Part 19 (1/2)

Little John made a ”V” with two fingers and pointed toward his eyes, and then at Keelie. He marched away, accompanied by his growing band of admirers. A dark figure peeled away from the crowd and walked toward them, applauding enthusiastically. It was Raven. She laughed as she turned to watch Little John's parade go around a corner, then whirled back to face Keelie and Sir Brine.

”And to think that just weeks ago we could hardly get you into a costume. You've gotten to be quite the drama queen.”

Behind Raven was someone in a Francesca costume. If Keelie hadn't been green on the outside before, she surely was now. Laurie wore a scrumptious Francesca gown in green and gold brocade with long flowing sleeves. The front skirt panel was printed with rich, deep golden leaves against a green fabric background, and she had a garland of matching flowers in her hair with ribbons flowing down the back.

Keelie groaned inwardly and steeled herself for a litany of pickle comments. She waited for them to start rolling off Laurie's tongue.

Instead, Laurie did a twirl and ta-da stance. Keelie wanted to throw a pickle at her. Let's see how she liked a little vinegar with her brand new outfit. But she pasted a smile on, just like Mom used to do when she ran into a client she didn't want to talk to outside of the office, and choked the words out. ”That's really gorgeous.”

”Isn't it? It's so much fun shopping with Laurie. She doesn't even look at the price tags.” Raven rolled her eyes. ”We're on our way to the braiding booth. Woo hoo!”

Dad was really, really, really going to owe Raven big time.

Laurie grinned. ”Where are you going to be? I want to show you my hair after I've had it done.”

Keelie looked at Sir Brine, who beamed at Laurie. ”We'll be by the Maypole, mistress, and I'll have a big pickle for you.”

Gross. She wondered if Finch knew that Sir Brine was a perv.

Laurie clapped a hand over her mouth, either to keep from gagging or laughing. Before Keelie could find out which, Lady Annie stepped outside her booth and hung more of her gorgeous boots on display hooks.

Laurie's eyes widened. ”Oh. My. G.o.d. Look at those cosmic-stellar boots. I've got to have a pair.”

Keelie's heart dropped down to her toes. Laurie was already crossing the lane to Lady Annie's. Life just wasn't fair.

Sir Brine clapped a hand on her shoulder and shouted, ”Move it, Dilly. We need to get to the Maypole.”

Raven leaned closer to Keelie. ”I saw the face in the oak. There's some bad vibes going on around here. A little while ago, the Bedlam Barrel ride went berserk. It took fifteen Faire workers to stop it, when normally it only takes two.”

”It's more than bad vibes. We'll talk later.”

”Dilly, move it,” Sir Brine yelled, then turned his cry into a pickle yodel.

”Dilly?” Raven asked.

Trying to maintain some of her tattered dignity, Keelie lifted up the handles of the wheelbarrow. ”I have pickles to sell.” At least the boots had kept Laurie from commenting on her job, but that would come, she was certain. Laurie didn't miss a thing.

She turned the cart around, anxious to get to the Maypole before Elia had a chance to possibly follow through on her threat against the little girl. Elia had seemed obnoxious, but not evil.

”Looks like you're going to be pickle splatter, kid. He's going to use the catapult.” Lulu was on her porch. She took a swig from her bottle, then kicked acorns from the top step. ”You're that Heartwood brat that played Plumpkin. I've had the worst luck since I moved next door to your booth; it's like a never-ending psycho circus around here. I even saw your cat paw a number into a cell phone and meow into it the other day.” She snorted and took another long pull.

Knot on a cell phone. Even Keelie had trouble believing that one. Maybe a certain puppet maker had been hitting the mead for a touch too long.

Keelie hoped Dad would get back from the meeting soon. She wondered how much he'd sensed of the tree's pain. Bruk had been struggling to get to him, and knew that the unicorn was sick. They had a lot to talk about, and if Finch found the shop unattended, her skull would split open and the inner fire-breathing dragon would explode from her head.

The white cat sat on the steps to the booth.

”Hey, bad thing. How did you get out of the tree?”

It stared at her intently, and for a moment Keelie saw an iridescent gleam in its fur. When she blinked, he looked like an ordinary white cat. This is what happened when you stayed out all night chasing unicorns-you started seeing things that weren't really there. Or maybe one of the Rennies had put glitter lotion on the poor cat's fur.

”Dilly, come along.” Sir Brine was way ahead of her.

Keelie pushed the barrel, and he began singing. ”Do you know the Pickle Man, the Pickle Man, the Pickle Man. Do you know the Pickle Man, skipping down Pottery Row?”

If Sir Brine thought she was going to sing after that incident with Elia, forget it. She had touched Elia's harp, had held it in her hand. Now that the elf girl had it back, there was no telling what she would do, which meant more work for Keelie.

