Robin took a deep breath, barely resisting the urge to do something unpleasant to his ursine friend as he passed. He skirted around his companion to limp in front of him, walking backward so he could keep looking at his large friend’s face. “If she isn’t human, what could be keeping you from smelling what she really is?”#p#分页标题#e#
“Obviously you’ve already considered a glamour.”
“Obviously.” Robin shook his head. “There are very few so good at glamour that they can create a scent that isn’t there, or hide a scent that is. I know of no one besides myself capable of such a feat. There are those who could hypnotize a creature into believing they smelled something—or didn’t—but actually creating a scent or hiding a scent from the world at large? That is another matter.”
“There are some herbs that would do it.” Little John’s brow furrowed. “There is the rosemary. I assumed it was a perfume—women are always rolling in something or another to smell nice—but it could be a means of masking a scent.”
“She’s hiding.” Robin breathed the word in a half-whisper, his heart pumping adrenaline through his system until his body vibrated with it. Who are you hiding from, Marian?
“Robin, you don’t know that. Maybe she knew more about us than you thought and she simply wanted to sneak up on us.”
“She lives among the humans, she showed no magical or inhuman capabilities when the sheriff angered her. She killed Guy of Gisborne with her bow, not with teeth or fangs.”
“Sounds very human to me.”
Robin stared off into the woods but it was the image of Marian in his mind’s eye that held his full attention. He remembered her face, remembered the look in her eyes when she’d killed Guy. There had been no fear, no guilt, not even anger. She had been…eager.
“She is not human. I can feel it in my bones. And if she did not reveal her true nature when you and Will did, if she did not answer your inhuman threat with her own…”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Robin. For once in your long life, just let it go.”
“I wonder who she’s hiding from? And what is she?”
Little John hung his head in resignation. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to point out that if she is indeed hiding, then sticking your nose into the situation could have disastrous consequences—for her and for us.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone her secret,” Robin scoffed. “I just want to know what it is.”
“Yes. And you’re so subtle.” Little John sighed again. “This is not going to turn out well.”
Chapter Five
“I demand to know why I’ve been brought here.”
Mac Tyre, the sheriff of Nottingham, arched one black eyebrow at his…guest. The only light in the cottage was the fire burning steadily in the white stone hearth and the small oil lamp sitting on a work table that took up most of the center of the room. Despite the prevalence of shadows, Mac’s eyes had long ago adjusted to the dimness, and with the aid of the fire’s reddish glow, he was able to see the far darrig quite clearly.
Its small stature painted a dark silhouette against the fire, the smoke from its pipe rising to dance against the wooden rafters before dispersing in a foul smelling cloud. As it waited for Mac to answer its demand, it tapped the end of its pipe against yellowed teeth, beady blue eyes glaring from a wrinkled face almost completely hidden by a flushed bulbous nose. The chair it slouched in was close enough to the fireplace that there was a reasonable danger of its clothes catching fire. Given the state of his tattered red shirt and tobacco stained pants, Mac doubted even the fire would want them.
“You are here because I summoned you here.”
“Aye, you have. Your great beast of a wolf nearly took off my leg rousting me from my warm bed.” Blue eyes flashed, like moonlight on midnight blue water. “It’s a brave human you are, dragging me here. Did your parents never tell you of my kind?”#p#分页标题#e#
“Oh, yes. My parents educated me about your kind, and all the other breeds of fey that infest this land.”
Metal grated against rough wood as Mac drew a small contraption from the broad shelf set high on the limestone wall. It clinked as it settled into his palm and he carefully separated the metal pieces and straightened the small leather straps. The far darrig feigned disinterest, but its gaze sharpened. One by one, Mac fastened the small straps to the hollowed iron, adorning each of his fingertips with a slightly curved claw.
A faint buzz hummed in his ears, like a lazy fly circling on an early autumn day. The sound was constant, annoying, and more than a little distracting if it went on for too long, but Mac did his best to ignore it for now. He needed the iron to make a point.