Shadows of the Redwood

The next morning, the din of bagpipes that signaled the opening of the Shakespeare Festival was both thrilling and nauseating. It was the only bright sound in the strange, muffled atmosphere of the fog. At least it was much better than the noise the jester had made the day before, Keelie thought as she hurried up the misty path toward the Heartwood shop.

She’d had a good night’s sleep despite the fact that it had been cold and Risa was a real blanket hog. The morning was still chilly, and she was grateful for her Rennie boots with the big bone buttons up the sides. They’d cost her dearly, but she would be comfy and warm all day. She’d heard that lots of people took Fridays off to attend the faire, and she was ready for a crowd this weekend.

Her usual Ren Faire garb, of flowy, medieval gowns, was not period for this festival, so Keelie just wore her boots with black pants tucked into them, and a billowy poet’s shirt over a bright red tank top. If the Admin guy didn’t like it, he was welcome to buy her all-new garb. She was only here for three weeks.

Knot weaved in and out of her legs as if trying to trip her up. She stepped sideways, leaving him in the middle of the path. He meowed, looking sad.

“Faker. At least you have a fur coat.” She walked on and soon he was bounding ahead of her, disappearing into the ferns that bordered the paths.

Tree trunks like cathedral columns rose out of the fog all around. She wondered if one of these trees knew where Viran was and wasn’t telling. The occasional hurrying figure made her feel as if she was on the set of a spooky film. She strode on, unafraid. Few movies could conjure up some of the real-life creepy sights she’d seen in the past year, and Wednesday night had been one of the scariest.

Grandmother had not been in her bed when Keelie had left the tree house, so Keelie harbored a dim hope that there would be oatmeal and a mug of hot tea waiting for her at Heartwood. They needed to make sure everything was in order before the festival gates opened in an hour.

The thud of hooves sounded behind her, and Keelie stepped off the path to allow the rider to pass. A loud “Good morning Lady Keliel” drifted over the knight’s shoulder as he cantered past. One of Sean’s men.

It would be nice to meet Sean in the foggy trees. Maybe he’d kiss her again. She paused to lean against the rough bark of the tree and imagined the feel of his lips on hers, his arm around her waist, his hard chest pressing against her. She sighed, and felt the tree stir to wakefulness, eavesdropping on her thoughts.

Keelie didn’t care. To her dreamy scenario she added Risa, who would come upon them and growl and gnash her teeth. (What was gnashing, anyway?) Behind her, the tanoak grew warm and gave off a spicy scent. She smiled and stroked its bark. “Back to sleep, old guy. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

A green girl with pointed ears trotted past her. Keelie stared, mystified, before realizing that it was a human girl with green makeup and glued-on ears. She stroked her pointed ear tip and hopped back onto the path, hurrying toward the shops. Funny how she’d gone from touching her rounded ear, to reassure herself that she was like everyone else, to touching the pointed one.

The Heartwood shop was empty. Irritated at her grandmother, Keelie yanked on the green cloth curtains, sliding the rings back on the rods, and tied the fabric to the corner posts with a tasseled cord the golden hue of a hawk’s eyes.

The furniture was dust-free and in place. She touched a small dresser (cedar from the Northwoods), then looked up, startled, as she saw a pale figure watching her from the back of the shop. Was it a tree spirit or was the place haunted? Keelie walked quickly toward the back, hiding her apprehension although no one was around to see.

She’d never seen a ghost. Although she’d met enough strange creatures in the world that she shouldn’t be surprised to meet the spirit remains of a person, it still was scary. But nothing moved in the back of the shop. She was alone.

Unlocking the safe in the back room, Keelie pulled out the change box and placed it under the carved counter, a close cousin to the one at her father’s shop at the High Mountain Renaissance Faire. Their shop, she corrected herself, rubbing her palms across the smooth, honey-colored surface of the counter. Carved from a single great oak log, its base looked as if it had roots that went deep into the Earth. Carved creatures raced across its sides, while crystals glimmered here and there within the deeper carvings.

Every stroke of her hand brought her close to the great tree the counter had once been a part of. From its highest branches, eagles had watched the sea, and among its roots, humans had sheltered, so long ago that they didn’t quite look like people. Her eyes closed, Keelie wished she could get closer to them. Maybe they weren’t human after all.

“Are you ready?”

