Outsider, pt 4

"Sit, Charlie, sit!" The king gestured magnanimously towards a chair. Charlie noticed that every time Braggart moved, he aimed to embrace a whole room, take a single step from one city to another, or shrug off the weight of the world. From a certain point of view, maybe to mere mortals, Braggart looked patently ridiculous, but Changelings could see the real force behind those grandiose gestures. Although the king often adopted a gentle fatherly persona and seemed to laugh off most disputes, Charlie wouldn't want to get on his bad side. It was the eyes. They reminded Charlie of a shark's eyes, and it chilled every bone in his body when Braggart smiled.

Braggart smiled. They were in his office at Fishmonger Joe's, a company that according to Tara supplied most of the restaurants in Harmon with fish and seafood. Apparently, the Spring court wasn't the only organization Braggart headed. Charlie sat down next to Tara, and Braggart took his seat behind the desk.

"So, Charlie, how is the court treating you so far? I hear you were quite a hit with the poetry crowd."

"Well... Yeah, that was nice, meeting some people. Also, Rita helped me a bit with my powers - er - contracts."

"Oh? She's a teacher now? That's quite impressive. What did you learn?"

"I have some kind of luck contract?"

"Hearth."

"Yeah, that's what she called it. And I can fix things. Rita said she'd never seen that before."

"I'm not surprised, you're talking about the Artifice contract. That's something the Wizened are particularly proficient in, and you're the only one in Harmon as of yet."

"Wizened?"

"Charlie, you bear all the marks of being one of the Wizened. I'm sure you can figure out how they earned their name?"

He didn't need to be reminded. On the way to the meeting, Charlie had tried to avoid looking into any reflective surface. His weathered and jagged parody of a face looked more like a mask someone had grafted onto his skin. He knew he would probably get used to it in time, but a small part of him was sure that his real face must still be under there somewhere.

"Yeah, I seem to have spent a lot of time in... Arcadia."

"Actually, many Wizened lead a long and fruitful life after their escape. I'm sure you have most of your life ahead of you, Charlie."

"So what are the Wizened? I mean, is it an actual group or a- a race or something?"

"It's more a category. Depending on how we led our lives in Arcadia, and depending on who brought us there, we all adopted different seemings. That's really just another way of saying we all look different. I share certain traits with animals. I'm of the Beast seeming. Tara is one of the Fairest."

Charlie turned to look at her, but when Tara's unwavering gaze pierced his, he had to turn away. He settled on her shoes again. He was almost certain now that no matter what clothes she was wearing, she always wore the same soft pair of shoes. He'd only noticed today because they clashed rather severely with her police uniform.

"So, Charlie, we have a project for you," the king announced. "People have been disappearing at a disquieting rate in the Hedge. We need to know how and preferably why, and to learn that we need a base of operations there. We need you to build that base."

"Like a house? That's- I've never been involved in anything like that. I don't know anything about construction."

"I'm sure you can manage. If there's anything you need to know, there's always the library."

"They use the internet for that now," Tara interjected.

"Of course, how silly of me, ha ha." Braggart laughed, but then his face turned abruptly serious. "Charlie. I realize all of this is new to you, and you're probably confused. You might not trust us, and that's fine, that's what pledges and oaths are for. But you know I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't a serious situation, you understand that, right? Our friends are disappearing, they may even be dead by now." He glanced at Tara, then looked back into Charlie's eyes. "Do you think you can help us?"

"Does it- The house has to be in the Hedge?"

"Yes, this sort of thing is usually called a Hollow, a sort of sanctuary for Changelings in the Hedge."

Charlie sighed. "Er... I suppose I could try. It shouldn't be impossible. Plenty of people build houses without any sort of education."

"That's the spirit! Of course, you'll have all the help you need. And I think you'll find that your newfound talents will come in handy as well."

"Oh." Charlie rubbed his chin. "Can it be a wooden house?"

"Whatever you think is best."

"Then, er, could Rita help? She has a way with trees and wood."

"See? That's smart thinking, that's exactly why I chose you for this job! Of course she can join your team. In fact, I think she'll be thrilled!"

The next day, Charlie found himself standing in an abandoned playground with four other people. Tara was there, making sure that everyone had what they needed. Rita was talking too much as usual. The other two he thought he recognized vaguely from the party. One was made of stone and several heads taller than anyone Charlie had ever known. The other was short, with gaunt features and long arms. All of them were wearing backpacks with tools and other items Tara thought they might need. Charlie's backpack had extra bullets for his gun. How Tara had found them or was even sure they'd fit he had no idea. In the backpacks were also envelopes with a wax seal depicting a pair of antlers.

