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.