Keith saluted. His voice rang in the classroom, picked up tones from the concrete floor.
“Shush,” said Holl, turning back into the tunnel. “You’ll make them change their minds.”
Keith held his jubilation until he reached the ground level of the library. When the elevator door slid open, he could contain himself no more. He danced out and let go with a wild, “Yahoo!”
“Shhh!” a librarian hissed sternly.
O O O
Following instructions, he waited, concealed behind the library building. About two hours had passed since the end of class, and Keith felt if he had to stuff in one more particle of excitement, he would explode in a shower of sparks. The Maven—boy, what a name—told him to keep out of sight of the path and sit tight. They would have to wait for the right moment to let him inside. Keith had no objections. If they had managed to keep themselves hidden for this long, he wasn’t going to be the one to blow their cover. What would Marcy say if she knew where he was going? He did a little dance, which he quickly converted into jiggling around for warmth in the chilly evening air as a couple of students passed him. He smiled at them, and craned his head after them as they walked away.
He heard a grating noise from behind him, and spun around to see where it was coming from. A whole section of the stone wall four feet high, beginning an inch or two above the grass, had sunk back, leaving a deep, black opening. A hand extended through and beckoned to him. With a quick glance around, Keith dove for the hole and skittered to the side as the stone facade grated ominously back into place. He found himself standing in a passageway so narrow he had to press his shoulders together to turn around. He put out a hand to feel for the mechanism, but found nothing but the back of the stone wall. On his other side was rough brick.
“Keith Doyle,” said a voice in the dark, sounding ominous. He jumped.
“Y-yup?” he affirmed.
“Welcome, then. You’re just in time.” A lantern flamed alight, and Holl was there looking up at him. “Follow me.”
O O O
A short while later, Keith found himself sitting on a low bench, surrounded by a host of miniature humans, adults and children both. He kept his elbows very close to his sides, which meant he had to dip his head every time he wanted to take a bite from his miniature fork. Now I know how Gulliver felt, he thought, ignoring an itch along his ribs for fear of knocking over the tiny old lady on his left. Gingerly, he extended a hand to pick up the jug of milk, and poured some into his wooden cup.
Holl sat across the long table from him, occasionally studying him with a humorous twinkle in his eyes. He was aware how ridiculous the big youth felt, but it was a lesson in humility to watch how well Keith handled himself in adverse conditions. He could also see that old Keva was wearing her pincushion on her belt, and it was undoubtedly sticking into Keith’s side. To his credit, the big fellow wasn’t complaining. She had probably left it there on purpose, spiteful old hen. Good for him. He was a fair guest.
The others of Holl’s people were not demonstrating themselves to be hosts worthy of such a guest. More than once, Holl had heard an unfavorable comment, fortunately inaudible to Keith’s less sensitive ears. “What’s he want to come in here for? To gawk, I’ll bet.” “Dey neffer let us alone vonce dey know. How do ve know he has any discretion?” And from the oldsters, “His kind’ve been faithless before, for sure, darlin’. What difference will only a few generations make?”
“Uh, you know,” said Keith, “this pitcher looks just like the kind we used to have at my summer camp. They’re really indestructible. I oughta know. I used to shoot off bottle rockets from one.”
Keva stopped chewing with a shocked intake of breath. She stared at the human balefully.
“Oh,” Keith continued, misinterpreting her ire. “No one was hurt. I did it
“Shush,” said Holl, turning back into the tunnel. “You’ll make them change their minds.”
Keith held his jubilation until he reached the ground level of the library. When the elevator door slid open, he could contain himself no more. He danced out and let go with a wild, “Yahoo!”
“Shhh!” a librarian hissed sternly.
O O O
Following instructions, he waited, concealed behind the library building. About two hours had passed since the end of class, and Keith felt if he had to stuff in one more particle of excitement, he would explode in a shower of sparks. The Maven—boy, what a name—told him to keep out of sight of the path and sit tight. They would have to wait for the right moment to let him inside. Keith had no objections. If they had managed to keep themselves hidden for this long, he wasn’t going to be the one to blow their cover. What would Marcy say if she knew where he was going? He did a little dance, which he quickly converted into jiggling around for warmth in the chilly evening air as a couple of students passed him. He smiled at them, and craned his head after them as they walked away.
He heard a grating noise from behind him, and spun around to see where it was coming from. A whole section of the stone wall four feet high, beginning an inch or two above the grass, had sunk back, leaving a deep, black opening. A hand extended through and beckoned to him. With a quick glance around, Keith dove for the hole and skittered to the side as the stone facade grated ominously back into place. He found himself standing in a passageway so narrow he had to press his shoulders together to turn around. He put out a hand to feel for the mechanism, but found nothing but the back of the stone wall. On his other side was rough brick.
“Keith Doyle,” said a voice in the dark, sounding ominous. He jumped.
“Y-yup?” he affirmed.
“Welcome, then. You’re just in time.” A lantern flamed alight, and Holl was there looking up at him. “Follow me.”
O O O
A short while later, Keith found himself sitting on a low bench, surrounded by a host of miniature humans, adults and children both. He kept his elbows very close to his sides, which meant he had to dip his head every time he wanted to take a bite from his miniature fork. Now I know how Gulliver felt, he thought, ignoring an itch along his ribs for fear of knocking over the tiny old lady on his left. Gingerly, he extended a hand to pick up the jug of milk, and poured some into his wooden cup.
Holl sat across the long table from him, occasionally studying him with a humorous twinkle in his eyes. He was aware how ridiculous the big youth felt, but it was a lesson in humility to watch how well Keith handled himself in adverse conditions. He could also see that old Keva was wearing her pincushion on her belt, and it was undoubtedly sticking into Keith’s side. To his credit, the big fellow wasn’t complaining. She had probably left it there on purpose, spiteful old hen. Good for him. He was a fair guest.
The others of Holl’s people were not demonstrating themselves to be hosts worthy of such a guest. More than once, Holl had heard an unfavorable comment, fortunately inaudible to Keith’s less sensitive ears. “What’s he want to come in here for? To gawk, I’ll bet.” “Dey neffer let us alone vonce dey know. How do ve know he has any discretion?” And from the oldsters, “His kind’ve been faithless before, for sure, darlin’. What difference will only a few generations make?”
“Uh, you know,” said Keith, “this pitcher looks just like the kind we used to have at my summer camp. They’re really indestructible. I oughta know. I used to shoot off bottle rockets from one.”
Keva stopped chewing with a shocked intake of breath. She stared at the human balefully.
“Oh,” Keith continued, misinterpreting her ire. “No one was hurt. I did it
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