Larry. He showed Thomas the photograph. “Perhaps you saw him on Saturday evening?”
“I know the lad well,” said Thomas, “but I don’t recall seeing him on Saturday.”
“If you think of anything, give us a ring,” said Larry, and made his escape.
The day flew by as rapidly for the two policemen as for the rest of the population. All the same, Larry wastired and footsore by the end of it. All he could think about was getting home.
“What do you think?” said Treacy as they left the barracks.
“About what?” said Larry.
“About the boy? I’d say he’s just off on a jaunt somewhere.”
“He is, I’d say,” said Larry.
“They don’t give a toss, the young lads these days. Worrying their parents and wasting our time at the public’s expense.”
“What can you do?” said Larry.
Treacy shrugged. “Have you any plans for tonight?”
“A hot bath and an early night,” said Larry. “I can’t wait to get home.”
“There’s a trivia night in Labane,” said Treacy. “We’re one short of a team.”
Larry shook his head. “I’d be useless. Half the time I can’t even remember my own name.”
----
IT’LL COME TO ME
Kate Thompson
----
5
“In your far distant history,” said Aengus, “people moved freely between the two worlds.”
They were sitting on the curb, and Aengus was struggling with the plastic wrapping on a new packet of pipe tobacco.
“Then there was this humongous battle between your lot and our lot.”
“Who are your lot?” said J.J.
“In those days you used to call us Danu’s people; the Tuatha de Danaan. It was a long time afterward that you started calling us fairies.”
“So you are fairies?”
“We’re people,” said Aengus, “but you can call us what you like. There isn’t really a forum for raising an objection, you know?” He put on a lager-loutvoice. “Oi, you. Who are you calling a fairy?”
J.J. laughed. Aengus was still struggling with the plastic; all thumbs. “Anyway, we had magic on our side—”
“Magic?”
“Just a bit. But your lot had strength of numbers and…well…the truth is they had better leadership than we did. We hadn’t really much of a notion of what we were doing. We’ve never been much use in your world.” He succeeded in getting the plastic off and began to fumble with the foil wrapping inside it. “For some reason that I’ve never been able to fathom, there seems to be a limit to the number of people we can turn into pigs.”
“Pigs?” said J.J.
“At any given time, that is,” said Aengus. “One or two at a time seems to be the most we can do. It doesn’t work with armies.”
“You’re having me on,” said J.J., although even as he spoke he remembered Devaney and the bodhrán and he wasn’t so sure. “You can’t really turn people into pigs, can you?”
“No bother,” said Aengus. “Anything at all, for that matter.” He stuffed a small clay pipe with tobacco and lit it with a purple lighter, then went on. “Someof your storybooks suggest we lost the war, but that isn’t right. Well, maybe it’s a little bit right. In any event, there was a settlement. We were allowed to go home to Tír na n’Óg as long as we stayed here and never went over into your world again.”
“That doesn’t make sense to me,” said J.J. “Why would our side choose to stay in my world and die if they could have eternal youth?”
“They never trusted this world,” said Aengus, puffing furiously at the pipe. “And they wanted time. They wanted to have pasts and futures. They wanted the ability to shape their world and to accumulate wealth and power. Christianity had just arrived, so they weren’t so worried about dying, now that they could look forward to an afterlife.”
“Is there an afterlife, then?” said J.J.
Aengus shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Why should I care?”
In J.J.’s mind one of a whole heap of pennies began to drop. “So,” he said carefully, “if we
“I know the lad well,” said Thomas, “but I don’t recall seeing him on Saturday.”
“If you think of anything, give us a ring,” said Larry, and made his escape.
The day flew by as rapidly for the two policemen as for the rest of the population. All the same, Larry wastired and footsore by the end of it. All he could think about was getting home.
“What do you think?” said Treacy as they left the barracks.
“About what?” said Larry.
“About the boy? I’d say he’s just off on a jaunt somewhere.”
“He is, I’d say,” said Larry.
“They don’t give a toss, the young lads these days. Worrying their parents and wasting our time at the public’s expense.”
“What can you do?” said Larry.
Treacy shrugged. “Have you any plans for tonight?”
“A hot bath and an early night,” said Larry. “I can’t wait to get home.”
“There’s a trivia night in Labane,” said Treacy. “We’re one short of a team.”
Larry shook his head. “I’d be useless. Half the time I can’t even remember my own name.”
----
IT’LL COME TO ME
Kate Thompson
----
5
“In your far distant history,” said Aengus, “people moved freely between the two worlds.”
They were sitting on the curb, and Aengus was struggling with the plastic wrapping on a new packet of pipe tobacco.
“Then there was this humongous battle between your lot and our lot.”
“Who are your lot?” said J.J.
“In those days you used to call us Danu’s people; the Tuatha de Danaan. It was a long time afterward that you started calling us fairies.”
“So you are fairies?”
“We’re people,” said Aengus, “but you can call us what you like. There isn’t really a forum for raising an objection, you know?” He put on a lager-loutvoice. “Oi, you. Who are you calling a fairy?”
J.J. laughed. Aengus was still struggling with the plastic; all thumbs. “Anyway, we had magic on our side—”
“Magic?”
“Just a bit. But your lot had strength of numbers and…well…the truth is they had better leadership than we did. We hadn’t really much of a notion of what we were doing. We’ve never been much use in your world.” He succeeded in getting the plastic off and began to fumble with the foil wrapping inside it. “For some reason that I’ve never been able to fathom, there seems to be a limit to the number of people we can turn into pigs.”
“Pigs?” said J.J.
“At any given time, that is,” said Aengus. “One or two at a time seems to be the most we can do. It doesn’t work with armies.”
“You’re having me on,” said J.J., although even as he spoke he remembered Devaney and the bodhrán and he wasn’t so sure. “You can’t really turn people into pigs, can you?”
“No bother,” said Aengus. “Anything at all, for that matter.” He stuffed a small clay pipe with tobacco and lit it with a purple lighter, then went on. “Someof your storybooks suggest we lost the war, but that isn’t right. Well, maybe it’s a little bit right. In any event, there was a settlement. We were allowed to go home to Tír na n’Óg as long as we stayed here and never went over into your world again.”
“That doesn’t make sense to me,” said J.J. “Why would our side choose to stay in my world and die if they could have eternal youth?”
“They never trusted this world,” said Aengus, puffing furiously at the pipe. “And they wanted time. They wanted to have pasts and futures. They wanted the ability to shape their world and to accumulate wealth and power. Christianity had just arrived, so they weren’t so worried about dying, now that they could look forward to an afterlife.”
“Is there an afterlife, then?” said J.J.
Aengus shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Why should I care?”
In J.J.’s mind one of a whole heap of pennies began to drop. “So,” he said carefully, “if we
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