Archer's Quest Read Free

here in my room."

    Archie was squatting on his haunches, examining the broken glass. He waved his hand as if shooing away a fly.
    Kevin got as far as the door and turned back. "Um ... Archer. Is it okay if I get my cap?" He pointed at the wall above his desk.
    Archie rose and plucked the arrow out of the wall. He pulled the cap free of the arrow and handed it to Kevin without speaking.
    Kevin examined the cap before he put it back on. The arrow had pierced the little button on top—and he'd never felt a thing. How had the arrow managed to go right through his cap without ending up lodged in his skull?
    I could've been KILLED!
    He whistled under his breath, then looked up and saw that Archie was watching him, almost but not quite smiling.
    "That—that was an incredible shot," Kevin said.
    Archie nodded with satisfaction. "I would not have harmed you without knowing first if you were friend or foe," he said.
    Jeez. How could he have been so sure he wouldn't hurt me? What if I'd stood up just at that second, or something?

    Kevin shivered. He pulled his cap on and went downstairs to the kitchen. In the corner closet he found the broom and the dustpan, then took a garbage bag from its roll, thinking the whole time.
    What the heck is going on? And how am I gonna find out if he won't let me ask questions? It's like he's playing dumb. There's gotta be a way to make him tell me stuff.
    On his way up the stairs he hesitated.
I should call Mom or Dad—a stranger in the house and all that....
But he was too interested in finding out what the deal was with Archie. Besides, the guy didn't seem dangerous anymore.
He shot that second arrow at the birdhouse, not at me. And the first one was just—like, a warning.
    Kevin decided on a compromise: He went back to the kitchen, picked up the receiver of the cordless phone, and took it upstairs.
    He found Archie sitting cross-legged on the bed. Even that seemed to interest him—he was bouncing up and down on his bottom like a little kid.
    "What is this?" Archie asked, still bouncing.
    "What—the bed? It's where I sleep."
    "You
sleep
on this?" Archie asked, his voice pitching higher in disbelief.

    "Of course. What's so weird about—I mean, how is it different—" No good. He tried again. "Well, where do you sl—" Dang it, everything was a question! Finally, he said, "It's not the same as how you sleep."
Is it?
he added silently.
    "How could a person sleep when things beneath him are shifting like the sea?" Archie asked. "A straw mat on the ground is best, so one knows there is no treachery under one's body. Nothing but the faithful solid earth."
    It didn't sound very comfortable to Kevin, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd found a way to ask a question without Archie realizing it was a question.
    For the moment, though, he had a more pressing problem. As he swept up the glass, he shook his head. "How'm I ever gonna explain?" he groaned under his breath.
    Archie stopped bouncing. "You are troubled, Young Stranger."
    Kevin looked up. "Young Stranger"—that seemed like a step forward. Better than Little Frog, anyway.
    "The window," he said glumly. "My dad's gonna kill me."
    Archie jumped to his feet. "Where is he? I swear to you,
he will not even be able to lift one hand in your direction before my arrow finds its way into his heart!"

    "No, no," Kevin said, dropping the broom in a panic. He could see that Archie was serious. "He wouldn't
really
kill me. I just meant he's gonna be mad."
    "You are sure?" Archie asked intently. "You are certain he would not try to kill you?"
    "Of course not—it's just something people say. He'd never kill me. I'm his son. Fathers don't kill their sons—at least, not hardly ever."
    Archie looked solemn. He stared at Kevin for a long moment, then stepped toward the broken window. With one finger he poked at the few remaining bits of glass on the sill. "My father tried to kill me," he said.

    Archie said