The Tree Shepherd's Daughter (6 page)

She attempted to finger comb some of the tangles out
of her hair. Her detangling spray was in her luggage, along
with her salon shampoo, conditioner, straightening iron,
and gel. Curls and ringlets had popped out all over her
head from the moisture in the air. She threaded a strand
of her brown hair through her fingers. Except for the owl
lady, nobody at this festival had short hair, which was fine.
She didn't want to fit into this place, anyway.

Keelie touched her cheek where her father had kissed
her. That had been weird. She hadn't even tried to move
away. The whole day had been twisted. Sometimes she
wanted to run away, to return to civilization, and other
times she wanted to be the little girl in his arms. It must
have been a reaction to the stress of her mother's death and
the move.

Maybe what she needed was to keep busy, to keep
moving so that she didn't have time to think too much.
Thinking led to thoughts of her mom, and how much her
life had changed, and then the tears would start again.

She glanced out the multipaned window that faced
the jousting field. The rain had stopped, and jousters were
practicing in the lengthening shadows of the field below.
Now that the Faire was closed, she decided to check out
the after-hours action, although really she just wanted to
see if Sean was there without Princess Perfect-Hair Elia.

She looked down at her feet. No shoes, but if she
stepped on patches of grass, then her feet would stay clean,
or at least free of mud. After all, the jousting field was
practically next door. She ran back to the bathroom, where
she'd left her dirty clothes on the floor. Her capris were a
disaster, but she wasn't going to do laundry until later. She
rummaged in the pocket for the rose quartz and tucked it
in her bra. Luckily, the top was baggy enough that no one
would see the weird lump.

A quick search of the tiny kitchen area showed that
there wasn't much to eat, but she found a canister full of
oatmeal cookies. Perfect. She shoved one in her mouth and
carried two more, then slammed the door behind her and
picked her way down the wooden stairs, bare toes tingling.
Yellow pine from Georgia.

Hopping down the hill from one green grass patch to
the next was more difficult than she'd anticipated. When
she got to a spot where the next patch was four feet away,
Keelie regretted giving up ballet. She jumped and landed
squarely in the middle of a puddle. No mud, thankfully.

The jousting field was labeled by the sign next to the
grandstand that had earlier been full of tourists. Mundanes,
in the local lingo. All around her, armor clanged, horses and
riders called to each other, and harnesses jingled. She wondered which way the Shire was. Her map of the site, soggy
like all of her belongings, was deep in her purse back at the
apartment. The workers' campground probably wasn't on it.

Two armored knights, helmets removed, stomped past,
as muddy as Keelie had been earlier. They didn't seem to
mind. One waved to her as they passed. She started to lift
her hand to return the wave, but they had gone on.

Two clumps of grass grew between her and the rough
wooden barrier at the edge of the field. A giant horse was
tied to one of the posts. It turned its massive head and
looked straight at her, then whickered a greeting.

It was almost as if he wanted to meet her. She'd never
been near such a large animal, but she wasn't frightened.
Keelie judged the distance to the next clump and jumped,
but missed. Water flew everywhere.

The horse tossed his head as if in approval, and Keelie
laughed. She stopped, startled, as she realized it was the
first time in days that she had laughed.

Ankle-deep in water, she giggled. The horse nudged her
with his nose, and she petted him. "Pleased to meet you,
too," she said. She offered him an oatmeal cookie. The horse
chomped it noisily. Horses liked cookies. Who knew?

"I should have known you'd be one of the mud people."

Keelie turned and saw Miss Goldilocks Perfect-Hair
standing arm in arm with Sean. Great. They'd both gotten
a long look at the handprints on the back of her skirt.

She decided to tough it out. She extended her right
hand. "Hi, again. We didn't introduce ourselves properly.
I'm Keelie Heartwood. I'll be living up the hill with my
father." It felt strangely good to say that.

Lord Sean bowed, smiling. "I am Lord Sean o' the
Wood, and this is Lady Elia."

The girl looked down at Keelie's outstretched hand
with disdain. "Ladies curtsey, Katy." She dipped gracefully
and fanned out her pink skirts. "Like this."

"Oh. Like this?" Keelie gathered her hideous yellow
skirts daintily in each hand and dipped, extending her left
foot, then deliberately smacked it down on the mud in
front of her. Slimy brown mud splattered in all directions.

"Oh, you klutz!" Lady Elia shrieked, spreading her wide
skirts, searching for spots. The girl's hate-filled eyes turned
to Keelie, taking in the mismatched, tacky clothes. "You
did that on purpose," she hissed. "And you will be sorry."

"I'm already sorry. And the name's Keelie."

Elia stalked off, nose in the air. "Come along, Lord
Sean. It's going to rain again any second."

Sean stared at Keelie, fighting to keep a smile from turning into a full-fledged grin. "Lady Elia hates to get wet."

"I've heard that about witches. Don't they melt in
water?"

One of the knights gathered nearby guffawed. Sean
shrugged and followed after Elia.

Thunder boomed overhead. Keelie snatched the quartz
from its hiding place in her bra, holding it tight in case she
got another tree voicemail. The sky had darkened again,
and wind thrashed branches high overhead. The little crowd scattered, and a rider came to lead away the horse
tied to the post.

As big raindrops started to hit the ground, Keelie was
left alone. There was no sign of the real world. The gray
sky hid any airplanes, the only sounds were rain and the
distant shouts of Faire workers scurrying to shut down for
the day. No sign of her mother or Ms. Talbot or her old
life existed.

What was left was this green place, alien and wet, so
unlike California that she needed a guidebook to figure it
out, and filled with people who didn't want her here.

Rain sheeted down, plastering her hair to her head.
Her costume hung in heavy folds, although her legs were
warm and dry under the layers of cloth.

