Fablehaven I (31 page)

True, unless I am trained to deliver a service of

extraordinary value. Have you ever received a massage?

Are you serious? The idea has always struck me as

ridiculous.

The idea seems absurd to all the uninitiated. Beware

of rash judgments. We all pursue wealth, and those who

gather the most can afford certain comforts unavailable to

the masses. Foremost among these luxuries is the indescribable

release and relaxation of a massage at the hands of one

skilled in the art.

And you claim to be skilled in this so-called art?

Trained by a true master. My ability is so great as to be

nearly beyond purchase. The only person in the world who

has received a full massage at my hands is the caretaker

himself, and this because I am his woman. I could give you

a full massage, kneading and soothing every muscle in your

body. The experience would redefine your understanding

of pleasure.

Nero shook his head. It will take more than florid

words and grandiose promises to persuade me.

Consider my offer in perspective, Grandma said.

People pay exorbitant sums for an expert massage. You will

receive yours at no cost, merely in exchange for a service.

How long would it take you to ascertain Stan’s location?

A few moments.

A massage will take me thirty grueling minutes. And

you will be experiencing something new, a delight you

have never encountered in all your long years. A similar

opportunity may never arise again.

Nero licked an eye. Granted, I have never received a

massage. I could name many things I have never done,

mainly because I have no interest in doing them. I have

sampled human food and found it wanting. I am not convinced

that I will find a massage as satisfying as you describe.

Grandma studied him. Three minutes. I will give you

a sample for three minutes. It will afford you only a narrow

glimpse of the unspeakable bliss that awaits, but should

place you in a position to make a more educated decision.

Very well. I see no harm in a demonstration.

Give me your hand.

My hand?

I will massage a single hand. You will have to use your

imagination to envision how this would feel across your

entire body.

He held out a hand. Grandma Sorenson took it and

began working his palm with her thumbs. At first he tried

to keep a straight face, but his mouth began to twitch, and

his eyes began to roll. How is that? Grandma asked. Too

deep?

His meager lips quivered. Just right, he purred.

Grandma continued expertly rubbing his palm and the

back of his hand. He started licking his eyes compulsively.

She finished with his fingers. The demonstration is concluded,

she announced.

Thirty minutes of that, you say, across my whole

body?

The children will assist me, Grandma said. We will

trade a service for a service.

But I could exchange my service for something more

enduring! For treasure! A single massage is too fleeting.

The law of diminishing returns applies to massages, as

it does to most things. The first is the best, and all you

really need. Besides, you can always exchange your services

for treasure. This may be your only chance to receive an

expert massage.

He held out his other hand. One more example, to

help me decide.

No more samples.

You offer just one massage? What if you stay on as my

personal masseuse for twelve years?

Grandma grew stern. I am not petitioning you to look

in that stone of yours multiple times for multiple purposes.

I am requesting a single piece of information. A service for

a service. That is my offer, lopsided in your favor. The massage

takes thirty minutes, versus mere moments for you to

peer into your stone.

But you need the information, Nero reminded her. I

do not need a massage.

Satisfying needs is the burden of the poor. The

wealthy and powerful can afford to indulge their wants and

whims. If you pass on this opportunity, you will always

wonder what you missed.

Don’t do it, Grandma, Kendra said. Just give him

the treasure.

Nero held up a finger. This proposition is unorthodox,

and against my better judgment, but the idea of a massage

intrigues me, and I am rarely intrigued. However, thirty

minutes is too short. Say… two hours.

Sixty minutes, Grandma said flatly.

Ninety, Nero countered.

Grandma wrung her hands. She folded and unfolded

her arms. She rubbed her brow.

Ninety minutes is too long, Kendra said. You’ve

never given Grandpa a massage longer than an hour!

Hold your tongue, child, Grandma snapped.

Ninety or no deal, Nero said.

Grandma sighed in resignation. All right… ninety

minutes.

Very well, I accept. But if I do not approve of the

entire massage, the deal is off.

Grandma shook her head. No caveats. A single

ninety-minute massage in exchange for the location of

Stan Sorenson. You will treasure the memory until the end

of your days.

Nero eyed Kendra and Seth before fixing Grandma

with a shrewd gaze. Agreed. How do we proceed?

The best table Grandma could find was a fairly narrow

stone shelf near the mouth of the cave. Nero stretched out

on the shelf, and Grandma showed Kendra and Seth how

to massage his legs and feet. She demonstrated how and

where to use their knuckles and the heels of their hands.

