Molly might have thought Bunce was barking at Tim. Tim was closer, and he could see the big head and what he was looking at. It was the seal-woman he was barking at, and it wasn’t at all his usual friendly bark. It was a hunting cry, and the dog meant it.

The seal-woman seemed to get the message and dove away. There was something very reassuring about the huge dog, but Tim knew that Molly would never forgive him if he let the seal-woman hurt her big baby. Tim called him, and Bunce swam over, climbed up on the rock next to him, and gave him an unavoidable lick. Well, at least there were two of them here now. He was still scared of sharks, after the seal-woman’s threat, and it was quite a long swim…best to start in. He kept the knife in his hand, even though it made swimming harder, and headed for shore, hoping there were no currents…or sharks or…He just swam, trying to stay close to the wolfhound. The waves carried them inward. And then Bunce bounced. Tim realized the dog must be touching the bottom, and he stuck his feet down, to find sand. Together they surged toward the beach and Molly.

“Just what is going on?” she yelled. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine. Just wet, that’s all. I, um, went in to get something. And then I got a bit far out. I was jolly glad to see Bunce. He really can swim.”

“You and Bunce frightened me silly, Tim,” she said, crossly. “Why have you got a knife in your hand?”

“Um, I was scared of sharks. There was a seal. It gave me a scare.”

“Are you crazy, going that far out? And in all your clothes, too. What’s your nan going to say?” demanded Molly.

“She’d freak out and ban me from the beach. So I guess I better not go home until I’m dry.” It was a warm day, and now that he was back on the beach, Tim was shaken but felt oddly…triumphant. He’d always sort of felt he didn’t belong in Melbourne, in a flat in Williamstown…without really knowing why he felt that way. But there was just a niggle that said he wasn’t sure he belonged in Faerie either. “I’m sorry to have given you a scare,” he said. “And I was really, really glad to see Bunce. He’s a brave boy coming to rescue me!” He patted the dog, who leaned against him and waved a paw when he stopped.

“He’s a brainless moo, just like you,” said Molly, but not quite so crossly now. “Why did you call me, if you were going swimming?”

“Call you?” asked Tim, puzzled.

“To help with your math homework.”

“I didn’t.” He shook his head. “On the phone, you mean?”

“Well, you couldn’t have yelled, could you?” she said sarcastically.

“I couldn’t have phoned either. Remember, we saw the Telstra guy working on the line. The phones are all out.”

“Oh. Yeah. I had forgotten.”

“And we didn’t get any math homework.”

She wrinkled her forehead. “That’s weird. I was, like, so sure you called. And sounded, well, upset.”

“Well, that’s really strange,” said Tim, thinking that she had no idea just how weird. “But I did want help. I’m not going out there again! So…now that you’re here, I’ve got sheep to shift. How about giving me a hand for a few minutes, with our trainee sheepdog? The running around will help me dry out.”

“You’re crazy, Tim Ryan,” she said, smiling and then hiding her braces behind her hand. It was a habit of hers.

“Yeah. Just let me get my runners.”

The tide had come in since he kicked the shoes off to rush in to help Maeve. For a horrible minute, Tim thought he might have lost them. They were getting a bit tight and worn out, like his shirts and jeans, but, well, he didn’t have any others, and he was getting used to the fact that Nan didn’t buy anything she didn’t desperately need. But there they were, just on the edge of the foam-line. Wet, and together, not the way he’d left them. With a paper-nautilus shell lying between them.

If he’d needed any more reassurance that it wasn’t all some kind of hallucination, that did it. He carried it up to Molly, who was still half-frowning at him. “Present for you.” He handed her the perfect, fragile spiral shell with a little bow, feeling a little stupid about it. But she and Bunce had come to his rescue, after all.

“Oh, wow!” she said, taking it, the half-frown vanishing as she smiled in delight, forgetting the braces for once. “I’ve never found a really big, completely undamaged one! But you can’t give it to me, Tim. You found it.”

“Ah, I’ve a found a few. You keep it.”

She turned it over in her hands. “So that’s what you were swimming after! Don’t Tim. It’s not safe on your own.”

“I’m not going to do it again. No way!” He fended off her attempt to hand the shell back to him, stopped Bunce from bouncing it, and said, “Seriously. You keep it. A little thank-you present for the books and for coming to help. It’s rude to give a present back.”

She bit her lip. “Well…thanks. Thanks a lot. You’re a star, even if you are crazy, Tim Ryan. Come on. Let’s move those sheep.”

