Mythology Abroad Read Free Page A

bell-shaped flowers in the world. Lily-of-the-valley, bluebells, foxglove, you name it.”
    “I’ll know them when I see them,” Holl said uneasily. “They probably are similar to any of the other campanulaceae. ”
    “So where do you find them?”
    “I don’t know, exactly, but the Master felt I should look in the old places from where our folk come. They might be in fairy rings, well-guarded earth mounds in hidden places, and the like.”
    “I suppose you know it’s illegal to carry plants back into the U.S. without a license?” Keith asked. Holl nodded. “Well, I don’t know that magic flowers count. Now that we’ve cleared that out of the way, let’s open the atlas and find our most likely prospects.”
    Holl and Keith discussed the subject well into the night, until the in-flight movie was announced. At the stewardess’s request, the lights were shut off and the window shades pulled down. The movie played on an easel-sized screen at the front of the section. Through his rented headphones, Holl listened to the tinny soundtrack, and relaxed back into his nest of pillows. It wasn’t half bad, really, watching a film this way. There were no extraneous noises to distract one from the program, barring the constant atonal whistle from the air system. He glanced over to ask Keith Doyle a question, and saw that the boy had fallen asleep, head back and jaw open, in his corner of the row. Holl grinned at him paternally. The lad had been so intent on making sure he, Holl, was comfortable that he wore himself out. Gently, Holl eased the headset off Keith’s ears and hooked it on the cloth pocket of the seat in front of him.
    The Big Folk took their technology so much for granted, they didn’t realize how much of a miracle it would seem to someone else, Holl thought. If it wasn’t magic to fly through the thin, high air, in relative comfort with hot food and entertainment, then it was a near cousin, and it took not a whit of energy out of one’s own aura to be a part of these marvels. Holl could feel the threatening presence of too much metal under and around him, though it was unlikely to break through the protective cloth and plastic coats in which the Big Folk clad it to attack him.
    It did indeed make him nervous to be surrounded by so many strange Big Folk. He realized how sheltered he had been all his life, coming into contact only with the few who could be trusted. He had to keep reminding himself that no one knew him, and that none would observe that for which they weren’t looking. Trying to put that thought from him, he reminded himself he was on a mission of great importance. Strange as it may sound, he couldn’t be in better hands than those of Keith Doyle. If something came too close to him, Keith would draw away attention and make a joke out of it. There was surprising safety in humor. Holl took off the baseball cap and ruffled his hair with his fingers with a sigh of relief. No need to put it back on until the lights came up again. Now was his chance to do something about the uncomfortable seat. He unbuckled his belt and scooted forward off the pad. A searching tendril of knowledge he put into the cushions suggested that there was just enough fiber to be comfortable, but it had been flattened down by who knew how many bottoms before his. He forced them to repel from one another, springing out against their covering, puffing the cushions up from within. The charge abated swiftly, for the fibers were poor conductors, and Holl was able to settle back in the seat without feeling the bars and rods poking at him anymore.
    The film’s plot was predictable, one of the nine plots repeated over and over throughout five thousand years of literature and ninety of filmmaking, so Holl’s attention wandered. Looking around at his fellow passengers to ensure he was disturbing no one, he reached across Keith, slid up the shade and looked out of the window at the night.
    He had heard of all sorts of terrible