Since she broke eye contact first, Hansel glanced at the third card.

The Jester.

“There is a lot wrapped up in the card. Enough that if I’d had more than one in the deck, you could have chosen it several times. Innocence. New beginning. Reckless. It could be your’s. But it’s also what you seek.”

“And what do I seek?”

The woman shuffled the three cards together.

“Two of these cards represent a specific person. The Jester has more than one meaning, but it is also specifically about that other person.” She looked up and said with a smirk. “You are looking for the Jester.”

Hansel frowned.

“I didn’t come here for more puzzles, Madam.”

She laughed.

“Why don’t you use the word you mean, fool? Witch. You wish to call me a witch and burn my kind along with all the blood-soaked ones.”

Hansel slowly stood.

“If you have nothing useful-”

She leaned forward.

“If you want to find the Grand High Witch, you need the Jester. Find the Jester, wait for the witch. But I warn you, Hansel Miller, witch killer. When the Jester is in your hands, if you do not exercise Justice well, you will single-handedly bring on the demise of everything you know.”

She smirked.

“And slay your own heart while you’re at it.”

Hansel felt the weight of magic on him.

It was not a curse. It simply flowed through the room, swirling around his body. Caressing him like a lover.

It made him sick.

He turned and marched toward the door. Abel quickly got out of the way and Hansel yanked it open.

“Wait, witch killer.”

Reluctantly, he looked over his shoulder. Anabella waved the three cards, smiling.

“Take them. They’ll help you find the Jester.”

It was Abel who retrieved the cards. Because Hansel couldn’t stomach being near that woman any longer.

***

Aka

I lifted the little goblin child onto my lap and played patty-cake with her.

She squealed and giggled every time we ‘rolled the batter’ and ‘marked it with a g’ (for goblin, since I wasn’t sure what her name was) and put it in the oven for ‘baby and me’.

All while Ghana kept a close eye on me.

The feast had been going for a couple hours now and I still hadn’t been called on for my performance.

I wasn’t complaining.

Every hour I could stay here was an hour I wasn’t re-reading one of my books meant for eleven-year-olds. I wish I’d ended up here when I was a little older. Then maybe I would’ve had something better suited to my age.

Sigh.

At least I had those options. Gran had a shelf of books that I still won’t touch (unless I’m desperate). She not only did blood spells without blinking an eye, but she loved horror.

Bleh!

No, thank you.

I was on my twentieth round of patty-cake when Croix stood up and someone blew a horn to get everyone’s attention.

Third Wife promptly took the little goblin child away and went to sit on her blanket with the others of her faction.

If I were to ever describe the goblins to another person, I’d have to point out the most obvious and weird feature. That is, even though their chief was a male, there was a total of only four adult males in the entire tribe.

Yes, four.

And all their ‘wives’ were named by title. Unless you happen to be a very, very close friend and got their given name.

Or a black sheep like Ghana who didn’t deserve a wife title.

They must not have problems with genetic inbreeding. Or maybe that’s why they were so ugly? Honestly, I’ve been around them so long, I only think of them as ‘ugly’ anymore if I happen to be thinking about it consciously.

Finally, all settled. 

Even the children were able to settle down and hold still on their blankets while I struggled not to fidget. Cuz my butt fell asleep sometime during the seventeenth or eighteenth patty.

Satisfied that everyone was ready, Croix beamed at the gathering.

“My family! It is good for us to be here!”

There were echoes of that sentiment.

“Tonight we give thanks to the mother goddess and we celebrate our future!” Croix waved and Thirteenth Wife beamed as she stood up. Handing him a small bundle. “Our first male heir! Tonight we celebrate his birth and give him a name.”

The goblins cheered. Truly delighted by this happy occasion.

As Croix kept talking, my mind wandered. And my legs itched.

The goblin baby wasn’t the first male to be born since I was allowed to start visiting (he was the second). But he was the first of the Chief’s children.

If I understand correctly, Croix has only a few more years before he becomes infertile. Then the other male’s son would’ve been declared the next chief.

Weird, I know.

Regardless of who sired a boy, every male was celebrated this way. As though he was the most precious thing in the world.

I half wondered if the females ever resented that they couldn’t be as ‘special’ as the males. But I never saw any evidence of it.

Even Ghana, who refuses to pick a husband, had gone all sappy eyed and melty when she spoke of the newest male child.

Second feature of the goblins is they don’t really have a distinction about who their mothers or fathers are. They know who birthed or sired them, of course, but every adult is mom or dad. And mom and dad are just as protective of the other children as their own.

So even if Croix hadn’t had his own son, the other boy was just as much his son to him as this one. This one just gets a little more distinction because Croix is his biological father.

Third feature I find amazing is that even though there’s a sort of ranking (first wife, second wife, chief, first husband, second husband, etc.), there is no jostling or competition for position. Everyone simply has a job and a place. That’s it.

It's bizarre and cool at the same time.

Makes humans look petty.

The baby started fussing as Croix spoke and there was a collective, “Aww!”. Even from the future little mommies who were too young to choose a husband yet.

I swallowed a giggle.

Croix finished his speech and handed the baby to Thirteenth Wife.

“Our witch has come with special entertainment. Let us eat, laugh, and sleep.”

Finally!

I was eager to get up. So when Ghana reluctantly nodded that I was allowed to, I jumped to my feet… and promptly fell to my knees when my tingling legs gave out on me.

“Ow!”

“Watch it, witch.” Ghana raised her lips to show me fang. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt.”

So why was Ghana my guard when she was so clearly hostile toward me?

Because she was the best. And she wouldn’t disobey Croix when he’d personally asked her to keep an eye on me.

I’m pretty sure Croix didn’t mind me. At least, if he wasn’t flirting and trying to get me to be ‘Wife Sixteen’, he was at least polite.

I finally got to my feet and wobbled to the middle of the clearing with my guitar.

Now, a bit of magic.

I was assured that no sound would get out of the clearing, so I tapped the spell on my guitar neck. A magical amplifier, since I didn’t have an electric one.

Even if I had a place to plug it in.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” I bowed to my audience. The adults watched me with a mix of acceptance and wariness, but the children eagerly crawled to the edges of their blankets. “Let’s start off the night with something silly for the kids.”

I strummed the first few chords, ready on all fronts.

“I went to the animal fair. The birds and the bees were there.”

As I sang, I activated the illusions I had ready. Cartoony birds and bees flew through the clearing, making my youngest audience members giggle and clap their long fingered-hands in delight.

“The old baboon, by the light of the moon, was combing his auburn hair.”

I’d deliberately made the baboon’s hair much longer than a real one. Because I didn’t want the kids to realize how closely they looked like a baboon. With big snouts.

“The monkey, he got drunk. And sat on the elephant’s trunk.”

My star actors danced out in front of me, the monkey dancing with annoying franticness around the elephant’s face.

“The elephant sneezed and fell to his knees. But what became of the monk? The monk? The monk? The monk?”

I had the kids giggling as the little monkey vanished with a whoosh into the treetops.

Three more times I sang the silly little folk song. My animals getting more and more animated with each retelling.

By the end, the little girls were all shouting, “The monk! The monk! The monk!” with me.

The one little boy goblin tackled his favorite sister as she tried to catch the last of the bees. This sent a whole group of them off in squeals and runs, trying to tag sibling and illusion alike.