Duende Meadow by Paul Cook

Author:Paul Cook
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9781612420028
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2000-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

10

Jay’s hair was still slick with pond water, but the farmer’s cap which he wore concealed that fact from the man with whom Preston found him speaking.

Just where Jay had gotten the clothing was anyone’s guess.

Jay said to the older individual, “I am up from the south,” and he put into his speech a Georgian inflection gleaned from years of videos watched deep within the Meadow. “I would have taken one of the trains, but the countryside seemed to beckon me all of its own.”

The farmer, a capable man, luxuriating somewhere in his mid-forties, seemed taken aback by the stranger’s words. “Up from the south on foot? Centerville is such a long way from here and there is much unpleasantness in between. You are a very brave man.”

Jay tossed it off with a friendly wave of his hand, letting the natural curve of his mustache and the playful glint in his eyes disarm the man’s suspicions. It seemed to work.

The farmer, reddened from long hours in the sun, held out a strong hand and greeted Jay officially. “But let me welcome you on behalf of Anytown. I am Foma Zhvakunin, dairy farmer. One of many here.”

Jay’s eyes danced delightfully. He smiled. “Call me Jay. Jay Kitteridge, formerly of—” He paused slightly. “Centerville. I am a biochemist by trade.”

The two new acquaintances stepped away from the train station, seemingly with no particular destination in mind. Foma Zhvakunin appeared to be in Anytown after a day of chores, and was in need of a respite from the tedious life he lived somewhere beyond the outskirts of town. Jay companionably fell into stride beside the dairyman.

“Kitteridge?” Foma Zhvakunin said, eyebrows arching up provocatively. “That is an American name I am not familiar with. Have they begun the name changes already in the South? I was told that we would not be taking on our new names for another year or so.”

Jay walked like a man with one foot in one world and the other foot somewhere else. And always did a smile adorn his face. He laughed. “We are who we are, is that not so?”

Foma Zhvakunin, a simple dairy farmer and technician, liked the philosophical ring to Jay’s words. “You are a strange one, Jay Kitteridge. Yes, I suppose we are. I have often wondered myself why we must wait for the Great War to end before the name-changing occurs.” Foma Zhvakunin shrugged casually. “But that is the desire of the Awakener. However, Jay Kitteridge is a nice name for a biochemist from the South. I do not suppose that either the Awakener or his mandali would mind.”

They headed for the tavern next to the general store. Preston, in his apparitional form, leapt from the station platform and followed them. Jay was totally unaware—and uninterested—that his younger brother was close by.

Foma Zhvakunin, hands in his pockets, turned to the visitor from Centerville. “And how goes the Centerville harvest? Well, may I presume?”

“It goes very well,” Jay said happily, eyes forward, giving nothing away.

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