Gossamyr by Michele Hauf Read Free Book Online Page A

beast carried its master onward.
    Over the rise in the road, Gossamyr watched and listened keenly
for his return, for a signal he veered from the path and into the
underbrush that paralleled the pounded dirt. A bluefinch soared
overhead, chirring a greeting that made her smile. Exactly as the
birds in Faery. The bird verified the traveler neared the edge of the
forest—
    "Tis a spell!"
    Behind her, Jean Cesar Ulrich Villon III reined the beast to a
halt and jumped to the ground. Fists planted akimbo, he looked over
the mule, then up the verdant wall of the surrounding forest.
Gossamyr thought she heard him mutter, "The same."
    "Be you a witch?" he called.
    "Most certainly not." That would imply she dabbled with
forbidden magic! She stomped over to him and jabbed her staff under
his chin. "Tell me true, you traveled straight?"
    He nodded, raising his spread hands to his shoulders to keep them
in view. Small cuts gashed his palms and wrists. Had the man battled
his way out from a prickle bush? Where then had he found such a nasty
bruise?
    Gossamyr scanned the forest, seeking a tear in the curtain to
Faery where perhaps a sprite might be seen spying on his mischievous
deed. Wide hornbeam leaves remained still as stone. Tree trunks
gripped the earth, silent stately sentinels. Pale ivy twisted about
the grasses and journeyed toward the toadstool circle. Not a dryad in
the lot.
    Gossamyr could not be sure if it was because she no longer stood
in Faery, or simply, the Disenchantment befell more quickly than
expected. She saw nothing out of sorts. Save that everything was
horizontal.
    "Pisky led," she decided, then snapped the staff away
from the man's chin.
    "What?" Ulrich followed her as she turned and stalked
down the rough path away from him. "I've not seen a pixy."
    "Pisky," she corrected sharply.
    "Piskies, pixies, what have you!"
    "They are very different. Piskies fly, pixies... they
trundle. As well, pixies do not glimmer."
    "Only thing I've seen that glimmers of the enchanted is you, my lady. On your neck there— Oh, Hades!" He clamped
a palm to his forehead. The action resulted in a yelp, for obviously
his bruised face pained him. "Not again! Pray, tell you are not
a damned faery."
    Gossamyr winced at the unfamiliar word. Not a favorable oath, she
guessed from his tone.
    "You are not? You cannot be. Dragon piss!" He pressed
beringed fingers between them in an entreaty. "Have they sent
someone to bring me back? Where are they? Do they lurk? No! I will
not go. I refuse!" He curled his fingers and wrung the balled
fist at Gossamyr. "Your kind have done enough to foul my life."
    "I am n-not a faery," Gossamyr managed. She pressed a
hand to her throat where the blazon was visible, They keep them
chained in cages. "No, not faery," she reiterated more
confidently.
    "You lie, trickster! Your sort never speak the truth, only in
circles." The man drew tiny frantic rings in the air before him.
"Circles, circles, circles. Oh, but those damned circles! It is
not the same! Changed, damn them all. It has all changed!"
    "Believe me or not," Gossamyr said over his ranting. "I
am m-mortal, like you." A quick twist of her fingers clasped the
highest agraffe on her pourpoint, closing the vest to an
uncomfortable tightness.
    "Mortal?" He jerked a sneer at her. "My lady, we mortals do not have occasion to call ourselves mortals. We are
men, women, coopers, bakers, fishermen—but never do we say mortal. Tavern keepers, tanners, magi and—"
    "Enough! I am...a woman then." Yes, he must see that!
She managed an awkward curtsy—a quick bend of one knee—and
forced a smile. "Are you well pleased?"
    "Pleased? To stand in the presence of a faery?"
    "I am not!"
    "What of your clothing?"
    "What of it?"
    He peered closely at her. Gossamyr controlled the urge to reach
for the discoloration on his cheek. Did it feel hot? Tender? What did a mortal feel like? His face was such a display of movement and
lines and sighs and outburst. So