Read Online Enchanted Forests by Katharine Kerr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katharine Kerr
Ads: Link
they know of a
witch. Tell them you've been visiting faines in the wood for four
hundred years."
That was perhaps a bit cruel. They'd mock him, most likely,
But then they'd probably send him to the National Health, and
get him taken care of.
Tinker looked at the signboard, then pushed at the car door; it
didn't open, and he looked helplessly for a handle or latch.
OUT OF THE WOODS 53
Jenny leaned over and opened the door for him.
He got out carefully, then bobbed to her in something that was
almost, but not quite, a bow. "My thanks to you, good lady."
She felt guilty about dumping the poor loonie like this, and
she was momentarily tempted to park the car and go into the pub
with him, to make sure things didn't get rough—but it wasn't her
problem, and she wasn't a native here.
He'd be all right. This was a peaceful English village, not a
bar in Detroit or L.A.—or even London.
And it just wasn't her problem.
She took her foot off the brake and pulled away.
Three days later, in her hotel room in Bayswater, she had the
TV news on as background while she wrote a letter to her par-
ents back in Cleveland. Something startled her, made her look
up, though it took a second to realize what she had heard.
William Tinker, that was it—someone on the TV had said the
name William Tinker.
And there he was, the same man she had picked up on that
lonely road, with a woman on either side—an overweight matron
on his left, a thinner, younger woman on his right, both in long
dresses and wearing necklaces.
Tinker himself was dressed in modem clothing now—a simple
shirt and slacks—but it was unmistakably the same man. His hair
was still long, but looked considerably cleaner now.
"... naturally, so-called modem scientists are dismissing his
story without even bothering to investigate," the older woman
was saying, "but some of us recognize the possibility of won-
ders."
The camera cut to a blond host in a tweed jacket. "Then you
believe that Mr. Tinker really has spent the last four hundred
years at a faerie feast?"
Back to the woman.
"No, not literally—but we believe something extraordinary has
happened in that forest. It may be that Mr. Tinker was affected
by forces in the wood that reverted him to a past life, and that
he was really only in there for hours and simply swapped iden-
tities, or it may be that he really did enter in 1595 and was some-
j, how transported to our own time—my compatriots and I favor
^ this latter explanation, since it would account for his clothing,
and the fact that no one fitting his description has been reported
missing."
'{ "And you consider this more likely than an attempt at fraud,
^ or a simple delusion?"
54 Lawrence ^ffatt. Evans
"Oh, very much so," the woman said. "What would be the
point of such a fraud? And we have medical reports that will at-
test that Mr. Tinker appears quite sane, other than his belief that
he spent four centuries in that forest. Furthermore, his teeth show
no sign of modem dentistry, and the doctors say he's never been
immunized against anything, or received any of the other lasting
benefits of the National Health. He doesn't appear to have ever
seen a doctor before. We've asked linguists from Balliol College
at Oxford to tell us whether his speech is authentically Elizabe-
than, and so far, while we haven't heard their final opinion, none
have found any specific inaccuracies."
"And have any historians questioned Mr. Tinker?"
"Not yet," the woman conceded. "After all, he only emerged
from the wood three days ago."
"So you believe that in fact, Mr. Tinker is from the sixteenth
century?"
"Yes, I do."
"Mr. Tinker, do you have anything to add to that?"
Jenny stared as Tinker said, in that strange accent of his, "I do
truly believe that I am William Tinker, born in the Year of Our
Lord fifteen hundred and sixty-seven, and that I came
witch. Tell them you've been visiting faines in the wood for four
hundred years."
That was perhaps a bit cruel. They'd mock him, most likely,
But then they'd probably send him to the National Health, and
get him taken care of.
Tinker looked at the signboard, then pushed at the car door; it
didn't open, and he looked helplessly for a handle or latch.
OUT OF THE WOODS 53
Jenny leaned over and opened the door for him.
He got out carefully, then bobbed to her in something that was
almost, but not quite, a bow. "My thanks to you, good lady."
She felt guilty about dumping the poor loonie like this, and
she was momentarily tempted to park the car and go into the pub
with him, to make sure things didn't get rough—but it wasn't her
problem, and she wasn't a native here.
He'd be all right. This was a peaceful English village, not a
bar in Detroit or L.A.—or even London.
And it just wasn't her problem.
She took her foot off the brake and pulled away.
Three days later, in her hotel room in Bayswater, she had the
TV news on as background while she wrote a letter to her par-
ents back in Cleveland. Something startled her, made her look
up, though it took a second to realize what she had heard.
William Tinker, that was it—someone on the TV had said the
name William Tinker.
And there he was, the same man she had picked up on that
lonely road, with a woman on either side—an overweight matron
on his left, a thinner, younger woman on his right, both in long
dresses and wearing necklaces.
Tinker himself was dressed in modem clothing now—a simple
shirt and slacks—but it was unmistakably the same man. His hair
was still long, but looked considerably cleaner now.
"... naturally, so-called modem scientists are dismissing his
story without even bothering to investigate," the older woman
was saying, "but some of us recognize the possibility of won-
ders."
The camera cut to a blond host in a tweed jacket. "Then you
believe that Mr. Tinker really has spent the last four hundred
years at a faerie feast?"
Back to the woman.
"No, not literally—but we believe something extraordinary has
happened in that forest. It may be that Mr. Tinker was affected
by forces in the wood that reverted him to a past life, and that
he was really only in there for hours and simply swapped iden-
tities, or it may be that he really did enter in 1595 and was some-
j, how transported to our own time—my compatriots and I favor
^ this latter explanation, since it would account for his clothing,
and the fact that no one fitting his description has been reported
missing."
'{ "And you consider this more likely than an attempt at fraud,
^ or a simple delusion?"
54 Lawrence ^ffatt. Evans
"Oh, very much so," the woman said. "What would be the
point of such a fraud? And we have medical reports that will at-
test that Mr. Tinker appears quite sane, other than his belief that
he spent four centuries in that forest. Furthermore, his teeth show
no sign of modem dentistry, and the doctors say he's never been
immunized against anything, or received any of the other lasting
benefits of the National Health. He doesn't appear to have ever
seen a doctor before. We've asked linguists from Balliol College
at Oxford to tell us whether his speech is authentically Elizabe-
than, and so far, while we haven't heard their final opinion, none
have found any specific inaccuracies."
"And have any historians questioned Mr. Tinker?"
"Not yet," the woman conceded. "After all, he only emerged
from the wood three days ago."
"So you believe that in fact, Mr. Tinker is from the sixteenth
century?"
"Yes, I do."
"Mr. Tinker, do you have anything to add to that?"
Jenny stared as Tinker said, in that strange accent of his, "I do
truly believe that I am William Tinker, born in the Year of Our
Lord fifteen hundred and sixty-seven, and that I came
Similar Books
