The Hob's Bargain

time. ’Twasn’t much like the mountain; she’s fair wild, she is—almost as informal as the water spirits, though they tend to be vulgar.”
    â€œThe fisherfolk are like that, too.” I asked him something that had been bothering me. “After I talk to the spirit, will I be bound to it—as you are to the mountain?”
    He dropped the flowers on the ground in surprise. “Of course not. You’re a human, not a hob. No elemental would ever take a human for a servant—too obstreperous.”
    I blinked at him, uncertain whether I felt more incredulous or insulted. “And you’re the very paragon of tractability, I suppose?”
    As quickly as that, his merry mood was gone. He tucked the last of the flowers in my hair and let out a slow breath. “The mountain commands and I obey.”
    My, but didn’t he sound happy .
    â€œIf I felt like that about it, I wouldn’t obey,” I commented.
    â€œThat’s why elementals avoid humans,” said the hob.

    I WALKED BAREFOOT IN THE HOB’S CLOAK AND A SARONG of silk and moonlight with circlets of flowers around my head, my wrists, and my ankles. Caefawn walked in front of me, occasionally warning me of sticks and thorns—sometimes even before my feet found them first.
    I wondered if what I was doing would offend the One God more than my being mageborn already had. My father said Tolleck, the new priest, was very young, but blessed with a gift enabling him to speak to the One God. Father’d smiled at me and said it gave him hope, seeing how a priest that close to the One God was a good man.
    â€œCaefawn?”
    â€œHmm?”
    â€œI won’t be worshiping this spirit, will I?”
    The moonlight allowed me to see his eyebrows raise. “No, indeed. Though I’ve heard of one or two elemental spirits who tried to require it. Not healthy for anyone concerned—even if the gods don’t get involved. Just be respectful.”
    I stepped on another sharp rock, and swore.

    M Y FEET WERE SORE BY THE TIME WE REACHED THE OLD snag. In the night the ancient oak looked eerie, full of shadows and of silver where the light touched it.
    â€œIt’s over here,” I said, starting for the field.
    â€œWait here,” he said, and stripped his cloak from my shoulders. “This is close enough. You don’t want to force yourself on it.”
    â€œThat’s right,” agreed a boyish voice. “It wouldn’t do to force yourself where you aren’t wanted.”
    The boy perched casually in the branches of the old snag. He wore rich-looking clothes of light-colored velvet; I couldn’t tell whether they were pink or blue. One of his arms was twined in the branch above the one he sat on, the other rested negligently on one hip. Not what I’d expected of an earth spirit.
    â€œI have to go a lot of places I couldn’t, if I went only where I am wanted,” I replied sharply—forgetting the one piece of advice the hob had given me. Be respectful, he’d said.
    â€œI have to go a lot of places I couldn’t, if I went only where I’m wanted,” he said, repeating my words in a high singsong voice. It sounded even stupider the second time.
    I swallowed my words and waited until I could speak calmly. Ridicule, I told myself sternly, was a childish game. Responding meant you lost.
    â€œSpirit,” I said calmly, even respectfully, “I have come to find out why you sent your servants to attack us.”
    He bounced off the tree to crouch at my feet. He was so close I could smell the herbs on his breath.
    â€œKilled and maimed the earthen, you did,” he said in a sad voice. “Poor dead things.” He said it in Caulem’s voice.
    In the tree, his face had been in shadows, so I had no warning until he was crouched in front of me and I looked into my husband’s brother’s face. But looking out through Caulem’s clear eyes was someone else entirely.
    â€œHow dare you?” I grabbed the top of his shirt by the shoulders. “How dare you take the form of my kin?” I didn’t yell, but rage thickened my voice. “It does not belong to you.”
    â€œAren,” warned the hob, his tail wrapping my ankle for the second time this night. It must have been a habitual gesture, but I found it distracting. My anger cooled enough for me to better consider my actions.
    â€œEverything that goes to earth