Advanced Mythology

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Big Folk sniffing around,” Holl said shortly. “They almost spotted some of us early today, and not the young-looking ones who are easy to explain away. It was sheer carelessness. And we discovered that there were holes in the barrier spell that protects the edge of our property. If it is not there our presence all but cries out that we are here. We must guard ourselves a little more closely. It’s a burden, but one we’re used to carrying.”

  “I wish I could swap problems with you,” Keith said, lifting the telephone receiver.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, my friend,” Holl said under his breath. “No, you don’t.”

  ***

  Chapter 8

  “I’m sorry,” Keith said. He’d said it again and again over the last hour. He had a deep well of apologies to draw from. It looked as though he was going to need the whole aquifer. Diane had sat through about half the recitation of his revised plans, then burst into furious tears, scolding him for thoughtlessness, unreliability and not thinking of anyone but himself. Keith weathered the storm, trying to figure out how to make the situation better. He couldn’t. It was his choice and his fault. He pleaded for her to understand.

  “It’s a great opportunity for me,” he said, trying to catch her eye as she stormed past him, pacing from wall to wall in the small apartment. “I could wait another year, maybe two, for a break like this, and then there might not be any room for me. I just jumped for it when it happened. I’m sorry. I should have called to run it by you.”

  “I was looking forward to spending a lot of time with you this year,” Diane said, her eyes still red. “It was nice being able to count on having you here for your master’s program during my senior year. I missed you a lot during your semester up in Chicago. This is our last year together before … before it all gets real.”

  “I know. I’ve missed you, too.” Keith felt helpless in the face of her unhappiness. He caught for her hand. “Look, I helped Dorothy get the account. That’s all I was supposed to do for her. She and the rest of her team can take it from there. I am the weakest part of the chain. My inexperience could even sink them. They don’t need me to keep it going. If you don’t want me to go to Chicago, I’ll turn them down. Dorothy will find someone else who knows what he’s doing.”

  Diane turned away and looked out the small window. She was silent a long while. Keith wished he had thought to call her before accepting the position in the first place. It had seemed so obvious at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t be in two places at once, and she had been counting on him. They didn’t get much time together when he was down here full time, what with their school and work schedules. He hoped he hadn’t destroyed the trust the two of them had been building for three years. He loved her so very much.

  “No,” she said at last, turning around. “You’re right. I can’t be so selfish. It’s a good opportunity. This is what you like doing. I hope it works out for you. I want you to have what you want. It’s for both of us, right?”

  “Of course,” Keith said, relieved. “It won’t be so bad. I’ll still be down here every weekend. It’s a five-day-a-week job. Unless they’re cranking on something, everyone goes home about 4:30.”

  Diane’s blue-green eyes crinkled, seeing the funny side even though she was still sore. “Including junior copywriters? Including hyperactive ones who see a future for themselves at the company?”

  Keith grinned. “Including those. By five every Friday I’ll be on my way down here to throw myself at your feet.” He dropped to his knees before her and threw his arms open wide.

  “Oh, get up,” Diane said in mock exasperation. “I just wasn’t ready to deal with you being gone again.”

  Keith sprang to his feet and put his arms around her. He was glad when she nestled close and put her head on his shoulder. He stroked the silk of her hair, thankful to be forgiven. “Hey, it might not last. It depends on how long the project lasts, and what they want me to do. I could be out the door again tomorrow. Then I’ll be back here full time.”

  “No, I don’t want that,” Diane said firmly, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “It’ll be okay. I’m all right. But you’d better call me every day. I just get lonely.”

  “You’ll never know I’m gone,” Keith promised her. “The phone company will declare a dividend based on my bills. It could bankrupt the state. Whole markets might collapse!”

  Diane laughed and shook her head. “It’s hard to stay mad at you, you idiot.”

  “My one saving grace,” Keith said. “Uh, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you, well, keep an eye on the farm for me? I hate to leave everyone in the lurch, but maybe you can look after each other.”

