Page 21 of Renaissance Bear

Eloise, the woman of the pair, came to sit down by her. "This is your first Faire, isn't it?"

"My first Renaissance faire," Alis agreed, then laughed. "I mean, my first oneinRenaissance. I go to quite a few back East."

"Aaah. Stew and I just do this one." She smiled fondly at her husband as he pulled a coin out of the child's ear, then settledback with a sigh. "It's a shame this will be the last, though, after so long."

Alis straightened, the root beer turning to a cold hard lump as it slid down her throat. "The last? What? I hadn't heard that!"

"Oh. Oh dear. Well. Stuart retired from the bank, you know, but he's still got contacts there and someone let slip that the fairgrounds were being sold. It's all supposed to be very hush-hush. I'm sure you won't say a word." Eloise gave her a pointed look, determination glittering in her pale blue eyes.

A thread of humor twisted itself around the knot that had formed in Alis's belly. "Of course not," she said obligingly. "I'm only an outsider with no business getting involved in Renaissance's affairs."

"Precisely. I'd never say anything to the locals. I wouldn't want to be seen as a gossip."

Alis thought she might love this old woman. "Obviously not. Nothing wrong with sharing a bit of news with somebody who's got no oar in the race, though. Who did you say was buying the fairgrounds, again? And what on earth for? They can't possibly need to put up a parking lot."

"I have the impression it's primarily to put the faire out of business," Eloise said crisply. "You know how sometimes people try to trademark and copyright common phrases? Oh, like that cable television company—" She broke off, eyeing Alis. "You do know what cable TV is, don't you, young lady? You are aware that streaming services aren't the only way people watch television?"

Alis laughed. "Yes, but I'm not sure I blame you for asking."

Eloise gave a brief satisfied nod. "So when that one company couldn't trademark 'sci-fi' because it's a common phrase for science fiction, so they changed their name to that silly spelling. And—oh, dear. I'm a very old geek, my dear, and I'm afraid my references might not make any sense to you."

Alis leaned toward her, smiling. "If you tell me you were part of the original letter-writing campaign that got Star Trek saved, I'm going to worship you."

The old woman's eyes lit up. "Not quite that old, but maybe you do have some frame of reference. Do you go to comics conventions?"

"I know about the one in San Diego…?" That was about all Alis knew about comics, but it seemed to satisfy Eloise.

"There's a corporation that does international comics conventions a little like San Diego's," she said. "They've got a trademarked name and all. And there's a movement toward trying to incorporate Renaissance faires under the same kind of trademark. But?—"

The pieces suddenly fell into place. "But they want to use the phrase 'Renaissance Faire' in their trademark. But this town iscalledRenaissance, so anybody who wants to use that is going to have to shut this faire down completely, because nobody can stop Renaissance, Colorado from using…well, like, 'Renaissance's Faire,' at the very least, and that'll confuse the corporate issue," Alis guessed.

"Very good."

"But…" Alis gazed at the old woman for a moment. "This can't be news, right? People must know somebody's trying to make a big business out of ren fairs?"

"Oh, yes." Eloise went back to watching her husband, as if they were discussing nothing of any particular importance. "And there's a lot of resistance to that, of course. But the paperwork to buy the fairgrounds here was just filed on Friday afternoon, very quietly. Stew and I think it's a targeted attack on Renaissance's faire itself and they're trying to push it through quickly, so no one has time to mount a resistance."

"Who?" Alis dropped her voice to a whisper, as if they were back-room scheming.

Eloise sighed. "I wish I knew, darling, but even if it wasn't hidden behind some labyrinth of corporate shells, Stew's friends at the bank couldn't give him a name. They only mentioned the sale in passing." Her eyes glittered again, and Alis was certain it hadn't been an accidental mention. Somebody in the bank at Renaissance didn't want the faire to collapse.

She couldn't imagineanybodyin town wanted it to collapse. Alis was only here for the first two weekends, but the faire ran for eight weeks every summer and brought in a huge amount of tourism. She guessed there was probably skiing on the mountain in the winter, but even just driving through town on her way to the fairgrounds, it was clear that Renaissance, Colorado leaned into its name and its faire as a major part of its marketing.

"Well. This has been a very interesting conversation." She slid a little smile toward Eloise. "I think I'll go talk to some strangers about something else entirely."

"Oh, what a good idea, my dear. But may I make a suggestion? Change your clothes, so when you talk about something else, it won't be associated with the Red Court."

"Oh, youareclever," Alis said with a grin, and the old woman sat back with an expression that managed to be both beatifically innocent and incredibly smug. Alis got up and went into the changing area, where shedidhave commoner clothes, just in case of emergency. She came out a few minutes later in denim shorts, a green tank top, and sandals, all of which felt much more comfortable in the warm tent than her gown had. She caught Eloise's eye, and the old woman pointed to her own hair. Alis put her hand up, found that she was still wearing the Red Court haircomb from earlier, and took it out, sending her mess of curls down over her shoulders.

Eloise gave her a thumbs up and Alis, grinning, went out to spread rumors at the faire.

Chapter 11

"Have you heard anything about the fairgrounds being sold?" Peter, the fiddler who looked like an imp and played like an angel, stomped into the tavern as the evening drew to a close. The patrons were mostly gone; it was Sunday evening and the faire closed early to make getting up on Monday morning a little easier. For the next few days, the big event stuff like the sword fights and human chess games would be on hold, until attendance picked up again on Friday afternoon.

Jon, in the midst of wiping tables down, straightened and stared at Peter incredulously. "No. What? Are you serious?"

"It's all over the faire. Can I get a pint of Thunder Blunder, Laurie?"

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