Mythology 101
Page 13
O O O
“See,” crowed Carl, breaking the silence. “He didn’t deny it. For the sole purpose of bugging me, he threat—”
Tears were overflowing Marcy’s eyes. “Shut up, Carl.”
He whirled on her angrily. “Hey, he’s been a pain in the butt as long as I can …”
“I said, shut up,” Marcy blurted, sniffing. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Big hero. We’re through. You can leave me alone from now on.”
“Marcy!” Carl looked astonished, then angry.
“Didna you hear what the lady said?” Enoch hissed, springing up and glaring into Carl’s face. “Leave her alone.”
“Back off, shorty.” Carl snapped. “I’ll say whatever I feel like.” His face went red and his hands tightened into fists. The slightly built elf stood up to him.
“Did your mother teach you no manners, Carl Mueller?” Enoch sneered.
O O O
Holl watched the three of them absently, his fingers playing with his whittling knife. He was bitterly disappointed in Keith, not because he had admitted to backing an issue that would inadvertently evict them, but because he found Keith’s methods shy of sense. If I’d been out to even a score with this big stinking fool, Holl thought, I’d have made it more personal. His clan friends had a lot to think about, by the looks on their faces. Poor Marm, getting straight into the middle. He never had more sense than to start a fight without all the facts in hand.
Keith had a good idea, thinking of having the library declared a historical treasure, though the others didn’t give him time to explain how it would work. Holl had read about such things in the library books, and in the periodicals, too. At the very least, it would make for all kinds of delay. His people could find a place, given time. They all liked Keith, but now they were confused.
He knew the older ones believed that the Big Ones were dishonest, two-faced. After all, they had history to back up their opinions. A setback like this one could get them all believing that Keith was one of those, but he himself understood Keith’s impulses, and that made all the difference. The younger ones might have his own perspective. He’d have to discuss it with them later.
“Class dismissed,” the Elf Master said at last.
***
Chapter 14
“But you must understand that it was before he knew about us that he was campaigning for the new library,” Holl said, thumping the dinner table with his fist. “He’s trying to correct his mistake.”
“Rubbish,” the clan elder said from the end of the table. “He’s got caught, and he’s covering his tracks. What does it matter what becomes of us, eh?”
“That’s not fair, Curran. He has our interests at heart. If you were to give him any credit at all.…”
“I am not inclined to do so.” The white-haired elf drew his brows into a single furrowed line.
Keva’s hard expression showed him how much support he could expect from his immediate family. “You brought him here. A snake in your own nest!”
“It isn’t like that,” Holl explained patiently, trying to deal with their fears. What would they do if they had to leave here? Where would they go? He was born here. He had never lived anywhere else. But it was clear that he had a more objective point of view than the others did. They were all frightened by the idea of moving on. Small wonder: the world had changed a lot in the last forty years. “If you’d read the books yourself, you’d understand. ‘Historical landmark’ stops action faster than a good strong spell halts a cataract.”
“These books contain too many Big ideas. You’re starting to think like a Big One.” Curran spat on the ground.
“Just exchange of concepts. I know my heritage,” Holl corrected him sharply. “I know which is magic and which is science and what is untruth. He is our friend. That is the truth.”
“Are you forgetting why we live apart from the Big Ones? It is so we will not be absorbed and destroyed. Look how Keith Doyle made up to seduce us,” Keva snapped.
“He’s just being friendly,” Holl said, shaking his head. “He has no other motives. He is much simpler than that.”
“He is intruding himself too far into our lives. That is vhy I sent him away. Perhaps you haf had too much exposure to the Big Ones,” the Elf Master’s voice came from the next table. “You vill stay away from the class for a time. When you remember who you are and where you came from, then you vill understand why it is not good to absorb too much of their culture. And then you may return.”
“Master, that is not just,” Holl protested, turning around. Maura sat in her place beside Enoch, her head bowed. Strain creased her forehead. Apparently it was not only Holl’s clan that had been discussing the events of the day.
