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.

Acquaintances, pt 4

They moved to a large back room that someone had sprinkled with couches and settees and filled with blaring music and flashing lights. There were all manner of strange people dancing everywhere, most of them with drink in hand. The air was acrid, it smelled a bit like licking a battery. The walls were clad in art, some of it quite disturbing, some highly abstract and some depicting things or places that Charlie recognised vaguely. He felt the rhythm try to ensnare his limbs, but they suddenly felt so heavy. He wanted to dance, but instead he sagged down onto a couch, clutching his beer with both hands. Around him, people slithered and moved as in a trance.

Rita brought people to where he was sitting, introducing him to quite a lot of the assembled ladies and gentlemen, but he found that he forgot their names almost instantly. It was all just too much to take in. One person had green skin like a frog, another had eyes without whites, completely black, some looked monstrous, and some were the most beautiful people Charlie had ever seen. Most of them were clothed in extravagant attire, or something that didn't look like clothes at all. One person seemed to be dressed in a suit of armour made of soda pop cans. Someone else had something very translucent on, and had a loud voice that could always be heard over the din, no matter how far away from Charlie.

He slowly began to drift off, exhaustion and alcohol taking over his body and mind. The lights flashed, and he saw a red devil dancing with an angel. The drums boomed, and he saw a wolf dancing with a deer. Flash. A knight with his sword drawn. Boom. A demon with two heads. Flash. They followed him into his dreams, chasing each other through a garden maze. Boom. Round and round they went, fireworks lighting their way.

When Charlie woke up, a woman draped in layer upon layer of silk was standing in the middle of the room, telling a story. Daylight seeped in through shuttered windows. Someone had taken his beer.

"Away, foul beast! He brandished his sword, but the raven stood fast, perched atop the broken body of Azalea. He made to move closer, to reclaim his love, and the raven turned its one eye toward him. Prearis was suddenly overcome with guilt. The Singing Sword felt a thousand times heavier, his Helmet of Lucidity suddenly constricting. Fighting for breath, he dropped his sword and threw off his helmet. And thusly disarmed and unprotected he was beset upon by the raven, now a black streak of lightning, snatching his eyes and his tongue. The story, I am sad to say, does not end here. It is said that Prearis still wanders the Hedge, now and always following the flowery scent of his true love, searching for her body to be united in the life after this, and woe anyone who would stand in his way, for he will steal their voice and their sight so that they may suffer as he, forevermore."

The men and women around the storyteller applauded. It seemed odd to Charlie that a civilised group of adults, even if they weren't necessarily human, would be entertained by ghost stories. Then it struck him that maybe it wasn't a story. Maybe it was the truth. The storyteller settled down on a couch, and they all began talking, perhaps a dozen all counted. Not many had stayed since last night, or indeed maybe none. Charlie didn't recognise anyone. When he thought about it, he wasn't sure he could remember exactly what Tara looked like, or Rita for that matter. The day before seemed a lifetime long and ages ago. He had seen so much and was still trying to make sense of half of it. His mind was a jumble.

"It's Charlie, right?" someone said. "Do you have any new stories for us?"

Before he knew it, Charlie was talking. His thoughts just spilled out of his mouth, but he was still confused. There were blanks.

"There was a child once. I don't remember his name, what was it?"

"Felix?" a voice ventured.

"Yes. Good. Felix was a good boy. He never caused any trouble, but trouble had a way of finding him. There was this one time I remember, there had been a raffle at school, and Felix won. He often had that kind of luck, in games of chance. The prize was so lovely, it was a glass figurine, a-uh... It was a small..."

"Bird?"

"A cat?"

"Yes, a cat. This cat had many different colours, the tail was white and the eyes were yellow, but the body was a kind of deep azure, almost hidden within the glass. Felix wondered if that was simply the natural colour of glass he was seeing or if someone had tinted it that way, in some ingenious way using some chemical process that one could learn. He showed it to all of his friends. He bragged about it. He couldn't wait to show his parents what a brilliant prize he had won. On his way home, Felix came upon a... an old..."

"Dog!"

"No, a man, of course!"

"A witch?"

"I don't... Did someone say dog? I think it was a dog. The dog was barking, and Felix was scared. He had to take the long way around to get to his house, and that took him through a garden. But the garden was no good either, there was a..."

"Another dog?"

"A bully."

"Here's where the witch comes in!"

"No, bully. Yes, it was a group of bullies. Felix didn't want them to take his glass cat, so he came up with a plan. There was a big tree that had a long branch that stretched all the way over the street. If he could climb into the tree and over that branch, he would make it to safety. His cat would be safe. So he climbed the tree. The trunk was easy climbing, and the bullies didn't notice him. They were busy playing, or screwing with some other kid, I don't remember.

