Fablehaven: The Complete Series (207 page)

“How about an honest answer as to where we are?” Seth pressed.

The Sphinx studied him. “When masters play chess, there often comes a point, sometimes many moves before checkmate, when the outcome is decided. Sometimes the inevitable loser will resign. Sometimes the doomed participant will continue until the final move. But beyond that pivotal point, the drama is over.”

“Is this your way of saying you’ve won?” Seth asked. “They’re not dumb enough to trade everything for me!”

“I am not yet claiming victory. Zzyzx is not yet open. I’m saying I am well beyond the point where my victory is certain.”

Seth squirmed. “What you’re trying to do is a little more complicated than a game of chess.”

“A lot more complicated.”

“I think you’ll find we still have a few tricks up our sleeves.” Seth hoped it was true.

“I’m sure you’re right. Underestimating an opponent can be lethal. Seth, I’m not trying to boast or to intimidate you. I am telling you that I am so confident of victory, and so certain that you will leave here only at my whim, that we can actually have an honest, open conversation. Ask me anything.”

“Okay, for the third time, where are we?”

“We are in Eastern Turkey on a preserve called Living Mirage. At least, that is the closest English translation. Some have dubbed it the Grand Oasis. Your friends and family refer to it as the fifth secret preserve. I call it home.”

Seth could not conceal his astonishment. “You live at the fifth preserve? The one nobody can find?”

“I have dwelled here for a long time.”

“This is where the final artifact is hidden.”

The Sphinx smiled. “It was the first artifact I recovered, many lifetimes ago.”

Seth paled. “Then you have three. The Sands of Sanctity, the Oculus, and . . .”

“ . . . the Font of Immortality.”

“Is that how you’ve lived so long?”

“When we first met, you asked whether I was an actual sphinx. I am not the avatar of a sphinx. I am a human being who has prolonged his life through ownership of the Font of Immortality.”

Seth regarded the Sphinx skeptically. “You’re also a huge liar. A master con artist. How do I know whether a word you just told me is true?”

“Deception has been an inseparable companion,” the Sphinx conceded. “Strange. I have guarded these secrets for so long that it almost surprises me to have them disbelieved. But you’re right. We could be anywhere. I could be anyone, or anything. Keep in mind, I just healed you with the Sands of Sanctity. The Oculus rests on my desk, which is how I know nobody could possibly be overhearing this conversation. And the Font of Immortality is in this room as well, though I suppose you could dismiss it as an elaborate prop.”

“Let’s see it,” Seth said.

“Why not?” The Sphinx stood and walked to the desk. Seth followed, noticing the flawless, multifaceted crystal resting upon a cushion on the desktop, refracting light into little rainbows. The Oculus looked exactly how Kendra had described it.

The Sphinx pulled aside a tapestry, opened a hidden cupboard in the wall, and removed a tall object. Seth recognized the straight, pearly spiral of a unicorn horn, although this one was much longer than the horn he had recovered from the centaurs. The horn served as the long stem to an alabaster goblet, embellished with shimmering enamel. A sturdy base was attached to the other end.

“That’s the Font of Immortality?” Seth asked.

“I can’t prove it in the short term,” the Sphinx replied, “but if you sip from this goblet once a week, you will stop aging.”

“Is that a unicorn horn?” Seth asked.

“You’ve seen one before,” the Sphinx recognized. “You needed it to enter Wyrmroost. What you handled was a first horn. This is the third and final horn of a unicorn.” The Sphinx replaced the artifact in the cupboard and inclined his head toward the desk. “Unlike the Font, if you touch the Oculus, you will instantly experience its authenticity.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Seth hedged.

“Sit,” the Sphinx invited. “I did not mean to disturb your comfort.” Seth complied. The Sphinx remained on his feet. “I can do no more to persuade you of my sincerity. It will be up to you to believe or disbelieve, as you choose. Understand, I have concealed myself for centuries. The only way to really keep a secret is to tell no one. But my identity, my life story, is no longer a secret. It is merely history. You will never escape here with this information. And if you did, it would not matter. I no longer have a motive to lie.”

“How did you find this preserve?” Seth asked.

“I did not find Living Mirage. Living Mirage found me.”

“Is that supposed to be a riddle?”

“As a child, I was brought here as a slave.”

Seth frowned. “That’s horrible. Where were you from?”

“Ethiopia.”

“The caretaker had slaves?”

The Sphinx started pacing. “This was long ago. Not all caretakers were good men like your grandfather. There were many slaves here. Through their labor, those who ran the preserve lived like kings. No, like tyrants. The preserve was deadly. Slaves were employed for many high-risk duties. When they died, it was not considered a loss of life, just a depletion of resources.”

“I can see how that would make you bitter,” Seth said.

“I was a bright child and a hard worker. I realized that, given my circumstances, the best chance for a good life was through diligent obedience to my masters. The slaves who resisted were punished and ended up with dangerous assignments. The rebellious never lasted long.

“I went out of my way to be the ideal servant. Many of the other slaves despised me for it. As my talents and devotion were recognized, my work took me indoors. My masters never loved me, but they appreciated my usefulness, my reliability. As I grew older, I became an administrator. Head slave, if you will.

