Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries (Emily Wilde, #1)(27)

She snorted, thumbing through the pages. “I don’t need to read this to know that it’s nonsense. There’s none like our snow-dwellers, neither in this world nor the next.”

I blinked. “Have you encountered other Folk?”

“I’ve encountered them. That’s enough.”

“Have you?” I was so filled with questions that I could not work out which to utter first. She seemed to recognize this and gave another snort.

“I will not speak of them here,” she said. “Nor should I speak of them anywhere, this close to winter, but if you visit my house upon a midday when the sun shines and the wind is fair, I will answer your questions. Those I have answers for.”

To this I eagerly agreed. She went back to the book, occasionally blowing air through her nose in sharp bursts, though her gaze often strayed to Bambleby. I enquired whether she wished to move closer to hear his stories.

“Oh, I prefer to enjoy the view,” she said with a cackle that I couldn’t help but smile at. She motioned to Shadow, curled up at my feet beneath the table, his large black eyes tracking the currents of the gathering, but always returning to me, regular as clockwork. “That’s quite a singular dog. Had him long?”

“Some years now,” I said. Thora asked a number of questions about Shadow, and I told her the tale I’d invented of our meeting, which I try not to vary. It’s easier, I’ve found, to have only one story to remember.

I must have enjoyed myself at the tavern, for I slept a full half hour later than habit the following morning. When I rose, I found the cottage empty and Shadow dozing contentedly by the fireside, having already been fed his breakfast. Bambleby’s cloak was gone, as were those of his students, and the remains of their breakfast were scattered upon the table.

I was astonished. Had my lecture actually penetrated Bambleby’s head? Or was he off interrogating the common fae about faerie doors again? Either way, I was happy to have a few moments of peace, and settled myself at the table with my notes and a cup of tea.

Bambleby’s door swung open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. A freckled, redheaded young woman poked her head out.

“Oh!” she tittered, adjusting the sheet wrapped round her. “I thought I was alone.”

“As did I.”

She seemed to take no notice of my tone, but slunk smiling into the main room, mischief on her face that she seemed to imagine I would take part in. “Did he leave?”

“Miraculously, yes.”

The girl—one of Thora’s many granddaughters, I believe—settled herself, sheet and all, opposite me at the table and indolently helped herself to the remains of the breakfast. She proceeded to question me about Bambleby’s past, particularly in reference to his dalliances, a subject upon which I could have spoken volumes had I elected to take leave of my senses. I replied with answers so staccato that she soon began to smirk at me, imagining me jilted or jealous, or both. Thankfully, Shadow frightened her when he padded up to the table, hoping for scraps, and she exited the cottage shortly thereafter.

The morning was grey and windy with intervals of sleet, as miserable a face as a sky can put on, so I ventured only as far as the spring for my now habitual visit with Poe. I spent the remainder of the morning with my notes and Bambleby’s, which were exactly as cursory as I had expected them to be. Patches of blue sky appeared around noon, and so I donned my hat and coat and packed my camera, intending to venture up to the mountains to hunt for Bambleby’s supposed kelpie, which Thora had informed me was known as the nykur in Ljosland.

I was just stepping through the door, however, as Bambleby came striding up the path, collar notably askew, looking put out. He started a little at the sight of me, then looked guiltily away.

“What has happened?” I said, already dreading the response. “And where on earth have you been?”

“It seems I must resign the field,” he said. “I displease you when I sleep late. I displease you when I rise early. I displease you when I do exactly what you tell me to do, when you tell me to do it. I cannot win with you, Em.”

“Yes, that’s enough of that.” I narrowed my eyes. “You visited the changeling.”

“Indeed. Though I’m afraid I could get little information from him, and that is because he has none to give. He does not know when his parents will return, nor why they abandoned him here.”

I scanned the path as he strode past me into the cottage. “Where are our assistants?”

“I thought it best to leave them at the tavern with their pockets full of coin.”

I did not like his tone one bit. “And what was the cause of this munificence on your part?”

He took his time in answering, using Shadow as an excuse as he greeted the dog with a lavish display of affection. “I brought them along to the farmstead.”

“Oh, God.” I stared at him. “Why would you do such a thing? That is not a creature to be dealt with by amateurs!”

“I am responsible for their education. An opportunity to study a changeling in person is invaluable to any budding scholar. Besides, you made it sound as if the creature was nearly harmless, Em.”

“I never said the word! If you think—”

“Well, you implied it. And you mastered that thing with a bit of iron! You are every inch as fearsome as I always supposed you to be.”