could run so fast you could flash into another world. She sensed nothing on the roof, and in some ways that worried her more than if she’d felt the opposite.
On the morning of the third day, the boy opened his dark eyes and for some time lay staring at the ceiling. Maeve heard him sigh and put down her book. It was as if an invisible call shuddered through the Green House and everyone who lived there was drawn to the attic so that by the time Maeve murmured softly, “Who are you?” Zenna, Ariel and Darn were in the room also.
The boy looked at Maeve and there was no expression in his eyes that Ariel could interpret. If anything, he just looked resigned.
“Water,” Maeve said and Darn brought a cup of it to the boy. They held his head so that he could drink, and he did so.
Zenna flicked a glance at her cousin, and Ariel was able interpret what it meant. Maybe we shouldn’t be giving him that. But both girls remained silent. He was drinking. Perhaps he needed it after all.
“Can you remember anything?” Maeve asked the boy.
He shook his head very slightly, still looking at her.
Maeve smiled at her husband. At least the boy could understand them. “You were hurt,” she said. “Everything will be all right. Don’t worry. We’ll help you.”
“What’s your name?” Darn asked.
The boy shook his head.
“Where are your people?” Darn continued, voice firm. “We’ll need to find them.”
Now the boy looked cornered, eyes wider, gaze flicking from the window to the door.
“Stop that,” Maeve said. “He’s only just woken up. Give him time, Darn.” She stroked the boy’s hair, hushed him as you would a baby. “It’s all right. Nothing to fear. I’ll bring you some soup.” She stood up. “Help me, Zenna.”
The family left the room, leaving only Ariel behind. No one had noticed she’d stayed back or that she hadn’t been given a job to do. She wanted to tell the boy she was only a visitor too, but what was the point of speaking? She could sense it displeased him. So she sat down on the chair where Maeve had sat for the past few days and began to hum a tune. She closed her eyes and made the tune green and cool, like the forest depths.
She heard a soft sound, like water running over stones. It was the boy’s laugh. “We can speak,” he said, hardly more than whisper, “but only when it’s needed. And we rarely answer questions.”
Ariel opened her eyes and stared at him. “This is a question you must answer,” she said. “Will your people come for you?”
“I’m not lost,” he replied. He would not speak again that day.
Everyone knows that if you bring a changeling child into your home, or some creature of the otherworld, the otherness rubs off. It drifts like pollen through the still, summer rooms, and what were once just shadows take on feet and walk.
It was inevitable that Zenna was most affected by what had happened. Ariel felt she was destined only to be a witness to whatever transpired, nor would she affect the inevitable outcome in any way. She told herself firmly not to lie awake listening for sounds on the roof, because there wouldn’t be any. She must not be infected by Zenna’s feyness. The boy himself was like the summer light of the forest, sometimes green-gold sunlight, sometimes almost invisible in shadow. They named him Jack, because he would not tell them any other name. Most of the time it was easy to believe he was just a boy, separated from his family, but then his wound healed so quickly. After only a couple more days he was back on his feet. He did the chores that Maeve asked him to do without hesitation. He whistled to the geese that strutted around the pond, and they came to him, wings held out like arms. Maeve watched him from the kitchen window, smiling.
Jack was quiet, inhumanly so, but no trouble. He kept himself busy, and did not interact with the girls particularly, other than to nod his head in greeting should he come across them. Zenna could not keep her eyes off him. She speculated about him continually; it was naturally the topic that consumed her, and Ariel mostly played along because Jack interested her also. She just didn’t want to think he was anything but a stray, albeit an intriguing one.
Every afternoon, they would sit by the