Fablehaven: The Complete Series (27 page)

“Why? They smell great; take a whiff.”

“Those flowers are perilous. And we’re in a hurry.” Grandma waved for him to follow and started walking, picking her way carefully along the rocky floor of the ravine.

“Why are they dangerous?” Seth asked, catching up with her.

“Those are a peculiar class of lotus blossoms. The smell is intoxicating, the taste divine. A tiny nibble of a single petal carries you away into a lethargic trance populated by vivid hallucinations.”

“Like drugs?”

“More addictive than most drugs. Sampling a lotus blossom awakens a craving that will never be silenced. Many have wasted their lives pursuing and consuming the petals of those bewitching flowers.”

“I wasn’t going to eat one.”

“No? Sit and smell them for a few minutes, and you’ll end up with a petal in your mouth before you know what you’re doing.”

They proceeded in silence for a few hundred yards. The walls of the ravine grew more sheer and rocky as they progressed. They noticed a few other clusters of lotus blossoms.

“Where is Nero?” Kendra asked.

Grandma scanned the wall of the ravine. “Not much farther. He lives up on a ledge.”

“We have to climb up to him?”

“Stan said Nero lowered a rope ladder.”

“What’s that?” Seth asked, pointing up ahead.

“I’m not sure,” Grandma said. A good distance down the ravine, about twenty upright logs of increasing height led from the edge of the stream to the wall of the ravine. The highest log granted access to a rocky ledge. “It might be our destination. This is not what Stan described.”

They arrived at the logs. The lowest was three feet tall, the next was six feet, and each subsequent log stood roughly three feet taller than the previous one, until the tallest rose about sixty feet high. The logs were arranged about three feet apart, in a staggered row. None of the logs had any limbs. Short or tall, they were all of a similar circumference, about eighteen inches, and they were all cut flat across the top.

Placing a hand beside her mouth, Grandma called up to the ledge. “Nero! We would like to meet with you!”

“Not a good day,” a voice answered, deep and silky. “Try me next week.” They could not see the speaker.

“We must meet today or never,” Grandma insisted.

“Who has such an urgent need?” the resonant voice inquired.

“Ruth Sorenson and her grandchildren.”

“Ruth Sorenson? What is your request?”

“We need to find Stan.”

“The caretaker? Yes, I could discern his location. Ascend the stairs and we will discuss terms.”

Grandma looked around. “You don’t mean these logs,” she called.

“I most assuredly do.”

“Stan said you had a ladder.”

“That was before I set up these logs. No small undertaking.”

“Climbing them looks precarious.”

“Call it a filter,” Nero said. “A means to ensure that those who seek my services are in earnest.”

“So we must climb the logs for the privilege of speaking with you? How about we talk from down here?”

“Unacceptable.”

“Your stairs are equally unacceptable,” Grandma said firmly.

“If your need is dire, you will scale them,” observed the troll.

“What have you done with the ladder?”

“I still have it.”

“May we please climb it instead? I am not dressed for an obstacle course. We’ll make it worth your while.”

“How about a compromise? One of you climb the logs. Then I will lower the ladder for the other two. Final offer. Concede or go acquire your information elsewhere.”

“I’ll do it,” Seth said.

Grandma looked at him. “If anyone is climbing those logs, it will be me. I’m taller and better able to reach from log to log.”

“I have smaller feet, so the logs will feel bigger. I’ll keep my balance easier.”

“Sorry, Seth. This is something I must do.”

Seth dashed over to the first log, scrambled onto it without much trouble, and, taking a jump as if he were playing leapfrog, ended up seated atop the second log. Grandma hurried over to the second log. “You get down from there!”

Seth shakily got to his feet. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the third log. From his position on the second log, the top of the third came almost to the middle of his chest. Another leapfrog jump and he sat atop the nine-foot log. “I can do this,” he said.

“It won’t be so easy as you get higher,” Grandma warned. “You come down and let me do it.”

“No way. I already have one dead grandma.”

