“Mr. McKnight has little patience for nonsense,” warned Keir. “Although he’s far too respectable to let someone like you know it. I’ll meet you up there soon.”
“Good luck, Rinka,” said Alison as they departed. “If the ruse doesn’t work out, you can always stay with me for the summer.” She gave her friend a meaningful look with a glance at Idris to say,if it doesn’t work out for any reason.
Rinka nodded that she understood.
Alison led Keir across the bridge as Rinka and Idris continued down the tree-lined path to Weldan House. The water at the bottom of the falls was so lovely and blue on that cloudless day that it was almost possible to forget the tragedy that had taken place there.
Almost, but not entirely. Alison shivered as she remembered the feeling of the icy cold water on her skin. She brushed the sensation aside, focusing on the warmth she felt when looking at the riverbank.
On the other side of the bridge, the road back to Herot’s Hollow curved up into the woods, but there was a footpath off to the left that led down to the water. Alison was grateful for her riding boots, which allowed her to take the steep descent with minimal hassle. Keir followed closely behind her, offering his hand to help her balance as she clambered over rocks to reach the smoother path she’d seen from the bridge.
There was something to this path that spoke to her in the same way the path into the fairy woods had, and that gave her pause. “I really hope this doesn’t lead to more fairies,” she said. “As fun as they were, I don’t really want any more of their lessons at the moment.”
“Do you want to turn back? You can come with me to the house. I’m sure we can find another way that doesn’t involve the korrigans.”
“No,” said Alison. “I’d like to see Nolwynn again.” And so she pressed on.
The path wasn’t much like the fairy path had been. It was steep, climbing over rock and through dense woods to the higherground above the falls. But the warm feeling was there, and Alison realized what she was feeling was magic.
At last, the path stopped climbing. It crossed two tiny streams, which they carefully navigated by crossing steppingstones, and when it turned to follow a larger brook, Alison heard a splash of something hitting the water.
Alison stopped, holding her hand up to signal Keir to do the same. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.
She saw movement on the opposite bank of the brook.
“Hello?” she called. “I’m here to see Nolwynn. Do you know her?”
There were several more splashes from just around the bend, and then large streaks of silver and gold came into view as they swam through the water and emerged on the bank next to Alison and Keir.
There were five of them, all just below waist-height, all with long hair of silver or gold and thin gowns or tight breeches in shades of silver, gold, and blue. The one in the middle wore a simple golden diadem, and Alison recognized her at once: Nolwynn, their leader and Alison’s companion during her journey to Herot’s Hollow in the spring.
“Greetings again, Alison. You are welcome here,” she said, the others bowing slightly to their guests. “He, however, is not.” Nolwynn looked up at Keir with unmistakable contempt.
Alison looked at Keir, who was as puzzled as she was. “I don’t understand,” said Alison.
“He isn’t welcome. If you’d like to speak with me, he’ll need to leave.”
Alison opened her mouth to protest, but Keir stopped her with a hand on her forearm. “It’s alright,” he said. “I’m sure they know who my father is. We’re not far from the road back into Fossholm. I’ll go up to the house, and I’ll meet you back at the stables in a few hours. I trust you’ll help her find her way?”
“We will,” said Nolwynn. She stood as tall as her diminutive stature would allow, making it clear she wouldn’t say another word in his presence.
Keir gave Alison’s hand a parting squeeze and returned along the path they had taken.
Nolwynn and the korrigans led Alison along the stream and over another steppingstone path to their encampment, which seemed to be constructed mostly of salvaged goods: sheets and curtains in varying colors, discarded and broken bits of furniture, and a small campfire over which a crooked spit turned a dozen or so salmon. It was a small camp, which came as no surprise to Alison considering their size, but there were several Fulling-sized tents among the group, and there seemed to be quite a few Fullings moving about as well, although they had the same dress and hair as the korrigans themselves.
“You could keep better company, my dear,” said Nolwynn as she led Alison to a large tent near the campfire.
“What do you mean?” asked Alison. “Why isn’t Keir welcome here?”
Alison wondered what grave offense Keir could possibly have committed against the korrigans. The town had resented his absence, but Alison had never met anyone that had a real quarrel with him. He could be standoffish and a bit rude when cornered, but she’d never seen anyone send him away on their first encounter.
“There’s little good to say about any of them up at that house, but he is the worst of the lot,” said Nolwynn.
Alison followed Nolwynn’s gaze to a group gathered near the stream. They were mostly korrigans, but there were two Fullings with them. One appeared to be an older elf, although his silver hair might have had something to do with the korrigans’ influence rather than age. The other was human, her hair a very pale gold that matched a long gown that clung to her thin figure.
But her eyes. They were dark and wide as they caught Alison’s before quickly turning away.
Alison had seen them before. They were Keir’s eyes. His father’s eyes.
