“I’ll do what I can,” Keelie said. Sure, the fairies were gossiping, but Keelie didn’t think it was that awful for Hob to pay them to favor his shop—it was just business. She still couldn’t picture him as a bad guy.
As they strode up the hill, past the familiar rooftops and colorful signs, Keelie’s heart squeezed tightly in her chest at the thought of what she and Dad had lost. The sight of the skeletal and smoking remains of Heartwood saddened her to the very core of her soul. She mourned the loss of the apartment above the shop that had been home, and her refuge after Mom’s death.
She steeled herself and trudged forward, keeping her gaze on Hobknocker’s. Her mission was to discover more about Handsome Hob with his charming and wily ways. He kind of reminded her of a snake with glistening scales, but that didn’t mean he was evil.
Despite her best intentions, Keelie glanced left, at the bustling activity where Heartwood had been. A work crew was clearing the debris. Keelie recognized a couple of Sean’s jousters. Elianard stood nearby, watching them. What did he expect they’d turn up? The Compendium had been upstairs, under her bed and surely was burned to ashes by now. Her heartbeat sped up as she thought of the possibility that it might be somewhere else at the faire.
The Lore Master arched an inquisitive eyebrow as Finch and Keelie walked past. At least the jousters were helping out, though their shovels and picks stopped as they walked by. Some openly pointed and whispered. Keelie held her head high and marched forward.
It would only be a matter of time before Sean knew about the recent development in Keelie’s employment status, and there would be a Council Meeting to discuss it. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Dad about Finch’s idea, but he was so preoccupied anyway, and she could always just explain that she accepted the job because she was after the truth about the fire and had agree to uncover more information about Hob for Finch. Not to mention the fact that Finch was right—Keelie needed something to do besides grieve for Heartwood, pine for Sean, and wait for Dad while he attended the never-ending Council sessions.
The scent of roasting turkey legs floated up the hill from the food merchants near the jousting arena. Her stomach rumbled. She’d eat later.
She cast a quick glance through her lashes to see if there was a familiar blond head among the elves, but Sean wasn’t there.
She was disappointed, but on the other hand, she wouldn’t have to look at him while she worked at Hobknocker’s today.
“Heartwood, move it,” Finch bellowed.
Suddenly, Keelie felt queasy. There was a huge jester’s mask painted on the side of the shop. She hadn’t noticed it before, since Dad’s shop was on the other side and the wall would have been shadowed at night. She felt silly for being afraid, but she didn’t want to go in.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Keelie said, stopping.
Finch placed her hand on Keelie’s shoulder. “Yes, you can. You’re strong, and you’re not going to let one guy stop you from doing what you have to do. You’re Keliel Katharine Heartwood, and you have saved many a forest. Are you going to let one elf’s opinion stop you?”
Keelie shook her head. “You’ve got it all wrong. It’s that thing—” She waved a hand at the leering clown face on the wall.
“It’s a picture, Heartwood. An image. Paint on wood. Art, and not a very good example of it, either. Don’t worry, this’ll be a picnic. Just don’t break anything.”
The dragon was right; Keelie couldn’t let the memory of Peascod’s mask keep her from getting this job done. There was no danger here, anyway. She’d have fun with Hob.
A crowd of women had gathered around Hob’s shop. Raven was right—women were flocking to the hill. Keelie sniffed, trying to detect the smell of cinnamon, the scent of elven magic. It usually accompanied the “charm” spell elves used to persuade humans to do as they wanted. There was no sign of it here—Dad could charm women this way if he chose, but he didn’t have to rely on a spell since women liked him for his good looks (those Heartwood cheekbones and green eyes sold a lot of chairs).
But the bellydancers, kissing wenches, and Hot Tub wenches hanging around on Hobknocker’s front porch didn’t make for a very charming sight, if you asked Keelie.
Twisty copper wind chimes had been added to the low-slung roof of the shop. Entwined in the wire were semiprecious jewels, which glittered and tinkled loudly as a gentle breeze blew through them. The sound was enchanting but sometimes oddly off key, like one of Peascod’s jester hat bells.
