Shadows of the Redwood (10 page)

Sean shrugged Scott’s hand away. “If the woodworking doesn’t work out, come to the jousting ring. We always have a need for squires.”

Sean walked away from him and stopped in front of Keelie. He took her hands in his. They were rougher, not as soft as they had been the last time she’d held them. “I’ll be practicing this afternoon. I would be delighted to see you at the ring, if you can make it. Come watch us practice.”

“Keelie is busy today,” Grandmother interjected.

Keelie wanted to kick her grandmother’s shins.

“Then I will see you another time.” Sean released Keelie’s hand.

Her heart panged. She couldn’t let him walk away. “Come to dinner tonight.”

Sean turned and walked backwards, smiling. “I will.”

“Keelie, you didn’t clear that with me.” Grandmother’s tone sounded shocked.

Keelie tore her gaze away from Sean’s retreating figure. “I just felt like it was the right thing to do.”

“What are you having for dinner?” Scott asked. “I really get tired of macaroni and cheese. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”

Grandmother looked at Scott and a smile appeared on her face. “Why don’t you join us? We’re having an early dinner at the Queen’s Alehouse.”

Keelie whirled around to protest.

“Thanks, I will.” Scott grinned. “Not home-cooked, but the company will make up for it.”

Keelie was about to retort, but a sudden darkness filled her. It was like being in the sunlight and then having a storm cloud obliterate the light. She tried to control her breathing, to stop her anxiety as the power filled her. She’d felt this when she’d opened the dark book of fairy magic to heal Ariel. The magic had poured upward, into her.

She stood still and called upon her tree magic, envisioning her feet like roots seeking the nourishing soil of the earth to steady herself. Coolness wrapped her mind, quelling the anxiety.

A loud jangling rent the air. The noise sounded like bells, but horrible, grim bells that made you want to gnash your teeth. She’d heard that noise before. Peascod was somewhere near. What was it with that jester?

The back of her neck itched and she scratched as Grandmother covered her ears, a pained look on her face.

“What a horrible sound,” Grandmother said.

“It’s Peascod the jester.” Keelie put her fingers in her ears. Other shopkeepers were stepping out of their buildings, shaking their heads and looking for the origins of the irritating noise.

Scott scowled. “Not him again. Whatever you do, don’t make him mad, because he loves to annoy. He’s like a leech—once he latches on, he won’t let go.”

Keelie felt cold thread its way down her spine. Peascod sounded more dangerous than annoying.

Scott’s face was serious. “Funny name, Peascod, but that jester is scary-assed.” Scott pointed to his temple.

Grandmother lifted her head as if she was sensing a change in the wind, or possibly picking up a message from the trees. She tilted her face, and suddenly her gaze became riveted on something.

The man in the snug-fitting harlequin outfit and jingly hat was sauntering toward them. The red and green diamonds of his costume seemed to expand and contract with each movement. He looked over at them, and then froze as he and Grandmother locked gazes in an intense stare. Chills coursed through Keelie. The man blinked, and his attention turned to her. She felt as if she was being scanned by an X-Ray machine. Then the jester grinned, revealing small teeth in an oversized mouth. He removed the hat from his head, and bowed gracefully.

He was not attractive. His skin was so pale, it looked as if he had never been out in the sun. His lank hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his nose was hawklike, and for a second, when he blinked, Keelie caught a glimpse of predatory silver in his eyes, as if she had been marked as his prey. He smacked his hat back on his head, setting off another jarring jingle to rip through the air, and jabbed a finger in her direction. Then he whirled around and walked away.

Scott stood behind Keelie. He was so close she could feel the warmth from his body. She felt protected being so near to him.

“Be careful, Keelie. You’ve fallen onto Peascod’s radar.”

Just what she needed—another enemy.

The next morning, the din of bagpipes that signaled the opening of the Shakespeare Festival was both thrilling and nauseating. It was the only bright sound in the strange, muffled atmosphere of the fog. At least it was much better than the noise the jester had made the day before, Keelie thought as she hurried up the misty path toward the Heartwood shop.

She’d had a good night’s sleep despite the fact that it had been cold and Risa was a real blanket hog. The morning was still chilly, and she was grateful for her Rennie boots with the big bone buttons up the sides. They’d cost her dearly, but she would be comfy and warm all day. She’d heard that lots of people took Fridays off to attend the faire, and she was ready for a crowd this weekend.

Her usual Ren Faire garb, of flowy, medieval gowns, was not period for this festival, so Keelie just wore her boots with black pants tucked into them, and a billowy poet’s shirt over a bright red tank top. If the Admin guy didn’t like it, he was welcome to buy her all-new garb. She was only here for three weeks.

