“I’d look forward to reading that,” Keith said avidly, then more hesitantly, “if I can, of course.”
“Read it? You may write it if you vish.”
“Uh, no,” Keith said, backing away. “I really don’t need another essay, sir. No offense, I mean.”
“None taken,” the Master said genially. Diane laughed.
Keith heard the crunch of tires on gravel and escaped up the hill to see who was arriving. He recognized the bronze Cadillac as Marcy’s parents’ car.
Marcy had heard it, too. She scrambled to the top of the steps, and stood staring at the car.
“Oh, no, Keith,” she said with a worried look on her face. “You didn’t ask my folks! What are they going to think?”
“Sure I did,” Keith said. “Come on, they can take it. Your dad’s cool. As for your little brother …”
As for Josh Collier, he had already flung open the car door and was staring down into the garden with a blissful look on his face.
“Oh, wow!” he shouted. “Marcy, you live in such a cool place! Dad, I want to go to Midwestern next year!”
“Marcy,” her mother said, getting out of the car, “who are all these people?”
Keith and Enoch both took Marcy’s hands and led the protesting girl to greet her parents. Diane followed, grinning.
“Hi, Mr. Collier,” Keith said cheerfully.
“Hey, guy,” Alan Collier said. “How’s school going?”
“I’m going to pass, but I think I’ll take the summer off. I’ve got things I ought to be taking care of, you know. How was your drive down?”
“Very long,” Marcy’s father said, rising from his car seat very slowly. His eyes were fixed on the scene in the garden.
“Would you like a beer, sir?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’d love one.”
“Great! A tall one or a short one?” Keith asked innocently.
“Oh, a tall one.”
“Right down there, sir,” Keith pointed. “That’s the tallest one we have.” Fet was sitting cross-legged on the ground listening as Marm talked, probably lecturing him about brewing. Mr. Collier goggled silently. His wife looked alarmed, swallowed, then drew herself up, proving that Marcy was not the only person in the family who could adapt to bizarre situations with grace.
“Well, dear,” she said to her daughter, “you must introduce us to all your friends. Hello, Enoch, dear.” She leaned down to kiss her son-in-law, who escorted her down the stairs.
“Keith!” Marcy hissed, her fingertips digging into Keith’s arm. “Why’d you do that?”
“Do what?” Keith asked, turning guileless hazel eyes toward her. “It’s just a little payback for them not taking you seriously last year. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s for certain,” Marcy said. She let go her tight grip and squeezed his upper arm affectionately. “You’re a good friend.”
“That’s what it says on the label. C’mon, Mr. Collier,” he said, taking the stunned lawyer by the elbow. “You met Marm back in December. Let me introduce you to a new friend of his who’s into beer in a really big way.”
He interrupted Marm and Fet’s lively argument about fermentation and helped his newly arrived guest to a deep mug of Fet’s personal brew.
“This is terrific,” Allan Collier said. “Did I ever tell you that I took up beer-making in college?”
“No!” Marm said. “All right, I’ll put it to you. This big oaf says ye need yeast in the proportion of 1 to 20 to the hops. Now, I say that’s too much.”
“Way too much,” Marcy’s father said gravely. “Now, I prefer a mix of about 1 to 35 or 1 to 40.”
“No, no,” Fet boomed, thumping his fist on the ground for emphasis, rattling all the bowls on the serving table. “Too li’l!”
Keith left them to the technicalities.
***
Chapter 37
“Keith, you haven’t eaten a thing,” Diane said, appearing beside him. “It’s after six already.”
“I … is it?” Keith asked, rising from his crouch near the coolers. He looked at his watch in astonishment. “Wow. It seems like everybody just arrived a minute ago. I was just making sure the supplies were holding up.”
“Well, I was worried how you’ve been holding up,” Diane said firmly. “It’s been hours since you sat down.” She put a plate of grilled bratwurst and potato salad into his hands and clamped his fingers around it. “Sit down and eat this. I made it especially for you.”
“Yes, fearless leader,” Keith said. He glanced around. The back porch currently stood empty of guests. “How about there?”