The red-haired elf rose to his feet. “I decide whom I vill teach.”
Holl pushed himself away from the table, and rose to meet the Master’s eyes. “It is too bad you can’t decide who will learn,” he said, fighting to keep his voice level, “starting with yourself.” And he strode away.
O O O
When he opened the door of their dorm room, Pat found Keith sitting on his bed with all the lights off. “Now what?” he demanded.
“Did you ever have a case of really classic bad timing?” Keith asked unhappily.
“Yes,” Pat answered, turning on the lights. Keith not only sounded miserable, he looked miserable. The black arcs underlining his eyes made him look like a red-haired raccoon. “There was this girl in Kankakee once, well … And so, I repeat: now what?”
“I’ve made a big fool of myself,” Keith said. He seemed truly worried. “I meant to do something nice for someone, and it backfired.”
Pat pulled Keith’s chair around and sat down on it. “It happens,” he responded sympathetically. “What did you do?”
“Some uh, friends of mine may be getting … evicted. They literally have no money,” Keith said, since it was the exact truth. “And I walked into the middle of it today with a bunch of presents for them, and they threw me out.”
“So? You hit ’em in a sensitive place. You’re a have and they’re have-nots. You ought to pay more attention to all that sociological research you’re supposed to be doing. It’s not your fault.”
“But it is! And I’ve got to fix it somehow.” Keith put his head down into his hands.
“No way. You’re not responsible for their problems. Injured pride’s a tough thing to deal with. You can help, but don’t try to do it all for them.”
“But they have nowhere to go.”
“Bull. Everyone can find someplace to go. And you’ll just have to curb your generous streak for now, my boy. If they want something from you, let ’em ask.”
“I wish I could win the Lottery. That’d solve the problem. I could buy a place for them to live. Or,” Keith caught a glimpse of Pat’s face, utterly exasperated, “lend them the money to buy one.”
“That won’t help,” Pat said seriously. “Remember self-respect? It’s tied to self-sufficiency. Charity is given by those above to those below. Let ’em be your equals. Give a guy a fish, and he’ll eat today.…”
“I know … teach him to fish, and he’ll eat for the rest of his life. You’ve got a cliché for every occasion, but this time I think you’re right. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to do anything I can teach them that’ll help. Not in time, anyway.”
Pat patted him on the top of the head with a fatherly hand and rose from the chair. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe they won’t be evicted. That’d be the end of the problem.”
Keith mumbled through his hands, “I’m not counting on that.”
“What choice have you got?” Pat asked reasonably, picking up the glass carafe from their Mr. Coffee. “Say, have you had dinner yet?”
“No. Not hungry.” His stomach felt wrung out with worry.
There was a tap on the door. “I’ll get it,” Pat said. Keith heard the door open. “It’s for you, Doyle. It’s some kid.”
“Sorry. He’s not hungry,” Pat told the boy.
“Come on in,” Keith said. “Welcome. Am I glad to see you.”
“It’s a long, cold walk from the bus station,” Holl said, with a meaningful sideways glance at Pat.
“Sure is,” Keith nodded, catching on. “How was your trip?”
“Okay.” Holl pulled off his coat and hat. Keith took them from him and hung them up in the closet. When he turned back, Pat was staring with open interest at the elf’s ears. Holl stared back, blue eyes innocent.
“Trekkie,” Pat announced.
“Yup,” Keith agreed.
“Huh?” Holl asked.
“’Scuse me a minute.” Pat walked out of the room brandishing the coffee pot. Holl started to speak, but Keith held up a hand to forestall him until Pat was out of earshot in the washroom across the hall.
“What?” Holl demanded in a hiss.
“Too long to explain now. It’s harmless. Look, you’re my nephew, okay? And when Pat comes back, just say ‘Yeah, I really like Mr. Spock.’”
Pat came back into the dorm room with the sloshing pot of water.
