The man put a hand over his mouth and shook his head slightly. No Healer? If Matt couldn’t talk, and he knew someone could fix it, he would want the help. Why didn’t the man?
“Well,” Leen said as if that were some kind of answer, “we are going to get you cleaned up. And some fresh clothes. How long have you been wandering?”
The man flashed his right hand three times.
“Fifteen days?” Leen asked.
The man shook his head.
“Fifteen weeks?”
He shook his head again. Then mouthed something.
“Years?” Leen asked, and this time it wasn’t so much a question for information as the sound of shocked disbelief.
The man nodded once.
“Here on Blue Isle or have you come from Galinas?”
The man pointed to the ground. Here, then. Matt was as shocked as Leen. This man had been wandering for the entire length of Matt’s life.
“And you haven’t lived anywhere?”
The man shrugged. The question was clearly too complicated to be answered as a simple yes or no.
“Well,” Leen said. “You’ll get a chance to tell us, I guess. Let’s go in.” She opened the door, and led him inside, taking him through the kitchen quickly and toward a side door. The man stopped, beckoned Matt forward, and handed him the fish.
It was slimy and scaly and smelled oily. Matt felt his stomach lurch. But he made himself smile and the man smiled back. Smiles—small, large, and everything in between—seemed to be his language. Leen tugged the man’s arm, and together they left the kitchen.
Tink watched it all from the hearth. She was slender and she seemed to be getting taller by the day. Her brown hair was caught in a braid around the top of her head, and her skin, the color of weak tea, looked clearer than usual this morning. She had slate gray eyes, and a narrow mouth with Fey cheekbones that gave her entire face a fox-like appearance. But she was no beauty, unlike pure Fey girls. She looked too cunning for that.
She walked over to Matt and looked at his hands. Her mouth curled up when she saw the fish. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Cook it,” he said.
“How?”
He shrugged. He’d never cooked a fish before either. His mother made a great fish stew, but she bought the fish or got it in trade, and it was usually in pieces already.
She made a face at him, as if the fish were his fault. “Put it on that plate, and get Scavenger. He’ll know what to do.”
Matt put the fish on the platter she pointed to, then held out his scaly hands. She dipped a bowl into the cistern, put the water on the table, and a towel beside it. He cleaned off his hands and asked, “Where is Scavenger?”
“Outside, doing his meditations, like usual.”
Usual? Matt had no idea Scavenger did anything except annoy people. “All right,” he said, and let himself out.
Scavenger wasn’t in the magick yard, and so Matt went around the building. Scavenger was sitting on a bench a previous group of students had carved—Matt, as a very little boy, had watched them with envy—and he was staring at the mountains, much like Matt had done that morning. Scavenger had his head tilted back, and for the first time since Matt had ever met him, looked vulnerable.
Matt cleared his throat.
Scavenger snapped to attention, the vulnerable look gone. “What do you want?”
“Sorry,” Matt said. “We have some fresh fish inside and Tink thought you’d know how to clean it.”
Scavenger made a sour face. “Once a Red Cap, always a Red Cap,” he said.
“What?” Matt asked, not understanding.
“They think when you used to work carving up the dead for magick, you’re an expert at skinning anything.” Scavenger stood. He was shorter than Matt, and sturdier. “Lucky for you, she’s right. Besides, I like fish.”
He walked beside Matt, around the building and back into the magick yard. “So,” Scavenger asked, “what’s teacher’s pet going to do now that teacher is gone?”
“Huh?” Matt asked. He hated talking to Scavenger. The man loved taunts and he loved talking in riddles.
Scavenger raised his slanted eyebrows. “You don’t know? Coulter left yesterday.”
Matt felt cold. Why was everyone leaving him? “Where’d he go?”
“Jahn.” Scavenger leaned forward, lowering his tone. “He may not be coming back.”
“That’s a lie!” Matt said, moving away. “If he were going away, he’d tell me.”
Scavenger shrugged and walked across the dirt to the door. “Believe what you want,” he said as he pulled it open and disappeared inside.
Matt stayed in the magick yard, staring after Scavenger. It couldn’t be true. Coulter couldn’t have left without telling him. Without talking to him. He thought Coulter cared about him. He knew Coulter did.
The cats started circling Matt, mewling again. Either he still smelled of fish or they hadn’t forgotten that he had been with the man who carried it. One of the cats put a paw on Matt’s leg and licked his finger, its tongue scratchy against his skin. Matt moved his hand away.
Scavenger had to be lying. He had to be. Matt pushed through the cats and pulled open the door.
The entire kitchen smelled of fish. The cats meowed, and Matt had to push them away with his foot to keep them from coming inside. He closed the door. Scavenger was sitting at the table. The spine and head of the fish were on a separate plate, and a pile of scales and tiny white bones were beginning to surround them.
Tink had her back turned. She was stirring something in the pot over the hearth.
Matt went over to her. “Is Coulter gone?”
She shot him a glance, then looked at Scavenger with something like anger. “He left last night.”
“Why?”
“Leen says the Black Queen needed him. It was an emergency.”
An emergency. Matt sighed. If he had lived here, Coulter would have told him. But in an emergency, a man didn’t run all over town telling people he was leaving. He just left.
“How’d he go?”
“He took our only carriage and Dash to handle the horses.”
“I didn’t know Dash knew anything about horses.”
“His father was a groom at the palace, I guess,” Tink said. She kept her head bowed. “Not a lot of people know yet. Leen’s going to make an announcement later.”
“How come you know?”
She looked up. “I watched him leave. He looked—”
“Scared,” Scavenger said. “And he’s a damn fool.”
Scavenger wiped his hands on a towel. Tink winced as he did so. Then he pushed the fish fillet toward her. She picked it up and stared at it as if she had never seen fish before.