“It’s going wonderfully,” Diane said, while Keith wolfed down the first sandwich. “I feel like I’m in a movie with fantastic special effects. Did you see the fairies making flowers grow instantly from seed? Olanda’s trying to get them to show her how to force her roses into bloom. Can they do each other’s kinds of magic?”
“I dunno,” Keith said, washing down a tremendous mouthful with a gulp of soda. “I don’t think they know. I’ve been talking with lots of them—most of them don’t communicate. There aren’t very many of them left in the world. I don’t know if there ever were. That’s something I would really love to find out. Maybe that’s something I can do in the future. I’d never really worked out a practical application for mythology, but maybe that’s it. I can make connections, help them to get along.”
“Do you really want to be troubleshooter for all the world, Keith Doyle?” Holl asked, coming up with a sheet of paper clutched in his hand. “They’ll come to you if you put up your shingle as a Big Person who will give aid and comfort to the Unseen.”
“Well, I’d be happy to help the ones who really need it.”
“And how will you tell which ones those are?”
Keith thought about that. “I guess I’ll get fooled a lot,” he admitted. “But I don’t mind.”
“Your innocence is your passport, as always,” Holl said. “Catra’s been looking for you, by the way.”
Keith couldn’t read the odd expression on his friend’s face. “Is everything okay?”
“It’d be hard to make it better, but we’ve got your first mystery for you,” Holl said. He gave Keith the document. It was in the elves’ ancient language. “This came by the e-mail a little while ago. It offers thanks for the invitation, and regrets for not being able to attend the festivities.”
Keith glanced at it. “From the Niall? But what’s the mystery?”
“It’s not from the Niall, or any of his people,” Holl said, his face brimming with excitement. “The server codes say that it comes from somewhere else in Europe.”
“Where?” Keith’s ears perked up. He pushed the rest of his food aside. “Could there be other folk like you? Lost relatives?”
“Uh-oh,” Fet said, rising suddenly, his head nearly brushing the crown of the trees. “Which way d’n stream?”
“May be more of us, Keith Doyle, but it’s a challenge you’ll have to leave for another day,” Holl said, with a grin.
Keith hurried to point the giant in the right direction.
* * *
The sun began to set, and a luminous full moon ascended slowly from the eastern horizon. Keith sat on the back porch steps, his left arm around Diane, watching his long-held dream come true. He’d matched every one of the guests with their RSVP, and was smug in the knowledge that all the folk who’d said they were coming were there and ready to party. Fairies danced on the lawn, their bodies gleaming with colored light: gold, pink, blue, red, green. The sidhe lolled at their ease in the bend of the river. Fet held up one of Marm’s barrels with his bare hands so the little brewer could pour out the last few drops of the keg for the fire-snake, who was getting cheerfully drunk with the turtle-beings.
“This is,” Keith declared, raising the pop bottle in his fist in a toast, “the greatest celebration of all time, anywhere.”
“It’s got to be,” Diane agreed. “This is like the United Na
tions of mythical beings. Everyone’s having fun, they like the food and especially Marm’s beer, and no one’s gotten sick yet. Marcy’s folks are down there talking with a bunch of boggarts or something like they’ve known each other all their lives. The Master’s happy. Holl’s happy. And you are responsible.”
“Oh, yeah,” Keith said, his face aglow. Diane held his right hand tightly in her lap with both of her hands. He knew he had never been so happy in his life. “I feel like I’m in the middle of my favorite Creedence Clearwater song. ‘Doo doo doo, lookin’ out the elves’ back door,’” he sang. Diane giggled a little at his efforts to make the overlong line scan.
“We don’t have to have the tambourines and elephants, if it’s all right with you,” Diane countered, putting her head on his shoulder.
“Spoilsport,” Keith complained, but he was grinning.
“Not a chance,” Diane said seriously, looking up at him. “If you want them, it’s okay. I really don’t mind living with you in the midst of the fair folk, as long as you don’t forget I’m here.”
