The Tree Shepherd's Daughter (11 page)

Armored knights rode by on their majestic steeds, the
sound of their mounts' hooves punctuated by the percussive bang of steel against steel as their armor rattled. Some
plate armor shone like silver, others were dulled, or scuffed,
like pots that had been scrubbed too often. One rider wore
black and gold, and he carried a green banner with a silver lion emblazoned on it. Keelie sucked in her breath, impressed by the sheer power of the horses and knights.

For a few seconds, she was willing to suspend reality
and pretend she was in Camelot waiting for her Knight of
the Roundtable to return from his quest.

She watched as the last rider rode by. As he passed the
doorway, the horse splattered mud on them. She brushed
away the cool dollops of dirt from her arms and sighed. She was doomed to be mucked up for the rest of her time
here.

Sir Davey removed his hat and stared at it sadly. It was
dotted with flecks of mud and little clods of dirt. Fortunately, the feather came through unscathed. "Bloody pretentious hooligans, endangering everyone with their galloping around."

One of the jousters wheeled around and returned,
slowing his horse to a walk. Then horse and rider stopped
right in front of her. The knight removed his helm, and
Keelie's chest tightened. Sean. She hadn't recognized his
armor without the green and black cape.

Sean tilted his head to the right, smiling down at her.
His hair slipped away from his ear and she noticed that
it was pointed, like the elves in the The Lord of the Rings
movie. Was he wearing a prosthetic as part of the show?

She fingered the upthrust end of her right ear. She'd always kept it covered, but here it seemed to be a desireable
birth defect.

"I like your curls, Keelie." His green eyes were as dark
as evergreens.

Keelie stood like a blockhead, unable to utter a single
word. Had he seen it?

Sir Davey stepped outside holding a rapier pointed toward Sean. "Be off, varlet. She's not for the likes of you."

Heat crept up Keelie's neck. She wanted the ground to
open up and swallow her.

"Sir Davey, please." She glanced up at Sean. His eyes
narrowed as he stared at the little musketeer.

"And has the lady appointed you her protector?" asked
Sean.

"No, but Zekeliel Heartwood, her father, wouldn't
want her around the likes of you."

She wished she could smack Sir Davey on the head to
silence him. Keelie stepped closer to Sean's horse.

"I don't really know him," she said. "We just met. He
doesn't speak for me."

Sean's dazzling grin made the dimples on the left side of
his cheek pop out. She yearned for him to reach out with
his hand and pull her up on his horse, then gallop away
with her. It would be so romantic. Instead, Sean placed his
helm on his head, then lifted the visor.

"There may be more of the likes of me and my kind
in Keelie than even Zeke Heartwood wants to admit, Sir
Jadwyn," said Sean.

Keelie looked from the dwarf to Sean. "Excuse me, but
in case you two have forgotten, I'm standing right here.
And I thought your name was Davey."

The little man shrugged. "I said they called me Davey.
Jadwyn's another name."

She gazed up at Sean. "What did you mean? More of
the likes of you and your kind? In me? Not a chance, Sean.
I like horses, but that doesn't mean I'm going to take up
jousting.

A man on an impressive white horse stopped beside
Sean. "Lord Sean, the Queen requests your presence in the
ring."

Sean smiled at Keelie, then he winked. "I wish you a wonderful day, Keelie Heartwood." He circled his horse
around and followed the other jousters.

Even though Sean hadn't answered her question, and
obviously wasn't friendly with the glowering Sir Jadwyn,
Keelie's heart cartwheeled because Sean said she was of his
kind, even in her mud-pit clothes and curly, short hair. He
had even winked at her.

"Lady Keelie, stay away from him. He may look young,
but he's older in more ways than you can imagine. It's best
you get back to your father." Sir Davey just didn't look
like a Jadwyn.

She heard him but pretended she hadn't. This place
was full of folk who thought she needed mothering. The
only person who fit that job description was gone.

Her eyes remained fixed on Sean's retreating figure.
Could he really like her? He looked seventeen. Sir Davey
said he was older. Could he be twenty? That was just three
years older. Not as old as Captain Randy. She imagined
her friends' reaction back at Baywood Academy as they
gathered around her locker to hear about her boyfriend,
the twenty-year-old actor and stuntman.

