Free Faerie Tale by Raymond Feist Page A

and if you have any problems, give him a call. The service men from the mall stores take forever, want to take everything back to the shop, then keep whatever for months. Barney’s reliable and cheap. He has a work shed, little more than a shack, on the other side of my property, right atthe end of Williams Avenue. You can cut through the woods from your home.” Agatha smiled fondly. “Barney fits my longing for simpler times, when all you had was the local fix-it shop. He’s a living American artifact. Besides, I have him around as much for research as the need for repairs. The man was born in Ireland and has an astonishing wealth of Irish oral tradition. In comparing what he knows with what the second-, third-, and fourth-generation Irish here know, I can begin to gauge how much change the myths have undergone in Ireland and America.”
    Jack stuck his head through the door. “Coffee?” He took stock of who indicated yes, and vanished back into the kitchen.
    Gabbie rose. “I think I’ll give Jack a hand.”
    Mark said, “Aggie’s picked a tough one. Irish lore, like most in Europe, has been ‘frozen’ by the printing press. Children now read fairy tales rather than listen at their mother’s knee—if they read them at all.”
    “So you don’t think she’ll find much variation?” asked Phil.
    Mark shook his head in the negative, while Agatha smiled indulgently. “We’ve had this argument before,” she ventured. “Mark is something of a homegrown social anthropologist and claims there is no true oral tradition in Europe or America anymore.”
    “Well, maybe among the older American Indians and rural folk up in the Appalachians, but nowhere else. Not when you can pick up a book and read the same story in England and America. No, if you’re researching myths about cluricaunes, you’ll find the same story in William Pitt County as you would in County Cork.”
    “What are cluricaunes?” asked Phil.
    Agatha said, “Leprechauns. They’re called lurikeen, lurigandaun, and luricans in different parts of Ireland.”
    Gloria sat back. There was something passing between the boys, she could sense it. And it worried her. She silently wondered why the talk was making her tense.
    Agatha glanced at the boys and asked, “Do you boys know what a leprechaun is?”
    “Little men in green coats?” said Patrick, an odd expression on his face.
    Sean’s eyes widened at Patrick’s answer, then suddenly his face became animated as he blurted, “Darby O’Gill!”
    Phil laughed. “Just so.”
    Mark said, “Who’s Darby O’Gill?”
    “It’s a Disney film,
Darby O’Gill and the Little People.
The boys saw it before we left California.”
    “Yeah,” said Sean with a pout. “We had the Disney Channel on cable.”
    “I rest my case,” offered Mark. “The boys are getting their folk myths from television.”
    Gloria said, “They’ve been disconsolate there’s no cable available out at the farm.” She roughed Sean’s hair. “Now you’ll just have to make do with three channels, like normal people.”
    Phil said, “I was saving it as a surprise, boys, but I’ve ordered a satellite dish installed next week.”
    The two boys’ eyes widened. “We’ll get hundreds of channels!” shouted Patrick.
    Over the laughter in the dining room, Gloria ordered the boys to stifle their enthusiasm. Sean said, “Barry Walter’s father has the channel with naked ladies on it.”
    Gloria said, “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
    Phil laughed. “It’s all right. I got the one with the lock switch. The boys won’t be watching any X-rated movies for a few more years.”
    Jack and Gabbie returned with cake and coffee.
    “Speaking of fairy myths, does anyone know what night this is?” Gary asked.
    Mark and Agatha looked at each other and laughed, but it was Gloria who answered. “Midsummer’s Night.”
    “Like in Shakespeare?” said Jack.
    Phil said, “I thought the solstice was three days