“I can make a stew if you want,” Matt said. “For lunch.”
He hoped, anyway. He’d watched his mother do it, but had never done it himself.
“All right,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Matt pushed up his sleeves and took some water from the cistern. He would have to ask where the flour was, and he wondered if the school had enough money to buy butter from one of the local farmers. He hoped so. He’d never made a roux without it. Unlike most people in the area, his mother considered butter a staple, not a luxury.
Scavenger picked up the towel by one end and threw it on a pile that the kitchen staff set aside for the Domestics. Matt hoped he would take it out of there, or the kitchen would stink of fish all day.
Scavenger met his gaze. Matt knew that Scavenger wanted him to ask more about Coulter, but he wouldn’t. He would wait until Leen made her announcement. The word “emergency” had soothed him. He didn’t want Scavenger to get him upset again.
After a moment, Scavenger shrugged. “Need me for anything else?”
“No,” Tink said. “You’ve been a great help.”
At that moment, the kitchen door opened and Leen came in, followed by the strange man. He looked different with his face scrubbed clean and wearing traditional Fey clothes. His braids seemed as exotic as before, but his scars weren’t quite as frightening.
“I’m going to make the fish,” Matt said. “But for lunch because….”
His voice trailed off when he realized that Scavenger was staring at the newcomer as if he had seen a ghost. The strange man was staring back, a challenge in his eyes. For the first time since Matt met him, the strange man looked powerful.
Scavenger’s gaze went from the man to Leen. “Where’d you find him?” Scavenger asked in a low tone.
“I found him,” Matt said. “By the river. He caught the fish you cleaned.”
“I thought you were dead,” Scavenger said. He sounded bitter and angry, and almost frightened.
The strange man’s smile was small, apologetic. Matt found the language of the man’s smiles so easy to understand. He wondered if the others did.
The man touched his mouth.
Matt was getting cold. This man had something to do with Rugad then? With the battle fifteen years ago?
The man shook his head and touched his mouth again.
“He can’t talk,” Matt said.
“Don’t be a fool,” Scavenger snapped. “Of course he can talk. Talk is the basis of his magick.”
The man’s smile had disappeared. He shook his head and touched his mouth again, as if to say that he couldn’t.
“This is Rugad’s Charmer.” Scavenger said this last as if it were the worst thing in the world. “His name is Wisdom.”
The man nodded, and Matt whirled. This man had once served the famous Black King?
“He was Rugad’s second in command, the one who carried out all his orders. He had to do it because he could Charm anyone into doing anything he wanted.” Scavenger crossed his arms and gave Matt an intense look. “Is that what he did to you, boy? Charmed you?”
“Even if he had tried, it wouldn’t have worked,” Leen said. “Matt has Enchanter’s magick.”
“He’s an Islander. The magick bends here,” Scavenger said. “And I don’t think we dare risk the most talented Charmer in Rugad’s arsenal on this motley crew.”
The man—Wisdom?—touched his mouth again and shook his head.
“As if I believe that,” Scavenger said. “All you would need is a sympathetic Healer and you could talk again.”
Wisdom looked pained. Finally, he sank to his knees, opened his mouth, and pointed.
Scavenger frowned. He leaned forward, looked, and then turned away in disgust.
Matt couldn’t help himself. He looked too. The man had no tongue. What was there looked as if it had been ripped away. The scar was old, but brownish black as if it were still a wound.
“What happened to you?” Matt whispered.
“He crossed Rugad,” Scavenger said. He seemed to have control over himself again. “Apparently before Rugad died, and in some particularly horrible way, because it was usually Rugad’s method to kill his detractors. Instead, he made it impossible for Wisdom to practice his magick.”
“We have Healers who can probably repair you,” Leen said.
Wisdom shook his head vehemently.
Scavenger looked slightly amused. “Did Rugad curse you as well?”
Wisdom shrugged.
Scavenger rolled his eyes. “Rugad is long dead. His curses mean nothing.”
“We don’t know that,” Leen said.
“Of course we do,” Scavenger said. “He was a Visionary, not an Enchanter. His curses can’t linger past his death. Didn’t you know that, Charmer? Repair him, Leen, and send him on his way.”
Wisdom rose slowly, as if his knees bothered him. Matt helped him. “Do you want to be fixed?” Matt whispered.
Wisdom bit his lower lip, shook his head, then nodded, and then closed his eyes. Finally he shrugged.
Leen put a hand on his arm. “It’s your choice. But Scavenger is right. Rugad has been dead a long time. I don’t think anyone should still be punished for things that Rugad deemed crimes. You probably didn’t do anything wrong.”
Wisdom opened his eyes. They were sad. He shook his head. When she frowned at him, he touched his heart and shook his head again.
“He did do something wrong,” Matt said. “That’s what he’s trying to say. He deserved the punishment.”
“Is it a crime you’ll commit again?” Leen asked.
Wisdom’s smile was small. He shook his head.
“Then I’m taking you back to the Domestics. Our Healers should be able to repair this.”
Scavenger caught her arm. “Only if he promises to leave.”
She looked at him as if measuring what he had to say.
“We can’t have a Charmer here. We don’t have anyone to counteract him.”
“What counteracts a Charmer?” Matt asked. “You mentioned Enchanters.”
“Sometimes,” Scavenger said. “But mostly Visionaries.”
“Like my brother.”
“Your brother wouldn’t help us,” Scavenger said. “Your father taught him to be afraid of everything.”
“But I’ll help,” Matt said.
“Why are you asking for him to stay?” Scavenger asked.
Matt stopped. He didn’t know why. Because Coulter had left? Because Wisdom had nowhere else to go? Because Matt understood how it felt to be unwanted?