She returned to the counter, picked up her mug, and
took another appreciative sip. "Thanks again for the great
coffee."

He arched a steel gray eyebrow, still brushing flecks of
mud from his hat. "See that you go straight back to your
father's booth and don't be conversing or congregating
with any strange folk."

"Then I can't speak to anyone, can I? Everyone is strange around here." With a jolly little wave, Keelie left
the shop, mug in hand.

"We'll talk about that other matter another time," Sir
Davey called.

That other matter? Earth magic. She remembered that
Janice had told her that if she stayed she would discover
things about herself that she hadn't thought possible.

Not if she could help it. She thought the words "law
school" over and over until all thoughts of magic were
scrubbed from her mind. Good thing she'd stayed away
from those crystal-seed muffins.

Even though she was heading back to her father's booth,
she could still explore a little more. She wondered if there
was a place at the Faire where she could get her belly button pierced. She wondered if Raven had a piercing.

She spied the jewelry booth where she'd bought the
quartz and strode over to it. She hadn't gotten a good look
before, with Ms. Talbot hurrying her along like a mad
corgi with a stubborn sheep.

No body jewelry, but on a velvet display board, a small
silver necklace glistened. A fairy pendant dangled from the
chain. She touched the fairy, marveling at the itty bitty
wings.

A woman in an elaborate Renaissance dress with a high,
tight bodice and huge, dragging sleeves shaped exactly like
her huge, dragging nose walked over to Keelie and said
through Shar-Pei wrinkles, "Please don't handle the merchandise unless you intend to pay for it, little girl."

Keelie looked closer. Under the big dress was a huge
bosom. It was Tania, playing the Evil Queen instead of the Melon Smuggler. Keelie let the fairy necklace slip from her
hand back to the display board.

Little girl? Humiliated, Keelie wanted to run, but decided she'd walk away with her head held high.

When she turned around, she almost walked right
smack into Elia, Princess Better-Than-You, who raised her
pert nose as her gaze lingered over Keelie. Elia carried a
harp today, and hugged it closer as if contact with Keelie
would contaminate it.

Elias perfect rose-tinted lips lifted into a sneer. "What
happened to your hair? Did you cut it?"

Tania laughed.

Keelie didn't bother to answer that it only looked
shorter because it was curly. It would have been a waste of
time. The girl lacked any human feelings. Keelie stepped
around her.

Elia followed. "Hey, I was talking to you, California
girl. Who cut your hair? I want to know so that I can warn
all my friends not to go there." Elia laughed.

Just keep moving, Keelie thought. Don't even mess
with her. There isn't a brain underneath all that golden
hair.

Anger boiled within her. She clenched her fist tightly
around her mug. She wanted to punch Miss Perfect in the
nose.

Keelie was surprised to hear Elias footsteps continuing
behind her. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction of turning around. Elia ran her hand over her harpstrings, and
sweet music filled the air. She began singing in a lilting
voice:

A girl there once was with locks so shorn
She looked like a sheep, not human-born,
Who could blame her for being forlorn?"

A crowd of spectators, including the stilt walker that
Keelie had seen on her arrival yesterday, had gathered to
listen to the performance. Elia strummed her harp again
and smiled at the people as if she were an innocent angel.
Then she continued her singing:

"Her garments were soiled, all covered in dirt,
A sight she was, and filled many with mirth. "

"That doesn't even scan, Lady Lame," Keelie muttered.
Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the wisp of power she'd
felt earlier. She imagined the harp strings breaking. She
felt the trees all around her, as if gathering to protect her.
This was far different from the claustrophobic feelings
she'd had in the past. They felt friendly, as if they'd said,
"Got your back."

A breeze touched her face, soothing, like the windchimes in her father's apartment, and she opened her eyes,
surprised.

The wispy wind blew right through her, leaving a piney
green smell that clung to her like incense. The tall pine
trees that grew behind the jewelry booth began to sway. A
hanging gold Renaissance dress oscillated in the wind like
a dancer doing a jig. Several loud pings sounded nearby,
and Elia screamed.

