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with a fur-muted plop, and laughed a volcanic laugh. "You should see 'em tryin' to figure out if I'm
watching 'em or not. Drives 'em mad, it does."
"Who? Drives who mad?"
"The blokes comes up with the nymph. Mind you, I don't dally with 'em while she's about-she's a bit
queer in the head, takin' up with mortals and the like, but the big 'uns are like that, and she is one of us,
after all. But they knows I watch, and just let one of 'em get out of hand, and try to find the treasure they
thinks I'm hiding."
"Are you?"
He grinned another icicle grin and asked, "Is that why you called me, Miss? To find me treasure?"
"No, sir," she said emphatically. "The last thing I want or need is a treasure. But if you have a horse-or
better yet, some wings, perhaps?"
He laughed again and a shower of snow shook loose from an overhead ledge and slid to the floor,
making a shining pile on the gray fur covering her feet.
"If I had me a horse, I'd eat it, and you can see I haven't got wings. But that little posey you tinkled
entitles you to any reasonable help I can give you, compliments of Trickle. Unless I want to be in her bad
graces, which I can tell you, I'm no coward, but I do not!" And he laughed again, this time crashing half
the roof of his cave down around their ears. He remained unperturbed, however, and simply tented his
furry form over Maggie until all the ice which had been shaken loose shattered onto the floor. He was a
good host that way, at least.
"Has to watch me sense of humor around here," he confided. "Don't get company too often, and I gets
carried away. Get it from me dad's folk, I suppose."
Maggie could tell by the pride in his voice that she wasn't going to get any help out of him, Trickle or no
Trickle, until he'd told her all about it. "Who," she asked obligingly, "Were your dad's folk?"
"Frost giants, Miss, frost giants, of course! Can't you tell?" He shook his furry arms and twinkled at her
with blue eyes which were, now that she looked at them, very like the King's. "One of the blokes got lost
up here one time, chasin' after little grandam, just like they always did. Only she'd never seen the like of
'im before, and took a shine to 'im. He wasn't as furry as me, of course. That all come later. But he was
used to the snow and cold, and didn't freeze, just got baffled-like. Once she unbaffled 'im, they sort of
got together and started my kind."
"And what, if it's not too rude to ask, is your kind?"
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"The faeries as knew grandam calls me Yeti, though of course, that was 'er name, not mine. Some calls
me the snowman."
"Ah, then I HAVE heard of you," she said, her interest genuinely piqued now. "Trappers tell tales in my
father's tavern, sometimes, of abominable snowmen."
"Poo," said the Yeti. "They don't know nothing. There's only me and my two brothers in this whole
country, and we does our job and keeps ourselves to ourselves. We think your trappers are pretty
abominable too, scarin' away what little game comes up to this high country. The smoothies we have
dealings with mostly know us by our tracks, and the ones of 'em that gets away've got no need to call us
abominable. Mostly, I hear, they calls us Bigfoot." He looked down again proudly at his upturned heels,
then, as if remembering his manners, added, "Me personal name is Sebastian."
"Er-I'm Maggie. Maggie Brown, daughter of Bronwyn, daughter of Maud, daughter of Oonaugh,
daughter of Elspat," she added, since Sebastian liked talking about relatives.
"Oh, you're a witch then," he said, impressed by her long matrilineage. "Well, now, why didn't you say
so? No wonder little Trickle thinks you're all right. What can I do for you?"
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, and told him about Sally's unicorn-napping activities.
"That's her game, is it? Unicorns, is it? I should have known 'corns wouldn't be around roughnecks like
the ones Nasturtium's been keeping company with." He glowered at Maggie and his glower was so fierce
that if she were the trembling sort she would have trembled to see it. "You should have told me this
sooner, Miss. We're a good day and a half behind 'em now. The only way we can possibly make it up is
by taking you through the Needle's Eye."
"Needle's Eye?" It sounded painful to her.
"Aye," he nodded vigorously. "The Eye. It's what we Wee Folk call our secret way through the
mountains. She'll have used it, too, and will've taken 'er filthy unicorn baiters with her, she should only
turn mortal for it! But she's no descendant of Grandam Yeti for all that, and she doesn't know this old
glacier like I does. Come along, girl." And without further discussion, he swept her once more into his
high-pile embrace and carried her out of the cave, back out into the whistling wind and blowing snow.
With a leap that cost him no more effort than the jump down had, he sprang upwards, landing as softly as
a falling leaf on the lip of the crevasse. "Not bad for a bloke with backward feet, eh, Missy?" he asked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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with a fur-muted plop, and laughed a volcanic laugh. "You should see 'em tryin' to figure out if I'm
watching 'em or not. Drives 'em mad, it does."