Keelie checked in with the trees and discovered that the jangly noise irritated them, too.
Hob sat in the midst of his groupies, a hand puppet on each hand, making funny voices for them. The women laughed and clapped, though it seemed odd to Keelie that grown women were hanging around watching a puppet show.
Removing a witch puppet from one hand, Hob replaced it with a jester puppet that wore a red and gold costume with green rickrack trim on the cuffs of the sleeves and pants. Its little triangular hat was missing a bell.
Keelie rubbed her arms to dispel the sudden chill the sight brought on.
The bell in her pocket vibrated as if it sensed familiar magic, or its owner. But the bell couldn’t belong to the puppet, since it was almost as large as the puppet’s head.
“That is all, sweetings. Shop for masks and add mystery to your glance.” Hob stood up and swept his hands apart as he bowed low from the waist, then turned to Keelie and Finch. “Good day, my lovely ladies. What may I do for you?”
He smiled, his white teeth sparkling like headlights. Keelie decided she would need to wear sunglasses while working for him.
Finch flashed him a dazzling grin of her own. “Hello, Hob. Hello, Toshi.”
The jester puppet imitated Hob’s earlier bow, then
motioned a tiny wooden hand toward Keelie. Hob turned the puppet around to him. “You would like to know who she is?”
Weird, having a grown man talk to a puppet about her. When did the act end? “He wants to know about me?” Keelie asked.
The puppet nodded.
Keelie turned to Finch. “Seriously?” she implored. “Talk to a puppet?” Hob had seemed so cool before.
Finch grinned, seeming to enjoy Keelie’s discomfort.
“That’s Keelie Heartwood,” Hob told the piece of cloth and wood covering his right hand. “And sadly, she lost her shop to a terrible and tragic fire started by a negligent blacksmith.”
Keelie waited for Finch to explode. She didn’t.
“Hob, I have hired you a shop assistant,” Finch said calmly. Oscar performance here.
“What?” Hob flinched. “Why?”
The puppet placed its hands over its mouth in surprise.
“Word is you’re going to be very busy.” Finch flashed him a knowing grin.
Hob blushed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“According to our projections, your sales are going to be off the chart,” Finch said. She turned her gaze to encompass the crowd of ladies busily trying on masks. Some appeared put out that Finch had interrupted their gathering. “As faire administrator, I took it upon myself to get you the help you’ll need.” She glared at the women, who were listening in. “Seems like some of you should get back to work.”
“We came to see the puppet show,” one of the Hot Tub wenches said in a plaintive whine. Her breasts were so tightly corseted in her bodice that they looked like round flotation devices popping out of the top.
“I suggest you return to your shops and to your jobs before I decide you don’t have one.” Finch shot the woman a blazing glare, and the crowd dispersed as if a stick of dynamite had been thrown at them.
The puppet waved goodbye to the departing groupies.
“You’re an amazing and talented faire director, Finch. I didn’t realize you had taken such an interest in my shop. Who do you have in mind as my new shop assistant?”
“Keelie, of course.” Finch gestured toward her as if she were a new appliance in a department st
ore.
Keelie stepped forward and produced what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Me again, neighbor.”
Hob’s whole demeanor changed, from reluctance to surprise to elation. “Keelie! I would love to have her. Her experience at Heartwood makes her invaluable to me.”
Finch beamed at Hob. “That’s what I thought.”
In the trees above, the bhata had gathered, and Knot sat on the edge of the mask shop roof watching her, his tail twitching. He pointed it toward the meadow. What was he trying to tell her?
“I’ll leave you two alone, and if you have any problems with her, Hob, let me know. I’m going to check on the armor shop.” Finch turned around and walked away, leaving Keelie alone with Hob. Keelie swallowed.
“Why would she say that, I wonder?” Hob stepped down from the front porch, and for a fleeting moment, Keelie thought she saw a shimmery outline around his body. That was new.
“I’m glad you’re here to help me, and so is Toshi,” he added. The puppet extended a wooden hand.