Tara turned to face them all.

"Open the envelope. Read the pledge to yourself. If we all agree to the terms, we'll read it aloud together."

Charlie opened his envelope and read through the text. At first, he started skimming, as reading a license agreement for a new piece of software, but realizing the gravity of the situation, he stopped and reread it carefully. It seemed reasonable. Looking up, he nodded to Tara, who looked from face to face, tallying up the votes. Finally, she nodded, and they started intoning the pledge together.

"I swear, on my allegiance to the Spring Court, I shall aid in the creation of a Hollow, and during this undertaking, but no longer than a year and a day, to protect my fellow Hollow makers, from the dangers of the Hedge, and not let any harm befall them, whether by my own action or inaction. Together, our swords shall be sharper, our arrows fly true, and the Hollow we build shall stand for ages to come. This I swear, and this I hold true, for fear of judgement of the Fates."

As the last word passed over his tongue, Charlie was filled with an intense sensation that boiled his blood, turned his skin to ice and set his heart racing. For a brief moment, the world seemed to be spinning too fast, and everything around him seemed brighter and bigger. Then the feeling subsided, withdrawing its tendrils from his veins and nerves, rolling itself into a tiny ball that settled somewhere between his throat and chest. The world seemed to have settled back into normality. They all exchanged sombre looks mixed with relief. They could fully trust each other now. Tara cleared her throat.

"Turner. Can you go in ahead of us, please?"

The small man nodded and shuffled forward to an old playhouse, the once cheerful paint on its walls now flaking around the tiny windows. Charlie glanced at Tara, who was watching Turner open the door to the small house. Inside it was filled with rotten debris. Turner carefully held out his hand to an exposed nail in the door jamb, and then pricked his finger on it. Then he closed the door and stood motionless for a second before opening it again and stepping through.

Charlie drew a sharp breath. He had half expected the door opening up to something else, but the sight on the other side was too strange to comprehend. At first he thought there were tree trunks stacked on top of each other inside the house, but then he saw that they weren't really touching. It was a forest where all the trees grew sideways.

When he passed through the opening, Turner had put his right foot next to the nail in the jamb and turned 90 degrees. Now he was walking away from them with his feet firmly planted on what looked like a vertical drop. Turner had literally earned his name. Charlie started giggling at the thought, but stopped himself upon catching a stern look from Tara.

A while later, Turner came back and poked his head through the door.

"Looks clear, come on. Watch your step."

Rita and Tara went through, both of them doing a half-crawl through the doorway to keep their balance rather than mimicking Turner's mid-step gravity switch. Charlie followed suit, feeling his internal organs rearranging as down became left and right became down. He was still lying on the ground fighting the urge to throw up when the stone man threw his backpack through the door and proceeded to squeeze himself through. Seen from within the Hedge, the doorway lay down on its side, leaning against a boulder. The wooden frame groaned as their giant friend fought to join them. It looked like the stone was giving birth.

"Aw shit." He was finally through, and Turner had closed the door behind him.

"What?"

"Look." The stone man pulled out a rusty nail that had been lodged between two stone plates in his abdomen. Turner's face fell.

"Not your fault, Cale. We won't be going through there anytime soon though."

"Wait, you mean we can't go back through?" Charlie asked.

"That's what I said."

"Why didn't we use the big gateway, the path Rita and er- Gertude and I used a couple of days ago?"

"Precisely because we used it a couple of days ago," Turner replied. "We can't go through the same way too often, or they'll track us. Besides, the plan was never to go back the same way, for exactly the same reason. Sure, it would have been good to have this gate in an emergency, but I guess you can't have everything."

Charlie's heart sank. They didn't have an escape route. If someone, or something, stood between them and the path out of the Hedge, they'd be trapped.

Outsider, pt 3

"So what're your contracts? I mean, have you noticed any powers? There are some that a lot of people have, like Hearth. Have you felt lucky or anything?"

"Not lately, but Felix usually was."

"Who's Felix?"

"It's- uh. Never mind."

"Those dice right there, try getting a lucky seven."

Charlie picked up the dice and rolled them. They landed on the chair, showing a one and a four.

"Well, not like that," Rita complained. "You have to mean it. Do it with a bit of flair, something that puts some power into it."

