“At least this is entertaining, Mr. Doyle,” Professor Larsen said. “All right, I’ll let it pass.” He put Keith’s paper back into the folder and slid it into his portfolio. He glanced at the clock. “All right, folks. Next week, we’re going to cover just-in-time versus traditional warehousing. Reading in Molino, pages 45–70, and Deming, chapter 6. I’d like to see a brief paper showing me your understanding of the assignment. You can write it as it applies to the businesses we studied this week—except for you, Mr. Doyle. I really don’t want to see a paper on Santa flying toys all over the world via reindeer power.”
“No, sir,” Keith said as the class broke up.
“You are crazy, man,” said the young man behind him, clapping him on the shoulder before climbing the stairs up to the ground level entrance.
Keith strutted out of the building, to find Diane waiting for him at the curb in her little car.
“So how was class?” she asked, as he tossed his backpack into the rear seat and climbed into the front beside her.
“Oh, you know,” he said casually, “same old thing. It’s just like being an undergraduate.”
* * *
Diane let out a shriek and held down the DELETE key. “This is garbage!” she exclaimed.
“No problem,” Keith said soothingly, leaning over to read what was left of her philosophy homework on the screen. “Let’s try again. ‘Nietzsche’s views on the state of existence could be equated with the story of Creation, passing from the state of chaos into one of order.’ That’s pretty good.”
“Yes, but everyone’s going to say the same thing,” she said. “I know I should say something about the mechanism of society, or compare him to his peers. I hate this.”
“The Master is teaching philosophy this semester.”
“Yes! Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. We did them already. He’s lingering on the Great Classic thinkers, and my general study course for non-majors is already on the 19th century.”
Keith glanced out of the window. Their precious Sunday together was ticking away.
Since she had made up with him, he’d been careful to focus on her needs when they were together. It didn’t help that she was struggling in her classes. In order to graduate in June, she had taken the maximum number of course hours. Having to work her half-time job on top of that schedule, she was falling behind in the elves’ class. Keith felt partly responsible. Changing his schedule had put stress on her as well as on him. His conscience was as uncomfortable as his back. The couch he was sitting on was the one he slept on when he visited her. Its most notable feature was the number and variety of lumps in the aged cushions, which left a topographical impression on his vertebrae. He thought of it as penance for enjoying himself when she was having such a hard time.
“I don’t know,” he said, after they’d erased paragraph after paragraph of her essay on her computer and were staring at a nearly blank screen. “It’s philosophy. Will your professor even be able to tell if you just put down any kind of stuff and tell them that’s your interpretation of Nietzsche?”
Wordlessly, Diane threw herself back in her chair, which rolled all the way to the wall of her small apartment, which consisted of a room and a half with bathroom in a converted attic. He eyed her sympathetically. “We can work on it later. Are you ready for the Master?” he asked.
“No,” she said mournfully. “How about you?”
Keith held up his pocket recorder. “Almost ready,” he said. “Just a few more thoughts to insert. I’ll print it out when we’re finished with yours.”
“Forget it,” she said. “I’ll never get it done in time. My brain’s run out of battery power. I’ll have to tell him I can’t handle the load. I’ll drop out if he wants me to.”
“No! Don’t do that. I’ll take the blame,” Keith offered. “I’ll explain that you’ve been coming out with me to visit clients and wasting all your homework time. It’s my fault we’re having to concentrate being together into your only free half day.”
Diane shook her head. “He won’t buy it. If you can keep up, I should be able to do it. I just can’t.”
“Tell him,” Keith pleaded. “Talk about it. We’ll work something out.”
***
Chapter 19
To their surprise, the Master was very understanding.
“I haf been vating for this, Mees Londen,” he said, his chin tipped so he could peer up at her through the gold-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “I am merely surprised that only you claim fatigue. Vit the schedule that this vun has been keeping, he ought to be exhausted as vell.” He swept a hand toward Keith.
“Not me,” Keith said cheerfully, handing over his essay with a flourish. He’d finished it hastily that morning and printed it out on Diane’s computer. “Hit me with your best shot. I’ll take it.”