“Hello, Toshi,” Keelie shook the puppet’s hand. Yes, she was being introduced to a puppet.
“Would you like to come inside?” The mask maker motioned toward the door.
Keelie wasn’t so sure she wanted to be alone with Hob. Quirky didn’t begin to describe him, and that shimmer concerned her. Was it magic? Maybe he was under a spell.
A cloud of orange cat hair drifted down onto Hob. He sneezed.
Keelie looked up at Knot, who jumped down from the roof onto the porch. Hob stepped back.
“Why is that cat here?” Another sneeze.
“He followed me. Is it okay if he comes inside the shop with us? He misses Heartwood so much. There’s nothing like having a shop kitty. People love to pet him, and it relaxes the customers.”
Hob sneezed again. Toshi the puppet covered its nose with its hands.
“He can stay, but I’m allergic to cats. Knot has to stay outside.” Hob sneezed again.
“Strange. I thought Knot had visited you before,” Keelie said.
Knot rubbed his head up and down Hob’s leg and purred happily. Lots of cat fur floated around him.
“He likes you,” Keelie said cheerily.
Hob blew his nose into a multicolored handkerchief. “Come back Saturday morning, and I’ll give you a tour before we open. Right now, I’ve got someplace I need to be.”
“What about preview day today?”
Hob’s eyes darkened. He turned toward the meadow, then whirled around to face Keelie. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he shook his head. “I must go.” He ran inside the shop and closed the door. She heard the clicks of locks as Hob barricaded himself inside with Toshi and his masks.
Keelie was relieved she didn’t have to spend time alone with Hob and his creepy puppet.
Knot pointed his tail to the south. “Meow.”
“There’s something you want me to see in the meadow?”
Knot nodded.
What now? She hadn’t had time to catch her breath since she’d arrived back at the High Mountain Faire. It had been one crisis after another. Following Knot down Wood Row and Water Sprite Lane, Keelie avoided eye contact and tuned her senses in to the trees.
Something was definitely up, but she couldn’t tell what.
ten
The meadow seemed undisturbed. Keelie glared at Knot. “You brought me all the way down here, for what?”
Knot raced up to Hrok and Keelie followed.
Well met, Hrok. Everything okay here?
Hrok’s face pushed through the bark. Most certainly, Tree Shepherdess. How goes your faire? Have you met goblins there? We’ve seen them in their metal skin. The bhata have seen them too.
Keelie’s blood chilled at the words “goblin” and “metal skin.” Armored goblins? Finch and the elves had been right. Yet Hrok didn’t seem concerned.
Where have you seen these goblins? she asked.
They came from Under-the-Hill. The bhata will show you.
Keelie looked around nervously. The meadow seemed like an obvious location for an entrance to Under-the-Hill, but Keelie knew that the dark fae were wily.
Several bhata appeared from their nearby hiding places. The dry sound of sticks rubbing together, along with the crackling whir of wings, surrounded her. She felt a tug on her hair and put her hand up carefully to feel for the creature. She’d become used to the bhata, but it was still strange to feel one in her hair.
Her fingers touched something long and slender, shorter than a chopstick, followed by a fuzzy softness that she knew to be moss, which the bhata used to bind together their stick-and-berry bodies. She lowered her hand, not surprised to see the little bhata riding on it as if it were a fairy elevator.
“Hello, little guy. Any chance you can show me where Under-the-Hill is?”
The bhata’s hands, made of grass seedheads, flew up to cover purple berry eyes. It chattered and backed away on her hand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve been there before, you know. Just not here at the High Mountain Faire.”
One berry eye peeked out from behind the improvised hands. The bhata seemed to consider her for a moment, then chirped and flew straight up. Others joined it, until the air was filled with the clicking sticks.
The little creatures hopped from branch to branch, flew, and skittered over the ground. Keelie followed them, stepping carefully to avoid crunching one underfoot. Not that it would hurt them—the sticks and moss were just what the bhata assembled for a physical presence, and Knot loved to chase them down and trash them. Apparently they didn’t mind, since it gave them an excuse to chase Knot down and try to disassemble him. So far, he was still in one piece.
