The Hole in the Stone

“Be careful child, lest you see something you’ll wish you hadn’t,” said the satyr as he passed me with a smile on his wrinkled mahogany face. When I pulled the stone away from my eye he was only an old man with graying dreadlocks, no different from anyone else on the crowded Manhattan street. I whirled to watch him as he walked away, gripping the smooth stone in my trembling hand. The crowd jostled me as I stood there with my mouth hanging open like a fool.

               “Come on, lady, walk or get outada way,” someone in the crowd said, pulling me out of my fuddlement and reminding me that I had someplace to be. I turned again, back in the direction I had been heading. I enjoyed the swirl of my new coat around my legs. It was a Victorian Era men’s frock coat, rust red with lacy bits at the cuffs and red velveteen accents along the pockets and lapels. I’d fallen in love with it only minutes earlier and spent too much of my paycheck on it. Even at second-hand prices, it had been too much, and I knew I’d regret it later.

               I’d found the stone in the pocket. It looked like an ordinary river rock, worn smooth by water and time. It had a hole in it, about the size of a dime. I rubbed my thumb across the cool surface of the stone as I walked. I couldn’t have seen what I thought I’d just seen. Satyrs aren’t real. Fairy stones are just a myth. I told myself that for two blocks, but I couldn’t resist looking again. I held the stone up to my eye.

               There were pixies flitting in and out of a florist shop. I stepped out of the flow of pedestrians into the lee of a paper box and watched them, smiling in delight at their antics. A cat yowled in an alley nearby and jumped out of a dumpster. It was chased by… I’m not sure what it was chased by. It looked like a little naked man the size of a lawn gnome with teeth like a piranha and wearing an over sized, dripping red hat. I pulled the stone away from my eye, no longer smiling. The old man, the satyr, had been right. That was something I wished I could un-see.

               I slipped the stone back into my pocket with a shudder and hurried on to meet my friends. I tried not to think about what was in my pocket, what it had let me see, but my mind kept coming back to it, and every time it did a little shiver of fear and excitement ran down my spine. Fairies were real. Holy hopping jalapenos! I tried to remember all the stories Gran had told me about them. My chest tightened at the memory, and I wished she was still alive so I could tell her.

               When I arrived at Dudley’s, the little Irish pub was flooded with people and music. I paid the cover and mentally considered my funds now that they were reduced by the price of the coat. I decided that I could have two beers, but it would be water after that. Slinging coffee paid my bills, but just barely. I could afford an occasional night out, but I wasn’t going to be living it up. I threaded my way through the crowd and stopped near the stage to listen to the band for a moment while I got my bearings.

I spotted my friends at a table near the back, and I couldn’t resist taking one last peek through my stone. Most everyone in the place looked completely normal, except for one fellow near the bar. He looked like a short, stout old man with pointed ears and a bushy red beard curling out untamed over… over a t-shirt that I recognized.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence. There were only five of those band shirts in existence, and since the band had broken up, there weren’t going to be any more. Short, stout, and red haired meant there was only one person it could be. I pulled the stone away from my eye. Liam stood at the bar waiting for his drinks. Kind, jovial, witty Liam, who always seemed too wise for his years. At least, he’d always seemed too wise for the two-and-a-half decades I’d always assumed was his age. I guess I couldn’t make assumptions anymore.

My knees felt weak, so I grabbed the back of an empty chair to steady myself. My throat was tight, and my vision went a little swimmy around the edges until I realized that I was holding my breath and took in a great gulp of air. I must have gone a little numb with shock, because I found myself walking across the pub without having made the decision to. I stutter-stepped halfway there as I came back to myself. What am I doing? He isn’t human. He’s my friend, it’ll be fine. He’s been lying to me for years. He’s never hurt me, and he’s always been there when I needed a shoulder to lean on. Is his name even really ‘Liam’?

I didn’t know what to do or say, but I took a deep breath and started walking again. I wished I’d never looked through that damned stone. Again, I had to admit that the satyr had been right. I shook myself. I was not going to run from this. What the stone was showing me may not be real, but it was showing me something, and I was going to find out the truth. I walked up to Liam before my courage had a chance to desert me.

