Emile called for quiet and said, “Laurent is right. He is the eldest, so he is the one to go.” The next morning, arrayed in his fine armor and armed with the best of weaponry, Laurent mounted up on his caparisoned steed and said, “No matter what Sage Geron tells me, whether he has any aid or not, still will I seek Avelaine. It might be a lengthy quest, yet surely will I find her.”
Roel paused in his telling and took a long sip of tea.
Celeste remained silent and waited for him to continue.
Roel then set his cup down and said, “With tearful au revoirs, we watched Laurent ride away, my brother the knight quite magnificent on that great horse of his.” Roel sighed and said, “But then three years passed, and we heard nothing of Laurent or Avelaine.
“By that time I had won my own spurs in the lists and in one-on-one combat as well as in the melees. Then war came, and over the next months both Blaise and I acquitted ourselves with honor on the fields of Valens.
“But when we returned home, Blaise set out to find Laurent and Avelaine, and he rode for Sage Geron’s cottage to seek advice. I would have gone with him, but my sire was in ill health, and there were yet foemen wandering the land. So, to guard my sire and dam, I stayed behind at the manor.
“Another three years passed, and there came no word of Blaise, Laurent, or Avelaine. My sire had recovered his health, and now I would go to find my missing kindred. Mother objected tearfully, for she would not lose all her get in a futile search. My sire, too, was reluctant to let me go, yet in the end he acceded, for I was a true knight, and he could not, would not, gainsay me, his third and last son, in this honorable quest.
“As did my brothers before me, I set out to seek the advice of Sage Geron, and a moon or so later I arrived at his cote, there nigh the edge of the mortal world, the cottage but a fortnight from the twilight walls of Faery.
He invited me in and made tea, and we sat at his table and spoke. . ”
“I’ll tell you what I told your brothers,” said Geron.
“Contrary to popular myth, ’twas no Elf King who took your sister, but the Lord of the Changelings himself. Ah, he resembles the Elf King, yet is another altogether. He stole Avelaine’s shadow, cut it free from her, he did; hence he captured a key bit of her essence and has her in his thrall.”
“Then my sire was right about someone stealing a shadow,” said Roel, “but was wrong about who did it.” Geron nodded.
“Then that was what he had draped over his arm?
Her shadow?”
Geron nodded again.
Roel sighed. “I thought it but a wisp of dark cloth.” The sage shook his head. “Nay, lad, ’twas her shadow, stolen away. The Lord of the Changelings at times seeks out a fair demoiselle to capture, and he does so in this manner.”
“Speak to me of this Changeling Lord.” Geron replenished his cup of tea and offered some to Roel, who with a gesture declined. The sage took a long sip and set the cup aside and leaned back in his chair. “Though they are rather Elflike, these beings are not true Elves, but a race set apart, a race called Changelings.”
“Changelings,” said Roel. “I’ve heard of them: babes exchanged at birth for another child.”
“Oh, non, non”-Geron shook his head-“that’s but part of the truth. You see, Changelings are not only babes, but adults, too. And there is this, my boy: they are called Changelings for they can alter their shapes.”
“Shift into something they are not?”
“Non, shift into someone they are not, but always whoever they become, at heart they are still a Changeling.”
“Say on, Sage.”
Geron took another sip of tea. “Just as the Firbolg and the Sidhe, or better yet the Seelie and the Unseelie, there are two factions of Changelings, in appearance difficult to tell apart. Yet though they might be different from one another, they are closely akin. Regardless as to whether it is one race or two, both factions take humans for their own, for now and again they need the strength of mortal blood to restore the vitality of their kind.”
“Mortal blood? You mean they mate with humans?”
“Oui. Only in this way can they remain a vigorous folk.”
“Tell me of these two factions.”
“One is ruled over by a queen, and she is proud and terrible.”
“Terrible? Evil, wicked, you mean?”
“Non, non. Terrible in her power, in her abilities, and she does not gladly suffer the follies of humankind. E’en so, it is she who lures men unto her bed. She does not steal shadows to do so, but uses her charms instead.” Roel nodded. “I understand. What of the other faction?”
“Ah, they are ruled by the Changeling Lord, and he is also terrible, not only in his power, but in his wickedness as well. It is he who steals shadows of those he would bed.”
“He would lie with my sister?”
Geron sighed and nodded.
Roel jumped up and began pacing. “My sister will never mate with that evil being.”
“My boy, she has no shadow, and thus little will of her own.”
Roel stopped pacing and turned to Geron. “Why did he choose her?”
“First, she was near the temple ruins, where she made a wish, one overheard by the Changeling Lord. And second, she suited his needs, for he requires someone virginal, someone who has not lain with a man nor an Elf nor any other male.”
Roel threw himself into his chair. “Then he has already defiled her?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not, for lore says not only must she be a virgin; it further declares he cannot force her, for unless she enters his embrace without resistance, the seed will not take. Yet if she resists, in time she will come to his bed, her will sapped, her defiance at last gone.”
“How much time?”
“That, I do not know.”
“Then perhaps I am already too late.” Geron shrugged. “Mayhap.”
Roel slammed a fist onto the table, Geron’s teacup and saucer rattling in response. “Nevertheless,” gritted Roel, “I will free her.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and then Roel said,
“What of the children of these matings?” Geron straightened his cup in its saucer. “The Queen of the Changelings, she woos her humans and they go willingly to her bed. And the children born of their matings are blessed.”
“And the Lord of the Changelings?”
Geron shook his head. “He does not woo, but instead steals shadows, takes something of the soul; hence children of these matings lack full souls of their own.” Roel groaned, “And when these babes are swapped for human children. .?”
“Both factions exchange their newborn offspring for humankind newborns, and they raise the human children to live among them. In the queen’s realm, some become bards and poets and thespians and artisans beyond compare, and others become warriors and they protect the queen’s borders. Some, a few, return to the mortal lands and become folk of renown. For those who stay in the Changeling realm, eventually they take mates, and thus the populace is strengthened for a while. But for some reason I do not understand, at last the vigor wanes, and more humans are required to restore the vitality of the Changelings, and so both the Queen of the Changelings and the Changeling Lord must bring in new blood.”
“I see,” said Roel. “And what of the babes who are raised by the minions of the Changeling Lord?”
“Ah, those,” said Geron. “Even though they are human, hence have the souls they were born with, most are raised to become frightful warriors or other dreadful beings, and those who return to the mortal land live in infamy.”
Roel sighed and then said, “And what of the Changelings who are raised by humans?”
“If it is a blessed child from the queen’s realm, then only good things come to those whose lives they touch, but if a nigh-soulless child from the lord’s realm, then dreadful things befall not only those in that foster household, but all who come in contact with the Changeling.”
“Then, if my sister has mated with the Changeling Lord, the chances of her child turning out good are. .?”