In spite of his bravado, he felt a little light-headed. He put it down to the protection spell around the farm.
His teacher raised his wiry red brows high on his forehead. “Ve vill see. In the meanwhile, Mees Londen, I am not unreasonable. Let us change your responsibilities. Attend class, listen, participate, and I vill not ask for written work from you until the end of this term, and then, vun paper only. Is that acceptable?”
Diane’s eyes shone. “Thanks, sir. I really didn’t want to quit. It’s just that something had to give.”
The Master chuckled.
“Your villingness to continue despite your situation inclines me to be generous in return. You are velcome. Now, please sit down. The others haf been vaiting for you. Now, Meester Doyle, as you are so ready to offer your interpretation, in the writings of Hegel, ve find a correlation betveen …”
By the time class was over, Keith felt as though his brain has been shampooed, set with steel curlers, and blow-dried on high. He’d come out of the session in reasonably good shape, but not without a good mental workout. The Master, never loath to take an opportunity to burst a self-important bubble, called on Keith as often as possible, and insisted that he defend his answers. Holl and the others enjoyed watching the grilling. It gave them a chance to take it easy. Tay in particular thought it was fun.
“Thanks for the show,” he said, slapping Keith on the back in the vicinity of his kidneys. “I didn’t have much time to study, but you drew all the lightning today.”
“Glad to be of service,” Keith said with a playful grimace. The white-haired elf went away, sharing the joke with Candlepat. Seeing the smallest children playing at the far end of the big room watching him, Keith rose from the bench and gave them his most melodramatic stagger, as if he was so weak he’d collapse within steps. Diane applauded.
“Fantastic,” she said. “Can I tell the paramedics that you died of Nietzsche?”
“Bravo.” Marcy joined in, rising from her seat among them with Asrai clinging to her. Enoch was working with a fine rasp on a small piece of sculpture a few paces away. Dola sat among the toddlers and babies, helping them string big wooden beans on a lanyard. “For both the performance and keeping up with the Master.”
“Piece of cake,” Keith announced blithely. “I’ve got crumbs all over my hands. I thought he would never finish teasing me about the wrong homonyms in my essay. That’ll teach me not to proofread something I dictated. Hey, any news from home?”
“My father called,” Marcy said.
“And…? How did he sound?”
Marcy made a face. “Like he’s … thinking. He said he hasn’t talked to Mom, yet. I can’t stand it much longer. I have to know that it’s all right with them!”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to go and talk to him again?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Marcy straightened her shoulders. “If they can’t handle the reality, then … too bad. I’m getting married anyway.”
“Bravo back at you,” Keith said. “I mean, brava! And hurrah! But I thought he handled the concept pretty well when I hit him with the pictures.”
“Daddy ne
ver makes up his mind in a hurry. It makes him a good attorney, but it was awful when he took me to buy a used car when I was 17. This time, I don’t care if it takes him forever, but he has to see things my way for a change.”
“It’s a lot to absorb, his daughter marrying outside his species, so to speak,” Keith said.
“Are you seeing things our way at last, Keith Doyle?” Holl asked wryly, following them from the corner set aside as the classroom.
“Well … only for the sake of argument,” Keith said. “I don’t want Mr. Collier to get spooked off by too much all at once. I still think we’re related. But, hey, I don’t have to prove it. Marcy will. I took biology class. If she can …” He stopped talking as the dark-haired girl blushed scarlet to her hairline. “Oops, sorry. Letting my mind run away with me.”
“You’ve done a lot for Marcy and me, Keith Doyle,” Enoch said. His face twisted into an expression that, if Keith didn’t know him so well, would make him think the dark-haired elf was feeling shy. “When the time comes you’ll aid me at the ceremony, eh?”
“Best man?” Keith asked, astonished. “Isn’t that Holl’s place?”
“It is. No, you’ll be part of the challenge. Do you mind?” Keith reddened. Having him take that role in their marriage rite was appropriate, since at one time he’d tried hard to date Marcy himself, giving up his pursuit in favor of Enoch’s obvious devotion, and the more obvious return of that affection by Marcy. “That is, if we ever manage to have the ceremony.”
