Gillian Summers - The goblin's curse

Finch cleared her throat. “I find Vangar rather handsome, and he’s very manly.”

Sally rolled her eyes.

“You mean he’s very dragony.” Keelie couldn’t help smiling. She liked seeing Finch discombobulated.

“Well, yeah.”

“Vangar said that he put protection spells on his forge, and that someone very powerful lifted them,” Keelie said.

Finch nodded. “He told me about putting fire spells on the forge. It’s why I allowed it to remain so close to the trees and the other shops. He’s a very powerful dragon. It would take great magic to break the spells.” Finch watched Sally place three cards down on the stars-and-crescent-moon-printed tablecloth.

“Wouldn’t there be a trace of such a powerful magic?” Keelie asked.

“If whoever removed them used a cover spell, and layered it with another one, then it would be hard to detect,” Finch answered. She turned to Keelie. “Pick a card.”

“But I don’t need a reading on my love life.”

“This isn’t about your love life. This reading is going to help us discover the identity of the arsonist.”

“The elves said that they think Vangar is innocent,” Keelie said.

“For once they’re right about something,” Finch said, smoke drifting out of her ears.

Knot leapt into the tarot shop and hopped up beside Sally.

“Where have you been?” Keelie asked.

Knot placed a paw on the table, which didn’t answer Keelie’s question.

“Have you seen Cricket?”

He gave a slight shake of his head as his tail twitched agitatedly.

“Glad to see you,” Finch said. “How have your investigations gone?”

Knot looked toward the curtained side of the shop, where a railing served as traffic control for customers. Keelie heard a familiar discordant jangle. She jumped to her feet, anticipating Peascod, but he didn’t materialize.

Knot nodded and the curtain twitched aside. A bhata hopped onto the railing, holding a round brass jingle bell the size of a cherry tomato. The bell dropped and rolled to Keelie’s feet, its discordant jangling making her sick to her stomach.

“I know the owner of that bell,” she whispered. “He could have started the fire.” Peascod could very well be at the faire. She stared at the bell as if it were about to explode.

“What?” Finch’s voice was sharp.

Keelie told her about Peascod and about the elves’ suspicions of a goblin army, feeling no duty to keep their dealings secret. Not anymore. Slowly, she reached down and picked up the bell. It felt warm and normal, and when clasped in her hand, its noise was muted to a dull rattle.

Finch growled. “We’re going to find him.” A flicker of flames appeared in her eyes, and there was a hint of eau de charcoal in the air.

Sally reached out and took Keelie’s other hand. “You’re not alone. We’re here for you. The people in this faire have you and your father’s backs.”

Keelie tightened her hand around Sally’s. It felt good to have friends who cared, really cared. And she could count Raven, Janice, Sir Davey, the mud men, and several others as more than friends-they were part of her faire family. “Thank you.”

Finch pointed to the three cards, and a shimmery haze grew around her.

Keelie didn’t know if the dragon was using magic, but she wasn’t going to argue. She leaned forward to study the cards and felt compelled to touch the middle one. She glanced up and found that Sally was staring at her. Sally flipped the card over and Keelie was surprised to see a red dragon with fire-emblazoned scales accompanying an armed, cloaked woman, both facing a dancing jester with a skeletal mask.

“Queen of Swords. I like how the artist captured the dragon’s scales. Hard to do with a natural red.” Finch rubbed her hands gleefully.

“What does this mean?” Keelie looked from Sally to Finch.

“It suggests a stubborn but powerful feminine presence. See, in the background, the jester is dancing, and you will need the assistance of others to stop him.”

If Keelie had to face Peascod, then she was glad she had Finch’s help.

“May I suggest a plan?” Finch said.

“Sure.” Keelie was glad to be asked instead of told. Surprising, coming from a dragon.

“I think we need to investigate Hob. And I think I have the perfect cover.” The faire administrator’s eyes gleamed brightly.

“But Hob has been very nice to us. He got there right away when the fire started.” Keelie stared at Finch.

“Yes, and that’s what is driving me crazy. It doesn’t add up. Hob supposedly smelled the smoke, and then saw the flames when he looked out of his shop. He rushed to your shop and saved the tree. Why save the goblin tree? Then, remember, I can’t detect his essence.”

Keelie shivered as the bell jangled on the table, untouched. She grabbed a tissue from the box that Sally kept for weepers and stuffed it into the bell. That should do it.

“I have a witness who saw him leaving the meadow at the same time he said he was in his mask shop.” Tendrils of smoke coiled from her ears and nostrils.

“What? It doesn’t make sense. Who was your witness?” Keelie asked. ‘“If it was Vangar… ” She still doubted the blacksmith’s credibility.

“It was, and yes, I believe him. And the bhata and the feithid daoine. They tried to tell you, but you were never alone.”

Keelie inhaled sharply. “Then what’s your plan?”

“You’re going to get a job at Hobknocker’s. Use the To See Truly spell on him. If he lets his guard down, you may be able to read him, see his true self.”

“Hey, I thought you said I was banned from working at the faire.”

“Things have changed. Desperate times call for desperate plans.” Finch tapped the tarot card with the red dragon and the cloaked girl facing down the dancing jester.

Keelie felt a tiny surge of hope. She wasn’t thrilled to be working next to Heartwood’s smoldering ruins, but she liked Hob. He’d saved the goblin tree, and she was sure there was a good explanation for Finch’s suspicions other than something magical. In the meantime, it would give her something to do other than mope around about Sean and mourn the loss of Heartwood. She would be able to do her own investigation into the fire.

“When would I start?” Keelie asked.

“I think now would be a good time,” Finch said as she held up the tarot card. “And you’ll need some garb.” Her eyes flicked down to Keelie’s outfit and she realized she’d been running in Raven’s PJ bottoms and Janice’s sweatshirt.

“I do need garb. I need a toothbrush, too.” Keelie hadn’t anticipated working at Hobknocker’s today. She tried to keep up with Finch as they walked past Sir Davey’s Dragon Hoard shop. Rocks and shiny crystals glimmered from inside the window display.

They stopped at Galadriel’s Closet. Finch nodded to the proprietor, Mara, as Keelie gave her friend an enthusiastic hug. “Let the kid pick out something and charge it to the faire,” Finch announced. She looked at Keelie. “Choose an outfit for working at the shop. Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy” described all the rental garb; these clothes were made to last a long time. Keelie picked out a drab, basic Ren Faire wench outfit: dingy white peasant top, stained flounced skirt, and corduroy vest that laced up the front.

Finch noticed her glum face and winked. “Consider it therapy. You know what they say about getting back into the saddle after you’ve fallen off a unicorn, oops, I mean a horse. This is preview day for faire folk family and friends, so it’s a perfect day to begin. No big crowds, but plenty of people in costume.”

The faire director stomped ahead on Ironmonger’s Way, her boots leaving huge prints in her wake. Keelie wouldn’t have been surprised to see claw impressions in the dirt.