A Place Beyond The Map Read Online Free

not a Crow, are you?”
    Phinnegan was confused. It was quite obvious that he was in fact not a bird, nor any other animal.
    “No…I’m not a finch, a thrush, nor a crow. I’m a boy.”
    The strange man rolled his eyes and scowled at Phinnegan, wagging a slender finger in front of his face.
    “Oh, don’t be daft. Of course you are a boy, anyone can see that, just as I am a boy. I mean who do you belong to? What clan?”
    “Clan?”
    “Don’t play coy with me. Yes, what clan? Sparrow? Robin? Grosbeaks? Doves?” He peered closer. “Titmouse?”
    Phinnegan thought that this man was indeed quite mad. And mad men often did strange things, and Phinnegan had no desire to have strange things done to him.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t belong to any clan.” He added after a pause, “I come from the family Qwyk though, if that’s what you mean.”
    The man straightened, putting his hands on his hips and looking straight into Phinnegan’s eyes. Although he expected to see madness, Phinnegan only saw annoyance written on the man’s face.
    “Qwyk? I’ve never heard of any clan Qwyk. You take me for a fool, do you? Trying to tell me you come from some clan that doesn’t exist when everyone knows that all Faë belong to some clan, all of which are well documented. You might as well come clean on it.” The man reached forward, fingering Phinnegan’s hair. Phinnegan recoiled from the touch, his head no longer restrained by the unseen force that bound his arms and legs. The man frowned in thought.
    “You aren’t a Mud are you? Someone’s bastard? You have the color but that could just be a disguise.”
    Phinnegan felt his blood rising.
    “Here, now! That’s uncalled for, that is. I’ve had enough of this rubbish. All these silly questions about what kind of bird I am and what clan I belong to. I am no one’s bastard. Me mum and dad are upstairs sleeping right now!”
    A puzzled look passed over the man’s face at Phinnegan’s retort. Tilting his head to one side he regarded his captive.
    “Your mum and dad?” He paused a moment and then his eyes flashed with recognition.
    “Oh!” He eyed Phinnegan with a smirk. “I guess you really don’t have a clan do you?”
    Suddenly, whatever was restraining Phinnegan vanished. Without the support from these invisible bonds, he stumbled, falling back and landing on his bottom. When the man offered a hand to help him to his feet, Phinnegan scowled and swatted the hand away.
    “Easy now, I’ve set you free haven’t I?” offered the stranger.
    Phinnegan continued to scowl at the man.
    “So? I don’t even know how you were holding me there.” Phinnegan took two steps away from the man as he asked, even though he doubted it would make little difference if the man sought to restrain him again.
    “Who are you?” 
    The man only smiled, showing exquisite, white teeth.
    “Well, I am sorry about that. But you can’t be too careful these days, not with the clans at each others’s throats as they are, all jostling for recognition.” He paused, tilting his head at Phinnegan. “But I guess none of that makes any sense to you, now does it?” The blank stare he received in return was answer enough.
    “Perhaps we should start over, yes? Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said, sweeping his arm wide as he bowed low, his head dipping below the level of his waist.
    “I am called Periwinkle Lark, artist extraordinaire and purveyor of fine English tobaccos. At your service, of course.”
    Phinnegan could only stare. The man’s name was the strangest he had ever heard and his assertion that he was a purveyor of English tobaccos seemed to be a bit off the mark.
    “You mean you steal English tobaccos, as well as pipes!”
    Periwinkle shrugged, a smirk on his face.
    “What’s a young Faë to do in these times, eh? Vermillion has his claws into everything nowadays it seems. It’s not like it used to be. If he gets the throne we’re all in for