Emerald Magic_ Great Tales of Irish Fantasy - Andrew M. Greeley [78]
“Sir?” I said.“May I speak?”
The Grey Man’s gaze touched me, and I shivered. “Go ahead.”
“It’s just . . . this all seems to have been a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, sir. Couldn’t we, perhaps, simply put it all behind us and carry on with our lives?”
“You ask for clemency toward your enemy?”
“I don’t really think of him as an enemy, sir. Truly, it was just a misunderstanding that grew out of proportion in the heat of the moment.And I should never have disrespected him in the first place.”
The butter spirit actually gave me a grateful look, but the Grey Man appeared unmoved. He grabbed the butter spirit by the scruff of his neck.
“You offer a commendable sentiment,” he told me, “but I care only for the danger he put me in. It’s not something I can afford to have repeated.”
With that, he pulled the little man toward him. I thought, how odd that he would embrace the butter spirit in a moment such as that. But the Grey Man didn’t draw him close for an embrace, so much as to devour him. The butter spirit gave a shriek as the foggy drapes of the cloak folded over him. And then he was gone, swallowed in the cloak of fog, with only the fading echo of his cry remaining before it, too, was gone.
“Now there is only one last problem,” the Grey Man said, his dark gaze returning to me.
I swallowed hard.
“I am still owed a tithe from your world,” he said. “Some human artifact or spirit. But I stand before you empty-handed.”
I didn’t reply.What was I going to say?
“I can only think of one solution,” he went on. “Will you swear fealty to me?”
I had to be careful.
“Gladly, sir,” I told him. “So long as my doing so causes no harm to any other being.”
“You think I would have you do evil things?”
“Sir, I have no idea what you would want from me. I’m only being honest with you.”
For a long moment the Grey Man stood there, considering me.
“I owe you a favor,” he finally said. “I know you spoke up only to save your own skin, but by doing so, you prevented me from an eternity of servitude to your family.”
“Sir, it was never my intention to—”
He cut me off with a sharp gesture of his hand. “Enough! You’ve made your point. You’re very respectful. Now give it a rest.” He sighed, then added, “Burn a candle for me from time to time, and we’ll leave it at that.”
I knew he was about to go.
“Sir,” I said before he could leave. “My friend . . .”
He looked down at the bundle of bones in my arms, held together with sinew and dried muscle.
“It’s only a glamor,” he said. “Seen by you, felt by her.”
And then he was gone in a swirl of fog.
I’d managed to keep my soul. The butter spirit would no longer be tormenting me. But I still knelt there with bones in my arms where Nita should be.
At that moment there came a roar of applause from inside the bar. I turned in the direction of the door. It seemed so inappropriate that they would be cheering the Grey Man’s departure, but then I realized that it was only that Miki had ended her set.
I started to get to my feet, not an easy process because those bones weighed more than you’d think they would. But I refused to put them down.
I was still trying to stand when the door opened and one of those tall Native women I’d seen inside the bar came out into the parking lot. A moment later and the others followed her, one by one, nine of them in all. The last of them was an old, old woman with eyes as dark as the Grey Man’s.When her gaze settled on me, I felt as nervous as I had under his attention.
“You did well,” one of the younger women said—younger meaning she was in her forties. I couldn’t tell how old the oldest of them was. She seemed ageless.
When they started to walk across the parking lot, I called out after them.
“Please! Can you help me with my friend?”
The old woman was the closest. She reached into her pocket