“Crazy star, that’s me!” he yelled, dancing down the beach and playing air-guitar just because he felt like it. Bunce thought it a wonderful idea. Tim tried a cartwheel and fell over.

So Molly put the shell down, carefully, in her hat, and showed him that she could do them properly.

CHAPTER 15

Molly carried her treasure back to her room, not stopping to show it to her mother, who was knitting, reading a book and watching TV, her way of saving time. It made for interesting jerseys.

She put the fragile spiral shell on the dresser, next to her mirror, and flopped onto her bed and looked at it. It gave her a bit of an odd feeling that she didn’t quite know how to deal with, so she grabbed her current book and read. It wasn’t quite good enough to stop her looking at the shell and smiling every now and again. Homework could wait a bit.

* * *

Áed knew both triumph and worry. Triumph that his master had escaped the clutches of the selkie, and worry as to how and why. She’d worked some kind of magic on the master, but these things didn’t always come out the way the user intended. He had his strengths. And he built on other strengths too. Áed was sure the master had not seen the spirit dancers leaping and prancing and waving their spears with him when he danced on the beach. But the strength of it had been almost intoxicating. The land was still throbbing with it, plants growing, animals flourishing.

* * *

Tim had come out of the water with a lot to think about…and a lot of weight falling away from his shoulders. It did make him feel like acting a bit of a joker. They’d ended up—and he would not have thought this possible a few months ago—having a lot of fun moving sheep. And learning to do cartwheels on the beach.

He’d walked back to the house, clothes mostly dry, and whistling cheerfully. “Something’s makin’ you happy,” said his grandmother. “Lend me your eyes, Tim.” She handed him an envelope. “Mr. Symons brought it. It’ll be the rates bill from that blasted Council. I need to know how much money they want this time.”

Tim opened the bill, and read the figure owing. His grandmother sighed. “Always bloody more. And for what? I’ll have to get onto Dickie Burke about taking some stock to the sale.”

“They’re not back yet. Or at least the kids weren’t on the bus.”

She sighed again. “I don’t want ter pay transport on top of it. I’ll say this for Dickie. He doesn’t charge me to take them in, and he deals with all of it.”

“They’ve got to get back soon,” said Tim. “The school will fuss.”

“Ought to be there already,” she said grumpily. “Now, is that woodbox full?”

So Tim went off to the chore of splitting the logs they’d sawed up a few weeks before. He found himself thinking about what the seal-woman said about chopping wood. It was a little odd, because it was probably the chore he enjoyed most. It took a little bit of aiming and effort, but seeing the pieces fly was satisfying.

If he hadn’t been dead tired, what with swimming, and running after sheep, he might have lain in bed thinking about it. Instead he slept. He dreamed about some of it, though. The hunt, and riding across the green, misty fields, only somewhere down the line it changed into hunting wallaby with a bunch of black men, on foot, through the grasstrees and the tussocks. It was oddly, a good dream. He remembered it quite clearly when he woke and went to milk the cow.

The next day he spent some time on the library computer, looking up Finvarra. That took him to Cnoc Meadha, which he would never have spelled like that from hearing it.

He didn’t look up flights to Ireland for a week, until he got onto the library computer in town, which was a bit more private. He was glad he was sitting down when he did it. That was a lot of money, even to someone who had just sold twenty-three paper nautilus shells and had arranged a day’s work on Jon’s boat for Saturday.

Still…it was building up in the pouch around his neck. Building up to the point where it was kind of tempting to spend some money on some new jeans. And a bit of conscience was pricking him about Nan. She hadn’t been herself since the rates bill had arrived. She always made decisions quickly. Now she was dithering about them. She had even dithered about whether to go fishing with Molly and her dad the day before. Finally, she’d come down to the beach, and it looked like she’d had a good enough time of it. Tim had learned a whole lot more about where and how to fish, and she’d obviously been trying not to bite anyone’s head off. But Tim, by now, had learned to spot the signs. She was waiting for Hailey’s father to get back, waiting to arrange to sell some cows, and worrying about the price she’d get.

He’d told her. He’d heard what Mark’s dad had gotten at the last sale. Tim got an irritable “Don’t be stupid boy. No wonder you need help with yer math.”

“Help with math” was Molly’s excuse for coming over. Tim grinned. She was good at it. He pretended he was worse than he was.

In the meanwhile he’d been doing some thinking about the whole “lesser spirit” thing. And the beer in the saucer in the corner of the kitchen, and the trouble he’d been in, and how he’d gotten out of it, sort of.

