“Come on, you have so little faith in me?” said Mel. She took another volume of history off the library shelves. “I wouldn’t want you to get torn into little pieces by the ravaging hordes. I like you whole.”
“Oh?” Stuart stepped toward her so that he was no more than a foot away. Only the large history tome stood between them. “You never said so before.”
“I didn’t think it was necessary. It should be a given that most people are squeamish about seeing body parts strewn about willy-nilly.”
He leaned closer and watched her eyes widen. “Hm.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” He bent his head and heard her rapid intake of breath before he kissed her. She tasted of the soup that they had for lunch. There was a loud thump as the book that she had been holding slid to the floor. He placed a smaller kiss on the corner of her mouth before he raised his head. With one hand, he cupped her cheek and caressed the skin under her eye with a thumb, wanting to rub away the tired expression that had not completely faded from the morning.
“I thought that stuff was for dates,” she said.
“This isn’t a date?”
“In the library? Doing research on a holiday? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“So this isn’t a date. But I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
She squirmed against him, he couldn’t tell if she was trying to get closer to him or just trying to get away. She gazed downward, meaningfully. “Apparently that’s not the only thing you wanted to do for a while.”
He laughed ruefully. “Unless you’re into the public stuff, I guess I’ll have to wait a little longer for that, huh?”
This time she leaned over to kiss him. When she pulled away, she grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. I could be persuaded if we don’t get caught.” But then she frowned. “What’s that?”
He followed her gaze to the floor. The book she had dropped earlier had fallen open to a page covered in an illustration that looked like a reproduction of a print made from carved wooden blocks. The figure in the illustration was that of a strange man and stag hybrid with the antlers filling out a significant portion of the top part of the page. Stuart picked up the book and squinted at the caption.
“A folk carving of the Horned King,” he read aloud. “Here he is depicted in his spring form, the gesture of his right hand indicating a blessing for the planting season.”
“That sort of looks like the figures they painted on the scaffold in the main square,” remarked Mel. “But that would be odd—why would they paint the spring form if it is fall?”
He flipped the page. On the opposite side was another reproduction. The carving this time depicted a strange humanoid form that looked neither like man or known beast. The thing had large bulbous eyes that filled up the head and no nose. There was a maw of teeth, sharp and needle-like and the arms came down to the ground, claws raking the earth. Only the antlers were the same. She shivered and remembered the claw marks on her bedroom door.
He read, “A folk carving of the Horned King. Here he is depicted in his late autumn form. In this form, he is also called the Devourer of Souls.”
She closed her eyes and let out a breath. “The Devourer of Souls,” she repeated.
“Mel, it’s just a myth.”
“If that’s true, then what could it be?”
He shrugged. “A prank, perhaps.”
“Oh right, everything is a prank.”
He put the book back onto the shelf. “Let’s get out of here, maybe the dust is getting to us.”
“You just want me to clear my head of all that nonsense.”
They walked out of the stacks and was about to pass the librarian’s counter when they spotted Teresa chatting with an older man who was leaning against the counter. Mel momentarily stopped, frowning. Indeed, that man was familiar looking. Where had she seen him before.
“Oh!” the librarian exclaimed as she spotted the pair of journalists. “That was a quick one. Did you find all that you were looking for?”
Stuart nodded. “We found some interesting things about the mine.”
“Afternoon folks,” said the older man. He peered at them. “Say, haven’t I met you before? I’m Lloyd Fenster.”
“You were at the Grandbury Farm last night, right?” said Stuart. “You were at the star gazing party.”
“Yep. Unfortunately it was a bit of a bust, wasn’t it? Too cloudy.”
Mel and Stuart nodded.
Teresa coughed to get their attention. “Well, Lloyd, didn’t you know that they were looking up information on the horn silver mines?” She grinned at the journalists. “Lloyd owns the mines, you know.”
The older man watched them speculatively. “Yes, I own the mines. It was too bad that I had to close them down. Fortunately, my income doesn’t come solely from that source so that doesn’t mean I’m totally in a financial pit.”
“Of course not!” said the librarian. “You can’t be since you’re the mayor’s financial advisor.”
Lloyd Fenster shrugged. “Like the big city stock brokers say, diversify your portfolio. I have income coming in from other sources so I’m not in the poorhouse. Not yet at any rate.”
“So are you planning to sell the mines then since you can’t profit from them?” asked Stuart, his reporter instincts kicking in.
“My first thoughts would be no,” Lloyd said. “After all, the mine has been in my family for several generations. It’ll sort of be disrespectful to my ancestors, you know, if I sell it off. But I guess I am thinking of it. One has to be practical, after all. Are you interested in it?”
Stuart nodded. “It does seem to be a unique spot for Gavot, isn’t it?”
“That it is. I suppose you two working for a city magazine, you might be interested in looking around. I don’t have much to do tomorrow since it is the Harvest Festival so I could show you around if you like.”
“Oh if it isn’t too much trouble with you, we’d love to.”
“It would be no trouble at all,” Lloyd Fenster drawled. “Besides, I think it’ll be a fun thing giving a tour. No one goes out that way any more after the mine closed.”