  Diane shook her head. “You’ve got to stop trying to be all things to all people,” she said wistfully. “Once in a while it would be nice if you were just all things to one person.”

  “I know,” Keith said ruefully. “I’m not very good at delegating.”

  Diane grabbed him by the lapels and looked deeply into his eyes.

  “Learn,” she said.

  * * *

  “So you’ve invited the Big One to live here each and every weekend?” Curran demanded, standing up. “How could you be so foolish with the troubles we’re havin’? Bill collectors? Hikers invading our land? And what about that man fro’ the Preservation Council? He’s a persistent one!”

  Holl stood at the center of a village conclave. Upon hearing the news his clan chief had called for a full meeting with all attending. The Conservatives, mostly older Folk, were massed on one side of the large living room. The Progressives filled the other. Holl stood in the middle, cramped and hot between Catra, the Archivist, taking notes, and the Master, seeming at ease in his deep chair. He would have been more comfortable if they had agreed to hold the meeting outside, as was their new-made summer custom, but the elders insisted they didn’t want even the possibility of being overheard. Early in the summer the Folk had had plans to build on an extension to the house to use as a regular meeting hall. No one had brought it up recently.

  “I don’t regret the impulse at all,” Holl said, and the Progressives sitting behind him murmured their agreement. Only the Elf Master seemed neutral on the issue. “It’s a small favor. We have plenty of room in the workshop. It’s not used at night, and it’s warm and insulated. Why shouldn’t he have the use of a bed? He’ll be spending little time here except to sleep. Between travel, classes, and his ladylove, he’s got a full schedule. It would have drawn his attention if I had not made the offer.”

  “But he must be here at least some of the time awake,” Aylmer pointed out, “since he is continuing his studies under our Master’s tutelage. We should haf been asked. It is a community, after all.”

  “And I vill claim his attention,” the Master assured him. “But there is a point that must be considered. Ve cannot belief that Keith Doyle vill be blindfolded and deaf during his stay. He vill know that something troubles us.”

  “It’s a curse,” Shelogh announced, her voice thin with stress. “There is a curse upon this place, and we should stay no longer. We discovered one homestead. Why not find another?”

  “It is not so easy as that,” Tay said. “We were lucky, and we had the services of Keith Doyle to help us search.”

  “It is not a curse,” Enoch said. “What do you call a curse that only works its evil when there’s a break in the charm around the house?”

  “What do you think causes the holes to appear?” Dierdre, Shelogh’s clan leader, asked.

  “Logic would suggest,” said Catra, “that something’s either coming in or going out. But which?”

  “Logic vould suggest,” the Elf Master said gently, “that perhaps something came in, then vent out, and so on.”

  “You are amazingly cool about this,” Catra said, giving him an odd look.

  The village headman turned his gaze fully upon her. “But consider: if it is a curse it vould be vorking all uf the time. If it is a being that meant us serious harm, ve
vould know that, too.”

  “We don’t know what it wants,” Shelogh said, throwing up her hands.

  “We don’t know if it’s an it!” Candlepat said. “It could be a curse upon the land where this house was built. It’s more than possible that a Big Person living here would have no conception of it; they’re so insensitive. They might only have had the feeling something was wrong.”

  “Vhy else vould the owner haf sold so cheap?” Aylmer added.

  Everyone stopped talking for a moment to consider that idea. Holl waited warily for someone to break the silence. It didn’t take long. They all burst out talking at once.

  “We should never have come to live where Big Folk have been. It’s wrong!”

  “A curse could be working all the time. We may not notice,” Marm said.

  “No, I disagree. It’s awfully directed for something that’s a general curse upon the house,” said Tiron.

  Tay nodded.

  “Maybe we should have been looking at one person.”

  “Aren’t we going to a lot of trouble to imagine what we cannot touch, see, or sense?” Maura asked.

  “It reqvires more infestigation,” said Bracey.

