The Warlock in Spite of Himself - Warlock 01 by Cristopher Stasheff Read Free Book Online Page B

asleep at the switch?'
    Switch
    Fess had had a seizure. Rod had been en route to reset him. Rod was on his own.
    He sighed and lay back on the green moss carpet.
    A deep voice began singing. off to his right. Rod looked. A fire fluttered in a bare stone circle. A tripod stood over it, supporting a cauldron - a covered cauldron, bubbling merrily, with a tube leading from a hole in the cover. Drops of water fell from the roof, striking the tube; and a beaker sat under the far end of the tube, collecting drops.
    A primitive still.
    And a moonshiner, a moonshiner perhaps eighteen inches high, very broad-shouldered and generally stocky, clad in doublet and hose. He had a round, cheerful face, twinkling green eyes, a snub nose, and a very wide mouth curved in an impish smile. To top it off, he wore a Robin Hood hat with a bright red feather.
    The green eyes looked up and caught Rod's. 'Ha!' said the little man in a buzzing baritone. 'Tha'rt come to thy senses, warlock!'
    Rod scowled. 'Warlock? I'm not a warlock!'
    'To be sure,' said the little man, 'tha'rt not. Thou comest in a falling star, and thou hast a horse made of cold iron....,
    'Just a minute, there,' Rod interrupted. 'How'd you know the horse was made of cold iron?'
    'We are the Wee Folk,' said the little man, unperturbed. 'We live by Oak, Ash, and Thorn, by Wood, Air, and Sod; and those who live by cold iron seek the end of our woodlands. Cold iron is the sign of all that cannot abide us; and therefore we know cold iron, no matter what form or disguise it may be in.
    He turned back to the kettle, lifting the lid to check the mash. 'Then, too, thou canst hear what is said a good half mile off; and thy horse can run as silent as the wind and faster than a falcon, when it has cause to. But tha'rt not a warlock, eh?'
    Rod shook his head. 'I'm not. I use science, not magic!'
    'Assuredly,' said the little man. 'and a rose by any other name -... Nay, tha'rt a warlock, and as such tha'rt known already, throughout the length and breadth of Gramarye!'
    'Gramarye? What's that?'
    The little man stared in surprise. 'Why, the world, warlock! The world we live in, the land between the Four Seas, the realm of Queen Catharine!'
    'Oh. She rules the whole world?'
    'Certes,' said the elf, giving Rod a sidelong glance.
    'And the name of her castle? And the town around it?'
    'Runnymede. In truth, tha'rt a most untutored warlock!'
    'That's just what I've been trying to tell you,' and Rod sighed. The little man turned away, shaking his head and muttering. He opened a pippet on the collection beaker and drained some of the distillate into a shot-glass-sized mug.
    Rod suddenly realized he was very thirsty. Uh, say - what're you brewing up there? Wouldn't be brandy, would it?'
    The elf shook his head.
    'Gin, Rum? Aqua Vitae?'
    'Nay; 'tis spirits of another sort.' He bounced over to Rod and held the minuscule mug to the man's lips.
    'Thanks.' Rod took a sip. He looked up at the roof, smacking his lips.
    'Tastes like honey.'
    'Where the wild bee sucks, there suck I.' The little man hopped back to the fire.
    'Not bad at all. Could you spare the recipe?'
    'Aye, assuredly.' The elf grinned. 'We would do aught within our power for a guest.'
    'Guest!' Rod snorted. 'I hate to impugn your hospitality, but immobilizing me isn't exactly what I'd call a welcome.'
    'Oh, we shall make amends ere long.' The little man lifted the cauldron lid and stirred the mash.
    Something clicked in Rod's mind. The hairs, at the base of his skull began to prickle.
    'Uh, say, uh... I don't believe we've been introduced, but... your name wouldn't be Robin Goodfellow, would it? Alias Puck?'
    'Thou speakest aright.' The elf replaced the lid with a clang. 'I am that merry wanderer of the night.'
    Rod fell back onto the moss carpet. It'd make a great story to tell his grandchildren; nobody else would believe it.
    'Say, Puck - you don't mind if I call you Puck?'
    'Oh, nay.'
    'Thanks, ..... I'm Rod Gallowglass.'
    'We ha' known