Slowly, she started back up the hill, away from the
abandoned jousting field, not caring if she forded suddenly
created streams, bare feet splashing heedlessly through
mud and water.

Keelie had to accept the fact that she was stuck. Stuck
in Medieval Hell... but she wouldn't be here for long.

Keelie was beyond wet, but she still hurried toward the
shelter of her father's shop. Others were rushing through
the rain. As she turned onto the path that led to her father's shop she saw the familiar face of the goth girl who
had given Ms. Talbot directions earlier. She seemed to be
headed to her father's shop, too. Keelie ran into the darkened furniture shop, relieved to be out of the rain. The girl
came splashing in a second later.

"Did you find your dad okay earlier?" She dropped the
hood of her cloak.

"Zeke? Sure did. I'm Keelie." She held out her hand
and the girl shook it. Her hand was cold and wet.

"I'm Raven. My mom has the herb shop at the bottom
of the hill."

"Raven. Cool name."

The girl shrugged. "It's a liability in business classes.
Nobody takes you seriously."

"What business classes do you take?"

"I go to NYU in Manhattan. You?"

"Rising junior in high school. I'm from Los Angeles. I
plan to go to law school at UCLA."

"Cool. Having urban withdrawal?"

"In the worst way. How do you stand all the medieval
weirdness?"

"I grew up on the Faire circuit. I kind of like it. It's
home. But I love Manhattan."

Manhattan. Mom had been there several times on business and had promised to take Keelie some day.

"Do you know where the Shire is?"

"I was heading that way now. Big party. Want to come?"

At last things were going her way. A new friend, a college business major no less, and she knew where the party
was. "Sure, love to."

Raven headed into the back of the shop.

"Where are you going?" Keelie didn't think her new
friend should be wandering around her father's shop. Unless-but no, Zeke wouldn't go for someone that young.
She hoped.

"Your dad keeps cloaks back here in the workshop.
Have you met Scott yet?"

"Who's that?"

"Zeke's assistant. You'll ... like Scott." She handed Keelie
a black hooded cloak, then helped her to fasten the big
hook at her neck.

"Will he be at the party?" She pulled up the hood, feeling like a monk. A pair of worn hiking boots were propped
by the workshop door. Keelie stuck her bare feet in them,
glad they were dry.

"You'd better hope not. Scott will tell your dad. He's
such a workaholic, though. He's probably asleep somewhere warm." Raven laughed and pulled her own hood
up. They headed out into the pelting rain.

"Why would he tell my dad? Er, Zeke?"

"He's such a suck up. And guaranteed, Zeke won't want
you partying with the Shire folk. It can get wild down
there."

"Wild like how?" She thought of Sean, tangled in sheets
with some woman. Not Goldilocks. It hurt to even think
about that.

"Drinking, wenching, fighting. The usual."

"I met a cool guy earlier. Lord Sean o' the Wood. Know
him?"

Raven stopped and gave her a Darth Vader look. "Yeah,
I know him."

"
So-?.

"So nothing. He's a jerk. And you won't see Lord High
and Mighty Sean or his kind at the Shire. They have their
own private campground."

"Where's that?"

"In the woods. You won't want to go there. They hate company. You think they're rude in public? Go knock on
their door."

The path they followed went through a dark woods.
She held tight to Raven's cloak and in the other hand she
held the quartz. The unfastened boots flapped around her
ankles.

"Raven, I can't see anything."

"Don't worry, I've been this way a million times since I
was a kid. Just stay on the path. If you go into the woods
you won't know where you are until morning."

Keelie shivered.

"See the open space on the left?"

"No, just dark and rain."

"There's a big meadow there. First we cross the bridge.
Can you hear the stream?"

"Nope. Just rain."

"Listen, dumb ass."

She heard a gurgle under the sound of the rain. "Okay,
I think I hear the stream."

"Okay, once you hear it, the bridge is just ahead. Cross
the bridge, five steps. Then the meadow's on the left. Pass
the big stone. Fifty steps to the campsight. By then you'll
see the camp lights."

They crossed the bridge, Keelie's boots clomping on
the planks and an echo coming from beneath.

"Heartwood." The thin, reedy voice sounded like it was
coming from under them.

Keelie yanked on Raven's cloak. "Did you hear that?"

No.

"Someone said my name."

"You spook easily. I'll bet you're fun at a slasher film."

"Mom said I was too young to see them. So we're going
to a party at the Shire?" The cloak surged forward, making
Keelie hurry.

Light glowed yellow in the dark ahead. The rain had
lessened a little, and she could hear distant conversation.

"Almost there. You can let go of my cloak now. I swear,
I thought you'd choke me to death on the bridge."

"I'm telling you, I heard someone say `Heartwood."'

"Probably someone making out under the bridge."

And saying her name? That didn't seem likely. Unless it
was her father under the bridge with some woman.

The campground was a mixture of store-bought tents
of all sizes, pop-up campers, big RVs, and fantastic custom
tents. They passed a tall, long tent glowing white from
within. A stylized wooden dragon topped the front pole.

This must be Tarl's tent, she thought, then hurried past
as she heard the female moaning coming from inside. As
she rushed past, a man's silhouette appeared on the tent
wall, potato-shaped and obviously naked. Keelie had been
hoping to score some food at the party, but now her appetite was gone.

"The party's in the last tent on this row. The tents are
arranged in a circle, and then there are rows making streets
inside of the circle."

They stopped in front of a medium-sized Coleman
tent. Laughter and light greeted them as they pulled aside
the front flap and entered. A cloud of sweet blue smoke
rolled out.

She'd smelled pot before at parties, but never so much of it in one place. The inside was lit by pillar candles on
dishes, and the floor was covered with oriental carpets and
big pillows on which the party goers lounged.