"Who? Drives who mad?"
"The blokes comes up with the nymph. Mind you, I don't dally with 'em while she's about-she's a bit
queer in the head, takin' up with mortals and the like, but the big 'uns are like that, and she is one of us,
after all. But they knows I watch, and just let one of 'em get out of hand, and try to find the treasure they
thinks I'm hiding."
"Are you?"
He grinned another icicle grin and asked, "Is that why you called me, Miss? To find me treasure?"
"No, sir," she said emphatically. "The last thing I want or need is a treasure. But if you have a horse-or
better yet, some wings, perhaps?"
He laughed again and a shower of snow shook loose from an overhead ledge and slid to the floor,
making a shining pile on the gray fur covering her feet.
"If I had me a horse, I'd eat it, and you can see I haven't got wings. But that little posey you tinkled
entitles you to any reasonable help I can give you, compliments of Trickle. Unless I want to be in her bad
graces, which I can tell you, I'm no coward, but I do not!" And he laughed again, this time crashing half
the roof of his cave down around their ears. He remained unperturbed, however, and simply tented his
furry form over Maggie until all the ice which had been shaken loose shattered onto the floor. He was a
good host that way, at least.
"Has to watch me sense of humor around here," he confided. "Don't get company too often, and I gets
carried away. Get it from me dad's folk, I suppose."
Maggie could tell by the pride in his voice that she wasn't going to get any help out of him, Trickle or no
Trickle, until he'd told her all about it. "Who," she asked obligingly, "Were your dad's folk?"
"Frost giants, Miss, frost giants, of course! Can't you tell?" He shook his furry arms and twinkled at her
with blue eyes which were, now that she looked at them, very like the King's. "One of the blokes got lost
up here one time, chasin' after little grandam, just like they always did. Only she'd never seen the like of
'im before, and took a shine to 'im. He wasn't as furry as me, of course. That all come later. But he was
used to the snow and cold, and didn't freeze, just got baffled-like. Once she unbaffled 'im, they sort of
got together and started my kind."
"And what, if it's not too rude to ask, is your kind?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"The faeries as knew grandam calls me Yeti, though of course, that was 'er name, not mine. Some calls
me the snowman."
"Ah, then I HAVE heard of you," she said, her interest genuinely piqued now. "Trappers tell tales in my
father's tavern, sometimes, of abominable snowmen."
"Poo," said the Yeti. "They don't know nothing. There's only me and my two brothers in this whole
country, and we does our job and keeps ourselves to ourselves. We think your trappers are pretty
abominable too, scarin' away what little game comes up to this high country. The smoothies we have
dealings with mostly know us by our tracks, and the ones of 'em that gets away've got no need to call us
abominable. Mostly, I hear, they calls us Bigfoot." He looked down again proudly at his upturned heels,
then, as if remembering his manners, added, "Me personal name is Sebastian."
"Er-I'm Maggie. Maggie Brown, daughter of Bronwyn, daughter of Maud, daughter of Oonaugh,
daughter of Elspat," she added, since Sebastian liked talking about relatives.
"Oh, you're a witch then," he said, impressed by her long matrilineage. "Well, now, why didn't you say
so? No wonder little Trickle thinks you're all right. What can I do for you?"
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, and told him about Sally's unicorn-napping activities.
"That's her game, is it? Unicorns, is it? I should have known 'corns wouldn't be around roughnecks like
the ones Nasturtium's been keeping company with." He glowered at Maggie and his glower was so fierce
that if she were the trembling sort she would have trembled to see it. "You should have told me this
sooner, Miss. We're a good day and a half behind 'em now. The only way we can possibly make it up is
by taking you through the Needle's Eye."
"Needle's Eye?" It sounded painful to her.
"Aye," he nodded vigorously. "The Eye. It's what we Wee Folk call our secret way through the
mountains. She'll have used it, too, and will've taken 'er filthy unicorn baiters with her, she should only
turn mortal for it! But she's no descendant of Grandam Yeti for all that, and she doesn't know this old
glacier like I does. Come along, girl." And without further discussion, he swept her once more into his
high-pile embrace and carried her out of the cave, back out into the whistling wind and blowing snow.
With a leap that cost him no more effort than the jump down had, he sprang upwards, landing as softly as
a falling leaf on the lip of the crevasse. "Not bad for a bloke with backward feet, eh, Missy?" he asked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]