Гарри Тертлдав - The Enchanter Completed

From her backpack, she produced a slightly squashed baguette, a thermos, some Camembert, bananas, and chocolate bars. “I am always prepared, even in the middle of a forest.”

“Huzzah!” cheered Becca, falling on the food.

The beauty of the phenomenon, the natural surroundings, the circle of their liberated gnomes, and especially the thermos of hotcafé recoiffé —coffee liberally spiked with Calvados—greatly improved everyone’s moods. “You know, this is actually helpful,” Becca said. “If I ever paint an eclipse, I’ll know how the light looks and how the moon gradually disappears.”

“Ah, this is research for you,” Raquel said. “The only folklore I know about eclipses says that they are associated with magic and witchcraft. A hooting owl, an eclipse … We’re doomed.”

“Nonsense,” Alizon said. “The spirits of the Celtic Druids are watching over us. They were obsessed with celestial movements, so they’d love a juicy lunar eclipse like this. Look, it’s nearly gone.”

“Amazing,” Becca whispered as the moon vanished from sight. “I really am thankful we’re here.”

“We are most grateful, too,” said a gruff voice behind them.

The three women whirled around, but saw no one. Then Alizon’s sharp eyes caught some movement near the edge of the stone circle, close to the ground.A hedgehog, she thought.Perhaps a badger. Then she realized she couldn’t see the gnomes any longer. Something grunted at the base of their menhir.

Raquel directed her flashlight at the noise. Seven gnomes blinked at them. The one in the center, the gnome with the checkered breeches, bowed, his hand over his waist. His partner, the rotund fellow with the book, doffed his hat, and the girl gnome curtsied. The others pleasantly nodded.

“How much Calvados did you put in that coffee?” Becca asked in a tiny voice.

Raquel didn’t answer, but swept the flashlight over to the empty clearing, then back at the small figures directly below them. They squinted. The blue-garbed gnome threw up his walking stick to ward off the beam and cowered. The other six were smiling, but he looked as blue as his buttoned jacket.

“Please do not shine that in our faces,” said the spiffy gnome with the shovel. His French was flawless, but for a faint German accent. “We see very well at night.”

“Hans! Let me pass! After all, only I, Anton of der Lamp, haf been rescued by them twice,” the one in the yellow shirt said in a thicker accent. “If you haf matches, my lantern ist more gentle to the eyes.”

The blue one moaned something that wasn’t Germanor French. Handsome Hans said, “Hush, Vaclav,” and patted him on the back.

The young women looked at one another. “This is no dream,” said Alizon, trying to sound convincing. “I just pinched myself.”

“But how?” Raquel’s voice trailed off.

The fat gnome pointed skyward. “Dear ladies, like most denizens of Faerie—and many such are abroad tonight—we are subject to the powers of the moon. Indeed, every month, on the night the moon reaches its ripest, we come to life, albeit briefly, in your gardens. Sadly, we revert to these absurd poses at moonset.” He adopted his original form: thick book lodged under his arm, one hand resting on his brown belt. “But this is a place of ancient magics, and it too is governed by the moon. Had you taken us elsewhere—”

“Such as der glade vere you placed me last spring,” interjected Anton of the Lamp.

“—our period of animation would have been as brief as its usual monthly course. This sequence, however, has resulted in a permanent effect,” concluded the pudgy gnome. He gave Anton a sour look for interrupting his lecture.

“Professor Gottfried talks too much, as usual,” growled the old gnome with the dinged shoulder. “Though how you can hear anything through that thatch of fuzz amazes me. What he’s trying to say is, we’re alive, and for keeps. Many thanks to you ladies from Old Otto.” He too removed his hat, revealing a bald scalp with a fringe of white hair.

“You’re truly alive?” Becca asked, drawing her feet up. Old Otto seemed charming, but his hatchet looked nastily sharp.

The girl gnome giggled. “As alive as you, dearie. I am Gretchen, at your service. Care for some fruit? I hope I never see another apple or bunch of grapes in all my days.” She hoisted her bowl to the young women. Somehow the solid heft of the bowl and the juiciness of the apple convinced Alizon of the reality of the scene more than the talking, laughing gnomes did. From the slow, thoughtful way Becca and Raquel nibbled on grapes, Alizon could tell they felt the same. She slid off the menhir to stand beside the gnomes. A few moments later, her friends joined her. The gnomes rushed up to shake their hands. Their small fingers were warm and soft, not cold, hard ceramic.

Gretchen poked Ugly Togs in the belly. “No more watering can, eh, Karl?”

“Wretched thing!” Karl savagely kicked the lavender can. His boot connected with a metallicthunk and it sailed into the brush. Something chittered angrily in response, causing Vaclav, the blue gnome, to start whimpering again.

“Do not anger thefées !” Professor Gottfried exclaimed.

“My apologies, small ones,” Karl called. “Stupid little gits,” he added in a low voice. The bushes parted, and five tiny humanoid figures emerged, carrying baskets of linens. One grimaced at Karl. They walked to the edge of the spring and began washing the clothes.

“I know where the gnomes came from,” Becca said, “butwhat are those ?”

“Thefées ,” Raquel said. “A kind of fairy. Legend has it they do their laundry in springs and … hang it on druidic stones to dry.” Which was exactly what thefées were doing. How many other folk legends were based on reality? She racked her brain for anything else she could remember aboutfées . “Don’t go dancing with them or leave a newborn child where they can get it.”

“You can see them?” The Professor asked, his voice sharp with surprise.

“As well as I can see you,” Alizon said. “It’s strange, but I can see you more clearly than I could a few minutes ago, though the eclipse is still total.”

Gottfried scratched his beard. “Odd. Youshould be able to see us, as you brought about, however unwittingly, the magic that gave us life. But thefées …”

“Fairy fruit!” Raquel gasped. She stared at Gretchen’s bowl in horror. “What have we done to ourselves? Must we live in Faerie for eternity? Are we cursed?”

The female gnome drew herself up to her full height of two feet. “Certainly not! My fruit is of the highest quality, and very healthful. It’s no doubt improved your eyesight. You can probably see all manner of things, if you only look in the right way.”

“Cool!” Alizon muttered, glancing around.There was that tawny owl, in that oak, andthere , a barn owl, its white feathers blending in with the birches. How could she have missed them before? Becca, too, was looking around as if seeing things in a new light, though the woods were still quite dark.

Raquel removed her glasses, put them back on, then removed them again. She didn’t need them, and she could see much better than she should have been able to in the darkness. “Is it permanent?” Her earlier outburst embarrassed her, but a lifetime of reading about the dire consequences of eating fairy fruit no doubt conditioned her.

The gnomes—excepting mournful Vaclav, who was wringing his hat—didn’t know. Handsome Hans said, “Forgive our ignorance, but none of us have ever shared a meal with humans before.”

“Speaking of meals,” said Anton, “Ich habe Hunger, und hier ist nichtsto eat, excepting rootsund bugs.”

“I’m famished, too,” said Karl. “I’m as empty as Vatsy’s head.”