The bhata moved faster, and Keelie and Knot hurried after them. They were heading through the woods that edged the faire and circling around to the performer’s campground.
She closed her mind to the trees so that word wouldn’t get back to Dad about where she was going. He would never let her go Under-the-Hill again, not after the goblin battle in the Northwoods.
The bhata whirred and clacked around her, and she realized that they were circling now, a buzzing vortex that was pushing her forward.
Ahead of her was the raw rock face of the mountain that towered over the faire. Keelie stopped. She was not going to go rock climbing. Not in her job description.
The bhata clung to the jagged rocks. A spindly pine grew from a patch of dirt about twenty feet up. Maybe it had some answers.
Hail, hill climber, Keelie greeted it. Trees liked to be given names.
Well met, Tree Shepherdess, the tree answered politely. Behind the tree’s soft words, Keelie heard a chorus of tree voices also greeting her. She considered ignoring them, but she might need their help to find Under-the-Hill and keep watch over the forests. Trees saw everything.
You honor me.
Be careful, the bhata whispered to her. Do not go in.
A large granite rock at the base of the mountain soared from the dense carpet of grass like a lone Egyptian obelisk guarding a temple.
It couldn’t be so obvious. Keelie glanced at the accumulated bhata and down at Knot. He ran to the edge of the rock, but the bhata stayed back. Why were they afraid?
Knot pressed his paw on a small depression in the side of the obelisk. A loud click and the stone levered back, revealing a dirt staircase cut into the earth.
A dark feeling of fear overpowered Keelie, but she reached for her rose quartz, tugging on a thin stream of magic to light it. Not too much—she didn’t want to alert whatever might live in this place. A slightly dank odor, like overgrown mold in a shower stall, grew stronger as she descended downward. The light grew dimmer. Keelie held the quartz aloft, and its soft pink shimmer illuminated the walls.
Mica glittered in the light. She touched the walls with her fingertips. Smooth. This area had not been carved by chisel. Knot wandered ahead.
When she’d lived at the High Mountain Faire last summer, Keelie
hadn’t known about the existence of Under-the-Hill, or that she had fae blood. The elves didn’t know about Under-the-Hill at all, though they had lived above it in various locations for centuries. They either couldn’t see, or ignored, the dark fae.
She passed huge doorways as she continued down the tunnel, doorways big enough to drive a school bus through. A clink of metal on metal sounded ahead; she pulled back and flattened against the wall, trying to make herself as tiny as possible. Something or someone was nearby. Then the staggering scent of unwashed body nearly knocked her over. She’d smelled this before.
A goblin, taller than she was and wearing leather and metal armor, stomped past, never looking her way. He vanished into the darkness of a side tunnel.
Keelie’s heart was hammering in her chest. This goblin was huge—much bigger than any she’d seen in the Northwoods. Where had he come from?
She moved slowly down the tunnel again, her back to the rock wall. She kept glancing around, trying to make sure nothing was sneaking up on her. Soon a breeze tickled her face, signaling a large space ahead. Keelie moved toward it, promising the scared part of her mind that she would only look to see what was there, and then she would get out of here.
Knot rubbed reassuringly up against her leg. He meowed softly.
A boom vibrated through the rocks, followed by another one. Earthquake? Keelie knew she could get trapped down here. Her heart couldn’t beat any faster. Better to get this over with. She hurried forward, toward a muted roar that sounded like an underground waterfall.
She heard sharp clinking on rock, and knew that sound. She’d made it herself when she was at Baywood Academy, running across the parking lot in cleats. The metal striking the pavement made that exact sound just before she’d slipped and fallen. Cleats were made for firm footing on mushy ground.
This was the same sound, multiplied many times over. The roar built as she moved closer. Her lungs burning, Keelie stopped at the mouth of the dark side tunnel, then turned her head slowly and looked into the cavern beyond.
The Goblin's Curse: The Scions of Shadow Trilogy, Book 3 (The Faire Folk Saga) Page 10