Gillian Summers - The goblin's curse

Raven smiled at Keelie as she strode into the kitchen area. “Brought you some tea.”

“Good morning. You look so nice in those clothes,” Janice said.

“Thank you, Janice. They’re wonderful. They fit, too.”

“You’ve grown, that’s why. Are you ready for a day of greeting customers at Hobknocker’s?” Janice asked. “I’m surprised you took the job.”

“Mom.” Raven wrinkled her brow in disapproval. “Keelie needs something do.”

“She’s right. I do need something to do. Of course, it won’t be the same as working at Heartwood.” Oops, pity party words. Keelie needed to change the subject, but the next thing that came to mind was the Dragon Hoard robbery, and she’d been told not to discuss that.

“Your dad came by this morning to check on you,” Janice said as she blew on a cup of tea. The scent of mint wafted over to Keelie.

“Where is he now?”

“He said he had to finish the cleanup at Heartwood, and then he had a meeting with the elves,” Janice smiled wanly. “He was very curt. I know he’s upset, tired, and under a lot of pressure, but… ”

“But?” Keelie exchanged a knowing glance with Raven. “He seems different?”

Raven cut her eyes over to her mom. “Maybe this isn’t the time to talk about this.”

“I think this is the perfect time. Surely Keelie’s noticed the changes.” Janice sipped her tea and placed her mug down on the counter top. “Zeke seems different now that he’s taken over the leadership of the Dread Forest. More standoffish. Even with the fires.”

“More elven,” Keelie said.

“Exactly.” Janice looked out the small window. Hurt reflected in her eyes.

“I know. He’s got a lot on his mind right now.” Keelie rubbed her ears. “I need to get moving. Hob will be waiting for me.”

“Do you want some breakfast?” Janice asked.

“No, I’ll grab a muffin at Mrs. Butters’. I’m meeting Finch there.”

“You’ve become quite friendly with the faire director.” Janice’s voice held a disapproving note.

“Mom.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Keelie, Mom is just tense after the fires.”

“I worked with Finch at the Wildewood Faire, and we sort of forged a bond,” Keelie explained weakly. “She may be gruff, but she comes through in a tight spot.”

“She does take getting used to.” Janice shook her head.

Although Raven’s magical sensibilities had become stronger since marrying Einhorn, Keelie couldn’t exactly tell either Raven or her mother about the goblins or the robbery. She was starting to run out of conversation. And she didn’t want to frighten Janice, who had always been so kind to her.

Janice broke the awkward silence that fell between them. “I need to prepare some herbal tea packets for a special client, and when I finish that, I’ll open the shop.” She poured the remainder of her tea down the drain. “So I’ll see you later.”

“I hope you have a great day,” Keelie said.

“You too.”

“I may see you later at Hobknocker’s. I’ve been wanting to check out the masks,” Raven said.

At Mrs. Butters’ shop, some of the jousters were hanging out with Marcia, Tracy, and Lily, who were dressed as their alter egos Shimmerlight, Lavender Lollipop, and Lily Limerton. They were laughing and joking with one another. When Keelie stepped up to the order counter, they stopped their conversation and stared rudely at her. It was as if she was wearing a scarlet “E” for “enemy” on her chest. Sean wasn’t with them. These guys had been her friends, and now they looked at her as if she was a traitor.

Keelie touched her rounded ear and then her pointed one. She was part elf, she reminded herself.

“I want a crystalberry muffin,” she told Mrs. Butters, although she’d suddenly lost her appetite. She’d take it with her, and maybe eat it on her way to Hobknocker’s.

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Butters moved very slowly as she reached into the display counter and removed a muffin for Keelie.

Bromliel, one of the jousters, stood up from the table and walked over to her. “We wanted you to know that we’re sorry about you and your Dad’s loss, and not everyone agrees with the Council’s decision to ban you from the village.”

Moved, Keelie blinked several times to keep back the tears. “Thanks.”

He leaned closer to her as Mrs. Butters gave Keelie her muffin. “But there are others who want you to be banished forever and seek to turn your father against you. Be careful around Niriel. He’s using his power of persuasion to poison the other elves against you.”

He straightened quickly and returned to his fellow elves. He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. “Okay, boys, it’s a good day to do battle.”

Keelie forced a smile at Mrs. Butters and paid for her muffin.

“Have a great day, dear,” Mrs. Butters said, and ambled to her next customer.

As Keelie got to the top of the hill and saw where Heartwood had once stood, she stopped. Her mouth dropped open as if she’d suddenly developed cast-iron hinges in her jaw. The elves had worked miracles.

Where Heartwood had been forty-eight hours before, five-foot-tall cedar trees were now planted. A fountain flowed in the center, surrounded by pine-bark mulch paths and container plantings with benches. A cart, adorned with painted dancing corn cobs, stood at the edge of the impromptu garden, guarded by a girl wearing a hat with ears of corn sticking out like donkey ears.

Keelie walked up to her. “When did this happen?”

“Oh, the former owner and his gardening crew came out here and created this beautiful evergreen oasis overnight.”

The cedars greeted her in unison — Hello!

Hello, trees, she answered politely.

It’s very nice to meet you. They sounded fresh and young.

When were you planted? Not that she didn’t trust the corn seller, but she wanted to be sure.

Last night. We were planted by the elves. Are you an elf? Elves don’t talk to us, except for the Tree Shepherd, but you’re different.

Keelie reeled inwardly. These new trees didn’t recognize her as a tree shepherd. The ground didn’t show any signs of the fire, and the area smelled like a Christmas tree farm. It was as if someone had taken a big eraser and wiped out any traces of the existence of Heartwood.

“Would you like to buy a hot buttered ear of corn? The faire gates aren’t open yet, so you get dibs.” The corn girl held out a buttery ear wrapped in aluminum foil.

“I might,” Keelie said numbly. She would never buy corn from the spot where her father’s shop had once stood, but the corn smelled yummy, and as she imagined hot butter dripping down the golden kernels, her stomach growled.

“I like your outfit.” She could say this honestly. The gathered skirt and billowy shirt with the corn cob hat were much cuter than the ridiculous Steak-on-a-Stake mock-cowhide dress she’d worn at the Wildewood Faire, or the green pants of her Pickle Girl days. Maybe Finch had relaxed her standards.

A howl interrupted their transaction, as breaking glass from Hobknocker’s was followed by a Santa Claus mask that flew out the door and landed on the porch. “I hate Christmas,” someone inside screamed. “Where is he? Where’s Toshi?”

Keelie recognized Hob’s voice. It was going to be an exciting day for her at the mask shop if he was already having a temper tantrum. Unfortunately, Keelie knew that Toshi had met an unpleasant end.

She turned back to the cedar trees.

What do you know of the mask maker?

He’s a strange fellow. He’s been upset about something called his Toshi, and he’s been screaming for it all night long. The elves who planted us laughed at the mask maker, and that made him even angrier.