She jumped and her eyes shot open. Master Oswald stood before her, floppy Elizabethan hat cocked jauntily over one eye. He smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He looked around appreciatively. “Zeke has outdone himself. I’ve wanted him to participate for years, and I’m so happy that Heartwood is finally here. Very fine work.” He tapped a nearby chair with his pen. “Very fine indeed. Call if you need anything,” he said, trotting off. His tone said, “You’d better not need me.” He was a little cold, but still so much better than Finch, the flame-haired administrator who had screamed and cursed her way through each day at the Wildewood Faire.

The bagpipes skirled again and Keelie flinched. She liked a bagpipe tune, but not nonstop. She added aspirin to the list of things to buy when she had a chance to escape. Maybe if the day was slow she could leave Grandmother in charge and drive into Juliet alone. Who would notice? Certainly not the big sleepy trees. At home in the Dread Forest (it still tickled her to think “home” and “Dread Forest” together), the gossipy trees would have alerted Dad before she’d even turned the key. They were awful, now that he was head of the forest.

A creak of wheels and shouted instructions caused Keelie to look up. Risa had set up her Green Goddess cart outside.

Was she cursed? Keelie ran out to confront the elf girl. “What are you doing here?”

Risa adjusted her snug bodice, pulling it lower as she smiled coyly at Keelie. “Master Oswald told me to set up here. Take it up with him.”

A group of visitors had already come down the road. The men veered off to talk to Risa. The women stood by, disconcerted, but then one noticed Heartwood.

“Look at the beautiful furniture, Sylvia. Let’s go inside.”

The other woman glanced back at the man who was probably her husband. His face was inches from Risa’s chest. She shrugged. “I’ve got the credit cards.”

“I take Master Card and Lady Visa,” Keelie said, following them inside. She grinned. Maybe this would work out after all. She could stay inside the shop and Risa could lure the customers. If Peascod came back, Risa could deal with him.

Knot sat on the counter, eyes closed and tail tucked underneath his paws. The shoppers admired him, then walked on to look at furniture. A few minutes later, Risa sneaked in to coo at him.

“Out!” Keelie pointed.

“You can’t make me.” Risa glowered.

Knot purred.

“Listen to him. What an enchanting sound.” Risa reached out to scratch Knot’s ears. He tilted his head and let her have her way with him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Keelie said. “You’ll need to get a round of rabies shots if he scratches you.”

Keelie knew that wasn’t true, but Risa didn’t.

Knot growled and opened his eyes.

Risa pulled her hand back. She tossed her hair over her shoulders, and Keelie wondered if there might be a flea charm in the pest section in the Compendium. To draw fleas, that is, not chase them away.

Grandmother finally appeared, on the path opposite the shop. She’d changed into an outfit with a wide dark green skirt, a pointy-waisted, tightly cinched matching bodice with a black velvet collar, and a brimmed hat that covered her silver hair. A long gold chain hung from her waist, a little golden acorn hanging from its end.

Keelie realized that her mouth was hanging open. She shut it and hurried forward, dodging the mundanes (the street-clothed members of the public) who filled the path.

“Good morrow, Keliel,” Grandmother said, bowing her head regally. Okay, that part was still normal.

“Good morrow to you, too, Grandmother.” Keelie bowed. Grandmother looked sharp. Keelie leaned forward and whispered, “What gives with the new garb? Did you buy it this morning?”

Grandmother beamed at her. “I did, indeed. I was speaking with Master Oswald at the Player’s Pub this morning and he suggested I wear something a little more in keeping with the Shakespearian theme. He has a little part he wishes me to play onstage, too.” She twirled, her skirt belling out around her. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful.” Great. Keelie was stuck running the shop while Grandmother was doing the Elizabethan version of the Shopping Channel and playing with the actors.

Grandmother eyed Keelie’s costume. “That boy’s garb isn’t becoming. Why don’t you buy something more in keeping with the festival?”

Keelie stared at her grandmother, torn between outrage because she’d been working nonstop to make money for the family while Grandmother fooled around instead of looking for the missing tree shepherd, and excitement at the thought of going shopping.

“I don’t have any money,” she said quickly.

Grandmother waved a hand airily and watched a family approach their shop. “Tell them to bill me. Now, what do we do when people come?”