“Yeah, I really like Mr. Spock,” Holl said obediently.
Pat smiled and plugged in the coffee-maker. “Aren’t you going to introduce your guest?”
Keith sighed, and waved his hands between the two. “Pat Morgan, my room-mate, meet my nephew.”
“Holland Doyle,” Holl said, extending a hand.
“A pleasure,” Pat said, taking the hand with a courtly salute. They shook.
“Say, let’s eat,” Keith said. “I just remembered I’m starved.”
O O O
Holl walked wide-eyed down the buffet line behind Keith and Pat. “Do you eat like this every day?” he asked Keith in a whisper.
“No,” Keith muttered back. “Sometimes it’s even worse.”
Dozens of Big People were filling trays in the serving room, and hundreds more of them were sitting out in the vast dining hall beyond the door. Most of them smiled indulgently at the little blond kid in the cap who was sticking so close to Keith Doyle. Possibly they were remembering their own first visits to a college. The sheer number of human beings was sometimes just plain overwhelming. Certainly the boy seemed impressed.
The abundance of food impressed him, too. Not one, but five main dishes, with several steaming pans of vegetables, and a basket of fresh-smelling rolls. Holl sniffed. Not as good as Keva’s bread. But everything else wafted enticing aromas his way. It was hard to choose what to take to eat. At least in the clan kitchen the decision was simple. You ate, or you didn’t.
Aware that other diners were waiting patiently behind him, Holl pointed to one of the steaming pans at random. A shining white plate appeared, and a heap of small, golden chunks was shoveled onto it. “Potatoes or fries?” asked the white-uniformed woman behind the counter.
“Fries?” Holl said uncertainly. A scoop of fries joined the entree.
“Peas and carrots?”
“Yes,” Holl said automatically, mesmerized by the deftness of the woman’s hands.
“No!” Keith exclaimed, overhearing him and turning around. “No. String beans. You want string beans, right?”
Holl shrugged. “Sure.” The hand dropped the scoopful back into the cauldron of green and orange, and dipped the spoon into another filled only with green.
“The peas and carrots are left over from the First World War,” Keith said out of the corner of his mouth. “At least the beans are fresh.”
“Oh,” said Holl.
Somehow the plate passed un-spilled over the top of the counter, and Holl went on to secure cartons of milk and a piece of cherry pie in a bowl. Balancing the heavy tray uncertainly, he followed the other two through the dim dining hall to a table near the window, and sat down across from Keith.
“These are good,” he said, tasting one of the golden chunks. It was a small piece of chicken, covered in batter and deep-fried.
“What’s he got there?” Pat asked, peering over his own plate.
Keith was struggling to cut a tough slice of beef with a dull-looking knife. He glanced over. “Chicken McNuggets. At least those aren’t regular army issue.” The meat slid, pushing his potatoes off the plate. Pat snickered, picking up a forkful of a thin greyish stew with crisp brown noodles and rice.
Holl filed the name and the expression for future use, and attacked his meal. He had started out using a fork, but careful side glances showed him that all of his fellow diners were eating their chicken and fries with their fingers. Nonchalantly, he followed suit. The food was as greasy as it looked, but it tasted good enough. Keith looked up and gave him a wink.
“What’s that there?” he asked, indicating Pat’s meal.
“Pork chow mein,” Pat said.
“Go on,” scoffed Holl. None of the library’s cookbooks had an illustration for chow mein that looked like that.
“Honest to God,” Keith vowed. “That’s what they think it is.”
“Want a taste?” Pat offered.
“No, thanks,” Holl said. “I know when I’m well off.”
O O O
“Oh, by the way, the ladies sent to tell you that they all think you’re very kind.” Holl pushed his empty plate aside and leaned forward on his elbows.
“Lady-killer,” Pat leered at Keith, who blushed.
“It’s not what you think, Pat,” he said with a long-suffering grimace. “What else did they say?”
