wish to tramp through swamps and forests grabbing for manlings.”
“Could you be so good as to close the window now, Myrrdin?” asked Telyn, pulling her cloak around her shoulders.
“Certainly, my dear,” replied Myrrdin, but he made no move toward the window.
“There is something that I might add about the Wee Folk,” Myrrdin said loudly, speaking with his head directed upward now, as if he addressed the ceiling. He strutted back and forth before them, seemingly oblivious to the cold draft that was stealing the warmth from the room. The River Folk began to glance toward the window. Brand considered moving to close it. He began to get up.
Myrrdin paused before him and Brand sat back down. “I have a great secret to impart to all of you concerning the Wee Folk! A secret that many of the Shining Ones themselves don’t know!”
“Well, impart it!” Modi said gruffly.
In response, Myrrdin strode to the window with two quick, bird-like strides. He turned toward them and whispered, “They aren’t just the best thieves, but accomplished spies as well!”
“What?” grunted Modi.
But Myrrdin never answered. With a movement like that of a stork darting its beak down to snap up a marsh frog, he stooped and thrust his arm out the window. There was a squawk and a scrabbling sound. The long arm returned and in its grasp was the struggling form of one of the Wee Folk.
“A spy!” shouted Modi, grabbing up his battleaxe. “I’ll make quick work of him!”
Gudrin and Myrrdin both raised their hands. “Hold warrior!” said Gudrin.
“Indeed, hold!”
The manling, clearly terrified, increased its struggles as Modi approached. After closing the window, Myrrdin placed it on the center table and quickly looped a gray cord around its waist, pinning its arms. He held carefully to the end of the cord. After several mad attempts to bound away, it ceased its struggles and stood as if relaxed upon the tabletop.
The manling was dressed in the garb of a marshman, only in miniature. Its feet bore overlarge, flapping shoes, a tunic of sewn, colorless skins covered its body and a leather rain hat topped its head. Its glass-like doll’s eyes regarded them, returning their curiosity.
Chapter Eleven
The Will-O-Wisp
Outside the Blue Lantern the town of North End was quiet, as if in uneasy anticipation. The moon had crept up over the town to hang in the night sky, and now shone into the window. The shine of it was in their captive’s eyes and reflected from the manling’s skin.
Telyn clapped her hands with excitement. “I’ve never seen one of them up close!”
Corbin glowered at the manling uncharacteristically. Brand knew he was thinking of Dando and his brother. He doubted Corbin would ever be amused by their tricks again.
The manling, saying nothing, studied each of them with intense curiosity. Somewhere beyond the open window a startled bird squawked angrily. Brand wondered if another of the Wee Folk even now worked to steal the bird’s clutch of eggs.
“Well, what are we going to do with him?” asked Gudrin aloud.
“Let’s interrogate him,” said Corbin darkly.
“How do we know he knows anything useful?” asked Telyn.
“Let’s go to sleep with one less spy in the River Haven to worry about,” grunted Modi.
“Well, whatever we do, I don’t suppose we can let him go,” said Brand. He was already trying to come up with something to imprison the thing. An old crate in one corner of the room that served the inn as an end-table caught his eye.
“Of course we’re going to let him go,” said Myrrdin. The others looked at him askance, except for the manling, who was now studying Telyn with the quiet intensity of a cat studying a songbird. Its head tilted to one side whenever she moved or spoke.
“First, however, I must make a fetish,” continued Myrrdin. While the others looked on, he produced a leather pouch and filled it with a variety of ingredients. Many different withered herbs and colored
“Could you be so good as to close the window now, Myrrdin?” asked Telyn, pulling her cloak around her shoulders.
“Certainly, my dear,” replied Myrrdin, but he made no move toward the window.
“There is something that I might add about the Wee Folk,” Myrrdin said loudly, speaking with his head directed upward now, as if he addressed the ceiling. He strutted back and forth before them, seemingly oblivious to the cold draft that was stealing the warmth from the room. The River Folk began to glance toward the window. Brand considered moving to close it. He began to get up.
Myrrdin paused before him and Brand sat back down. “I have a great secret to impart to all of you concerning the Wee Folk! A secret that many of the Shining Ones themselves don’t know!”
“Well, impart it!” Modi said gruffly.
In response, Myrrdin strode to the window with two quick, bird-like strides. He turned toward them and whispered, “They aren’t just the best thieves, but accomplished spies as well!”
“What?” grunted Modi.
But Myrrdin never answered. With a movement like that of a stork darting its beak down to snap up a marsh frog, he stooped and thrust his arm out the window. There was a squawk and a scrabbling sound. The long arm returned and in its grasp was the struggling form of one of the Wee Folk.
“A spy!” shouted Modi, grabbing up his battleaxe. “I’ll make quick work of him!”
Gudrin and Myrrdin both raised their hands. “Hold warrior!” said Gudrin.
“Indeed, hold!”
The manling, clearly terrified, increased its struggles as Modi approached. After closing the window, Myrrdin placed it on the center table and quickly looped a gray cord around its waist, pinning its arms. He held carefully to the end of the cord. After several mad attempts to bound away, it ceased its struggles and stood as if relaxed upon the tabletop.
The manling was dressed in the garb of a marshman, only in miniature. Its feet bore overlarge, flapping shoes, a tunic of sewn, colorless skins covered its body and a leather rain hat topped its head. Its glass-like doll’s eyes regarded them, returning their curiosity.
Chapter Eleven
The Will-O-Wisp
Outside the Blue Lantern the town of North End was quiet, as if in uneasy anticipation. The moon had crept up over the town to hang in the night sky, and now shone into the window. The shine of it was in their captive’s eyes and reflected from the manling’s skin.
Telyn clapped her hands with excitement. “I’ve never seen one of them up close!”
Corbin glowered at the manling uncharacteristically. Brand knew he was thinking of Dando and his brother. He doubted Corbin would ever be amused by their tricks again.
The manling, saying nothing, studied each of them with intense curiosity. Somewhere beyond the open window a startled bird squawked angrily. Brand wondered if another of the Wee Folk even now worked to steal the bird’s clutch of eggs.
“Well, what are we going to do with him?” asked Gudrin aloud.
“Let’s interrogate him,” said Corbin darkly.
“How do we know he knows anything useful?” asked Telyn.
“Let’s go to sleep with one less spy in the River Haven to worry about,” grunted Modi.
“Well, whatever we do, I don’t suppose we can let him go,” said Brand. He was already trying to come up with something to imprison the thing. An old crate in one corner of the room that served the inn as an end-table caught his eye.
“Of course we’re going to let him go,” said Myrrdin. The others looked at him askance, except for the manling, who was now studying Telyn with the quiet intensity of a cat studying a songbird. Its head tilted to one side whenever she moved or spoke.
“First, however, I must make a fetish,” continued Myrrdin. While the others looked on, he produced a leather pouch and filled it with a variety of ingredients. Many different withered herbs and colored
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