Keelie hurried forward. “Good gentles, allow me to show you our wares.” She spent the next ten minutes answering questions about her father’s furniture, and the mother finally plopped her purse on the counter and wrote a check for a set of porch chairs. While Keelie made arrangements to ship them to their home, she noticed Grandmother speaking to a woman who was admiring a hall tree.

Moments later, Grandmother came running over. “Who is Lady Visa?”

“Ah, Lady Visa and Master Card. Our excellent friends,” Keelie said. “I’ll show you how to ring up purchases.”

It was three more hours before there was a lull in the festival traffic. Lunchtime was approaching, and the big crowds were now headed toward Pieman’s Green, where all the food vendors sold their wares. Keelie sat down behind the counter while Grandmother leaned against the back wall and fanned herself.

“If I sit, I may not be able to walk.”

“We just need a little rest.” Keelie nodded at a passing woman pushing a stroller. The baby wore a jester’s hat and was chewing thoughtfully on one of the four dangling points. The cute scene chilled Keelie, reminding her of creepy Peascod. Then her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d had no breakfast.

“Can you mind the shop while I go get lunch? I can bring you back a meat pie and a lemonade.”

Grandmother shuddered. “What manner of food is that?”

Keelie sighed. “Faire food. How about a turkey leg, then? Steak on a stake?” That last was not Keelie’s favorite—she’d had a bad experience working at Steak-on-a-Stake at the Wildewood Faire.

“Ah, sweet Lady Keliatiel. Madam, I have sought you long this morn.” A tall man with a beautiful silver beard bowed elaborately before them, showing off his slashed leather sleeves, which had bits of purple satin poking through each cut. He extended a pink carnation. “A bloom that withers when compared to thy beauty.”

Grandmother blushed. Keelie stared from one oldster to the other. What had gotten into her grandmother? Were people allowed to flirt when they were ancient? She wondered what the old dude would do it if she revealed that his “bloom” was hundreds of years old?

Grandmother stood. “Keelie, I believe Lord Mortimer and I will take a stroll. Mind the shop.”

The two drifted down the path, drawing admiring glances from the mundanes. Keelie sat there, thunderstruck. She’d just been ditched by her grandmother, she was starving, and she had no backup.

Scott came out of his shop and leaned against the doorway. Keelie gestured frantically. He trotted over. “Something wrong?”

“Yes. My grandmother’s gone bats. She just took off with some guy called Lord Mortimer.” She pointed down the road. “She’s abandoned me here with no lunch, no backup, and who knows when she’ll be back?” Keelie aimed a kick at the post, but stopped before she hurt her toe and made her day even worse than it was. “I’m starving, too.”

“I’ll get us something.” Scott looked really good in the afternoon sun. “The meat pies are tasty. Want me to get you one?”

She smiled at him. “And lemonade?”

“You got it.” Scott raced off, abandoning his shop.

Keelie stretched and grinned at the passersby. Life was suddenly looking good. She would never have guessed that Scott would turn out to be hot and nice. Maybe she had a little elven charm and didn’t know it. On the other hand, it could just be the power of womanhood.

“Do you have a human stashed at every festival?” came Risa’s sarcastic voice from behind her. Keelie swore to herself. She’d totally forgotten the elf girl.

“Gosh, Risa. Some folks got it, and others have to flaunt it to get attention.” The power of womanhood was still roaring through her when Sean walked by, Peascod trailing behind him. Keelie decided to try it out on him and sauntered out, swinging her hips. “Hello, Lord Sean. How goes your day?”

Sean stared at her. She ran a hand over her shirt front. She noticed that Risa was watching from behind her cart, which gave her a taste of déjà vu. It was like her daydream, Keelie thought. Risa watching as she flirted with Sean. She shivered.

“Keelie, they only had diet lemonade, so I got you an iced tea.” Scott’s arms were laden with bundles from the food court. His eyes grew tight as he saw Sean close to Keelie.

Peascod, who had also stopped walking, pointed toward Scott. “See?” he said to Sean. “I told you he’s always around her.”

Keelie’s face burned. Sean looked Scott up and down. “Gone for the groceries, lackey?”

Scott dropped the wrapped packages as his fists came up and he assumed a martial arts stance. Knot dashed in, grabbed a mouthful of greasy paper, and started to haul a meat pie backwards to safety.

“You two stop it,” Keelie said. “Scott, you dropped your stuff.”

