Gillian Summers - The goblin's curse

Nothing. No ta-da moment. Keelie was disappointed. She saw green ferns, rippling water, and granite rocks. She cleared her throat and repeated the procedure. Nothing.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Quit your whining.” Finch touched Keelie’s shoulder. A surge of power flowed through her, and suddenly the world brightened into a stark clarity she’d never experienced before. Ripples of light spread out and around the embankment, and she now clearly saw the sprite sunning herself in the ferns.

“She has the power of invisibility,” Finch whispered.

“What did you do?” Keelie asked. She stared in astonishment at the little catfish-like fae sleeping peacefully on the rock. “Why couldn’t I see her the first time?”

“I gave you a boost of dragon magic.” Finch shot Keelie a grin. “Keep practicing. The ability to see truly will kick in.”

Finch marched off the bridge. “Come on. I need to get back to the office and see what list of whiny-baby complaints I have to deal with today. You can tell me about the little tree as we walk.”

“What little tree?” Keelie wondered if the aspen sapling had done something to bring attention to himself.

“I’ve detected the presence of goblins at the faire, and your angry treeling could form an alliance with them,” Finch said.

Keelie trotted after her. As they entered the fairegrounds, some of the shopkeepers skirted away and shot angry glances in their direction, which made Keelie recall Vangar’s words about being a friend to the administration. She’d studied labor relations and the rise of unions in school; it could get ugly, and here she was, now firmly stuck on the ugly side. Throw in some goblins, plus a hostile treeling?

Just what she needed.

“So, how did you find about out the goblin tree?” Keelie asked as they swung down King’s Way toward the Admin office.

Finch’s lips pressed together. “I have a reliable source.”

“Ermentrude.” Keelie had told the old dragon everything that had happened to her since her mother died, and Ermentrude had no doubt passed it on to her daughter. “Don’t worry, the treeling won’t be staying in the meadow. My dad’s going to move it. It’ll be over at Heartwood.”

Finch pinned her with a gaze. “You swear?”

“Yes. But if you want it so much, he’ll deliver it to you. Goblin blood makes very bad tree fertilizer, let me tell you.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it. That was a foolish thing you did.”

“Tell me about it,” Keelie said glumly. “I had no idea what I was doing. I just thought I’d bring a little life back to a dead spot, and bring something of the Queen Aspen back too.”

We’re here, the Queen Aspen’s children sang.

Yeah, I know. I wish I knew last year, Keelie told them.

“What is this about goblins? And you go seeking them without weapons and without me?” Vangar was walking behind them. They hadn’t heard his footsteps. His iridescent dragon tattoos glittered in the sunlight that was filtering through the trees.

Finch frowned. “Back away, dragon breath. I was sent here to handle this situation. You can pretend all you want in front of the humans, but I know what you are.”

Keelie stared. Dragon breath? Of course.

“But not why I’m here.” The tall dragon regarded her coolly. “I was sent by a mutual associate of ours, to guard Keelie. Seems our two assignments should go arm in arm.” His cold gaze warmed as he looked Finch up and down.

“Or claw in claw,” Keelie muttered under her breath. “I already have a guardian. Who sent you?”

Vangar shook his head, his dreadlocks swinging like braided snakes. “Can’t tell.”

A crunching sound came from nearby and she saw that Cricket had found a trash bin and was pulling out paper plates and munching them down, a blissful smile on his shiny black face.

Vangar huffed. “Sounds like a cricket. Doesn’t look dangerous, does he? But give him a couple of years and he’ll turn mean.”

“Not true. Some goblins are… ” Keelie had been about to say good, but that wasn’t strictly true. “Mean well,” she finished lamely.

Finch laughed, and Vangar let out a roar of mirth. Then both shut up just as suddenly and stared at each other warily.

“Glad you two think I’m so hilarious.” Keelie picked up Cricket, paper plate and all. “Come on, little guy.”

He munched on the rim of the plate, chirping to himself.

“I’m glad to hear the tree will be moved,” Finch said, eyes glued to Vangar’s. “Keep me posted on any developments.”

Keelie left the two dragons still looking at each other and headed back toward the jousting field, where Sean and his knights were exercising their horses.

Cricket clambered up onto her shoulder and perched there like a shiny black parrot.

Feminine laughter sounded from around the bend in the path, and a few steps later Keelie saw a gaggle of girls hanging on Hob’s arm. Keelie didn’t worry that any of them would see Cricket, but as Hob bowed his head to her in greeting as they passed, she could have sworn that his eyes flicked to the goblin on her shoulder.

Could Hob have some fae blood? Or elven? Interesting. She’d have to remember to tell Dad.

Keelie soon forgot Hob, however, as she watched the faire’s merchants put the finishing touches on their shops and booths.

Cricket jumped to the ground and skittered off. He’d probably seen an interesting gum wrapper or a piece of pretzel. She didn’t worry. Unlike stray kittens, little goblins could fend for themselves.

At the bottom of the hill, the faire’s elf ear vendor was leveling his cart, its little roof lined with rubber elven ears dangling grotesquely from their strings. She fluffed her hair out as she passed so that he wouldn’t notice that one of her ears looked just like his merchandise. She’d be mortified if he offered to even her up by putting a prosthesis on her human ear. On the other hand, it might be funny to show up at dinner with two elf ears. Dad and Sir Davey would probably laugh until they cried; they knew that she was fine with her asymmetrical ears. Janice would laugh too. She imagined how her other friends would pass the Elf Ear Challenge: Laurie, her best friend from her old life in Los Angeles, wouldn’t laugh-she’d want a set for herself. Raven, on the other hand, would think it was pretty funny.

Keelie had reached the list field, as the dirt-and-sawdust jousting arena oval was sometimes called. It was also called the tourney field, depending on what movie the speaker had seen. On the long sides of the oval were wooden viewing stands, with tall poles to hold cloth sunshields that kept the audience from getting scorched by the summer sun. The poles were bare now, like skinny baseball bats sticking out of the sides of the stands.

Five of the knights were on their big horses, trotting around the inside edge of the field, but Sean was standing to one side, studying a clipboard. Sir Ian, one of the elven knights standing next to him, saw Keelie and whispered something, then turned away. Sean glanced up to see her, and came forward with a smile on his face.

He stopped when he saw Cricket, and his eyes turned down in dismay. “What is it eating?”

“A paper plate from the trash. I know, gross, but-” Keelie turned to look at Cricket and stopped. A very realistic-looking elf ear was dangling from his bottom lip. He saw her looking and pushed it all the way into his mouth with his insectile fingers, chomping rapidly.

Sean stepped backward, and Ian bent over and threw up.

“It’s rubber, you guys. From the ear vendor up the hill.” She turned and pointed, but the cart was covered with a tarp and the vendor was nowhere to be seen. She turned back to the two horrified elves. “Really, it was a rubber ear.”