Jack, the giant-killer by Charles De Lint Read Free Book Online Page B

they like it.”
    “I can’t help you,” the Gruagagh said. “And you must not return here. They have marked you now. Once in and out of my Tower and they may let you go—or just follow and watch, to see who and what you are. Twice in and out, and they’ll know you for an enemy and they will kill you.”
    “Why can’t they get into this house?”
    “Because ‘this house’ is my Tower—a gruagagh’s Tower— and I use all my diminishing powers to keep the Host at bay. To protect the Laird’s heart, to protect the realm. It and the Laird’s Court are the only safe havens in all of Kinrowan now. The only other safety is to tread softly so that they don’t see you.”
    “That’s why the hob was running across the park last night,” Jacky said. “He would’ve been safe if he’d reached this place. And that’s why you didn’t go out to help him— you couldn’t.”
    “Just as I won’t be able to help you once you leave here,” the Gruagagh said. “You can go back to your old life, Jacky Rowan, and no one will think ill of you, for this isn’t your war, no matter what your name. But if you do bring the Laird’s daughter back safe, you can ask anything of me, and it will be yours.”
    “I…1 don’t want anything. I just want to help.”
    “You’re a brave lass, Jacky.”
    She smiled quickly, pushing down the panic that was demanding to be heard. She was trying to be brave, though she didn’t really know why.
    “If you do reach the Keep,” the Gruagagh
    continued, “you will still have to find the Horn. It won’t be lying in plain sight, nor will Gyre the Elder keep it with him. He can use it, but it makes him uneasy, so it will be hidden.”
    “How do I find it then?”
    “By your name.”
    “That doesn’t tell me anything.”
    “Rowan,” the Gruagagh said. “It will be marked by the berries of the rowan. No matter what Gyre the Elder has disguised it as, you’ll know it by the berries. Like your name: Berryred. Which makes us closer kin than you think.”
    Jacky nodded. He’d told her earlier. His bardic name, Dearg, meant red.
    “Bhruic,” she said. “What’s the name—the speaking name—of the Laird’s daughter?”
    “Lorana.”
    His features grew bleak and grim as he spoke her name. For a long moment silence lay between them until at last Jacky stirred.
    “I’d better be going,” she said.
    The Gruagagh nodded. He rolled up the maps and returned them to their storage place, then rummaged about in the pack for a moment or two. When he found what he was looking for, he took Jacky’s hand and pressed a small brooch into it. It was made of silver and took the shape of a tiny staff, crossed by a sprig of berries. Rowan berries, she knew. And the staff would be rowan, too.
    “Take this,” he said.
    “What… what does it do?”
    “Do?” The Gruagagh smiled. “It doesn’t do
    anything. It’s just to remind you of me—it’s my way of thanking you for trying what my own people won’t dare.”
    It was all those magic stitcheries that Finn had put into her jacket and sneakers, Jacky realized. They made her think that anything she got from faerie would… do something.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—
    “I know.”
    The Gruagagh arose and she stood quickly with him.
    “Don’t go searching out the Giants’ Keep
    straightaway,” he warned her. “The Host will be watching you to see what you do and if you set off immediately, your quest will be doomed before you even start. Go back to your own life for a day or two. Let the Host grow weary of your routine. And then go.
    “Wear your hob coat—it will hide you from most eyes at night, if not so well by day. The cap will serve you well, too. It allows you more than sight. Wearing it is what lets you accept more easily all these new things you’ve seen these past few nights.“
    He took the brooch from her hand and pinned it to her jacket.
    “How come I could see you the other night?” Jacky asked.