“That is not ‘stuff,’ Keelie,” he said, eyes on his rival. “That is the lunch that we were going to eat together.”

“Oh, together.” Sean looked him up and down. “Like a lady and her dog.”

They were acting like toddlers, but Keelie didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make them madder. Peascod was grinning broadly from the sidelines.

“Mind your shops, m’lords and m’ladies.” Master Oswald’s booming voice filled the clearing. He strode and stood, fists on his hips. He glared at Peascod. “You, jester. The fairies need you at the Globe.” Peascod slunk away without answering.

Master Oswald glared at Scott. “I expected better from you, sirrah.” His head swiveled to include Keelie. He shook his head, as if he’d heard she was a troublemaker and expected no better. “Lady Keliel, a word with you in private, please.”

Risa grinned and followed, clearly enjoying the moment, as Oswald escorted Keelie into her shop.

Keelie cocked her thumb toward the road. “Hit it. Go on, Risa. You’re not a part of this.”

Master Oswald frowned at Risa. “Tend your cart, lass. Curiosity killed the cat.”

At the word cat, Risa’s eyes widened and she looked around frantically. “Where’s Knot? Oh my beloved kitty, where are you?”

She ran outside, looking for him. Scott had picked up the remaining sandwiches and was now eating alone and looking miserable on a chair in front of his shop. Sean was nowhere to be seen.

Master Oswald cleared his throat. “You know your lady Grandmother is helping us by playing Queen Elizabeth at the theater?”

Keelie’s mouth dropped open. “Is that why she has a new costume?” Little part, indeed.

“We’ve invited her to play the Queen throughout the run of the festival. She’s a natural.”

Keelie stared at the big man, dismayed. “The whole festival? I can’t run this shop alone.” And she couldn’t search for Viran as often, either.

“Nor will you. Peascod has volunteered to help you.”

“Oh, no. No need. I think I can manage.”

“Are you sure?”

Keelie nodded emphatically, and Master Oswald bowed and backed out of the shop. The shop that she now had to run by herself.

Under the counter, Knot lifted his face from the remains of the meat pie that he’d snagged. Keelie didn’t mind. She’d lost her appetite.





“Here ye, here ye. The play begins at the stroke of six bells.” A town crier yelled. He wore a big green poofy hat that matched his doublet and hose. “Hie thee to the Globe, good gentles.”

People began to stream out of the shops near Heartwood. Several patrons stumbled out of the Queen’s Alehouse. The din of loud conversation filled the air as the costumed crowd followed the crier. Each day was to begin and end with a Shakespearean play at the Globe. Today’s evening performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream would be performed by the professional actors, with the vendors helping out.

Keelie glanced around Heartwood, glad that the shop was empty and that it was time to close. She was tired, but she wanted to watch the performance. She started to put away the cash box and receipt book.

Scott waved to her from Tudor Turnings. He had one last customer in his shop, a woman hemming and hawing over a chair. Keelie wasn’t going to say anything to Scott, but she thought the quality of his pieces wasn’t up to Heartwood standards. She hoped he wouldn’t mention the confrontation with Sean next time they talked. She’d flirted a little, yes, but this was the real world, not some Shakespearian tragedy. Men didn’t start fights over meat pies and sandwiches.

Keelie ran her hand along the counter. The heavy Compendium she was supposed to be studying rested on a shelf beneath it. The board was barely strong enough to hold it. She ignored the ominous bend in the middle of the board and would continue to ignore it, at least until her guilt at not getting her charms memorized grew as heavy as the book. She was always good at cramming, though. How hard could it be to study a few little spells? Make that a few hundred spells.

Risa had packed up her cart and left for the Globe earlier in the afternoon, since she had a costume fitting. She was to be one of Queen Titania’s backup handmaidens. This would give her something to feel superior about without actually adding to her workload. Typical.

The laughter from the Queen’s Alehouse proved to be two women, one dressed in a cerulean blue overdress who lifted her skirts delicately as she stepped down from the deck and onto the road. Her friend, wearing a maroon velvet Francesca costume, laughed as she held up a pewter tankard. Beads of condensation dripped down its sides and onto her skirt. Knot walked beside the woman, tail held high as if he were her escort. He leaned a little to the left and teetered. The cat had been hitting the mead again, Keelie knew. Maybe the stress of dealing with Risa had driven him to drink. Keelie so understood.