  “Has no one noticed that it all seems to happen whenever someone goes down into the cellar?” Tay asked, trying to get everyone’s attention. “One person in particular?”

  “And which one person are you pointin’ a finger at?” Curran demanded. “We all go down the cellar.”

  “Well, we’ve all gotten sick from Marm’s wine,” Tay began. “That vintage he served at the graduation party.…” The round-faced male sprang at him and stuck his chin at the white-haired youngster.

  “You take that back, you stick-insect! You chose the keg. It could be you that took some not ready to drink and made us all ill.”

  “D’you think I can’t read the signs?” Tay insisted, standing his ground, though his face was as white as his beard. “No, I can read ones that are well-drawn.… Perhaps you’ve ceased to care if yours are legible.”

  “You pup! I am the most careful person who lives here! Not like you, pushing your nose in where it doesn’t belong!”

  Tay cocked back his fist and drove it into Marm’s eye. The brewer staggered back a pace, but was quick to respond, grabbing the younger male by the back of the neck. Tay batted at his hands, trying to free himself. His teeth were bared like a beast’s. By now everyone in the room was on their feet. Heaven’s help, this is not like us, Holl thought, alarmed. He pushed in between them, shoving them apart.

  “Stop!” he cried. But the two didn’t listen. They ignored him, circling one another warily. Marm was not a practiced fighter. Holl easily ducked under a punch he swung, grabbed him around the body, and shoved him toward his wife and family. Tay lunged, but Holl was there, holding him around the waist. He stopped, tossing his head like a frightened horse.

  “Don’t you dare brawl like Big Folk,” Holl scolded them. “They can go so far away from each other that they’ll never meet again, but we must stay close. All the world’s against us. We only have each other. Choose your words with care. An accusation now that is found later to be without a basis.…” Holl let his voice trail off. Tay took the point, but Marm was too angry to let it drop right away.

  “He’s accused me of poison. I will not rest with that ringing in my ears.”

  “Well, Tay?” Holl asked.

  Tay let his gaze drop to his shoes. “I take it back.” He raised his face, his eyes ablaze. “But I still say there’s a curse, whether it be on him or not.”

  “Well, I say there’s not,” Holl said. “We’ll go look and see if there’s something else in the cellar. Who is with me?”

  Enoch stood up. His father turned a mild look of reproof upon him, and he sat down.

  “Vhy should more than one go to look?” the Master asked. “It is not a large place. You cannot profe a negative.”

  “All right, then,” Holl said, mentally squaring his shoulders. “I will see if there’s evidence of a positive.”

  He strode out of the room. The others watched him go in silence.

  “Why?” Enoch demanded, as soon as Holl was gone.

  The Elf Master sighed. “It is a test, my son.”

  “Bah,” Enoch said. “Some community.” He stalked out after Holl.

  * * *

  He found Holl crouching near the back wall where pipes entered the house from the well, examining something. The fair-haired male glanced up as Enoch came in. Enoch thought he saw hope and relief flash across his brother-in-law’s face that somebody had come to keep him company, but the expression was gone as soon as it registered. He was grateful for the thousandth time that Holl was to be the next Headman of the village, and not him. Imagine, having to keep one’s temper all of the time.

  “Any negatives or positives?” he asked.

  “You cannot call it good news,” Holl said, rocking back on his heels, “but yes. When Marm threw a fuss the other day about the protective spells being broken I came down here with the others. I felt the seal myself. Something has been trying to pierce the spell since then. See for yourself.”

  Enoch came closer and extended his hands, sensing, almost listening with his fingertips. The power that should have surrounded the foundation like a seamless garment was nearly holed through, almost as though fire had been applied, melting out an irregular circle. Together, they strengthened the protection, smoothing out the roughness.

  “But did it come from within or without?” he asked. “Are we constantly trapping something in here that wishes to be elsewhere, or do we have an intruder? And what does it want?”

  Holl stood up. “For once I agree with Candlepat. Is it an it? We might merely have stumbled upon a force of some kind. This feels old. Timeless.”

