Beauty by Tepper Sheri S

Author:Tepper, Sheri S. [Tepper, Sheri S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Novel
ISBN: 9780307571939
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 1992-01-01T02:00:00+00:00

And I’m a fleshy human man,

that the Dark Lord would like well.

The night is Halloween, my love,

the morn is Hallowday;

Then win me, win me, if you will,

as well I know you may.”

It went on for some little time, but was clear enough for all that, despite being interrupted by the girl’s questions every line or two. Puck told her how to recognize him, that is, Thomas: right hand gloved, left hand bare, hat cocked up and hair down, riding nearest the town. He also told her where she would encounter the ride (at Miles Cross) and what horrors he would probably turn into, and that she must hold him until dawn. When he had done, we watched the woman go running back across the downs, her hair loose and tangled behind her, then Puck took me by one hand and Fenoderee by the other while I commanded the boots to take me back outside Oberon’s castle.

There we stood upon the terrace, looking out across the midnight meadows, listening to the night creatures and the stream, both murmuring.

“That was a courageous thing you did,” said Puck. “To help your fellowman.”

“Help fellowman, play Faery false,” I said bitterly. “One is the same as the other. I am neither nor, Puck. I am confused and wishing myself other than I am.”

“Would we could help you, Beauty. Will it help to know you are helping Faery, too?”

“How?” I asked, very sceptically.

“They break the treaty if they give Thomas to the Dark Lord. And that will harm them far more than losing Thomas will do.”

I heard him, but was not sure he told the truth. “Would you take me to visit Carabosse?”

“Old Carabosse of the clocks?” asked Fenoderee. “Old tick-tock?”

“Will you?”

“I will,” he said. “I will come for you soon,” and with that he was gone.

It was Puck who came for me. I was alone when he came. “Get yourself upon a horse,” he said, “ride out and call for Fenoderee.”

So I had a stableboy saddle me a lovely horse, rode out some distance from the castle, paused beside a large rock and said into the air, “Fenoderee, I need a friend.” Immediately, both he and Puck were standing beside the rock, Fenoderee grinning, Puck picking at a toenail. He liked to stand storkwise, on one leg, his fingers playing with the toes of the upraised foot.

“The fairy Carabosse has invited you to tea,” Puck informed me.

“Clockwork Carabosse,” chanted Fenoderee, cutting a circle about himself with his scythe. “Old gears and ratchets.”

“Who calls her that?” I wondered.

“I just did,” said Fenoderee. “Lots of the Bogles do.”

“Some,” admitted Puck. “Not lots.”

“Why do they?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

Puck got up behind me on the horse and held me around the waist. It reminded me of all the times Bill had held me in the twentieth, when I was tired or discouraged or didn’t know what to do next. Both he and Puck were small, but wiry and strong. Capable. I relaxed and let him guide the horse.

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