Keith looked a little ashamed of himself. “I never mean to ignore you,” he said, contritely. “I just …”
“… Get absorbed in what you’re doing. I know. That’s one of the things I like about you, the way you throw yourself into what you do. It’s fun. Most of the time. And this was worth it.”
Keith sighed and took a swig of soda. “It sure was,” he sighed.
The early spring evening was cool. As the sky darkened overhead, Dennet and a few of the elders laid a bonfire in a circle of stones at the center of the garden. Holl’s father glanced up at Keith on the porch steps and winked at him from under his feathery brows. He cocked his finger at the pile of wood.
Keith grinned back, understanding the joke. No, he’d let them set the fire their way. He’d done enough for the day. Dennet took a tinderbox from his pocket and teased loose a small clump from the mass of fluff inside. Getting down on his knees, he set it underneath a pile of light brush and other flammable materials, then breathed on it. Some of the guests let out murmurs of admiration as the bonfire leaped to life, crackling and hissing. The sidhe stayed in their nice, wet stream, but other guests were glad to move close to the warmth of the fire.
As proudly as a prince, Enoch made way, leading Marcy into the circle of firelight. The dark-haired girl stopped on the edge, shyly reluctant to come in with the eyes of so many beings upon her, but he urged her forward until she joined him. Enoch settled her on a large stone in a good, warm spot and sat down at her feet. In his other hand he had a musical instrument that he’d probably made himself that looked to Keith like a cross between a lute and a guitar. Keith was surprised. He’d never suspected Enoch of being musically inclined. The black-haired elf tuned the strings as other elves came into the golden circle, carrying fiddles, pipes, and flutes. Holl had a bodhran drum and a short, double-ended stick just barely wider than his knuckles. Maura, depositing Asrai in the care of her mother-in-law, joined her husband carrying a beautifully carved flute. Tiron had a little gilded harp. Even Marm left his post by the beer and brought out a small accordion. Tay put a fiddle on his shoulder, drew the bow across the strings in a flourish of notes, and they began to play.
Signaling the others to silence, Enoch played a solo ballad, looking up into Marcy’s eyes. His music was for her and her alone. The passion that sparked between them was almost palpable.
“They’re so good together,” Diane sighed, squeezing Keith’s hand. “It’s been nearly six months, and they’re still like newlyweds. It’s like he’s giving her another gift.”
Rily evidently thought a more grand gesture was called for. He rose from his repose in the shallows, strode majestically into the circle, and set his jeweled crown at Marcy’s feet. Suddenly, other guests were following suit, showering the surprised girl with packages and trinkets.
“How sweet,” Diane said, delighted. “I think they’re giving her wedding presents.”
Marcy gave her husband a kiss. He smiled, lightening his dark expression, and struck a merry chord on his guitar. The others joined in, playing a cheerful hornpipe.
As the music rose, the fairies swirled together in a cluster, rising high above the bonfire, and began to dance, weaving in and out, their wings underlit by the blaze fluttering double-time to the beat. Other guests rose and joined in. Some of them, like the stork-creatures, took to the air, but the rest footed complicated patterns on the ground. Rily, treading a dignified measure with Liri and the turtle-people, spotted Keith sitting on the porch and beckoned to him. Keith started to refuse, but Diane got up and pulled him into the dancing circle. He thought he’d stumble, but the magic seemed to take hold of his feet.
As the fifth number began, Candlepat and Catra stood up and sang along. Voices that had been forced into silence in the library were free here, filling the air with wild power, beauty, longing, and joy. At the second chorus the fairies joined in, providing a sky-high descant that almost shook loose Keith’s fillings, but he was rapt with happiness.
Lights, strange scents, tiny breaths of wind passed by Keith, in and out of the great field. Tall, attenuated shapes formed in the cool moonlight. It seemed that all the guests had not arrived in daylight. Beside Keith, Holl’s breath caught.
“Who are all those people?” Diane whispered.
“I don’t know,” Keith said. “But they must have seen the invitation.”
