Read Online Mythology Abroad by Jody Lynn Nye - Free Book Online Page B

you’re calling a halt? Ooh, you Americans are made of weak fabric.”
    “I’m working up my tolerance a little at a time,” Keith replied, good-naturedly, refusing to be drawn into a contest. For all the kidding they gave him, Matthew had confided that they did drink a lot every night. This evening was by way of being a celebration. A good thing, too. The dark ale was rich and heavy, not bitter at all, but Keith could tell by the light feeling in the top of his head that the alcohol content was a lot higher than beer back home. “There is no way I’m going to relive this morning’s headache. That was one hell of a hangover.” And a close shave with disaster, he reflected, catching Holl’s eye. The young elf seemed relieved by Keith’s prudence, and was considerably more relaxed, even among the ever changing mob of strange Big Folk. The others had long ago forgotten his ostensible youth, and had accepted him along with Keith as one of them.
    At eleven o’clock, the publican of the Black Bull rang a bell and called, “Time, gentlemen, time. Your wives are waiting for ye!”
    Seeing that no one was taking the initiative, Keith got to his feet. “Come on, guys. Someone is going to have to direct me back to the Underground station.”
    “I can feel me right leg, but I think me left one’s gone to sleep,” Edwin said, looking surprised as he tried to lever himself out of the booth.
    “Don’t you hate when that happens?” Keith asked, helping him up. “That means it’s going to be awake all night.”
    With Holl’s aid, Keith managed to steer the others back to the train and home to Hillhead Station. There were few passengers on the late train. Only one man rode all the way to their stop with them, and trudged up the stairs in their wake. The light drizzle that met them as they emerged from the station was bracing, and woke everyone up enough to stagger the rest of the way to the residence hall.
    “Whew!” Keith blew a lock of hair out of his eyes with an upward gust as he sagged onto his bed. “And I thought American college students were party animals. Matthew said they do that almost every night!”
    “You’d hardly connect the serious archaeologists of the afternoon with the drunken louts we just put to bed,” Holl agreed. He yawned. “It’s late, and we’ve had an eventful day. I could sleep for weeks.”
    “Could still be some of the jet lag, too,” Keith reasoned, pulling off his sneakers. “Look at that. My feet are swollen. By the end of this trip, I’m going to be wearing clown shoes.”
    “And I’m going to be wearing your discards.” Holl rubbed his own toes. “Blisters. This is my first pair of hard-soled shoes, and it may well be my last if they don’t soften soon. I may survive well enough, as we’re doing all our work from our knees.”
    “Are you enjoying yourself?” Keith asked anxiously. “I know this kind of trip wasn’t exactly your choice, since you signed on at the last minute to go with me.”
    Holl waved an impatient hand. “I am interested. Realize how little practical experience any of us young ones have with the outside world. I’m as keen as your fellow tourists to see what else we can find up there. It’s nice to know that there’s a past that stretches back beyond the date of my birth, one for which there’s tangible, if unreadable proof.”
    “Hmph. Won’t the old folks tell you what life was like before you came to Midwestern?”
    “Not much. You can tell it isn’t something they want to talk about. And the younger ones just tell of extended travel and wandering. They’re home and secure and happy now, so the past doesn’t exist. That’s shortsighted, in my opinion.” Disgusted, Holl dropped his shoes on the floor, and lay down, hands behind his head. “I find it frustrating, as do the rest of us born at Midwestern. Don’t you find it an interesting place we’re digging up? You can see why the settlers chose to live there. They get the full