Faerie Tale. Raymond E. Feist

week.’

      The two boys’ eyes widened. ‘We’ll get hundreds of channels!’ shouted Patrick.

      Over the laughter in the dining room, Gloria ordered the boys to stifle their enthusiasm. Sean said, ‘Barry Walter’s father has the channel with naked ladies on it.’

      Gloria said, ‘We’ll talk about this when we get home.’

      Phil laughed. ‘It’s all right. I got the one with the lock switch. The boys won’t be watching any X-rated movies for a few more years.’

      Jack and Gabbie returned with cake and coffee.

      ‘Speaking of faerie myths, does anyone know what night this is?’ Gary asked.

      Mark and Agatha looked at each other and laughed, but it was Gloria who answered. ‘Midsummer’s Night.’

      ‘Like in Shakespeare?’ said Jack.

      Phil said, ‘I thought the solstice was three days ago.’

      ‘On the calendar of the Church, it’s the twenty-fourth,’ said Gloria. ‘The nativity of St John the Baptist.’

      Phil said, ‘I’ve read A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I thought it was just … a night in the middle of summer.’

      Agatha said, ‘There are three days supposedly special to faeries: May first, June twenty-fourth, and November first. This is a night of power and celebration, according to legend.’

      ‘What are the other two days? I know the first of November is All Saints’, but what about the first of May?’

      ‘May Day,’ ventured Gary. ‘Faeries are Marxists.’

      Over the groans of the others, Agatha said, ‘It’s the day after Walpurgis Night, just as All Saints’ follows Halloween. Both are Moving Days.’

      When the others looked uncomprehending, Mark Blackman said, ‘In the Irish tradition, the faeries move from place to place on those two days. We’re speaking of the Trooping Fairies. Shakespeare had them staying forever in the night:

      “And we fairies, that do run

      By the triple Hecate’s team,

      From the presence of the sun,

      Following darkness like a dream.”

      ‘But he’s alone in that view. According to tradition, the faeries live for six months in a stand of woods, then move to another, perhaps on the other side of the world. And they make the move in one night.’

      Mark again quoted Shakespeare:

      ‘“We the globe can compass soon,

      Swifter than the wandering moon.”’

      ‘Its why faerie stories abound everywhere. Over the ages the faeries have lived in every part of the world,’ said Aggie. ‘If you believe in them.’

      ‘And tonight’s a special night for them?’ ventured Gabbie with a laugh.

      ‘According to legend,’ agreed Agatha. ‘They’ll be throwing a grand party tonight.’

      Turning to Jack, Gabbie said, ‘Let’s go out to that faerie mound we saw the other day. Maybe we’ll see the party.’

      ‘I wouldn’t,’ said Mark. All eyes turned to regard him. ‘Those woods are pretty dangerous in the dark.’

      Gloria looked alarmed. ‘How do you mean, dangerous?’

      Gabbie made a face. ‘Ghosts? Indian spirits?’

      ‘Gabbie, let him answer,’ snapped Gloria. Gabbie flushed and was about to retort when she saw Jack shaking his head and indicating the boys, who sat in rapt attention. Suddenly she understood Gloria’s worry, and she felt silly. ‘Why are the woods dangerous, Mark? Wild animals?’

      Mark smiled and tried to look reassuring. ‘No, nothing like that. No bears or wolves in ages. Nothing much bigger than a weasel or fox since the turn of the century. Just, it’s easy to get lost there and there are a lot more woods than you’d think and they’re pretty dense in places.’ Mark turned to Aggie. ‘Remember Reno MacManus? He got lost taking a shortcut in the dark, fell down an embankment, and broke his hip. It was two days before anyone found him. Died of exposure. And he’d lived all his life in the area. It’s just a bad idea to be poking about in the woods after dark, that’s all I meant.’

      Agatha said, ‘Reno MacManus was a drunk, and he could have got lost in his own bathtub. If Jack and Gabbie take a light and stay to the path, they should have no trouble.’ Her eyes were merry as she cast a glance at the youngsters, indicating that Mark was being obtuse in not seeing they wanted some time alone together.

      Mark said, ‘Well, that’s true.’ He let the conversation fall off.

      Agatha rose. ‘Let’s retire to the parlour, like civilized folk, and we can continue this lovely evening.’ She glanced at Jack. ‘Fetch the brandy, won’t you?’

      They left the dining room and were soon all settled comfortably in the parlour, where the talk turned to other topics. Gloria, sitting next to Phil, glanced at the boys, who were being considerably less obstreperous than usual. There was something she had meant to ask them earlier at the table, but she couldn’t remember what it was. She let the thought slip away.

       • Chapter Thirteen •

      Gabbie and Jack walked slowly along the path as the circle of light swept along before them, revealing the twigs and other impediments to easy passage. Gabbie had insisted Jack walk in the woods with her, in search of the faerie party. The flashlight flickered, then dimmed for a minute. ‘Shit!’ he said. ‘Damn batteries are weak.’

      ‘I declare,’ she said with a broad southern accent, ‘such language! And you a gentleman, sir!’ Jack grinned, half-seen in the gloom. ‘It’s okay, Lancelot. I’ve heard a few Anglo-Saxon expletives in my day. I’m a liberated girl.’

      Jack laughed quietly. ‘So I’ve noticed. And something special, too.’

      Gabbie turned silent as they walked, then said, ‘You’re not just saying that, are you?’

      He stopped, letting the flashlight point down. In the light reflected back from the path they studied each other. He said nothing, but leaned forward and kissed her gently. She froze a moment, then stepped in to him, letting his arms wrap around her. She could feel the strength in his body, and her heart pounded with a rush of excitement. After a time, she gently pushed herself away, softly saying, ‘Ah … that was a pretty good answer.’

      He smiled. ‘I guess.’ Slipping his arm around her waist, he resumed walking slowly, Gabbie matching his pace. ‘I do think you’re special, Gabbie. You’ve been through a lot, I know, but it’s made you thoughtful. Most of the girls your age I’ve known are a lot younger.’

      She leaned her head against his arm. ‘I try to hide it sometimes. You … I guess I trust you.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      She let a moment go by where the only sounds were their feet on the path and the breeze through the trees. The evening was warm and damp and the moon hung nearly full in the night, giving the woods a little illumination. Finally she said, ‘I … you seeing anyone special?’

      ‘No one special,’ he answered without hesitation. He paused, then added, ‘I had a girlfriend, back at Chapel Hill, Ginger Colfield. We met standing in line at junior registration, Cole, Colfield. We were sort of serious. At least, Ginger was serious. But when I came here it got kind of hard to hold things together, you know? Ginger’s down in Atlanta now, working for Coca-Cola, in advertising. I think she’s engaged. Since last year, nothing worth talking about. You?’

      ‘Just a high