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before, in all his sixteen years. Many a time he had been swimming in the
cove, but never once had it occurred to him to swim out to the island. Nor, he
realized, had anyone else he knew ever been there, or even proposed going
there. It could only be the magic of the Sidhe turning men s minds away. He
shook his head; he could not do that. With the weather gone wild, such a
journey would be too perilous. A dead peace offering was no good.
That left Lookout Rock. Lookout Rock was his own Place of Power; he d even
called it so when such things were only a game. It was nowhere near any place
of the Sidhe that he knew of, but he could see
Bloody Bald from there, at least on a clear night. That was it, then: He d go
to Lookout Rock and offer himself top. 184the Sidhe. He d meet them, but on
his own ground not like a beggar at the back door.
He thought about the weather again. Rain. Wind. Even the road was half
flooded. If he fell into the ditch, he could quite possibly drown but then, he
considered, there might be worse things than drowning. He had to die sometime,
after all.
No, you fool! Don t think like that!
he told himself, but was not convinced. Of course drowning would solve one
problem: With him dead, maybe the Sidhe would leave his folks alone. Or would
they? Had his family become so tainted by that Otherworld now, all unknowing,
that the Sidhe might consider them a threat as well, even with him gone? And
Page 108
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
there was still his ring, out loose in the world, one more piece of
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
unfinished business. He sighed. One thing was for sure, things wouldn t get
any better from David s sitting here moping about them.
He went over to the stove and poured himself a cup of the last of the coffee
that had been made that evening. It was mostly grounds, but he drank it, hot
and black and bitter as gall. He thought for a moment, took a handful of
cookies out of an open package, and crept softly into his room.
Very quietly he stripped and began to dress from the skin out in clothes more
suitable to the bleak weather warmer clothes, for the temperature had fallen
with the rain so that it was sometimes perilously close to sleeting. Sleet! In
Georgia! In August! Once again he recalled Oisin s saying that Ailill was a
lord of winds and tempests. If he had had any doubts of that before, he had
none now.
He finished his garb with a black rubber poncho with a hood that far overhung
his face, and high hiking boots that laced close about his ankles. As he
passed his dresser, he paused and opened the top drawer and took out two
things: a handkerchief Liz had made for him the previous Christmas, with his
initials embroidered on it in blackwork uncials; and a key fob Alec had given
him with the Sullivan coat of arms engraved on one side and an Irish blessing
in Gaelic on the other. He smiled wryly, stuffed them into his shirt pocket,
and closed the door behind him.
His gaze flickered around the kitchen, coming to rest at last on a
comfortingly familiar object: his runestaff the one Liz had forgotten. It had
some magic; it had glowed when Liz touched it. Well, maybe there was some good
to magic after all. He picked itp. 185up and slung the leather strap over his
wrist, thought once about taking an umbrella, but the idea seemed ludicrous.
And, besides, the rain was nearly as horizontal as it was vertical.
The wind howled continuously, but the storm seemed to have let up a little or
so he thought until lightning flashed hellishly right outside, and a mighty
blast of thunder rattled the windows and doors like some dark beast trying to
get in. He checked them quickly, looking beyond to see if indeed something of
that other world did not pace about in the yard or on the porch seeking
entrance. David wondered briefly if the house would be safe while he was away,
but metal screens on doors and windows, iron locks and doorknobs had worked
before. He shrugged, drank the final swallow of the coffee, wincing at the
flavor, and quietly opened the back door.
The wind almost wrenched the door from his hand, but he caught it before it
could slam and was down the steps and into the yard almost before he knew it.
One thing was for sure, he considered as he splashed across the sodden grass:
He wouldn t leave any tracks. He glanced up toward the night sky, wishing for
the witchlight of the Faery moon that had accompanied him the night he met
Oisin, but it was not there. The rain itself imparted a sort of silver shimmer
to the world, though, that was almost as alien but still he could hardly see.
Well, he thought resignedly, it s uphill all the way; long as I m going uphill
and don t run into trees, I m on the road.
Magic, he mused. He d had enough of magic to last him a lifetime already. He
was tired of tingling eyes and burning rings, and of animals that talked, and
of not being able to trust anything at face value not even his brother. That
was the heart of the problem, all right: not being able to trust anything. He
could no longer be certain if a white animal was only a white animal, a friend
only a friend. Even the rocks and trees were suddenly suspect.
He dismissed that stream of reasoning as frivolous in light of the day s
events.
Trust, he thought.
Ha!