He was watching it, having just finished his tea on Friday evening, and waiting for the kettle to boil, determined to see whatever it was. And Gran hadn’t actually told him to go and do anything…that was in itself odd enough to be a bit worrying, when the phone rang.

Tim went to answer it, expecting it to be Jon, hoping it didn’t mean that his day of work on the old boat was off. It wasn’t. It was Molly’s dad. “Hi, Tim. Mind if speak to your nan?”

So Tim called her. Of course he listened in as much as he could. It was all very well saying it wasn’t good manners, but it would probably be about him. He hoped Molly wasn’t in some kind of trouble. He couldn’t think of anything he could have done…on purpose. Of course he could only hear half the conversation. “Yes. He isn’t back yet.” A pause. “Oh. Well, it’d save me transport.” Gran sounding just slightly pleased. “No. It was good of you to think of it. His uncle was a decent feller. Me and my man, we liked him. Well, thank you very much, Mister. I’ll have to show yer a few more fishing spots. There’s a good corner for gummy shark on a no-moon night.”

And then the polite goodbye.

Gran came back to the table. “Careful with his words, that feller.” She didn’t sound like she disapproved of that.

“Why?”

“Said he hoped I didn’t mind, but I had said I wanted to shift some cows, and he run into a feller who was talking about buying some in Whitemark. That abalone diver yer work for. And he said he was coming in to fetch you tomorrow, so he’d talk to me about it then. Depends on the price, but it’d take a weight off my mind. That kettle boiled yet?”

The saucer of beer was empty. Gran refilled it, which was a first.

The next day brought Jon. “Now, I was told you wanted to sell some cattle. I’m looking for some young stock for my block.”

“Could be. It’d depend on the price,” said his grandmother, as if she wasn’t eager to sell. Tim couldn’t help grinning to himself. By now he was more than sure Jon McKay wouldn’t rip anyone off.

“Well, I’d say the average price from the last sale would be a good starting point,” said Jon, fishing a magazine from the seat of his ute. “Says here that was…”

And he named the figure Tim had quoted to his grandmother.

Her mouth fell open. And then closed with an audible snap. “I don’t take charity,” she said angrily. “I’ll sell at a fair price. Now, get…”

A huge branch came hurtling down off the pine tree, with an enormous crack and crash, and it sent pinecones flying like shrapnel all around them.

It took more than a falling half-ton branch, or an angry grandmother, to worry the diver. “Mrs. Ryan. That
is
the current price. You’ve got a phone. Let’s call the auctioneer at Roberts and ask him. Or any farmer on the island. I don’t know when you last sold cattle, but the price is up again, because so many people sold off in the last drought.”

There was something about his steady, calm voice, or maybe the flying pinecones that cooled his grandmother off…a bit. “Yer’ll be right with me checking?”

“Sure. But it
is
right here in the agricultural report…”

He was speaking to her back, as she’d walked inside.

Tim was cringing. “Sorry, Jon,” he said awkwardly.

The diver smiled. “No worries, son. Mike Symons said she could be a bit touchy about things.”

“I told her what Mark’s dad got, but she didn’t believe me either,” said Tim.

“Tim, come find the number for me,” called his grandmother. “Roberts. I call them to order wire and dip and now I just can’t think of it. Maybe my mind is going.” She sounded slightly shaken.

Tim got the number—he only got as far as the first five digits, when she said the rest. He waited while she asked.

He had the satisfaction of watching her say, “Well now, thank you,” in a very quiet voice, a stunned look on her face.

She put the phone down and marched outside. “I owe you an apology, Mr. McKay.”

“No worries,” said Jon again.

“It’s…it’s a lot more than I expected.”

“Well now, it might go higher at the sale,” said Jon easily. “We can check after and see if I owe you anything.”

She shook her head. “I’m…well. I wasn’t expecting more than half that. It’s left me feeling like a beached mullet,” she said with one of those fleeting smiles, “as my man used to say. I’m…I’m…embarrassed. You could have taken me to the cleaners, and I’d have been thanking yer. Yer did the right thing and I insulted…”

Jon laughed. “I’d end up like the beached mullet, Mrs. Ryan, if I’d ripped you off. Seriously, I’m not offended. Glad it is good news to you. Now, I just want about fifteen or twenty head of young steers.”

“Yer come have a look at them, pick the best. I owe yer that.”

“I’ll come along with the trailer when I bring Tim back. I’ll have to do a couple of trips. It might be cheaper and easier to get the truckers to do it.”

