seven
The stream burbled under the bridge. Keelie wondered if the sprite was down below listening to this conversation.
Even the bhata gathered in the trees had been silent as they watched the horror unfolding before them. A tree shepherd threatening a tree. She sensed their confusion.
“Dad, should we take the tree with us to the RV? No one will know it’s there, and its small enough to keep inside.”
The little goblin tree spat sap. I do not wish to be among humans. They’re filthy and nasty, and they’re loud.
Dad tightened his hold on the goblin tree’s branches. “Davey, this tree is responsible for what happened to Heartwood. It could’ve killed Keelie and destroyed the entire faire.”
Despite Dad’s command to stay back, Sir Davey came onto the bridge, his hand smoothing his Van Dyke beard. “There are those among the shop owners who think the blacksmith might be guilty. How can a tree have started a fire?”
“With a goblin. This tree’s roots have grown in the goblin taint. Its green soul has been twisted to evil.” Dad seemed more angry than sad at the transformation of the little tree. “It worked with the goblin to start the fire.”
Good thing Dad hadn’t worked with her in the Redwood Forest. He would have wanted to destroy all of the goblin-affected trees. A whole national park.
“Dad, let’s just take the goblin tree to the RV,” Keelie said. “We’ll search for a calming charm in the Compendium.” Her voice trailed away and a wave of loss washed over her. The Compendium had burned. She didn’t know how she’d tell Elianard. He’d never get over it, and he’d blame her for its loss. There was no other record of the spells and charms the Dread Forest elves had used for centuries, and she wouldn’t be able to look for a spell to counteract the evil effect of the Red Cap’s blood.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said finally. “I’ll contact Grandmother and Norzan. As tree shepherds, we can work together to find a solution.”
She had a new idea, one she didn’t dare tell her father. Maybe the Shining Ones-the Fairy High Court-could help her find an antidote for the goblin tree. If she could keep it alive for that long.
Dad pulled the goblin tree back over the bridge railing and lowered it onto the wooden planks. It howled as its trunk scraped the railing. “Take the cursed tree, Davey, but watch it closely.” Dad straightened as if summoning strength to continue on.
“No need to worry. I’ll have others to help me keep an eye on it.” Davey eyed the little tree warily, as if it might sprout bat wings and fangs. “Doesn’t look menacing. Just a skinny little tree.”
Knot trotted onto the bridge and sniffed around the tree’s container. “Meow.”
Keelie used to think understanding “cat” was hard, but once you really listened to the vowel arrangements and tonal inflection, it was easy.
“Later,” she whispered.
Knot crooked his tail. It was a sign he wasn’t happy, but she didn’t need the added stress of dealing with Vangar.
She’d search around Heartwood for clues. There had to be evidence of how the fire started, and she’d start with a talk with Finch. Although they’d put the fire out themselves, without help from a fire department, the resident dragon and fire expert probably could tell Keelie something about its cause.
“Keelie, come with me. We’ve been summoned by the elves,” Dad said.
“About what?” Keelie asked. “If they’re offering a group hug, I’ll pass.”
“Not a hug at all. They’re concerned about the forest, and because we’re tree shepherds, we must hear them, no matter that we have pressing problems of our own, like being homeless.” Dad’s voice was laced with bitterness.
Davey lifted the tree and it began smacking him with its branches, but he simply tilted his head back, out of reach. He walked around the side of the bridge, where he’d left a handcart, and plunked the beastly tree into it. The goblin tree rocked back and forth as if attempting an escape. Keelie wouldn’t have been surprised to see it push its roots out of the confines of the container and take off running into the woods on spindly root-feet.
If you crash and break your pot, then I’ll replant you in Knot’s litter box. Think about it-cat poo on your roots. So calm down and go with Sir Davey.
Knot swiveled his head around and meowed angrily.
The tree quit thrashing. I hate that cat. It sprayed me with urine.
Knot washed his tail, declaring his innocence, or at least his lack of concern.
Will you water me? I’m feeling a little dry after that attack. The tree was acting normal now. Seems there was a fate worse than being dumped into the stream-Knot’s litter box was treemageddon. Who knew?
Dad shook his head in disbelief. “Miraculous,” he said, bowing to Keelie.
Keelie dropped a curtsey in return.
Sir Davey seemed shocked at the tree’s sudden cooperation, since of course he hadn’t heard the conversation in tree speak.
Keelie smiled and explained. “I threatened to plant it in Knot’s litter box. Keep us posted.”
“I will,” Sir Davey said. “Or I’ll take you to the dragon,” he mumbled to the goblin tree. Keelie caught the tree’s last thoughts as it was wheeled out of the way.
Dragon? Don’t take me to the dragon.
Keelie wondered if Sir Davey and Finch had something up their sleeves to get the goblin tree to cooperate. She’d offer to deliver Knot’s litter box later to use as a threat, but it, too, was a pile of ashes.
They stopped at Janice’s shop to borrow another lantern before heading to the elven village, which meant that Dad thought the meeting might last long into the night. Dad was silent, and Keelie thought about what Heartwood’s loss meant to him. The fine furniture he had built was gone, all his time and craftsmanship vanished in a single night. And though the apartment above wasn’t his permanent home, he’d lived there every summer for years.
She put her hand on his arm, and he tucked it into the crook of his elbow. She’d lost a lot, but she had her father, and last year, after her mother’s death, she’d thought she’d be alone forever.
Now she had Dad, and Knot, and Cricket. The little goblin was still missing, but Keelie kept her eyes peeled for any sign of him.
She glanced at Dad. Maybe if she said something, it would help alleviate the dreadful tension flowing from him. She didn’t know what the elves wanted, but a summons was always bad news, and, in Keelie’s experience, it usually involved some threat or a reminder that she wasn’t one of them.
Knot slipped ahead, dancing through the ferns.
“Dad, have you seen Cricket?”
He glanced at her. “In the vast pile of problems we’ve accumulated over the past few hours, a missing goblin does not register.”
“He’s just a baby.” Keelie was stunned by Dad’s reaction. Although she knew he blamed Cricket for the fire, Dad could have offered a word of comfort to her rather than a scolding.
Her silence must have given him a clue to her thoughts. “It’s a goblin,” he repeated. “It can take care of itself. It’s probably off in a garbage can, eating something vile. It’ll be back. Come on. We don’t want to keep our brethren waiting.”
The forest path turned to crushed stone, then flat stones set into the ground. They passed the first of the gray stone cottages where the elves lived while at this faire, a sign of how old the faire was. She remembered the first time she’d come here. She hadn’t been welcome then either, but now she knew more about her so-called brethren.
Sean stepped off a porch and onto the cobbled path. He greeted them, but kept his eyes on Dad with only a glance at Keelie. Her heart dropped. What was awaiting them?
“Follow me.” He turned and walked briskly to the communal stone building that stood in a square of lawn.
