RAYMOND E. FEIST
Faerie Tale
One of lifes truly rarest treasures is friendship. I count myself exceedingly fortunate in this regard. My friends have given of themselves above and beyond the call, in far too many ways to recount, but, most important, in love, support, and acceptance. I shall never be their equal in generosity.
But as a humble token of appreciation, this book is dedicated to:
The Original Thursday Nighters:
Steve A., Jon, Anita, Alan, Tim, Rich, Ethan,
Jeff, Lorri, Steve B., and Bob
(and April, for I cant seem to remember a time when she wasnt there)
back when April and Steves house was Steve and Jons apartment and we all sweated finals, experimental results, orals, dissertation defences, finding jobs, the triumphs and the failures, the pain, the love, and the growing together.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue: May
Erl King Hill
June
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
July
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
August
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
September
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
October
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
The Fool
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Epilogue: December
Acknowledgements
About the Author
By The Same Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue May
Barney Doyle sat at his cluttered workbench, attempting to fix Olaf Andersens ancient power mower for the fourth time in seven years. He had the cylinder head off and was judging the propriety of pronouncing last rites on the machine he expected the good fathers over at St Catherines wouldnt approve. The head was cracked which was why Olaf couldnt get it started and the cylinder walls were almost paper-thin from wear and a previous rebore. The best thing Andersen could do would be to invest in one of those Toro grass cutters, with all the fancy bells and whistles, and put this old machine out to rust. Barney knew Olaf would raise Cain about having to buy a new one, but that was Olafs lookout. Barney also knew getting a dime out of Andersen for making such a judgement would be close to a miracle. It would be to the benefit of all parties concerned if Barney could coax one last summers labour from the nearly terminal machine. Barney absently took a sharpener to the blades while he pondered. He could take one more crack at it. An oversized cylinder ring might do the trick and he could weld the small crack; he could get back most of the compression. But if he didnt pull it off, hed lose both the time and the money spent on parts. No, he decided at last, better tell Andersen to make plans for a funeral.
A hot, damp gust of wind rattled the half-open window. Barney absently pulled the sticky shirt away from his chest. Meggie McCorly, he thought suddenly, a smile coming to his lined face. She had been a vision of beauty in simple cotton, the taut fabric stretched across ripe, swaying hips and ample breasts as she walked home from school each day. For a moment he was struck by a rush of memories so vivid he felt an echo of lust rising in his old loins. Barney took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. He savoured the spring scents, the hot muggy night smells, so much like those that blew through the orchards and across the fields of County Wexford. Barney thought of the night he and Meggie had fled from the dance, from the crowded, stuffy hall, slipping away unnoticed as the town celebrated Paddy OShea and Mary McMannahs wedding. The sultry memories caused Barney to dab again at his forehead as a stirring visited his groin. Chuckling to himself, Barney thought theres some life yet in this old boyo.
Barney stayed lost in memories of half-forgotten passions for long minutes, then discovered he was still running the sharpener over a blade on Andersens mower and had brought the edge to a silvery gleam. He set the sharpener down, wondering what had come over him. He hadnt thought of Meggie McCorly since hed immigrated to America, back in 38. Last hed heard, shed married one of the Cammack lads over in Enniscorthy. He couldnt remember which one, and that made him feel sad.
Barney caught a flicker of movement through the small window of his work shed. He put down the sharpener and went to peer out into the evenings fading light. Not making out what it was that had caught his attention, Barney moved back towards his workbench. Just as his field of vision left the window, he again glimpsed something from the corner of his eye. Barney opened the door to his work shed and took a single step outside. Then he stopped.