“I’ll get them in by this afternoon,” said Nan.

“No you won’t,” said Jon, with the cheerful confidence of a man who makes decisions of life and death, underwater, and wasn’t that afraid of grandmothers. “I’m taking your labor away. Tomorrow’s good. Will you take a check, or do you want cash? I’d have to go into town for that.”

“From you, I’ll take a check,” said his grandmother.

“I think that’s a compliment,” said Jon. “Right. I’ll sort it out when I see the cows. We’ll make it twenty, if that’s all right by you. Come on, Tim, we’ve got a live-fish tank to paint.”

She nodded. “And those ones have got a pine branch to clear up. But they’ll be well rewarded for that.”

Driving down the track, Tim was awkwardly silent for the first bit. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry my gran was so…you know. She’s just like that.”

Jon grinned at him and looked back at the road. “Relax, Tim. Mike warned me, but I thought having it in the stock listing would be enough.”

“She, um, well, her eyes aren’t too good.”

“Aha. Well, it must be a godsend to her having you there. And don’t worry, Tim. The world could use a few more people like the old duck. You should be proud of her.”

“I think she was being ripped off.”

“I’m damned sure of it,” said Jon, not sounding at all amused. “And I’m not overpaying either, just giving her a fair go. She deserves it.”

Tim hadn’t thought of himself as being useful, or his grandmother deserving anything, before. But it was kind of true, now that he did think of it.

* * *

Áed did enjoy the diver’s Land Rover. It had an aluminum body, which was better than the cold-iron chariots. He liked the boat more; it had even less iron…but even with all the iron around, this place was better, at least for him, than the endless realms of Faerie. Here a lesser spirit got to doze a little in the sun, and to feel the wind, and taste the rain. Faerie might be endless, but it was also hard work for his kind, and boring. Tim didn’t use him much. Áed had to guess his will, use his own judgment. He worked quite a lot with the old fenodree—a task he would have thought below himself, once. But it too had its rewards.

The master was a little angry now. The old
cailleach
had been cheated by that other one. If Fenn got to hear of it, he’d be sharpening his scythe again.

* * *

“I’m off into town in about twenty minutes,” called Molly’s mother from the kitchen. “Dad says we’re to give your friend Tim’s grandmother a call if we’re going, ask if there is anything she needs.”

“Well, can’t Dad do it, then?” They made her do these awkward phone calls. She hated it.

“He’s busy with yet another e-mail to the ombudsman about the hot water service and those…insurers. You really don’t want to bug him right now.” It had cost her parents a fortune to fix the faulty hot water system for the cottage they rented out, and the insurers weren’t paying out. Her father started steaming when it even got mentioned.

“Can’t
you
phone her?” asked Molly, in a last-ditch avoidance move.

“If you’d rather wash dishes, which is what I am doing, yes. Otherwise, my hands are wet, and she won’t bite you.”

Molly wasn’t that sure, but made the call anyway. Maybe Tim would answer, or no one would. But she got his grandmother.

And the old woman sounded cheerful, and pleased to hear her on the phone. And…well, talkative. Not at all clipped like the previous times. “Ah. You’re the girl with the big sheepdog. You’re in school with my boy. Tell yer parents to come and have a cuppa tea with me sometime, when they’ve got a chance. I owe yer father a big cream cake. I haven’t baked for a while, but I’m going to.”

“Um. Yes. Mum just asked me to phone ’cause she’s going into town, if there was anything you needed.”

“Hmm. Not today, but if yer father is going in on Tuesday, well, I think I’m going to town. Actually…I think I’ll splash out today. He’s an honest man, I think.”

“Who? My dad? Of course he is!” Molly was rather offended.

She got laughter down the line. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s my day for saying stupid things. I’m just a bit relieved. I was talkin’ about that diver feller, McKay. He’s buying some of my young cows, thanks to your father, bless him. And at such a good price too.” She named the figure.

“That’s what one of the girls in my class said they were getting last sale. Everyone is trying to restock after the drought.”

“We could use a bit more on our land, but we didn’t really get hit by it because of that. Too few cows. I should hold onto them too, but we need some cash, and I’m so relieved to be getting it! Eh. I’m babbling. Sorry. Could you ask yer mother for two bars of plain chocolate, and some icing sugar? And a bottle of golden syrup…I’ll do Tim a good sticky pudding for his tea. I’ll go up to the gate with the money so she can pick it up on her way past.”