Sighing, Charlie picked up the dice again. He did his best high roller impression, holding the dice cupped in both hands, blowing on them, and shaking them behind his head like a baseball pitcher. As he rolled them, he felt his whole body straining against something, as if moving through water. He struggled to breathe. There was a prickling sensation on his hand, growing steadily into a burning pain as it moved and opened slowly, releasing the dice. When they landed on the chair, the unseen force subsided.

"Ow!" He checked his hand for burn marks. Nothing.

"Cool, you can do it!" The dice showed a five and a two.

"That's... That doesn't mean anything, it's just a question of probability. I- Let me try that again."

"No!" Rita snatched the dice.

"What? Why? If I don't repeat it, I won't know if I really did anything."

"No, you can't challenge fate. Look, if you do it again so soon, fate will notice. And fate gets real mad." She looked truly concerned.

"Uh... Fine, all right. So when can I try again?"

"I dunno, maybe wait 'til tomorrow to be safe. Let's try something else now. What else can you do?"

"Well. I used to be good at building machines, that was my research. But that was a long time ago... or- You know."

"OK, so maybe you built things in Faerie, but I dunno, that seems like a big job though. Maybe you fixed things? Hey, my watch is broken. Maybe you could fix that?"

"Not without the right tools." Charlie smiled. "I can't even open it."

"Just take a look." Rita had already taken the watch off her wrist and dangled it in front of him. Shaking his head, Charlie took it.

"What am I supposed to do with it? OK, fine. I'll look." It was a cheap analogue time piece in garish colours. The second hand wasn't moving. He held it to his ear. Nothing. "It's completely stopped." He tried winding it. Still no movement. When he held it to his ear again, he thought he heard something. He shook the watch. "That's not right. Something's come loose in there." He looked at it, and suddenly he knew exactly how the watch worked, or rather how it didn't. He blinked. If he concentrated, he could imagine the internal workings of the clock overlaid on its face. He launched into an odd dance, the watch in his hand above him, then to his side. He turned it. He shook once. Then he carefully tapped the face twice, and waited. Finally, the second hand began to turn.

"Shit Charlie, what did you do?! That was amazing, it works!" Rita shrieked, grabbed the watch and put it back on. "It's good as new! Thanks!"

"It won't hold for long, there's a piece that's still loose, it's just in the right place for now."

"How did you know? Do you know a lot about watches?"

"I've... Heh, I've worked with similar stuff before, sure, but... Yeah, there's no way I could have known what was wrong."

"You can fix stuff! I have no idea what that contract's called. Maybe Rita or Braggart knows. Hey, isn't it amazing that you had dice here and I had a broken watch, so we could discover your contracts? I think that's amazing! I know this one girl who only has one contract, well that she knows of..."

"Yeah. Amazing." While Rita prattled on, Charlie experienced the all too familiar feeling of one thing after another falling into place. Meeting Gertrude and the others, who led him to Tara. That in turn led to joining the Spring court and miraculously discovering his contracts. One thing after another, like teeth in a cogwheel, as certain as night follows day. It was a familiar situation, but Charlie was different now. So much had changed in his life, and changed him to the very core of his being. Maybe this time it would be different.

Outsider, pt 2

Someone was knocking on the door, but Charlie wasn't sure what to do about the blood on his sword. He blinked. No, of course there was no blood. He was alone. Why would there be blood? He sheathed the sword and answered the door. Rita beamed a smile at him from the hallway.

"Hi! I figured you'd be here." A strand of flowers slid over her face, and she brushed it away. "Thought you might like some company." She barged into the room unbidden. "Oh wow, I totally forgot about how depressing these rooms are."

"You lived here?"

"Well yeah, a lot of us lived here, it's like the half-way home. It's usually empty, I guess 'cause the Hedge is kinda thick here, and so not a lot of people come through? I heard that in some towns they get like four or five every day, but I'm not sure I believe that, I mean geez, it'd be crowded in like a week! Can you imagine? This girl, Esmeralda - you don't know her, she's a Winter - she said she's been to New York - I think it was New York - anyway, big cities are totally packed with Changelings, and the courts are lots more glamorous than here. Are you listening?"

Charlie realized that he was staring out the window. He cleared his throat and closed the door.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how different you are from Tara. You two are pretty much the only people I talk to now, and you're both in the Spring court, right? But you're so different, she's a bit... private. She doesn't talk much."

"Yeah, she kinda keeps to herself." Rita sat down on the bed.

"Why?"

"I dunno. Why does anyone do anything? Maybe something happened when she was locked up in Faerie. She doesn't talk about it, but you know, not a lot of us do if you stop and think about it."

