Advanced Mythology by Jody Lynn Nye Read Free Book Online

snorted, watching her strut away. “And the Conservatives are there for every word. Don’t let them tell you they aren’t, and if they didn’t see the use of it beyond what we Progressives espouse, they’d have put it out the door already. All gather around in the evening to read the messages from our folk left behind in Ireland. The Niall has a computer of his own, and a fine one by the sound of it. And even the old ones see the Internet as a solution to not having every new book and periodical to hand because they are no longer living in a library. They read more journals and scholarly digests now that they do not have to slip volumes away one at a time. They have greater access to material from all over the world. It’s not often the box is not in use.”
    Keith grinned. “That’s one way to worm the computer into their hearts. Give ’em more than they can handle, and they won’t remember what they did without it. At least you don’t get a brain ache from too much education.”
    “That’s never your problem, Keith Doyle,” Holl said, but it was a half-hearted sally.
    He shouldn’t have said anything. Keith glanced at him, curiosity writ large across his thin face. Marcy leaped into the breach.
    “Come and see my graduation present,” she said.
    “What is it?”
    “It’s down in the barn,” Marcy said. She took his and Diane’s arms and firmly turned them toward the door, ignoring their questions. Enoch led the way.
    “Careful, I’ll spill my potato salad!” Diane exclaimed, laughing.
    Marcy pointed out the new kitchen garden, where the cooks had planted dozens of exotic species of herbs and spices in sunlit plots like squares of emerald. She reached out to bruise a sprig of lavender. To Holl’s nose, its scent was strong enough to perfume the air for yards around, but the Big Folk only seemed to be able to perceive it when they were right on top of it. Diane plucked the top of a stalk and put it in Keith’s breast pocket. Marcy showed them the basils, thymes, and mints, naming them all with help from Enoch. Holl trailed along in their wake, keeping well back to avoid uncomfortable questions. He was grateful to Marcy and Enoch for keeping Keith distracted. His Big friend was kind-hearted, and already knew that something was troubling him. But he had given his word not to speak about it, and he wouldn’t.
    The other Big visitors had little sensitivity to magic, but he was surprised Keith hadn’t sensed the problem going on in the house yet. The argument between Tay and Marm over the wine was just another symptom of the bad feeling that seemed to pervade the entire house—no, the farm—with a psychic miasma like the smell of mildew. Everyone was on edge, and had been for weeks. Tensions that normally bubbled under the surface broke through, worrying everyone. Accidents were more prevalent than could just be put down to chance. Intrusions from the outside were becoming more frequent, as county inspectors for this and poll-takers for that had appeared on their doorstep, or, more troublingly, inside the borders of the land around the house. Small wonder that tempers were flaring: the Folk had been scared into remaining inside the house, when they were just becoming used to having an outside it was safe to go.
    More than one person had wondered aloud, once the thrill of owning their own home had worn off, whether they had done the right thing and wound up in the right place. Half the Conservatives had declared the house unlucky. To Holl’s horror, several were campaigning to be put on a ship or jet airplane, no matter what, and sent back to the Folk who still lived in Ireland. If their fears were forcing them out into the world, away from the safe haven they had created here, things were bad indeed. He wished he could consult with Keith, but he’d been forbidden. Even the Master had suggested Holl relied too heavily on Keith’s assistance.
    The Master was right, of course. Keith had been