Read Online A Study in Sable by Mercedes Lackey - Free Book Online

stories from Britain often as not mirror the Irish ones. The first ‘people,’ if you can call them that, were the Fomorians. They were extremely powerful magicians. Most of them seem, at least in the legends, to be monsters of various sorts. Creatures with the bodies of men and the heads of animals and reptiles, or reptilian humans. Their leader, Balor, was a giant with one eye.” Mary paused, as Nan frowned.
    â€œThat sounds familiar,” she said.
    â€œLike a Greek Cyclops,” Sarah added.
    Mary nodded. “It does, doesn’t it? We all know that some of these legends have some basis in fact, and this may well be one of them,given that the Greeks and the Celts are not the only cultures to speak of one-eyed giants. But we can explore that at a later date.”
    â€œRight.” Nan nodded. “So you were telling us what you know about the Fomorians.” The sun was getting low, and Nan really wanted to be back in the flat before dark.
    Mary’s brows creased a little in thought. “The Fomorians were conquered by the Tuatha De Danaan, another nonhuman race, but not until after some really terrible wars that left the earth torn up and melted in places and the lakes boiled dry.”
    â€œWhich sounds like a fight between Elemental Masters . . . or a fight between an Elemental Master and a very powerful Elemental.” John pursed his lips. “Interesting.”
    â€œThe Fomorians were supposed to be immortal. Although they
could
be killed, it was very difficult, and it was actually easier to imprison them somewhere. Under hills, in trees . . . or in objects.” Mary glanced in the direction of Number 10 and shivered. “And if this thing is a Fomorian, whatever a Fomorian might actually be, I don’t think we are
nearly
prepared enough to take it on.”
    â€œNot today, certainly.” John frowned, but agreed, and Nan breathed a sigh of relief.
    â€œThere are old warriors, and bold warriors, but no old, bold warriors,” Beatrice said philosophically. “And now that you have some semblance of a clue, I would very much like you to find me a nice hansom cab to take me back to Chelsea, John Watson. I fancy a bit of soup, and I promised one of my flock of chicks I’d read his sonnets before bed.”
    â€œAnd I would very much like to do that for you, Beatrice Leek,” John replied, getting to his feet and offering a hand to Mary, then one to Beatrice. “You’ve been immensely helpful. I don’t think we’d have gotten nearly this far, this fast, without you.”
    They all returned to the street, where John had the luck of hailing two cabs: a hansom for Beatrice and another hackney for the rest of them. He put Beatrice into the first, paid the fare in advance, and handed the rest of them into the second. “221 Baker Street,” he told the cabby through the little hatch in the roof.
    â€œRight, guv’nor,” the cabby replied, and closed the hatch, and they were off at—an amble. This was a very stylish and quiet neighborhood, with the exception of Number 10, and one just did not send a horse into a noisy trot on this street. Which was fine with Nan; those sandwiches at tea were enough to keep her until dinner, and only Beatrice had actually expended any energy calling the fauns.
    â€œI think more research in Lord Alderscroft’s archives is in order,” Mary Watson said, as the cab turned onto a less refined street, and the cabby gave his horse the signal to go a bit faster.
    Nan nodded agreement, as did Sarah. “Do you think there would be anything more about Fomorians in the British Museum?” Sarah asked.
    But Mary Watson shook her head. “I embarked on a course of study of Celtic legends because they had become so popular,” she explained, “And I wanted to be ready in case some fool accidentally invoked something. I’ve gone over every book they have on