She narrowed her eyes. Wait a minute. Knot was supposed to be her guardian. Ever since the ale house had opened he’d forgotten all about his guardian job. Keelie leaned out and saw that a tree spirit disguised as a cloud was hanging over the shop. People were glancing up, noticing the cloud in the otherwise blue sky.

By the time the crowd thinned, Keelie had closed Heartwood. She stretched her arms back as she stepped out on the path, then reached overhead, moving her muscles. Furniture selling was hard work, and it felt good to be finished. Dad would be pleased at her sales today. She glanced over at Tudor Turnings. Scott was still dealing with the customer who couldn’t make up her mind, and she could tell he was losing his patience.

Keelie was glad that he was the one stuck with a customer, not her. She was anxious to catch up with the crowd headed to the Globe. She didn’t want to miss the opening act, and she wanted to get a good seat.

“Keelie, wait up.”

Turning, Keelie was astonished to see her Earth magic teacher, Sir Davey. His elegantly garbed and very short figure was hurrying to catch up with her.

“I didn’t know you were here already!” Keelie rushed back to where he stood, huffing and regaining his breath.

“Your father got me here.” It was unusual for an elf to be close friends with a dwarf, but Dad and Sir Davey were best buds. Keelie was torn between feeling relief that she had Sir Davey to rely on, and irritation at Dad for thinking that she’d need help. “Did you set up your rock shop here?”

He looked at her sideways. “The Dragon Hoard, milady. Didn’t you hear that we must call each other lord this and lady that and mention our shops by their full names? Admin says it’s good for business.”

“Don’t want the mundanes catching on to the fact that everyone leaves here and returns to being schoolteachers, actors, and carpenters, right?”

Sir Davey put a finger along his nose. “They might even believe in elves and fairies,” he said.

“Or dwarves who can pull magic from the Earth.” Keelie smiled, enjoying herself. Sir Davey was like a favorite uncle. Even when he was teaching he had a way of making everything fun.

“Exactly so.”

They hiked up the hill to the Globe. Keelie’s leg muscles ached from her midnight stroll the other night. But she sensed no tree wraiths hanging around. From up here she could see glimpses of the Pacific ocean through the trees. Today was a cool day—sweater weather, and just right for the garb she wore. No clouds of mist hung over the ocean. This could change, but right now, Keelie enjoyed a delicious sense of freedom.

At the Globe she set aside her anger at her grandmother and was thrilled to see her sitting in the middle of the theater on a carved throne, dressed as Queen Elizabeth the first, waving to the crowd. Several of the costumed actors had gathered around and from the expressions on their faces, they were enthralled. They’d tone down the admiration if they knew the person under the clown-like white makeup.

She noted that the actors weren’t under any sort of enchantment now. They were livelier, and definitely into their parts. Keelie wondered if they remembered anything from the other night. She thought about Bloodroot’s power over humans, and Peascod, who seemed to be immune to it.

Just as Keelie was about to walk inside the Globe, one of the Admin people stopped her and handed her a sheet of paper with instructions for the “townspeople.”

“You don’t get a speaking part in this festival, but you’ll need to know how to act when street theater happens around you for next week’s performance.”

Keelie was peeved for a moment that she didn’t have a speaking part, but then she laughed. She sure didn’t want one. She had enough to do.

“I wouldn’t be so upset if I were you,” Sir Davey said as he glared at the departing Admin person. “Last vendor in gets the only part available,” he groused.

“I don’t understand,” Keelie said.

“I’m going to be the Mustard Seed Fairy.”

Laughter overcame Keelie. She envisioned Sir Davey dressed in a glittering costume with gauzy wings, flitting around like a bearded cherub.

“I can’t wait to see you in cute little wings.” Keelie wiped her eyes and leaned against a tree (hemlock).

“If you’re through having your hissy fit, then I’d like to show you something. Laurie contacted me.”

Sir Davey held up an iPhone. Keelie felt saliva gathering in the back of her throat. “Oh, my precious!” She swallowed hard, afraid of drooling like a bulldog anticipating a steak.

He held it out, and Keelie took it reverently. She missed technology. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a cell phone, but hers was hooked up to trees, and regular cell phones often didn’t work either in the town of Edgewood or in the Dread Forest. Zabrina said sometimes magic and technology canceled each other out.

Keelie read the message:

Leaving L.A. On way 2 Redwd.