She was beginning to see the tree shepherding tasks as her own work. Not only did it entail keeping the trees in line, and in balance, but also protecting them from harm-including from humans. Strange that she'd started thinking of people as ”humans.”

She thought of Bruk, the Oaken Prince. He'd been hurting so much, and still he'd struggled to reach Heartwood. Keelie touched the aspen heart, which pulsed warm on her chest-a tangible sign of her heritage. She quickly let go of it as the cart, off-balance, pivoted to one side.

”Dilly, hurry up.” Sir Brine's shout echoed embarra.s.singly from the faux stucco of the nearby buildings. Sweat dripped down Keelie's back. People stopped and looked at her as she pushed the heavy cart uphill. She checked out the trees as she huffed up the path. The conifers that lined the wide, sloped track were calmer than the oaks by Heartwood had been. Her talisman was still warm against her skin, rea.s.suring her that she was connected to the magic. Keelie hadn't liked having her mental link to the forest blocked by the oaks on Enchanted Lane. She had to get back to Heartwood as soon as possible, to check on the trees and to make sure Dad had returned from the lodge. She glanced back and saw Raven disappear into Lady Annie's, where Laurie probably was waving her credit card. Life sucked.

twenty-one.

Keelie caught up to Sir Brine at the intersection of Lincoln Green and Sherwood and stopped, panting. She watched as he twirled the curlicued end of his huge mustache between his fingers and bowed to the Faire patrons as they pa.s.sed by, particularly the women in low-cut summery tops. He glanced at Keelie. ”Not speaking, huh? Good, you're staying in character. You won't give me any grief then.”

What she wanted to do was let the stupid pickle cart roll back down the hill, and then watch Brine push it back up. He needed the workout.

They'd pa.s.sed the jousting field, the food court, and the petting zoo, and were now at the back of the Faire in an area where there were lots of artisans' booths. Sir Brine led Keelie to a very small booth, nothing more than a converted wooden barrel. A wooden sign, which was swinging from a two-by-four nailed to the barrel's side, was carved with a dancing pickle that had big, round, googly-cartoon eyes.

”Home sweet pickle barrel.” Sir Brine surveyed his minute domain. Keelie leaned closer to get a better look at what was painted around the dancing pickle's waist, then quickly backed away.

Gross. The dancing pickle wore a codpiece. The dancing pickle wore a codpiece.

She wiped her hand across her forehead. It had to be close to noon because a lot of Faire goers were sitting in the shade eating turkey legs and drinking from paper cups that dripped with condensation. She was so thirsty. After pus.h.i.+ng the heavy cart, standing at the pickle booth in full sun would give her heatstroke if she didn't get a break soon.

Sir Brine unlocked a door that had been cut into the barrel and pulled out a wooden contraption made of hinged and jointed wooden planks. He made a sweeping motion over it as if it were his most prized possession. ”Behold the pickle chunker. I'm going to entertain the crowd, so be prepared to accept their money and give them their pickles. We always have big sales after pickle chunking.” Sir Brine pulled a rubber mallet out and did some wildly exaggerated stretching exercises.

Curious folks were already gathering around. Some smiled expectantly. It couldn't be all bad if his past victims returned with a smile. Not knowing what to expect, Keelie examined the pickle chunker: a wooden box with a long lever attached to one end. A rope dangled from the end of the lever, with a small, pickle-sized platform attached to it.

”How does that work?” Keelie had never seen anything like it.

”So, now you're talking to me. It's a catapult, or sort of a catapult. I designed it myself. Might even apply for a patent for it. Couldn't you tell it's a catapult?”

”It doesn't look like any catapult I've seen in history books.”

”History books! Don't they teach kids 'real' history these days?”

Keelie shrugged. In the distance she heard the jingling of bells and people singing. She thought she recognized Jared's voice.

Sir Brine lifted his head at the sound. He rubbed his hands together in manic glee. ”Ah, this is going to be perfect, here comes Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Finch has screwed up the schedule and has everyone converging at the Maypole.”

Jared, dressed as Robin Hood, appeared riding a white Arabian horse, with Maid Marian following on a black Andalusian with silver bells tinkling from its bridle. The girl on the horse this time was one of Elia's elf friends. The first Maid Marian must be back at the lodge, too sick to work. The Merry Men walked behind, waving at the growing crowd that jostled for the best view on both sides of the lane.

Sir Brine heaved his mallet up onto his shoulder. ”I'm going to launch pickles at them. I'm hoping that Little John gets riled and comes after us. He doesn't like you, so he should get even angrier, and the crowds love it. I worked in front of Lulu's booth last weekend, launching pickles during her puppet show, and she went ballistic. I sold tons of pickles.”