"But she said something about how courts are supposed to represent how people are, and the king asked me about my feelings, but I don't really see the connection. The three of us are pretty different."

"Well we're all people, not some kinda zombies. But you know, everyone in the Spring court has some kinda flair, and most of the people I know here can be kinda cocky and always, like, riding this wave of danger, living on the edge. Plus we all love to party."

"Even Tara?"

"Yeah, in her own way."

"How about the other courts?"

"Well, Summer is mostly all these really angry guys. Also they have the most members I think. They keep saying we should go fight the bad Fae, but I dunno, that sounds kinda stupid."

"Wait, the Fae?"

"F - A - E."

"Like faeries?"

"Kinda, it's like Gertrude said, it's like the bogeyman, except much worse. OK, so Autumn are these really stuffy types, they usually talk about stuff I don't understand, but most of them won't even talk to me. Queen Sheana has the throne right now though, so all the get togethers are usually about some new kinda way to harness the power of Arcadia or whatever. I dunno, seems like what we already got is alright."

"What's that?"

"What?"

"What have we got exactly?"

"Oh, I totally forgot you have amnesia! Oh shit, that was like a pun or something, sorry!" Rita giggled, and Charlie had an increasing desire to strangle her for never getting to anything even resembling a point.

"Yeah, no problem," he forced himself to say. "Now, what is it we have?"

"We have contracts. Like, to climb a tree or to hide in the shadow or swim, stuff like that. They're really useful in a pinch, but some people think they're the shit just because they have a lotta contracts. I say they're useful, they're not everything."

"Contracts? Who with?"

"With anyone."

"To climb a tree?"

"Well, I can do that, I don't know what you can do. You don't really look like any Changeling I know, but I don't know a lot yet."

"I... Anyone can climb trees."

"Yeah, but the contracts is what makes us special, that's our power."

"So... We can sign a piece of paper that says we can climb just like anyone else?"

"No!" Rita laughed, and Charlie's hands itched.

"But that's what you just said! You're talking like I already know this stuff, you have to explain it."

"Right, yeah sorry. Well, how do I explain it? Well, what it is is this. Promises and oaths and stuff work differently for us. Well, actually if you stop and think about it, I think it's the only thing that works in Faerie."

"Is that a place?"

"Yeah, Faerie, Arcadia, it's what's on the other side of the Hedge. I mean you wouldn't, but I remember having to get used to that place, where the sky was up and the ground down just 'cause that's what they promised. Things, like, only worked because there was a deal. I dunno how it works, but we became a part of some deals when we started living there. I dunno if that's something they gotta do to bring us with them or something, but there it is."

"OK... Deals like what? Between people? I don't understand."

"No, I mean deals between anything. Like, a Fae can make a deal with water. Actually, they have to make a deal with air just to breathe. And if they get a good deal, if they're smart enough, they can do more. Maybe make the air hard and walk on it, that kinda stuff."

"But, it's air. There's no changing the laws of nature." But as Charlie said it, he heard his voice quiver with anticipation. This concept of things just agreeing to be the way they were instead of following a unified theory of immutable laws felt too familiar to disregard. It seemed so deeply rooted, as if it was something he'd heard as a child. He remembered his handshake with King Braggart. The oath.

"Like I said," Rita continued, "Faerie doesn't have laws of nature. It's like... It's like when you're dreaming, right? You can maybe fly and monsters are there and all kinds of shit. I think that's actually part of what Faerie is, it's like it's built from dreams or something, or maybe our dreams come from that place. Thing is, it's like this, even when we come back through the Hedge, when we're in the real world again, our contracts still work. Well, I mean, like Gertrude showed you, it's the reason you see how we really look, but normal people don't. That's a contract. That's a deal that someone made."

"I- OK, so what can you do?"

"Um, well you probably noticed how I'm basically a flower tree person kinda girl?"

"Yeah?"

"Check it out." She tensed slightly, and the chair jerked a few inches to the side. Charlie stared as the dice rolled from the sudden movement and then settled. He wondered if he should pinch himself. Rita laughed.

"You should see your face right now!"

"But what the-? How?"

"Well, it's easy, it's made of wood. I have a contract with wood, so it does whatever I say."

Outsider, pt 1

A short while later, Tara entered the back room carrying a shopping bag. Charlie felt something lurch in his stomach, something akin to fear, when he caught sight of her. It was like seeing her for the first time. Her long red hair was draped immaculately over her shoulders. She was wearing a very sombre black suit, like she had just attended a funeral; if not as a grieving friend, then maybe as a bodyguard. Charlie nudged the person sitting next to him.

