The Hob's Bargain

along.
    â€œCome, now,” I scolded him lightly. “I just passed two people celebrating earthy things in the most traditional manner, and I’d be surprised if they were the only ones.”
    The Green Man laughed—a good thing. I didn’t think he was the kind of person—well, elemental, then—to laugh if he were still planning to destroy all the crops in the valley. Caefawn told me he thought the earth spirit might overlook the irregularities in the festival because I had proven the village’s good faith by killing the bloodmage.
    â€œWe’ll do a proper ceremony after harvest,” I promised. “Tolleck is already paving the way for it. If you have any suggestions, I’ll be glad to take them to him.”
    â€œNay, nay,” he said, slowing his stride when he saw me skip to keep up. “I’d rather be surprised.” He slipped me a sly grin. “But I think your fisherfolk better be careful or the river will be jealous.”
    I looked at him to see if he was joking, but I couldn’t tell. We climbed to the top of a knob of land that jutted above the field of rye and the decorated snag. I found a seat on the ground.
    â€œAre you going to mate with the mountain’s servant?”
    He didn’t look at me when he spoke, his attention on the festivities below.
    â€œIf we survive until next summer, I suppose I will.”
    I didn’t hear him approach, but I was relaxed enough that I didn’t jump when Caefawn’s hands touched my shoulders.
    â€œSuch enthusiasm from a bride-to-be,” he commented dryly.
    I widened my smile and leaned back against him. His feathered cloak dropped about me, bringing warmth against the slight chill of the night wind. He crouched behind me, his knees resting lightly against my arms.
    â€œWith hobs,” observed the Green Man, “you seldom get exactly what you bargained for.”
    â€œI suppose I’ll find out next summer,” I answered cheerfully.
    â€œIf you survive ’til then,” added the hob as his tail twined itself about my waist. He didn’t sound worried.
    I looked across the night at the fires below where the raiders drank cautiously with the villagers. If I let my eyes unfocus just a bit, I could see a few wildlings scurrying about.
    â€œIn the meantime,” said the earth spirit, “there’s a fetch to send on its way and a troll on Wedding Pass.”
    Caefawn sighed in contentment, and his arms slid over my shoulders until they were crossed in front of me and his chin rested on the top of my head. “That sounds like fun,” he said.

About the Author
    Until she learned to read, Patty Briggs lived a mundane’s life in Butte, Montana. Shortly after her sixth birthday, she discovered there were dwarfs living in the mines and elves in the forests. The hob in the garage really startled her the first time she met him, but they’ve become great friends since. Sometime before her thirtieth birthday, the urge to share her discoveries with the rest of the world led her to writing. She currently resides with her husband and children in the Pacific Northwest. The Hob’s Bargain is her fourth novel for Ace.