“It’s not an if, it’s a when,” Keith said firmly. “I’d be honored.”
“Well. Good, then.” Enoch sat down and went back to his sculpture, a modern impression of an owl in flight.
He was abashed to have asked. Keith felt like ribbing him a little, but looking at Marcy’s pleading eyes, couldn’t bring himself to put in the needle.
Holl listened, wondering if indeed Marcy thought at present it was the very best thing to tie herself down to beings who had such a curse on them as the Folk did, virtually haunted by a being they could not control, and that could pop up at any time. He wondered if he should offer some kind of oblique kind of warning, in spite of the Master’s caveat. Keith was so happy, Holl hated to be the wet blanket.
“Hey, how about a magic lesson?” Keith looked at his watch. “I’ve got a little time before I have to take off.”
“Sure,” Diane said encouragingly. “I watched him stick his head into the lion’s mouth. Now I want card tricks.”
“No time,” Enoch said, suddenly curt, bending his head over his work.
“I’ve been practicing,” Keith wheedled. “I can make a fountain of fire. It’s really cool. Only, I have to do it outside. I think I’ve licked the oomph problem. I’ve discovered these rivers of energy in the earth that I can tap into sometimes. The problem is I don’t know where they are until I start trying to magic something. I’m still working on control.”
“I have to see this myself,” Diane said, one eyebrow hitched skeptically high. “You didn’t tell me you could make fire.”
“Yeah!” Keith said happily. “I’ve been practicing in the break room at PDQ. Luckily there aren’t any of those energy sources close by, or I’d set the place ablaze. The smokers on staff think I’ve got an invisible lighter. You want to see?” He shot back his cuffs and held out his hands.
“No!” said Enoch, looking alarmed. “Don’t do it here. Go away and practice some more. I’ll tell you when I’m free to grade your parlor tricks.”
Keith sat down next to him and leaned toward him with an expression of huge-eyed wistfulness. “Aw, come on, Enoch. This isn’t the same guy who just asked me to stand up at his wedding, is it? All I want to do is prove I’ve actually absorbed what you’ve been teaching me.”
Holl gave his brother-in-law a hard look. Enoch sighed and put down his file. “All right, then. I’ll tell you why you can’t. We’ve been having county inspectors and other Big Folk bumbling around near the property a good deal lately. I don’t want you calling attention to us, especially with something like a flaming geyser.”
“That’s awful!” Diane exclaimed. “You must feel like you’re under siege!”
“More than you realize,” Holl said.
Keith’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do,” Enough said. “Practice on your own away from here, to spare us.”
“Sure. Whatever you say. If there’s anything I can do to keep from causing you trouble, you know I’ll do it.” He hit himself in the forehead. “I almost forgot! You know, Dola is supposed to do another commercial at the end of the week. If you put her on the train on Thursday, I can bring her home Saturday. Is that all right?” Dola sat up eagerly.
“No,” Holl said at once. “Not this time. She won’t be able to make it.”
“What?” Keith asked, surprised into a double take. “The Fairy Footwear people will be expecting her.”
“Well, they’ll have to go on expecting her,” Holl said. “She’s not available.”
Evidently, no one had told Dola about the change in plans. Her lips pressed together into a tight white line. Her eyes grew wide and bright. Silently, she rose to her feet and left the room with her head held high. She must have been on the verge of tears, but no one was going to see her cry.
Keith was shocked. He met Marcy’s eyes. She shook her head an almost imperceptible amount. She knew nothing of this.
“Is she being punished for something?” Keith asked, lowering his voice, although he knew all the elves would still be able to hear him.
“No.”
Keith frowned. Curtness was a very unHoll-like response. “Is it those county inspectors you want to avoid? I could drive her up today. Nobody will care about a car with a man and a little girl in it. Marcy could get her from town when she gets back on Tuesday.” Holl’s young-looking face set into a mulish expression. There was more to this than county inspectors. Keith sidled up besides Holl and leaned over, pitching his voice just above a whisper. “Holl, we need to talk.”