  “Hmph. Because we don’t know the source of it. It is only unfamiliar. Don’t mistake strange for ancient.”

  Holl studied the wall. He didn’t say aloud that he wished Keith Doyle was there with him, but he did. He missed that cheerful courage that Keith had displayed on their visit to Europe, his open willingness to try anything, blundering forth good-naturedly into everything, trusting that every situation would come out all right, and carrying on like a hero when it did not. The expression on Enoch’s face told him he knew what Holl was thinking. Holl, ashamed to be caught, put Keith out of his mind at once and concentrated on what was before him. “The old house itself could be registering a protest, now that there are 80 of us living here instead of two elderly Big Folk.”

  Enoch shook his head. “Those of us with good stone-sense went over the foundation a dozen times since we’ve moved in here. The old ones insisted. They thought the house might come down around us. It hasn’t, and it won’t. The house is not to blame.”

  “The only feeling I get from this is a troubling one, of uneasiness,” Holl said, trying to put into words what he felt. “And anger. I feel that something is very angry.”

  “Could it be another creature?” Enoch asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “How would we know?” Holl replied. “We’ve spent all our years trying to avoid other beings. I’m not certain we’d recognize the evidence if it was here.”

  “Could it be the Earth herself? We’ve always tried to live in harmony with nature, but I was so small when we last lived on our own I don’t know what it should feel like.”

  “I couldn’t know,” Holl said. “I was born in Gillington Library. I’ve never lived elsewhere. But I will say there’s nothing in the shape of the burn that corresponds with the shape of the Earth’s energies here.” Holl touched the wall once more. He felt nothing but the coolness of fieldstone and concrete and the hum of the spell. “We’ll just have to wait until the next incursion, and hope we can catch whatever it is while it’s happening.”

  Enoch looked toward the stairs and let out a snort. “They’ll not like ‘wait and see’ as an answer.”

  Holl chuckled. “I am sure they’ll accept it, if I ask for volunteer
s for the vigil first.”

  Enoch nodded, following his brother-in-law out of the cellar. And there was another good reason they’d named Holl as heir apparent: he had an agile mind.

  ***

  Chapter 9

  “If Mr. Collier has a moment to see me,” Keith offered the middle-aged African-American woman a winning smile as she picked up the receiver of the complicated-looking telephone system. “I’ve got to get back to my office before eleven. I’ve got a meeting I can’t miss.”

  “I’m asking his personal assistant right now, sir. If you’ll just wait for a little while?” She spoke into her headset microphone in a low voice for a moment, then pushed another button on the keyboard. She nodded at Keith. “Burghart, Collier and Associates; good morning, may I help you?”

  Keith stepped back, brushed down the front of his russety-tan suit jacket, and straightened his tie. He started to pace back and forth among the burgundy tweed chairs. He’d been thinking about this moment all yesterday evening while driving back to Chicago, and all morning while he was getting dressed.

  How best could he get Marcy’s point across without being too pushy? He felt that he ought to approach the moment as if he were an advertiser trying to win a customer. How would Enoch play as a product? Try Enoch brand Son-in-law, Keith thought playfully. Compact, effective, lasts for centuries, g … No, he’d better stay far away from phrases like “guaranteed satisfaction.” But this was serious. He promised himself he’d play the matter completely straight, for Marcy. She was trusting her whole future of happiness to him. That was a sobering notion.

  “Keith Doyle?” a man’s voice asked, startling him out of his thoughts. Alan Collier came toward him with his hand out. Though the rest of her features had come from her mother, Marcy had inherited her wide, dark-blue eyes, straight black hair, and white-white skin from her father. Mr. Collier stood slightly taller than Keith, and his wiry frame and athletic grip suggested he worked out regularly at something like handball or tennis. “Hey, guy, it’s been a couple of years!”

  “Hi, sir,” Keith said, returning the handclasp firmly. “Yeah, I think it’s been since sophomore year.”