I put a hand on his arm, and he turned to face me and said, “Oh, hey! Alison Walker, it’s good to see… What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I held out my other hand and showed him the stone. “Liam? What are you?” I asked, catching his green-eyed gaze with my own demanding glare and holding it.

He glanced down at the stone briefly, then back to my face, searching it. I’m not sure what he saw there, but I saw first alarm, then resignation and concern on his. Our eyes were locked for several long seconds before he answered me, “You’ve caught me, and three times over, at that. Come on, let’s get a table and talk where it’s a wee bit more private.” He turned back to the bartender and said, “I’ll take those first two pints, but I need to speak to my friend here. Can you see that the rest of the round makes it to the back table?” He sweetened the request with a folded bill, then grabbed two pints in one hand, and my arm with his other and led me to a small table where we wouldn’t be overheard.

We sat. He pushed one of the pints to me and I took a long pull to steady my nerves. “So,” I said, “you’re…” I trailed off, not sure what to say.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting my gold?” There was an edge to his voice that I didn’t understand until I parsed what he had said.

“Your… no! Liam, I couldn’t care less about gold. Are you… you’re a…” I couldn’t believe I was about to say it out loud. I felt silly, but I said, “Leprechaun?”

“No.” I started to laugh at myself for being a fool when he continued, “I’m a Cluricaune. We’re the less well-known cousins of the Leprechauns. They make shoes, we protect pubs and alehouses. We still have to give up our savings if we’re caught though.” He crossed his arms and sounded very less-than happy about it.

“I haven’t caught you, you’re free to go. And even if I did, you’re one of my best friends; I couldn’t take your money.”

“You did catch me, fair and square, and three times over. You caught me by the arm, you caught me in a deception, and you caught me in your glare. All three count, and that it was three times makes it all the more so. I’m honor bound to turn over my wealth to you. That’s the rules my people have lived by for centuries, and I’d be a shame to my family if I didn’t abide by them.”

I was flabbergasted. It took me three tries before I figured out which question to ask first; “Why?”

He sighed and took a long sip of his beer. “It’s like this,” he said, “When the ways to this world from Tir-Na-Nog first opened many and many a year ago, our people came flooding in and tried to take over. You humans fought us back and eventually we fought to a stand-still. Neither side could win. So a treaty was signed. Any of our kind who wanted to live here could, but we had to make a bond, a sacrifice of sorts. We had magic that humans couldn’t compete with. The only reason we couldn’t win was because there are far more of you than there are of us. So, as a way of putting us on a more even footing, we had to agree to be bound. For some sorts of us, it’s impossible to speak an untruth. For me and my kin we have to give up all we’ve gained under certain conditions. Some of the bonds the Wee Folk live under are even more outlandish. It’s a pain in the arse, but that’s how it is. Your folk have forgotten the treaties, but our folk haven’t, and if there’s anything we have in abundance it’s our own rock hard stubborn honor.” He looked down at the table and turned his pint glass in circles as he spoke again, more gently. “Besides, Ali, I don’t mind for you. I’d be a pretty poor friend if I hadn’t noticed how you’ve had to scrape to get by these last couple of years. You could use the money.”

“And I’d be a pretty poor friend if I let you bankrupt yourself for me.” I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “You know, I’ve got about a bajillion more questions.”

“Ask away. And you can’t say no to the money. It’s yours.”

“Well…” I drew the word out as an idea formed, and I said, “You know, answering all my questions is going to be a lot of work, and it wouldn’t really be fair of me to ask you to do that for nothing in return. So… now that I have plenty of money, what do you say I hire you to be my guide to all things fairie? I’m not sure how wealthy I am now, but I’m certain we can work out something we both find fair.”

Liam quirked an eyebrow at me. “Clever lass. You keep skirting the rules like that and you’re going to fit in just fine.” He raised his pint to me and we drank to a good bargain.