Holl didn’t lower his voice. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’ve said many times that they expect temperament from actors, and that she’s unusual because she doesn’t show any. Tell them she showed temperament and wouldn’t come. No other explanation is necessary.”
Keith was puzzled and troubled. “C’mon, Holl, I thought we were friends. Talk to me. Is this connected to what’s been bugging you since August?”
“And we are friends,” Holl said, with a softening of his expression. “Enough, I hope, for me to tell you this is something I cannot talk about. And do not give me that cat-at-the-mousehole expression. You’ll get no more details from me. I mean what I say. Go home now. You’re tired, and we’re tired. There’s nothing we need to discuss now.”
“You’ll confess,” Keith said darkly, sweeping his book-bag to his shoulder with a flourish. “They all confess in the end.”
* * *
“There, do you see?” Enoch shouted to the whole of the workshop when the Big Folk had left. They’d all been listening anyhow. “We’re running out of excuses! Holl must hold off the forces of the outside single-handed, while none of you offer to assist getting rid of the problem at its heart!”
Shelogh put down the lantern she was polishing on the table with a snap! “We have discussed it every day, young pup! What will you have us do?”
“Discussion is nothing,” Holl said, “if it doesn’t result in action. The creature zooms in and out as it please. Anything we do to enhance, alter or improve attracts its attention. I had my heart in my mouth throughout the entire weekend thinking that it would turn up and attack Keith Doyle or one of the other Big Folk.”
“They’ll be protected as long as they do no magic,” Catra said. “Living more simply is good for us. ‘Simplify, simplify,’ said their Thoreau.”
“It’s unnatural for us,” Holl said. “We’re used to using our talents whenever we please. And
what of the goods we produce? I believe we’re cheating if we don’t send out lanterns that light, or baking molds that protect against burning. Otherwise, what is the difference between our work and that of a human-run factory? But we’re afraid to use our natural talents. I’ve seen it—I’ve done it! It’s absurd. There we sit on the porch, waiting for the UPS driver, casting the very last enhancement as he’s coming up the drive, hoping he doesn’t see us as we sneak away, and hoping the being doesn’t attack him on the way out!”
“If talent’s the chief thing that attracts it, we shouldn’t use it,” Bracey said reasonably.
“We’re living enough like Big Folk as it is,” Curran snapped. “Slam the door on them all.”
Tay appeared in the big doorway. He caught Holl’s eye and beckoned to him. Holl left the others to argue and followed his nephew.
* * *
In the very center of the farm property, the land sloped gently upward to form a low hill. In the precise center of its peak, nearly hidden by tattered cornstalks and drifts of snow, was a forlorn little figure in jeans and long-sleeved overshirt. Dola’s cheeks and ear-tips were pink. When she saw her father and her granduncle coming up the rise, she turned her face away from them. Tay stopped, holding up his hands helplessly. Holl patted him on the shoulder and went to sit down beside the girl.
He gathered her close to his side with one arm, willing warmth into her. She was shivering but trying hard not to show it.
“What are you doing out here, little one?” he asked gently. Dola shook her head. “Is this about not being able to go to Chicago?”
“Not just that.” The girl raised her eyes. They were full of unshed tears, and the end of her nose was pink. “I do not like having to stay here all of the time. It hurts. I feel what it is like when I am outside our land. It’s comfortable. I can have peace. I hate it in here. I feel as though I’m going to die, all the time. Sometimes I wish it would happen so that I would be free of the endless humming.” She threw out her arms.
“Oh no, my dear,” Holl said. “Never feel that way. Life is too precious.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. He dabbed at them with the edge of his sleeve, while feeling in his pocket for a handkerchief. Holl realized she hadn’t chosen her haven at random. Dola had withdrawn as far from the boundary spell as possible. He, too, felt the tooth-gritting buzz that underlay all the other pulses of life on the farm. He had gotten to the point where he could ignore it, but it was always there at the edge of his consciousness. For the first time he realized how it irked him, digging at his normally even nature and affecting his judgment. It was affecting everyone’s quality of life.
Advanced Mythology Page 22