around the faire: Keelie is in cahoots with the faire director.
“What did you learn back there?” Finch asked. “Did you use the To See Truly spell?”
“I learned not to wear lime green fairy wings,” Keelie answered. “And no, the seeing clearly spell didn’t work.”
“Keep practicing. It takes time to master the spell, so I’m not surprised at your outcome. Those three share one brain cell, and they may have misplaced it. What did you learn from overhearing them talk?”
“I learned that Hob has supposedly been spreading rumors, and you heard how he paid the fairy girls to recommend his shop over the others.”
Finch rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Yes! He’s sneaky. So, when you’re in Hobknocker’s, I want you to listen and observe. I know there is more to his story. We have to put the random pieces together to get the whole picture.”
“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.”