Who could trust him now? He d lied to everybody he knew, yet he couldn t
expect them to believe him if he told the truth. Shoot, he wouldn t have
Page 109
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zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
before, in all his sixteen years. Many a time he had been swimming in the
cove, but never once had it occurred to him to swim out to the island. Nor, he
realized, had anyone else he knew ever been there, or even proposed going
there. It could only be the magic of the Sidhe turning men s minds away. He
shook his head; he could not do that. With the weather gone wild, such a
journey would be too perilous. A dead peace offering was no good.
That left Lookout Rock. Lookout Rock was his own Place of Power; he d even
called it so when such things were only a game. It was nowhere near any place
of the Sidhe that he knew of, but he could see
Bloody Bald from there, at least on a clear night. That was it, then: He d go
to Lookout Rock and offer himself top. 184the Sidhe. He d meet them, but on
his own ground not like a beggar at the back door.
He thought about the weather again. Rain. Wind. Even the road was half
flooded. If he fell into the ditch, he could quite possibly drown but then, he
considered, there might be worse things than drowning. He had to die sometime,
after all.
No, you fool! Don t think like that!
he told himself, but was not convinced. Of course drowning would solve one
problem: With him dead, maybe the Sidhe would leave his folks alone. Or would
they? Had his family become so tainted by that Otherworld now, all unknowing,
that the Sidhe might consider them a threat as well, even with him gone? And
Page 108
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
there was still his ring, out loose in the world, one more piece of
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
unfinished business. He sighed. One thing was for sure, things wouldn t get
any better from David s sitting here moping about them.
He went over to the stove and poured himself a cup of the last of the coffee
that had been made that evening. It was mostly grounds, but he drank it, hot
and black and bitter as gall. He thought for a moment, took a handful of
cookies out of an open package, and crept softly into his room.
Very quietly he stripped and began to dress from the skin out in clothes more
suitable to the bleak weather warmer clothes, for the temperature had fallen
with the rain so that it was sometimes perilously close to sleeting. Sleet! In
Georgia! In August! Once again he recalled Oisin s saying that Ailill was a
lord of winds and tempests. If he had had any doubts of that before, he had
none now.
He finished his garb with a black rubber poncho with a hood that far overhung
his face, and high hiking boots that laced close about his ankles. As he
passed his dresser, he paused and opened the top drawer and took out two
things: a handkerchief Liz had made for him the previous Christmas, with his
initials embroidered on it in blackwork uncials; and a key fob Alec had given
him with the Sullivan coat of arms engraved on one side and an Irish blessing
in Gaelic on the other. He smiled wryly, stuffed them into his shirt pocket,
and closed the door behind him.
His gaze flickered around the kitchen, coming to rest at last on a
comfortingly familiar object: his runestaff the one Liz had forgotten. It had
some magic; it had glowed when Liz touched it. Well, maybe there was some good
to magic after all. He picked itp. 185up and slung the leather strap over his
wrist, thought once about taking an umbrella, but the idea seemed ludicrous.
And, besides, the rain was nearly as horizontal as it was vertical.
The wind howled continuously, but the storm seemed to have let up a little or
so he thought until lightning flashed hellishly right outside, and a mighty
blast of thunder rattled the windows and doors like some dark beast trying to
get in. He checked them quickly, looking beyond to see if indeed something of
that other world did not pace about in the yard or on the porch seeking
entrance. David wondered briefly if the house would be safe while he was away,
but metal screens on doors and windows, iron locks and doorknobs had worked
before. He shrugged, drank the final swallow of the coffee, wincing at the
flavor, and quietly opened the back door.
The wind almost wrenched the door from his hand, but he caught it before it
could slam and was down the steps and into the yard almost before he knew it.
One thing was for sure, he considered as he splashed across the sodden grass:
He wouldn t leave any tracks. He glanced up toward the night sky, wishing for
the witchlight of the Faery moon that had accompanied him the night he met
Oisin, but it was not there. The rain itself imparted a sort of silver shimmer
to the world, though, that was almost as alien but still he could hardly see.
Well, he thought resignedly, it s uphill all the way; long as I m going uphill
and don t run into trees, I m on the road.
Magic, he mused. He d had enough of magic to last him a lifetime already. He
was tired of tingling eyes and burning rings, and of animals that talked, and
of not being able to trust anything at face value not even his brother. That
was the heart of the problem, all right: not being able to trust anything. He
could no longer be certain if a white animal was only a white animal, a friend
only a friend. Even the rocks and trees were suddenly suspect.
He dismissed that stream of reasoning as frivolous in light of the day s
events.
Trust, he thought.
Ha!
Who could trust him now? He d lied to everybody he knew, yet he couldn t
expect them to believe him if he told the truth. Shoot, he wouldn t have
Page 109
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