He went out to greet them. Some of the new forms fled from the warmth of his body; some, Keith knew, because he was a Big Person. Others offered cool nods, but a few did stop to speak. Rily moved majestically toward the shy ones. Some of the newcomers bowed to him. To others he offered courtesies. He turned to beckon to Keith and the Master.
The dancers moved cautiously into the field. The newcomers joined with them in the spell of the music, long faces and legs and hands picking up gleaming rays of moonlight and firelight. Keith felt he was in a dreamland, and offered his memory bribes, threats, and any kind of persuasion he could think of to store everything about this night. When he couldn’t dance another step, he and Diane went back to the stairs to watch and marvel.
As the moon began to set, some of the smaller lights departed, and larger, darker shapes took their place. Keith felt there was no harm in these, either. The field was under a spell of truce and peace. His Little Folk wandered among them, chatting with some, sitting quietly with others. Fet and Marm were asleep and snoring under the trees. Pat, Dunn, and most of the other students were camped out by the food, talking with the turtle-folk. The fairies flitted here and there, dipping into conversations, but avoiding the sidhe, who danced and drank and chatted, all with the greatest air of dignity.
Holl joined Keith and Diane, flopping to the ground beside the wooden stairs.
“Ah! I’m worn out. Maura went to bed hours ago, but I couldn’t miss a moment. You’ve done it again, Keith Doyle.”
“I wish I had my camera,” Keith said wistfully.
“Don’t you start that again,” Holl warned him. “The last time we’d only a small island to cover to find you. We’re sitting here in the middle of the great, broad North American continent. Don’t court trouble.” He returned to the band to spell Tay, who wanted to dance with Olanda. Other couples were twirling together in the firelight, Enoch and Marcy among them. Keith watched them, feeling like a successful matchmaker. Diane must have known what he was thinking.
She steeled herself visibly. “I know we’ll talk about us one day. I know how busy you’ve been. I want to give you all the room you need.”
“I don’t want any room,” Keith protested, grabbing her hand. “I’ve been … I’ve had this … Oh, never mind. Here,” he said at last, taking the small ring box out of his pocket and opened it before her eyes. The diamond caught light from the fire and sent out rainbows.
Diane flushed pink, taking the small velvet box in her hands as though it might pop like a soap bubble. “Oh, Keith,” she breathed. Then one eyebrow we
nt up, and she wore a mischievous grin. “But what about Doris?”
He blushed, too. “I had a piece of incredible luck.” He told her about Gadfly’s generosity and his savings plan, all three parts of it, including his secret account for the down payment on a house with a yard and two bathrooms. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said sheepishly. “But I waited too long to tell you, and you got mad. I’m sorry.”
Diane looked surprised, then pleased and touched. “You doll,” she said, taking his face between her hands and kissing him soundly. “You thought of everything. So you got an Origami as a gift.”
“Yup,” he said. “That made it possible to run out and pay off the ring in full. You always came first with me. I swear Doris will never come between us.”
“I see that now,” Diane said, “Well, you know, when something’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Let me see her.”
Keith handed over the Origami. He didn’t have to explain anything about it; he’d spent months babbling about it, telling her more than she’d ever need to know. Diane looked it over with growing interest.
“This is really special,” she said. “I’m not a gadget person, but wow. You’re right. It’s irresistible. Maybe I’ll want one, too.” She handed it back.
“Sure,” Keith said. “Whatever you want.” The two of them sat together, staring out at the ceilidh, still in full swing. Keith was twitching with nerves. “Well?” he began tentatively, “what do you think?”
“Of what?” Diane asked innocently. “Oh, come on, you’re never short of words. Is that the best you can do? You, the wonderchild of the advertising industry? Your job is to sell people on things.”
Keith opened his mouth. “I … you’ve been everything to me … you know how I feel.… Um. We’ve been so together for years.…” He stopped to grin sheepishly at himself. The more he tried to express himself eloquently, the more of a traffic jam the words formed in his mouth. Better not to say anything at all. With a smile, he turned on the Origami. Taking the stylus, he scribbled on the screen, and handed the little device to Diane. With lifted eyebrows, she read it.
Advanced Mythology Page 41