"The point is, Felix was up in this tree. The branch was thinner than he'd thought, and he was afraid it'd break under his weight. There was a noise like something cracking, he was sure he was going to fall. And he almost did, he scrambled to keep his balance on that branch, crawling along it. And when he did, he got the feeling that something dropped out of his pocket. He panicked and his hand went into his pocket without thinking. The cat was still there, but now he really lost his balance, and with only his left hand holding on to the branch, he fell. Right down on the street, where he was hit by a car.

"The doctors said later that the fall hadn't broken his leg, it was the car. It was crushed under the wheels. Felix's father, who drove the car, blamed himself. If he hadn't decided to come home early, he had said, then he hadn't crushed Felix's leg. Felix knew better. Felix knew that if he hadn't climbed that tree, if the dog hadn't scared him, and if he hadn't won that cat, he would still be out playing instead of being confined to his bed for months. So he lay there, staring at that damned cat that was still somehow in one piece, sitting triumphantly on a bookshelf, and Felix swore never to trust his luck again."

To Charlie's surprise, his jumbled thoughts were met with applause. Everyone was smiling, and went on to analyse the story amongst themselves, picking it apart and talking about the interactive elements. As if that was something Charlie had done on purpose. Charlie stayed lost in thought for the duration. He could still feel the weight of the wheel on his leg, and the pain as it seemed to explode. He had never stopped hating that fucking cat.

Acquaintances, pt 3

"Hey, Charlie." Rita was at his side, smiling. "Tara found you, huh? She's good at finding newbies."

"Rita." Charlie was relieved to see a familiar face. "Where are the others?"

"They wouldn't be caught dead here, it's boring! I dunno why I came, I guess I was just kinda looking to meet some people, or something. So far it's a dud. All this stuff is way over my head."

"Rita, have you seen Braggart?" Tara asked.

"Speak of the devil!" someone bellowed, making Charlie jump with shock. "Whoa, easy there. Your friends are always so skittish, Tara. Is that a new face?"

"Braggart, this is Charlie. He is new."

Charlie turned around and saw a large man with the biggest smile he'd ever seen. It was uncomfortably big and seemed to have an undertone of violence. Of course, it might just be a smile. Charlie understood that he could be imagining things; maybe he was indeed skittish. The rest of the large man was dressed in a three-piece suit that looked to be weaved of silver strands. From certain angles, it caught the light and nearly blinded you. Otherwise, it seemed to have a phantasmal sheen about it, like it just might be its own source of light. Or perhaps the light emanated from Braggart himself.

"Charlie, this is-"

"No, allow me!" Braggart exclaimed, his smile growing impossibly wider. "I am King Braggart of the Antler Crown, King of the Emerald Court, Gilded Aspirant of the Sacred Band of the Golden Standard, Shatterer of Ivy Bonds and Restorer of the Fortress Elemental," he said, punctuating his list of titles with raucous laughter. Rita giggled as if to a joke she couldn't get enough of. Charlie noted that Tara's face didn't change one bit. His own face flushed when her eyes flicked to meet his before returning to King Braggart.

"Charlie here seems to have forgotten all about his time in Arcadia." She looked to him for confirmation.

"Uh. Arcadia? If that's, yeah, I mean, I just remember walking into a forest, and then the next thing I know I'm being chased by this monster, a, uh."

"Ravager," Rita offered. "And that's when we found him." The four of them started walking together, the king laying his hand on Rita's shoulder in a fatherly fashion.

"Interesting. So he's of no use to the Leaden Mirror then. I'd say he has no way to move but forward. The question is how. Let's go have a drink, Charlie! You look like you could use one."

"No kidding, I'm parched."

A short walk later they were settled comfortably in a booth at a quaint pub with a colourful name. Charlie had already downed a cold frothy beer and was making short work of another when he became aware of the others talking. When he looked up, Tara left them and went to sit at the bar, fingering a black bird pendant. Before Charlie could get a handle on what was happening, Braggart fixed him with what seemed like an uncharacteristically solemn stare.

"What are you feeling, Charlie?"

It seemed a very peculiar question, but judging by the look on Rita's face it was a very important one. Charlie thought back and realized it had been an emotionally exhausting day. He'd never been more afraid in his life than he'd been in the last few hours. He'd also been sobbing like a child. Carefully searching within him after the concentrated knot of emotion he had accidentally loosened then, he felt it was now wound tight, but waiting to burst out of his chest at any given moment. It wasn't fear. He felt safe, even with a giant who called himself king and a girl made of lacquered wood. The sudden grief for losing his old life was oddly absent. He wondered for a second whether he was still in shock, but there was an undeniably profound comfort in the thought that there was no turning back. Now that he'd had some time to think and not just react, he found he didn't really want to think about the university. Instead, something else was vying for his attention, something bubbling up to the surface, a movement like butterflies flapping, something just on the edge of anxiousness.

