patches of red, perhaps twenty percent of the whole. It would explain his youthful uncertainties, at seminary especially, about such matters.
“So that old devil Kinsey had it right after all.”
“Yes,” said Santa. “A scale of attraction.”
“But that doesn’t abrogate God’s word.”
The elf took umbrage at that.
“Daddy!” Wendy grabbed her father’s upraised arm.
“In fact it confirms it,” said Ty. “Are you threatening me? God’s true emissary would not threaten.”
Blood pounded in Ty’s temples as the enraged creature hovered over him, his eyes ablaze with intolerance. That this immortal elf could, at any instant, strike him dead he had no doubt. Jacob had wrestled with an angel. Perhaps such a death would be his fate.
Santa contained his rage. “I’m all right. I’m fine.”
“The alcoholic is born so, yet he learns—”
“Enough!” said Santa. “I ought to smite you on the spot. But I’ll not do that. I won’t. Wendy, come. You, sleep, little Ty all grown up. You haven’t seen the last of us.”
“God has sent you as a trial, to test my resolve to uphold his word, no matter what.”
“Ah,” said Santa, taking a swipe at Ty’s face. And he was gone, him and the girl and the pine boughs and their marvelous scent. The bedroom plunged abruptly into darkness, Ty’s tight blinds shutting out the least hint of moonlight.
Ty marveled then, but somnolence drained the life from him and he slipped at once into the land of dreams.
Chapter 12. Friends Reform, Foes Regroup
AT THE NORTH POLE, FRITZ, HERBERT, and two dozen others worked on the Beluzzo replica, adding ornate carvings to the oak drawers of a replacement dresser and to thick turned bedposts where Matt’s actual bed had none. They arced back the roof on its hinges so that snowdrifts could be strategically built up in scatterings about the bedroom, enough to make an impact without hindering their work.
Ordinarily, they would have been a happy crew, trading quips and pitching in wherever extra hands were needed. Not so now. For Gregor had kept up the pressure. His rants at the Chapel continued and grew more condemnatory. He had gone so far as to have a centrally situated bed, with a thin mattress and no posts to obscure his view, built in the dormitory, abandoning on nights unpredictable his bed in the stables to sleep among them.
Some time during the night he would appear. You could never tell when, but you could always be sure he would be gone in the morning, and no one had ever seen him shut his eyes or put on a nightshirt. Always the eagle eye. If you dared glance toward his bed, Gregor would be staring back at you, his fierce glower accusing you of looking his way because you were about to sneak a fingertip up your nostril.
And sometimes that was so.
It was most unsettling.
What had been a harmless, unconscious habit became for many an obsession. Their thoughts turned continually to the nose and the finger, to observing the noses and fingers of their brothers, wondering if they had come into satisfying contact when Gregor or his spies let their guard down.
That was the worst of it. Gregor had split their once harmonious community in half. There were those who joined him wholeheartedly in his police efforts. Fritz knew, and Herbert confirmed with a nod, that the most public of these were in fact deeply closeted nosepickers, who, when they weren’t busy snitching or scolding, slipped off in solitude to extract bodily manufacture from a nostril, licking and sucking in the throes of guilt, savoring and swallowing, enjoying the added zing of doing something completely sinful and getting away with it.
Hypocrisy tasted sweet.
So did mucus.
The other elves had no strong opinion one way or the other. Some picked their noses, some did not. But all of them marveled at their community’s down-drooping devolution and felt helpless to halt or
“So that old devil Kinsey had it right after all.”
“Yes,” said Santa. “A scale of attraction.”
“But that doesn’t abrogate God’s word.”
The elf took umbrage at that.
“Daddy!” Wendy grabbed her father’s upraised arm.
“In fact it confirms it,” said Ty. “Are you threatening me? God’s true emissary would not threaten.”
Blood pounded in Ty’s temples as the enraged creature hovered over him, his eyes ablaze with intolerance. That this immortal elf could, at any instant, strike him dead he had no doubt. Jacob had wrestled with an angel. Perhaps such a death would be his fate.
Santa contained his rage. “I’m all right. I’m fine.”
“The alcoholic is born so, yet he learns—”
“Enough!” said Santa. “I ought to smite you on the spot. But I’ll not do that. I won’t. Wendy, come. You, sleep, little Ty all grown up. You haven’t seen the last of us.”
“God has sent you as a trial, to test my resolve to uphold his word, no matter what.”
“Ah,” said Santa, taking a swipe at Ty’s face. And he was gone, him and the girl and the pine boughs and their marvelous scent. The bedroom plunged abruptly into darkness, Ty’s tight blinds shutting out the least hint of moonlight.
Ty marveled then, but somnolence drained the life from him and he slipped at once into the land of dreams.
Chapter 12. Friends Reform, Foes Regroup
AT THE NORTH POLE, FRITZ, HERBERT, and two dozen others worked on the Beluzzo replica, adding ornate carvings to the oak drawers of a replacement dresser and to thick turned bedposts where Matt’s actual bed had none. They arced back the roof on its hinges so that snowdrifts could be strategically built up in scatterings about the bedroom, enough to make an impact without hindering their work.
Ordinarily, they would have been a happy crew, trading quips and pitching in wherever extra hands were needed. Not so now. For Gregor had kept up the pressure. His rants at the Chapel continued and grew more condemnatory. He had gone so far as to have a centrally situated bed, with a thin mattress and no posts to obscure his view, built in the dormitory, abandoning on nights unpredictable his bed in the stables to sleep among them.
Some time during the night he would appear. You could never tell when, but you could always be sure he would be gone in the morning, and no one had ever seen him shut his eyes or put on a nightshirt. Always the eagle eye. If you dared glance toward his bed, Gregor would be staring back at you, his fierce glower accusing you of looking his way because you were about to sneak a fingertip up your nostril.
And sometimes that was so.
It was most unsettling.
What had been a harmless, unconscious habit became for many an obsession. Their thoughts turned continually to the nose and the finger, to observing the noses and fingers of their brothers, wondering if they had come into satisfying contact when Gregor or his spies let their guard down.
That was the worst of it. Gregor had split their once harmonious community in half. There were those who joined him wholeheartedly in his police efforts. Fritz knew, and Herbert confirmed with a nod, that the most public of these were in fact deeply closeted nosepickers, who, when they weren’t busy snitching or scolding, slipped off in solitude to extract bodily manufacture from a nostril, licking and sucking in the throes of guilt, savoring and swallowing, enjoying the added zing of doing something completely sinful and getting away with it.
Hypocrisy tasted sweet.
So did mucus.
The other elves had no strong opinion one way or the other. Some picked their noses, some did not. But all of them marveled at their community’s down-drooping devolution and felt helpless to halt or
Similar Books