Keelie looked with a mingled combination of horror
and delight. Elia's harp strings blew in the breeze like silky
strands of spider silk.

A pointed ear tip showed as Elia bent her head over her
harp. Just like Sean's. A Faire fad, or were they all related?

Elia looked up at Keelie, her green eyes glowing with
hatred. Something darker slid behind their vivid color,
then floated up to ring her irises in black.

Whoa. Keelie backed away from the scary-eyed girl.

"You did this. I don't know how, but somehow, you did
this," she cried out as she rocked her harp in her arms.

More and more people crowded around the sobbing
girl. Tania had joined the crowd and scowled at Keelie.
"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything. I was standing right here. I didn't
touch her harp." She hadn't touched the harp, but she'd
wished it. Was this Sir Davey's Earth magic? The cat and
now the harp. This was way beyond what she'd been able
to do in California.

Elia looked up at the gathered crowd with tear-filled
eyes. "I shall be unable to play today for not only are the
strings of my harp broken, alas, so is my heart."

What a drama queen!

Keelie started to back away, but a hand squeezed her
shoulder. The elegantly costumed jeweler held her still.

"Don't move," Tania said. She looked around at the
gathered mundanes and hauled Keelie back behind the
jewelry booth and shook her shoulder. "You've caused
enough trouble, girl. You mud people need to stay in your
own area. If I see you here again, I'll call security."

"I didn't do anything," Keelie said, breaking free of the
woman's claws. She glared at the jeweler, who looked back
at her angrily and made another grab at her.

"Go. Get away from my shop," Tania hissed. She turned
to look at Elia, still sobbing on the path. The woman spat
on the ground and rubbed the spit into the dirt with the
tip of her shoe. She muttered something under her breath.

Over the woman's shoulder, Keelie watched Elia turn
slowly, as if smelling something in the air. She thought the
girl was looking for her, but she locked eyes with the jeweler.

Tania gasped.

Elia took one step toward her. "Do you think your
puny curses can harm me?"

The woman stepped back, pale. She really looked
afraid. Keelie was disgusted. This must have been a show
for the mundanes. She wished she'd been let in on it. That
was the lesson to remember. Everything here was fake.

Sean appeared on foot, followed by some of the knights
she'd seen earlier. Elia ran to Sean, harp strings fluttering
behind her damaged instrument. He put his arms around
her, but his eyes were on Keelie. Elia pointed toward
Keelie, then started to cry again.

Keelie backed away. Elia lifted her face from Sean's
shoulder and smiled wickedly at Keelie. As she suspected,
the tears were fake.

She was confused. Was anything real here? She quietly
wove her way through the growing throng of people and
once clear of the crowd, started to run, not caring where
she went. At this rate she'd make the long-distance track
team back home.

When her side began to ache, she stopped. She had to
gulp in several deep breaths to calm herself. She was by the
entrance towers. A family paid their admission and passed through the gates. The dad walked with two little boys
and behind them the mom pushed a little girl in a stroller.
They looked so normal.

Keelie wanted to yell, "Turn around, don't enter. This
place isn't for normal people. "

She watched as the two little boys, dressed in raincoats
and carrying wooden swords, shouted "Huzzah." Wind
whipped their hair back, and they yelled into it. Their father turned back to hurry them along.

"Rain's coming, boys. Let's get out of the mud." Above
them the sky had darkened again, and the wind brought
the smell of ozone. "Weirdest summer ever, right, guys?"

Keelie turned away from their protests that mud was
fun. It hurt to watch the happy family. Had she been like
the little toddler in the stroller? Were Mom and Zeke ever
happy together? Her dad who couldn't live away from the
woods? Dad. He wasn't a dad to her. He was her father in
name only, and he was fifteen years too late to be "Dad."

She gazed at the entrance and froze. Keelie couldn't believe what she saw. Could it be? It couldn't be. It was. An
anachronistic gadget in this feudal festival-a pay phone,
hanging on a wooden fence between the exit and the restrooms.

She reached into her pocket and found the change the
lady from the tea shop had given her. She pulled it out: a
nickel, two quarters, four pennies, and six one-dollar bills.