“What my masters did not know, what the other slaves could not guess, was that I was the most dangerous person at Living Mirage. Deep down, beneath the pleasant demeanor and quiet competence, in the invisible self that nobody knew, I was a rebel to the very center. Furious. Ambitious. Vengeful. But I was a patient rebel. I watched. I listened. I learned. I plotted. I did not want to rebel in some symbolic way. I had no interest in a futile act of defiance that would lead to my destruction. I wanted to turn the tables on my captors. I craved victory.

“There is great power in harboring a single goal. With my words and actions, I excelled at my daily tasks. But with my thoughts I planned my coup. I constantly sought opportunities for my eyes and ears to acquire the knowledge I required. I learned that Living Mirage was a secret preserve, known only to a few outsiders. That was important. It meant that if I could stage a coup, I might have a chance to truly take ownership of the preserve, to hide my victory from possible external enemies. When I learned about the artifact, my ambitions grew. What if I could destroy my captors, become master of Living Mirage, and then live forever? That would be vengeance indeed.

“I was a young adult when I first learned of my future mentor, the most feared demon at Living Mirage, perhaps the most feared demon in the world: Nagi Luna. The demon resided inside a Quiet Box in the lower extremity of the Living Mirage dungeon, below the great ziggurat.”

“What’s a ziggurat?” Seth interrupted.

“A huge old temple, a step pyramid.”

“Step pyramid?”

“We’re in one now. A terraced pyramid. Picture a pyramid that recedes a little at each new level.” The Sphinx pantomimed the shape of a stairway.

“Got it. Sorry, go on.” Seth reconsidered the room. Beneath the soft hangings and mellow lamplight, the walls were made of stone.

“The Quiet Box of Nagi Luna was kept in the bottommost cell of the dungeon, a room accessible only through a hatch in the ceiling. Only the chief jailer and the head caretaker had a key that could open it. Months after learning the location of Nagi Luna, I received the task of punishing an elderly slave, a man called Funi. I clearly remembered Funi from my childhood, a crass character who mistreated the weak.

“One of my regular duties included supervising the slaves assigned to labor in the vast dungeon below the great ziggurat. In the course of those duties, I had forged a relationship with the chief jailer. He was a hard, private man, but somewhat predictable. I told him I wanted to give Funi a scare by taking him down to the catacombs where the undead were housed. The key to those catacombs was the same key to the cell where Nagi Luna languished.

“The jailer should not have let that key out of his possession. But nobody could imagine me as a threat. In addition, the jailer disliked me, and he assumed I would receive as big a scare as Funi. He knew that it was possible I would have an accident that could cost me my life or my job, and it amused him to imagine the uppity slave getting humbled. I knew the jailer would not voluntarily go anywhere near the undead prisoners. As I had expected, he lent the key to his assistant and ordered him to admit me to the catacombs.

“I brought Funi, and, with the assistant at my heels, we descended into the forbidden levels of the dungeon. When we reached the door to the catacombs, I caught the assistant in a stranglehold until he passed out. Then I made Funi help me drag the man deeper into the dungeon, until we reached the lowest cell. I opened the hatch, lowered the assistant jailer into the room with a rope, ordered Funi to climb down, then climbed down myself.

“Who did you put into the Quiet Box?” Seth asked breathlessly.

“The assistant,” the Sphinx said, his voice becoming quieter. “It was the greatest risk I have ever taken, even though a ring of constraint surrounded the Quiet Box.”

“Ring of constraint?”

“A magical prison at least as strong as the Quiet Box. It essentially marked the domain at Living Mirage where Nagi Luna was permitted to roam, a steel circle on the floor with a thirty-foot diameter.”

“Kind of like the area at Fablehaven where Graulas lives,” Seth said. “Or where Kurisock lived.”

“Much like that,” the Sphinx agreed. “But considerably stronger. I made Funi put the assistant jailer into the Quiet Box while I watched from outside the ring. It took some effort, because he was old and frail, but Funi managed to place the unconscious body inside and close the door. The box turned slowly. The instant the Quiet Box opened, Funi turned and attacked me.”

“Mind control?” Seth asked.

“Very good. Yes, before stepping out of the box, Nagi Luna took instant control, and Funi came at me like a man possessed. Although I was ready for such an eventuality, having retained the assistant jailer’s truncheon, the vehemence of the assault nearly overwhelmed me. Funi was smaller, thinner, and older, but he fought with inhuman strength and ferocity, heedless of injuries. By the time I had quelled the attack, he was unrecognizable.”

“Gross. Then Nagi Luna came out? What did the demon look like?”

“Harmless. A tiny, toothless, hairless, hunched old woman, no taller than my waist. Her purple skin drooped in moist creases. A white chain led from a manacle on her ankle to a stone tablet inscribed with arcane characters, which she dragged along behind her. As her lips mumbled nonsense, she spoke to me with her mind, trying to lure me inside her ring of constraint. When I refused, she spoke in her actual voice, commending me for resisting her invitations. I explained my situation. She explained her hatred of her confinement. We decided to help one another.”

“What did she do?” Seth wondered.

“First she asked to see the key to her cell. After I held it up, she crouched, scraped together dirt from the floor, and transformed it into an exact replica of the metal key. She set the key at the edge of the ring of constraint, and I removed it with the truncheon. Then she produced a needle, spat on it, and gave it to me in similar fashion. She explained that whoever I pricked with the needle would die the following morning. We had a long conversation. In the end, I climbed out of the cell, hauled the remains of Funi up, and returned to the jailer.”

“You left the assistant in the Quiet Box?”