"Hey. You know Tara?"

"In passing. She's a bit of an outsider to the Spring court, that one. That's not to say she's any worse a courtier than the rest of us, mind. Her heart is in the right place, and her desires as strong as many of ours put together. It's just that her desires are of a different kind."

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie, but now that Tara was approaching them the question went unanswered.

"Charlie. I have some things for you." She plucked a wallet out of the bag and proffered it. "You will find an ID card, a credit card and some cash."

"Thank you."

"In here are some clothes." She gave him the bag. "The ones you have on will attract attention."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Charlie changed quickly in one of the pub's bathroom stalls into the jeans and t-shirt Tara had provided. There was also a long coat, which he left in the bag along with the weapons and uniform. Then he took a deep breath, opened the stall door and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. It felt good to no longer be weighed down by that strange gun and the anachronistic uniform. Charlie felt lighter, unrestricted, ready to start anew. He glanced at the bag. On the other hand, he also felt naked and vulnerable. He imagined Prearis shuffling around in the woods with no tongue or eyes.

"Dammit." He fished out the uniform belt, strapped it back on, holstered the gun and sheathed the sword. With the coat on, he hoped the weapons were somewhat concealed. He would have to avoid getting frisked of course. Frisked? He paused and reflected on the fact that the new Charlie felt more at ease when armed whereas the old Charlie hadn't even touched a blade, let alone a gun. Instead of feeling like he was becoming someone he no longer knew, the situation was reversed. He was beginning to feel that the old Charlie was somehow stuck in a life that wasn't his and that he was more familiar with this new incarnation. If that meant having to avoid the long arm of the law, then so be it. He looked at himself in the mirror again, and the wrinkles on his face deepened as he smiled.

The back room was empty, save for Tara standing in the middle of what had passed for a dance floor the night before. She was completely immobile. If Charlie hadn't met her before, he would have thought she was a mannequin. Then he noticed that her eyes followed him across the room, those soft and expressive eyes. Something in his chest seemed to snap apart, or perhaps fall into place.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asked. "Let's go get some coffee."

"I am busy. There is a room for you upstairs. I will be back tomorrow; the King wants to see you."

"Tomorrow? What am I supposed to do until then?"

"I am sure you can find a way to pass the time."

"And where are you going?"

"I have business in the Hedge. A motley emerged this morning, but there is one person missing. I am going to see if I can find her."

"That sounds dangerous."

"Do not be concerned, I have wandered the Hedge many times. This is what I do."

"What, find missing persons?"

"Among other things. I help in any way I can." She raised her hand to adjust the collar of her shirt, absent-mindedly brushing against her black bird pendant in the process.

"OK... I guess I shouldn't keep you then." Charlie wanted to offer his help, but right now he couldn't even bear the thought of entering that horrible maze they called the Hedge. He followed Tara through a back door and she indicated a flight of stairs.

"See you tomorrow."

"See ya."

At the top of the stairs were two doors, one of which had a lock that fit a key Charlie discovered in his coat pocket. The room turned out to be sparsely furnished, with only a bed and a chair next to a window. At least the bed was made, and there was an adjoining bathroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and noticed that someone had left a pair of dice on the chair. He examined the empty wall opposite him. This sudden isolation was exasperating. He had hoped to learn more about Tara and the other Changelings today, but now he had no one to talk to. His palms began to itch with the need to stay occupied, and his mind began to race with unanswered questions.

Finally, Charlie decided that there was one subject he could research on his own, and that was himself. He drew the sword, a short strange thing that looked almost home made, as if someone had taken a file to it. He stood up and waved the blade in the air, testing its weight. He found that it fit rather well in his hand, but he had no clue what to do with it. He tried something like a karate stance with the blade thrust in front of him, but it only made him self-conscious. Realizing that he really had no idea what he was doing, he sheathed the blade, unexpectedly smoothly and on the first attempt. This was apparently a motion he was used to. Bolstered, he drew the blade again and tried to imagine an enemy bearing down on him. How would he defend himself?

"Click! Clack!" The blade flew through the air, apparently of its own accord, into an overhead block followed by a slash. In his mind's eye, Charlie could see the intruder sprawled on the floor, bleeding out of a deep neck wound. Charlie's hands, both now gripping the hilt of his sword, began to shake uncontrollably.