Knot weaved in and out of her legs as if trying to trip her up. She stepped sideways, leaving him in the middle of the path. He meowed, looking sad.

“Faker. At least you have a fur coat.” She walked on and soon he was bounding ahead of her, disappearing into the ferns that bordered the paths.

Tree trunks like cathedral columns rose out of the fog all around. She wondered if one of these trees knew where Viran was and wasn’t telling. The occasional hurrying figure made her feel as if she was on the set of a spooky film. She strode on, unafraid. Few movies could conjure up some of the real-life creepy sights she’d seen in the past year, and Wednesday night had been one of the scariest.

Grandmother had not been in her bed when Keelie had left the tree house, so Keelie harbored a dim hope that there would be oatmeal and a mug of hot tea waiting for her at Heartwood. They needed to make sure everything was in order before the festival gates opened in an hour.

The thud of hooves sounded behind her, and Keelie stepped off the path to allow the rider to pass. A loud “Good morning Lady Keliel” drifted over the knight’s shoulder as he cantered past. One of Sean’s men.

It would be nice to meet Sean in the foggy trees. Maybe he’d kiss her again. She paused to lean against the rough bark of the tree and imagined the feel of his lips on hers, his arm around her waist, his hard chest pressing against her. She sighed, and felt the tree stir to wakefulness, eavesdropping on her thoughts.

Keelie didn’t care. To her dreamy scenario she added Risa, who would come upon them and growl and gnash her teeth. (What was gnashing, anyway?) Behind her, the tanoak grew warm and gave off a spicy scent. She smiled and stroked its bark. “Back to sleep, old guy. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

A green girl with pointed ears trotted past her. Keelie stared, mystified, before realizing that it was a human girl with green makeup and glued-on ears. She stroked her pointed ear tip and hopped back onto the path, hurrying toward the shops. Funny how she’d gone from touching her rounded ear, to reassure herself that she was like everyone else, to touching the pointed one.

The Heartwood shop was empty. Irritated at her grandmother, Keelie yanked on the green cloth curtains, sliding the rings back on the rods, and tied the fabric to the corner posts with a tasseled cord the golden hue of a hawk’s eyes.

The furniture was dust-free and in place. She touched a small dresser (cedar from the Northwoods), then looked up, startled, as she saw a pale figure watching her from the back of the shop. Was it a tree spirit or was the place haunted? Keelie walked quickly toward the back, hiding her apprehension although no one was around to see.

She’d never seen a ghost. Although she’d met enough strange creatures in the world that she shouldn’t be surprised to meet the spirit remains of a person, it still was scary. But nothing moved in the back of the shop. She was alone.

Unlocking the safe in the back room, Keelie pulled out the change box and placed it under the carved counter, a close cousin to the one at her father’s shop at the High Mountain Renaissance Faire.
Their
shop, she corrected herself, rubbing her palms across the smooth, honey-colored surface of the counter. Carved from a single great oak log, its base looked as if it had roots that went deep into the Earth. Carved creatures raced across its sides, while crystals glimmered here and there within the deeper carvings.

Every stroke of her hand brought her close to the great tree the counter had once been a part of. From its highest branches, eagles had watched the sea, and among its roots, humans had sheltered, so long ago that they didn’t quite look like people. Her eyes closed, Keelie wished she could get closer to them. Maybe they weren’t human after all.

“Are you ready?”

She jumped and her eyes shot open. Master Oswald stood before her, floppy Elizabethan hat cocked jauntily over one eye. He smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He looked around appreciatively. “Zeke has outdone himself. I’ve wanted him to participate for years, and I’m so happy that Heartwood is finally here. Very fine work.” He tapped a nearby chair with his pen. “Very fine indeed. Call if you need anything,” he said, trotting off. His tone said, “You’d better not need me.” He was a little cold, but still so much better than Finch, the flame-haired administrator who had screamed and cursed her way through each day at the Wildewood Faire.

The bagpipes skirled again and Keelie flinched. She liked a bagpipe tune, but not nonstop. She added aspirin to the list of things to buy when she had a chance to escape. Maybe if the day was slow she could leave Grandmother in charge and drive into Juliet alone. Who would notice? Certainly not the big sleepy trees. At home in the Dread Forest (it still tickled her to think “home” and “Dread Forest” together), the gossipy trees would have alerted Dad before she’d even turned the key. They were awful, now that he was head of the forest.

A creak of wheels and shouted instructions caused Keelie to look up. Risa had set up her Green Goddess cart outside.

Was she cursed? Keelie ran out to confront the elf girl. “What are you doing here?”

Risa adjusted her snug bodice, pulling it lower as she smiled coyly at Keelie. “Master Oswald told me to set up here. Take it up with him.”

A group of visitors had already come down the road. The men veered off to talk to Risa. The women stood by, disconcerted, but then one noticed Heartwood.