“Mostly, it degenerated into an argument about whose point of view served the community best. Naturally, I’m of the opinion that mine does. Most of your younger cousins side with me. It’s all the aunts and uncles who disagree. And, as a result, I’m temporarily declassified, myself.”
Declas—? Out of class? “That’s not fair,” Keith protested.
“Not fair, but also not permanent. The same is true for you, if you manage to redeem yourself with them.”
“This kid is a genius,” Pat declared. “I can hardly understand a thing he says.”
“Yeah. He’s going to college next year,” Keith added.
“This one?”
“Not a chance,” Keith said. “He’d meet too many weirdoes like you.”
“Worse yet,” Pat told him, “like you.” He put his tray aside and stood up. “Enough of haute cuisine. I’ve got to get to rehearsal. Don’t wait up for me, dear.”
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Keith said sourly.
“Live long and prosper, kid,” Pat waved.
“The same to you,” Holl called back.
O O O
“You know,” Keith mused, when they were back in Keith’s dorm room, “it’s kind of ridiculous to call you my nephew, when you’re twenty years older than I am.”
“Not at all, cousin,” Holl corrected him airily. He snatched off his wool hat and threw it on the bed. With both hands, he rumpled up his blond hair into a comfortable bird’s nest. “Much better. In our family, it’s nothing unusual for a granddad to have a forty-year-old nephew. Or a two-year-old great-aunt, for that matter. Keva’s grandson Tay’s in that very position right now, with his aunt Celebes, our baby sister. Who, by the way, is dressed in a natty new gown of red and white, courtesy of you. Many thanks.”
“You’re welcome, I guess. I didn’t think it would cause so much trouble,” Keith admitted, remembering the source of his troubles. “All I wanted to do was supply a little raw material where I thought it was needed.”
“And it was needed. Don’t let the old ones distract you from the truth of that. Tonight there’re a lot of blessings being showered on your head. Though the main opinion is that in your case, the heart is greater than the head is.”
“I know,” Keith groaned. “I’m working on my new strategy to swing the Student Senate’s vote the other way aga
in. I hope they’ll go for it. Everyone wanted a new Sports Center before Pat, Rick and I started our campaign.”
“I surely won’t bring that news home,” the elf said, shaking his head with wry amusement. “If they thought you were a widdy before.…”
“But if I can’t fix it, what will you do?”
“What we can.” Holl’s shoulders sagged. “We don’t know, and that’s the truth of it.”
“Pat suggested I teach you how to fish,” Keith said, staring off into space.
“What do you know about the ‘Art of Fishing’ that Isaak Walton didn’t?”
“He doesn’t mean real fishing. He meant I should use my considerable skills to teach you how to solve your own problem. But there’s nothing I know that you don’t know how to do better.”
“It’s a good idea your roommate had, though. You’re both kind for caring,” Holl said, kicking his heels against the legs of the desk chair. “Truly, it isn’t your problem. It could have happened at any time before this.”
“Are you sure you haven’t got some pots of gold hidden somewhere?” Keith asked. “It sure would help.”
“Of course we do,” Holl said sarcastically. “Which we carried from the old place to this on our backs. Have you ever hefted real gold?”
“No. I wish I could win the lottery or something for you. I’m not rich. Far from it. I’m here on scholarship, myself.”
Holl saw that Keith was falling into a depression. “Cheer up, Keith. Here you go, then.” He retrieved the bag he had arrived with and tossed it toward the youth’s head. “Your payment.”
“My what?” Keith caught it and drew out the contents of the bag. It was a wooden lantern about a hand span high, rectangular in shape, with sharply peaked roof surmounted by a stiff ring, and lattice-carved sides as fine as filigree. Inside was a spiral-carved wooden candle topped by a white cotton wick. The bottom panel was one of Holl’s ‘cohesiveness spells.’ “It’s beautiful.”
“All my own work,” Holl told him proudly.
Keith turned the lantern over and over in his hands, stroking the polished frame. “There’s no opening. It’s just ornamental, huh?”