To the Victor Go the Spoils

Once again, I take pen in hand--er, keyboard under fingers--to present you with yet another bit of story. Warnings: my Spanish is rusty and from the spoken word. I apologize for misspellings & bad grammar. My knowledge of Mexican gypsies is from novelas (Mexican soap operas) that I watched a few years ago. So don't quote me as a reliable resource. The theme is, I think, Girando en el Tiempo by Iran Castillo. Finally, I'd like to mention that I've named Sarah's grandmother in honor of a remarkable Mexican actress, Libertad Lamarque, who died last year. She began acting in the old black & whites and was still going strong when she died. Vaya con Dios, senora.

Ladymage ;)

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Part 27 ~ Warm Welcomes

Jareth, with unusual tact, remained silent. Indeed, it would have been difficult for him to sneak in a word in the midst of the flood now coming from Dona Maria, even if he had understood what she was talking about. All he could perceive was a unending string of syllables, which, while pleasant to hear, were totally incomprehensible. And now this formidable woman was beginning to herd them further into the circle of trailers.

He looked about with interest as he followed Maria and Sarah. The Underground had no similar people within it; Fae tended to be territorial, which discouraged their subjects from trespassing in other kingdoms. Within the protective circle--which, he discovered, was a true magic circle--men, women, and children were to be found at a number of tasks. A group of older men sat in the shade and laughed as their knives flashed, freeing shapes from the wood piled near them. A few of the children watched them and played with the bits that fell from the swift blades. Older children tended the animals. Though horses had become antiquated, there was still quite a bit of livestock--goats, chickens, dogs. Even a few cats prowled the grounds. Jareth sneered. He wasn't a cat person.

There was barely time before Jareth found himself being guided firmly into one of the trailers, a small but lavishly decorated affair. One, two, three steps and he and Sarah were inside, alone.

No, not alone. Almost immediately, a small, wiry figure floated to Sarah and enfolded her in its arms. "Sarah, mi nina, que haces aqui? Vente, vente. Come, sit down."

Libertad Campbell was just as magnetic as she had appeared over twenty years ago, though her strong facial features were now even more prominent, and could never be accounted as beauty. What drew the eye were those same attributes he had noted in the photograph, the strength and determination--the will that expressed itself through those nearly coal black eyes.

His intense study did not go unnoticed by the sharp-eyed woman. "Quien es ese?" she asked, releasing Sarah to stare back at him just as thoroughly. "Tu novio, ninita?" She circled him like a prowling cat. He followed her with his eyes, missing Sarah's outraged expression.

"Abuela!" she said, horrified, and continued in Spanish. "He is not my fiance. And, no, he's not my boyfriend. He's not even a friend!"

"Too bad," Libertad commented. "He's young and good-looking. He also looks as stubborn as you. He'd be good for you."

Sarah threw herself into a nearby chair, exasperated. "He's not that young," she muttered darkly.

"Si?" Libertad turned to look at her for a moment, then turned to look steadily into the Goblin Lord's eyes. "Ah, si, no es joven. Welcome, my lord," she continued in clear, unaccented English. "Come, sit down. And feel free to take off your mask."

When a slight look of surprise crossed his face, the woman smiled. "Never try to trick an old trickster," she advised cheekily, tapping his nose with her finger, "even if you are older. It never works."

"I shall endeavor to follow your advice, lady." Jareth recovered smoothly, his teenage facade shifting to his ordinary epicene features, his clothes becoming more elaborate. He bowed. "I am deeply honored to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, curtseying in turn. "I think I'll wait and see before I return the compliment, though."

To Sarah's surprise, Jareth's laughter filled the small room. "Well met, madam," he smiled.

"So," Libertad returned her attention to her granddaughter, "si no es tu novio, ninita, quien es?"

Cheeks red, Sarah mumbled, "Abuela, this is Jareth, the, uh, ex-Goblin King. Jareth, this is my grandmother, Libertad Campbell."

"Ex-Goblin King?" The woman's eyes lifted in surprise. "I knew you were Fae, but not of such high rank. What have you been up to, Sarah?"

"Abuela," Sarah said abruptly, the eyes she lifted to her grandmother glimmering with unshed tears, "why did you never tell me?"

"Ay, ninita. . ." Libertad began, then stopped, turning to the Goblin Lord. Advancing toward him, she pushed him firmly towards the door. "Out," she ordered. "And no eavesdropping until you're invited back." Before Jareth could react, he found himself standing on the steps on the wrong side of the closed--and, he quickly discovered, locked--door.