“You have to trust me
when I say if I knew more, I would tell you.”
“Like you’ve always done in the past,” Adin replied sourly.
Boaz frowned. “Here’s the thing. Every culture in the world
has a variation on the theme of the changeling, am I right?”
“He’s a changeling ?” Adin chuckled. “A fairy baby switched at
birth with a human?”
“Yes, and no. You’re so disrespectful, and it ill becomes a
man of intelligence. Put aside Disney for right now. A changeling
child is believed—in most cultures—to be a magical being that is
Vigil 47
switched with a human child at birth. Whether it’s hell tithes, or
mischief, or a way to prevent magical inbreeding. The point is, no
one really catches on in most cases.”
“Right.” Adin sipped his coffee. “And no one has considered
the possibility that the entire genesis of these tales is a way for
superstitious or hyper-religious people to explain away children
with illnesses or birth defects or autism.”
Boaz’s mouth dropped open. “You have studied this.”
“I’m a professor of literature, and I vet old documents
and manuscripts all the time. Fairy tales are some of the most
profound and interesting things people have ever written. Of
course I have.”
“All right, all right.” Boaz winked at Bran. “I told you there
would be puffery involved.”
Adin sputtered, “I beg your—”
“The point is, even Bran can’t tell you what he is, because he
doesn’t know.”
Adin digested this and frowned at Bran. “How the hell can
you not know what you are?”
Bran sucked in a breath and held absolutely still for a single
second, then burst into tears and ran from the room. Adin heard
the nearly obscene clank sound of his manacles as he slammed
the connecting door between their rooms.
“If you can be any more insensitive, this might be a good
time, Adin. After all, I don’t completely despise you yet and even
though Santos never liked you in the first place he could probably
like you less.” Boaz got up and then removed the tray from the
bed. He reached out and pulled Adin’s half-finished coffee from
his hand.
“ Boaz .”
“Think about it,” Boaz ordered Adin sternly. “Think about
how you know who you are and then come down for breakfast.”
Adin thought of all the memories Bran had accessed. He
thought of his mother and father and their stories of their parents.
48 Z.A. Maxfield
If he didn’t have that…if he didn’t remember that, he’d have no
idea what he was either. “ Boaz .”
Boaz had gotten to the door, but he turned abruptly. He could
be at least as impatient as Donte. “There is folklore suggesting
that a changeling child becomes a human child over a period of
time. It’s a process. At some point, the child in the process of
becoming is neither one thing nor another. Santos speculates that if
the process was interrupted, someone like Bran might be… Well.
Certainly he’d be outside the norm.”
Adin frowned. “How outside?”
Boaz measured his words more carefully than Adin had ever
seen him do, “Entirely new. He’s neither. He’s not something .”
“Boaz. Of course he’s something. He eats. He stirred my
bathwater. He cried.”
“He stirred your bathwater ?”
“It’s a long story. The point is he’s entirely corporeal. He’s
very much a human boy.”
“Yes.” Boaz chewed his lip thoughtfully.
“He couldn’t be held in chains if he weren’t.”
“There is some speculation that iron weakens him.”
“It’s all conjecture?” Adin entertained the idea that he’d
purchased boy who was some sort of magical being with mental
Houdini fu.
“I’m making eggs.”
“Quel surprise.”
Once the door slammed behind Boaz, Adin cursed and ran
his hands through his hair. He knew he should get up and put
on clothes, clean his teeth, and leave. He should take his luggage
and go back to the hotel and leave all the magical machinations
to Boaz
when I say if I knew more, I would tell you.”
“Like you’ve always done in the past,” Adin replied sourly.
Boaz frowned. “Here’s the thing. Every culture in the world
has a variation on the theme of the changeling, am I right?”
“He’s a changeling ?” Adin chuckled. “A fairy baby switched at
birth with a human?”
“Yes, and no. You’re so disrespectful, and it ill becomes a
man of intelligence. Put aside Disney for right now. A changeling
child is believed—in most cultures—to be a magical being that is
Vigil 47
switched with a human child at birth. Whether it’s hell tithes, or
mischief, or a way to prevent magical inbreeding. The point is, no
one really catches on in most cases.”
“Right.” Adin sipped his coffee. “And no one has considered
the possibility that the entire genesis of these tales is a way for
superstitious or hyper-religious people to explain away children
with illnesses or birth defects or autism.”
Boaz’s mouth dropped open. “You have studied this.”
“I’m a professor of literature, and I vet old documents
and manuscripts all the time. Fairy tales are some of the most
profound and interesting things people have ever written. Of
course I have.”
“All right, all right.” Boaz winked at Bran. “I told you there
would be puffery involved.”
Adin sputtered, “I beg your—”
“The point is, even Bran can’t tell you what he is, because he
doesn’t know.”
Adin digested this and frowned at Bran. “How the hell can
you not know what you are?”
Bran sucked in a breath and held absolutely still for a single
second, then burst into tears and ran from the room. Adin heard
the nearly obscene clank sound of his manacles as he slammed
the connecting door between their rooms.
“If you can be any more insensitive, this might be a good
time, Adin. After all, I don’t completely despise you yet and even
though Santos never liked you in the first place he could probably
like you less.” Boaz got up and then removed the tray from the
bed. He reached out and pulled Adin’s half-finished coffee from
his hand.
“ Boaz .”
“Think about it,” Boaz ordered Adin sternly. “Think about
how you know who you are and then come down for breakfast.”
Adin thought of all the memories Bran had accessed. He
thought of his mother and father and their stories of their parents.
48 Z.A. Maxfield
If he didn’t have that…if he didn’t remember that, he’d have no
idea what he was either. “ Boaz .”
Boaz had gotten to the door, but he turned abruptly. He could
be at least as impatient as Donte. “There is folklore suggesting
that a changeling child becomes a human child over a period of
time. It’s a process. At some point, the child in the process of
becoming is neither one thing nor another. Santos speculates that if
the process was interrupted, someone like Bran might be… Well.
Certainly he’d be outside the norm.”
Adin frowned. “How outside?”
Boaz measured his words more carefully than Adin had ever
seen him do, “Entirely new. He’s neither. He’s not something .”
“Boaz. Of course he’s something. He eats. He stirred my
bathwater. He cried.”
“He stirred your bathwater ?”
“It’s a long story. The point is he’s entirely corporeal. He’s
very much a human boy.”
“Yes.” Boaz chewed his lip thoughtfully.
“He couldn’t be held in chains if he weren’t.”
“There is some speculation that iron weakens him.”
“It’s all conjecture?” Adin entertained the idea that he’d
purchased boy who was some sort of magical being with mental
Houdini fu.
“I’m making eggs.”
“Quel surprise.”
Once the door slammed behind Boaz, Adin cursed and ran
his hands through his hair. He knew he should get up and put
on clothes, clean his teeth, and leave. He should take his luggage
and go back to the hotel and leave all the magical machinations
to Boaz
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