He’s very strong, she said, grinding her knuckles

against the bottom of his foot. Lean into it as much as you

want. She set down his leg and stood beside his head.

The children have their instructions, Nero. The ninety

minutes start now.

Kendra hesitantly laid her hands on the troll’s bulging

calf. Although they were not wet, the scales felt slimy. She

had held a snake before, and the texture of Nero’s scaly

skin was quite similar.

With Nero lying prone, Grandma went to work on the

back of his neck and shoulders. She employed a variety of

techniques-probing with her thumbs, rubbing with her

palms, pressing with her fists, digging with her elbows. She

ended up kneeling on the small of his back, careful to avoid

the spikes along his spine, squeezing and kneading and

applying pressure in diverse ways.

Nero was obviously in ecstasy. He purred and moaned

in decadent satisfaction. A constant stream of drowsy compliments

flowed from his lips. He languidly encouraged

them to rub harder and deeper.

Kendra grew weary, and Grandma periodically demonstrated

other techniques for her and Seth to employ.

Kendra despised working on Nero’s feet the most, from the

roughness of his cracked heels, to the smooth pads of his

calluses, to the lumpy bunions on his toes. But she tried her

best to follow Grandma’s tireless example. Besides assisting

with his legs and feet, Grandma labored on his head, neck,

shoulders, back, arms, hands, chest, and abdomen.

When they finally finished, Nero sat up with a

euphoric smile. All the cunning had vanished from his bulbous

eyes. He looked ready for the most satisfying nap of

his life.

Closer to a hundred minutes, Grandma said. But I

wanted to do it right.

Thank you, he said giddily. I never imagined something

like that. He got to his feet, leaning against the wall

of the cliff to steady himself. You have amply earned your

reward.

I’ve never felt anyone so full of knots and tension,

Grandma said.

I feel loose now, he said, swinging his arms. I will be

right back with the information you seek. Nero ducked

into the cave.

I want to see his magic stone, Seth mumbled.

Wait patiently, Grandma chided, wiping perspiration

from her brow.

You must be exhausted, Kendra said.

I’m not in very good condition, Grandma admitted.

That took a lot out of me. She lowered her voice. But it

sure beats barrels of treasure that we don’t have.

Seth wandered over to the brink of the ledge and stared

down into the ravine. Grandma took a seat on the shelf

where they had administered the massage, and Kendra

waited beside her.

Before long, Nero emerged. He still looked affable and

relaxed, though not quite as loopy as before. Stan is

chained in the basement of the Forgotten Chapel.

Grandma’s jaw tightened. You’re sure?

It was a little tricky finding him and sneaking a good

look, considering who else is confined there, but yes, I am

certain.

He’s well?

He’s alive.

Lena was with him?

The naiad? Sure, I saw her too.

Was Muriel in the vicinity?

Muriel? Why would she… oh, that’s what that was!

Ruth, the agreement was for a single piece of information.

But no, I didn’t catch sight of her. I believe this concludes

our arrangement. He gestured toward the ladder. If you

will excuse me, I need to lie down.

The Far Side of the Attic

Grandma refused to talk while they were in the ravine.

She wore a dour, thoughtful expression and hushed

any attempts at conversation. Kendra waited until they

were back on the path beside the covered bridge to try her

question again.

Grandma- Kendra began.

Not here, Grandma admonished. We must not discuss

the situation out in the open. She motioned for them

to huddle close and continued in a hushed tone. Let this

suffice. We must go after your grandpa today. Tomorrow

might be too late. We will return home immediately, get

equipped, and go to the place where he is being held. I will

reveal his exact whereabouts once we are indoors. Muriel

may not yet know his location, and even if she does, I don’t

want her to learn that we know.

Grandma stopped whispering and hurried them along

the path. Sorry if I have been antisocial since leaving

Nero, she said after they had walked in silence for a couple

of minutes. I needed to devise a plan. You kids really did

an exceptional job back there. Nobody should have to

spend an afternoon rubbing a troll’s feet. Seth was heroic

on the logs, and Kendra did some well-timed bluffing during

the negotiations. You both surpassed my expectations.

I never knew you were a masseuse, Kendra said.

I learned from Lena. She has collected expert instruction

from around the globe. If you ever get a chance to

receive a massage from her, don’t turn it down. Grandma

tucked some errant strands of hair behind her ear. She

became distant again for a moment, pursing her lips and

staring remotely as she walked. I have a few questions for