Read Online The Gossamer Crown: Book One of The Gossamer Sphere by Melissa Conway - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melissa Conway
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your plans. Not everyone wants the crown to be found.”
He disappeared into the gloom of the landing before Zach could question him further.
“Great,” Zach said to the empty room. Now he had to keep an eye out for enemies. He wasn’t intimidated, far from it, but for some reason he thought of Lizbeth. Of the four of them, she seemed the most vulnerable.
Kevin came back into the room and asked, “Heard anything about what the plan is?”
“No.” Zach attached the adapter and plugged in his laptop, gratified when it booted right up and even more pleased when he discovered Simon had wireless Internet. The network was unsecured, but out here in the boonies there probably weren’t a lot of hackers lurking about, and he didn’t hesitate to connect to it. Behind him, he heard Kevin sit on his bed.
Zach pulled up a search engine and typed in “shapeshifter.” The results ranged from products to games to personal websites. He clicked on a Wikipedia article and read it. Nowhere did the article suggest the phenomenon was anything other than make-believe. After following almost every link included in the references used to write the article, he checked out the external links section. Most were sites showcasing stories about shapeshifters, but there were a few that claimed shapeshifters were real. The first one Zach visited made him shake his head at the loonies on the net. The site’s forum was populated with people claiming they had proof, usually via badly doctored digital photos or video, that shapeshifters were among us. He scoffed inwardly until it occurred to him that he’d flown halfway around the world in the company of one such. But Caitlin said she was the last one. So unless these idiots had managed to get her on film, they were just as deluded as they sounded.
The second site he clicked on didn’t even appear to be about shapeshifters at first. The site graphics—interlacing lines and knot work from traditional Celtic art—framed the topics. The banner at the top proclaimed, “Home of Seamus the Bard.” Below it was a subheading that read, “Before the Celtic people had a written language they had a rich oral tradition. In the employ of kings and nobles, druidic bards recited generations of family histories and sang of long ago heroic deeds.” A column to the right had a blog with titles such as, “Bards—the First Rappers?” and “Neo-druidism: These Blokes are Just Making this Dreck Up.”
On the left was the site map. Zach clicked on “About Me.” Under a photograph of a blue-eyed man with his hair pulled back, he read the first paragraph.
“In the first century AD, Agricola, the governor of Roman-occupied Britain, was instructed by the emperor to find a way to conquer the intractable peoples of Ireland. To that end, he gave asylum to Eithne, the exiled queen of a deposed Irish High King, and her son Túathal. Agricola offered the loan of a legion of Roman soldiers for an invasion on Túathal’s behalf, but Eithne discovered his true plan was to arrest Túathal after the victory. In secrecy, she summoned her loyal bard, the Druid Seamus, whose name means “one who supplants.” On her orders, Seamus killed Agricola, disposed of the body, and took his shape. From that day forward, Governor Agricola became a respected administrator and commander. Ireland was safe from Roman rule.”
Zach thought this Seamus guy, at least, had an imagination. He closed the link and went back to the research he’d been working on before his battery conked out. He’d forgotten all about Kevin until his voice startled him.
“So what are you doing?”
“Research.”
“On what?”
Zach pulled up one of the web pages he’d been reading on the plane. “Caitlin said the gossamer crown was stolen along with the Irish Crown Jewels, but there’s no mention of it in any of the articles on the theft. She also said that just about everyone
He disappeared into the gloom of the landing before Zach could question him further.
“Great,” Zach said to the empty room. Now he had to keep an eye out for enemies. He wasn’t intimidated, far from it, but for some reason he thought of Lizbeth. Of the four of them, she seemed the most vulnerable.
Kevin came back into the room and asked, “Heard anything about what the plan is?”
“No.” Zach attached the adapter and plugged in his laptop, gratified when it booted right up and even more pleased when he discovered Simon had wireless Internet. The network was unsecured, but out here in the boonies there probably weren’t a lot of hackers lurking about, and he didn’t hesitate to connect to it. Behind him, he heard Kevin sit on his bed.
Zach pulled up a search engine and typed in “shapeshifter.” The results ranged from products to games to personal websites. He clicked on a Wikipedia article and read it. Nowhere did the article suggest the phenomenon was anything other than make-believe. After following almost every link included in the references used to write the article, he checked out the external links section. Most were sites showcasing stories about shapeshifters, but there were a few that claimed shapeshifters were real. The first one Zach visited made him shake his head at the loonies on the net. The site’s forum was populated with people claiming they had proof, usually via badly doctored digital photos or video, that shapeshifters were among us. He scoffed inwardly until it occurred to him that he’d flown halfway around the world in the company of one such. But Caitlin said she was the last one. So unless these idiots had managed to get her on film, they were just as deluded as they sounded.
The second site he clicked on didn’t even appear to be about shapeshifters at first. The site graphics—interlacing lines and knot work from traditional Celtic art—framed the topics. The banner at the top proclaimed, “Home of Seamus the Bard.” Below it was a subheading that read, “Before the Celtic people had a written language they had a rich oral tradition. In the employ of kings and nobles, druidic bards recited generations of family histories and sang of long ago heroic deeds.” A column to the right had a blog with titles such as, “Bards—the First Rappers?” and “Neo-druidism: These Blokes are Just Making this Dreck Up.”
On the left was the site map. Zach clicked on “About Me.” Under a photograph of a blue-eyed man with his hair pulled back, he read the first paragraph.
“In the first century AD, Agricola, the governor of Roman-occupied Britain, was instructed by the emperor to find a way to conquer the intractable peoples of Ireland. To that end, he gave asylum to Eithne, the exiled queen of a deposed Irish High King, and her son Túathal. Agricola offered the loan of a legion of Roman soldiers for an invasion on Túathal’s behalf, but Eithne discovered his true plan was to arrest Túathal after the victory. In secrecy, she summoned her loyal bard, the Druid Seamus, whose name means “one who supplants.” On her orders, Seamus killed Agricola, disposed of the body, and took his shape. From that day forward, Governor Agricola became a respected administrator and commander. Ireland was safe from Roman rule.”
Zach thought this Seamus guy, at least, had an imagination. He closed the link and went back to the research he’d been working on before his battery conked out. He’d forgotten all about Kevin until his voice startled him.
“So what are you doing?”
“Research.”
“On what?”
Zach pulled up one of the web pages he’d been reading on the plane. “Caitlin said the gossamer crown was stolen along with the Irish Crown Jewels, but there’s no mention of it in any of the articles on the theft. She also said that just about everyone
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