“Look at the beautiful furniture, Sylvia. Let’s go inside.”

The other woman glanced back at the man who was probably her husband. His face was inches from Risa’s chest. She shrugged. “I’ve got the credit cards.”

“I take Master Card and Lady Visa,” Keelie said, following them inside. She grinned. Maybe this would work out after all. She could stay inside the shop and Risa could lure the customers. If Peascod came back, Risa could deal with him.

Knot sat on the counter, eyes closed and tail tucked underneath his paws. The shoppers admired him, then walked on to look at furniture. A few minutes later, Risa sneaked in to coo at him.

“Out!” Keelie pointed.

“You can’t make me.” Risa glowered.

Knot purred.

“Listen to him. What an enchanting sound.” Risa reached out to scratch Knot’s ears. He tilted his head and let her have her way with him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Keelie said. “You’ll need to get a round of rabies shots if he scratches you.”

Keelie knew that wasn’t true, but Risa didn’t.

Knot growled and opened his eyes.

Risa pulled her hand back. She tossed her hair over her shoulders, and Keelie wondered if there might be a flea charm in the pest section in the Compendium. To draw fleas, that is, not chase them away.

Grandmother finally appeared, on the path opposite the shop. She’d changed into an outfit with a wide dark green skirt, a pointy-waisted, tightly cinched matching bodice with a black velvet collar, and a brimmed hat that covered her silver hair. A long gold chain hung from her waist, a little golden acorn hanging from its end.

Keelie realized that her mouth was hanging open. She shut it and hurried forward, dodging the mundanes (the street-clothed members of the public) who filled the path.

“Good morrow, Keliel,” Grandmother said, bowing her head regally. Okay, that part was still normal.

“Good morrow to you, too, Grandmother.” Keelie bowed. Grandmother looked sharp. Keelie leaned forward and whispered, “What gives with the new garb? Did you buy it this morning?”

Grandmother beamed at her. “I did, indeed. I was speaking with Master Oswald at the Player’s Pub this morning and he suggested I wear something a little more in keeping with the Shakespearian theme. He has a little part he wishes me to play onstage, too.” She twirled, her skirt belling out around her. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful.” Great. Keelie was stuck running the shop while Grandmother was doing the Elizabethan version of the Shopping Channel and playing with the actors.

Grandmother eyed Keelie’s costume. “That boy’s garb isn’t becoming. Why don’t you buy something more in keeping with the festival?”

Keelie stared at her grandmother, torn between outrage because she’d been working nonstop to make money for the family while Grandmother fooled around instead of looking for the missing tree shepherd, and excitement at the thought of going shopping.

“I don’t have any money,” she said quickly.

Grandmother waved a hand airily and watched a family approach their shop. “Tell them to bill me. Now, what do we do when people come?”

Keelie hurried forward. “Good gentles, allow me to show you our wares.” She spent the next ten minutes answering questions about her father’s furniture, and the mother finally plopped her purse on the counter and wrote a check for a set of porch chairs. While Keelie made arrangements to ship them to their home, she noticed Grandmother speaking to a woman who was admiring a hall tree.

Moments later, Grandmother came running over. “Who is Lady Visa?”

“Ah, Lady Visa and Master Card. Our excellent friends,” Keelie said. “I’ll show you how to ring up purchases.”

It was three more hours before there was a lull in the festival traffic. Lunchtime was approaching, and the big crowds were now headed toward Pieman’s Green, where all the food vendors sold their wares. Keelie sat down behind the counter while Grandmother leaned against the back wall and fanned herself.

“If I sit, I may not be able to walk.”

“We just need a little rest.” Keelie nodded at a passing woman pushing a stroller. The baby wore a jester’s hat and was chewing thoughtfully on one of the four dangling points. The cute scene chilled Keelie, reminding her of creepy Peascod. Then her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d had no breakfast.

“Can you mind the shop while I go get lunch? I can bring you back a meat pie and a lemonade.”

Grandmother shuddered. “What manner of food is that?”

Keelie sighed. “Faire food. How about a turkey leg, then? Steak on a stake?” That last was not Keelie’s favorite—she’d had a bad experience working at Steak-on-a-Stake at the Wildewood Faire.

“Ah, sweet Lady Keliatiel. Madam, I have sought you long this morn.” A tall man with a beautiful silver beard bowed elaborately before them, showing off his slashed leather sleeves, which had bits of purple satin poking through each cut. He extended a pink carnation. “A bloom that withers when compared to thy beauty.”

Grandmother blushed. Keelie stared from one oldster to the other. What had gotten into her grandmother? Were people allowed to flirt when they were ancient? She wondered what the old dude would do it if she revealed that his “bloom” was hundreds of years old?