The Folk Keeper Read Online Free PDF Page B

drive. I’ve always despised the foolish hero of the Otherfolk stories who breaks the rules to look over his shoulder. But I did, just the same; I couldn’t not look behind, and the sight of a pack of muscular bodies was punishment enough. No ordinary dogs these, but Hill Hounds, cut from shades of dusk.
    Face forward again, seeing a tree growing in the shelter of a wall. Even I could climb it, for like me, it was thin and stunted. One branch, two branches, then a yell, a tug at my breeches. I never felt the fall, but my head exploded with brilliant light.
    “My Saints, it’s Corin!” I knew that voice. “Fall off, lads! Fall off!”
    I found myself staring into a white moon caught in a web of branches.
    A gray rain began to fall inside my head, then the world turned to a whirling wheel of gray. My last memory is of the gray shrinking to the size of a fist, to the size of a coin, then folding in on itself and the whole world turning to black.

4  
Saint Valentine’s Eve
to the
Feast of Saint Valentine
    February 13 — Saint Valentine’s Eve
    I can sit up now without getting dizzy. The lump on my temple’s no bigger than a goose egg, and my brain no longer feels as though it’s been borrowed for a game of croquet. Tomorrow is a feast day, so I shall walk myself to the Cellar, the Cellar and the Folk. Mrs. Bains, who is my jailor (but says she is the housekeeper), has ordered me to stay in bed some days longer. But she doesn’t know Corinna Stonewall!
    How improved I am from the night of the hounds, when I awoke to the taste of blood, my own small sea of water and salt. The infinite weight of my eyelids pressed me into darkness, but small sounds rose all around. The crunch of stone, the sound of striking flint, a chorus of soft, quick sighs.
    “I warned Corin about the Hill Hounds.” It was Finian’s voice, but very strange, like a bead rattling down a metal cone into the shell of my ear. “I should also have told him they’re susceptible to the power of The Last Word.”
    The Last Word? Could it work against the Hill Hounds? I tried to speak, but the furniture of my mind had all been rearranged, my words neatly folded and stored out of sight.
    “He’s stirring!” said Sir Edward.
    Yellow light swam through the tissue of my eyelids. I squinted them open.
    Tall shadows stood behind the torchlight; panting shadows slid about their feet. “Silver eyes!” said Sir Edward. “He has silver eyes in the dark.”
    “Corin!” said Finian as my eyes began to slide closed. “Don’t slip away again. Remember, you owe me a Conviction!”
    “A what?” said Sir Edward.
    “It’s our secret,” said Finian.
    The moon still hung in the branches; loose stones pressed into my back. Everything was so very rocky here. The torchlight leaned closer; one of the shadows knelt and turned into white lace and black satin.
    “At least they’ve not killed you!” said Sir Edward.
    I found at last the place my words began. “I must tend to the Folk!”
    “Don’t trouble yourself about the Folk,” said Finian.
    “Never say that!” said Sir Edward.
    The Finian shadow also knelt and turned itself into enormous fingers, which began very gently to feel my head.
    “Where’s my Folk Bag?”
    “I have it here.” Finian found the lump and hissed in sympathy. “Ouch! You’ll have a headache for a week. Why did you go walking about? I told you about the Hill Hounds.”
    I smelled the salt spray in his hair. “The Last Word works against them?”
    “You’ve been eavesdropping!” said Finian. “It’s actually a family secret for which I should charge you a Conviction. But I’ll give it to you free, as an apology for lingering so long on the beach. Yes, you can control our hounds with The Last Word, but mind you, they can be very fierce.”
    “So can I,” I said, although it was hard to feel fierce on the long journey to the Manor. It comes back to me now as a jumble of pain sliced with a few vivid memories. A brisk,