"I'm... curious." This seemed to catch the king's attention. "I want to know how all of this works, what's keeping it together. I'm a man of science, and today I've seen things that can only be described as magic. It's titillating. I want... more, I suppose. I have a thirst for more." He looked from face to face. "And I think I'd like to get to know you all better."

"I think there'll be plenty of time for that, boy. You're welcome to join my court. We'll set you up with a new identity, some money, get you started on a new life, keep you safe. In return, you will come to the court's aid when we call."

"That's... That sounds good."

"Do you swear fealty to the Spring Court, Charlie?"

"I swear." They shook hands, and in that moment something stirred, some force that was very familiar to Charlie, as if the world aligned itself around their handshake. He knew then, and the knowledge came from his heart, as natural as in a dream, that he had just made an unbreakable oath.

Recommended listening

Just rediscovered this song. I think it fits perfectly.

Acquaintances, pt 2

The thing that looked like Charles Holcombe frowned, and stood up. Terror gripped Charlie, and he ran, wondering what the thing might be capable of. If there was anything he'd learned today, it was to not trust appearances. He quickly made his way back to the park, hoping the others would still be there. Hoping against hope that the impostor wouldn't follow.

He found himself cowering behind a tree in the middle of the park, feeling exposed, looking over his shoulder. Somehow he could feel the impostor's eyes, its gaze on his neck. Gertrude and the others were nowhere to be seen. Charlie was alone in a world that had become alien to him. In a world with no place for him.

The next instant, he was fighting for breath, sagging down onto his knees, his vision blurring. He only caught on when he felt the tears roll down his face and heard himself sobbing. There was no stopping it, he had somehow tapped into an endless source of raw emotion that had laid dormant somewhere deep in his gut.

What was he going to do? Where would he go? His old life was gone, the Charlie he knew might as well be dead. There was nothing for him here anymore.

"Hey. It's going to be all right."

He looked up. Standing over him, the sun casting a halo around her face, was a girl. She offered him a bone white hand. He grasped it, still hulking. It was cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly cold, like a stone in the shade on a sunny day. She helped him stand, and with the sun out of his eyes he could see her face.

"You're a..."

"A Changeling. Gertrude told me you'd be here."

"Oh. I see. But..." Her face was a painted and polished mask. The glaze had peeled off under her eyes, where he could make out finely worked wood. The nose was extremely delicate, and he could just make out hairline gaps around her mouth that shifted as she spoke, an intricate mechanism that folded in on itself in sections. He was immediately taken in, as much by her superficial beauty as the fascinating design and workmanship. She was a living wooden doll. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and sniffed. "Uh... This is going to sound stupid, but... Have we met before?"

"Let's not dwell on the past. What's your name?"

"Charlie."

"I'm Tara. Follow me, Charlie."

They walked through town, past the university towards the south end of Harmon. Charlie caught himself inspecting every minute detail of the doll woman. Tara had a fascinating gait. It was so consistent, as if it were choreographed or programmed, more like a dancer mimicking a walk than a person walking. He felt a sudden impulse to push her, just to see if she would regain her balance or continue her walk cycle lying on her side.

"I should introduce you to the courts." She was suddenly looking at him, holding his gaze firmly. Her eyes were distinctly human. "You're a Changeling now. You should become acquainted with Changeling society."

"Changeling..."

"Yes. Did Gertrude tell you about the courts?"

"No."

"Our society is divided into four courts, one for each season. I am a member of the Spring court."

"What does that mean? Is a court like a political party or something?"

"Not quite. One's court is part of one's identity, as well as being the ruling faction during its season."

"Sounds... interesting. Are all the courts represented in Harmon?"

"If we didn't have a Summer court, who would rule during summer?"

"Of course."

"As you can see, all four courts are needed for a Changeling society to function."

"How many Changelings are there in Harmon?"

"No one is keeping count. Maybe a hundred or so. We're here." They were in a back alley. A waiter sat slumped on a loading dock, smoking a cigarette. Apart from the three of them, the place looked deserted.

"Where?"

She motioned for him to follow and opened a door leading into a big building to their right. They went inside and walked through a dimly lit hallway with a few doors on either side, a flight of stairs down into a dark cellar, and a set of swinging double doors at the end. Charlie was beginning to wonder why he trusted Tara. She said she'd spoken to Gertrude and the others, but where were they? Gertrude had mentioned some other side, some sort of enemies. What if Tara was one of those, whoever they were? He must have been too fascinated by her to critically consider what he was doing. He was probably making a huge mistake.

"They are just through here," she said.

Charlie didn't bother asking who. He wasn't sure he'd get a straight answer anyway. She pushed the double doors open and they came out in a conference hall dotted with tables where people were conversing amicably. At least they seemed like people at first glance. Then Charlie saw a man with horns, a woman enveloped in fire, a giant made of stone, and that none of the people in the room were human. They were all Changelings.