Kendra watched silently. From his seated position, Seth shifted to his knees and rose unsteadily to his feet. He leapt to the next log, now well out of Grandma’s reach. Kendra was quietly glad Seth was climbing the logs. She could not picture Grandma doing it successfully, especially dressed in a bathrobe and slippers. At the very least, think of the terrible places she could get splinters! And Kendra could very clearly envision Grandma Sorenson crumpled in a lifeless heap at the base of a log.

“Seth Andrew Sorenson, you mind your grandmother! I want you to come down from there.”

“Stop distracting me,” he said.

“It may seem like fun on these lower logs, but when you get higher—”

“I climb high stuff all the time,” Seth insisted. “My friends and I climb up in the bars under the bleachers at the high school. If we fell there we could die too.” He rose to his feet. He seemed to be getting better at it. Seth landed on the next log, straddling it for a moment before getting to his knees.

“Be careful,” Grandma said. “Don’t think about the height.”

“I know you’re trying to help,” Seth said. “But please stop talking.”

Grandma came and stood by Kendra. “Can he do this?” she whispered.

“He has a good chance. He’s really brave, and pretty athletic. The height might not get to him. I would freak out.”

Kendra wanted to look away. She did not want to see him fall. But she could not take her eyes from her brother as he leapfrogged from log to log, higher and higher. As he jumped to the thirteenth, almost forty feet high now, he leaned precariously to one side. Chills raced through Kendra as if she were the one losing her balance. Seth gripped with his legs and leaned the other way, regaining his equilibrium. Kendra could breathe again.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Kendra glanced at Grandma. He was going to make it! Seventeen. He got to his feet, wobbling a bit, hands out to either side. “These tall ones shake a little,” he called down.

Seth leapfrogged to the next log and landed awkwardly, teetering too far to one side. For a moment he hovered on the brink of regaining his balance. Every muscle in Kendra’s body clenched in horror. Arms pinwheeling, Seth fell. Kendra shrieked. She could not look away.

Something flashed from the ledge—a slender, black chain with a metal weight at the end. The chain coiled around one of Seth’s legs. Instead of falling to the ground, he swung into the cliff, colliding roughly with the stone wall.

For the first time Kendra had a view of Nero. Built like a man, the troll had reptilian features. A few bright yellow markings decorated his glossy black body. He held in a webbed hand the chain from which Seth dangled. Muscles bunching powerfully, Nero hauled Seth up to the ledge. They passed out of sight, and then a rope ladder unfurled from the ledge, unwinding all the way to the base of the cliff.

“Are you okay?” Kendra yelled up at Seth.

“I’m fine,” he answered. “Just had the wind knocked out of me.”

Grandma started up the ladder. Kendra followed, forcing herself to focus on grabbing the next rung, denying the impulse to look down. At length she reached the ledge. She moved to the rear of the ledge, standing beside the low mouth of a dark cave from which wafted a cool draft.

Nero looked even more intimidating up close. Tiny, sleek scales covered his sinuous body. Though he was not much taller than Grandma, the thickness of his brawny physique made him seem massive. He had a snout rather than a nose, and bulging eyes that never blinked. A row of sharp spines ran from the center of his forehead to the small of his back.

“Thank you for rescuing Seth,” Grandma said.

“I told myself, if the boy makes it past fifteen logs, I will assist him if he falls. I admit that I am curious to hear what you would exchange to learn the location of your husband.” His voice was suave and rich.

“Tell us what you have in mind,” Grandma said.

A long, gray tongue popped out of his mouth and licked his right eye. “You would have me speak first? So be it. I do not ask much, an insignificant trifle for the proprietress of this illustrious preserve. Six coffers of gold, twelve puncheons of silver, three casks of uncut gems, and a bucket of opals.”

Kendra looked at Grandma. Could she possibly own that much treasure?

“A reasonable sum,” Grandma said. “Unfortunately, we have brought no such riches with us.”

“I can wait while you retrieve the payment, if you leave the girl as collateral.”

“Regrettably we lack the time to shuttle treasure to you, unless you would reveal Stan’s location before receiving compensation.”

Nero licked his left eye and grinned, a hideous sight that displayed double rows of needle teeth. “I must be paid in full before fulfilling your request.”

Grandma folded her arms. “I take it you already possess great caches of treasure. It surprises me that such a meager financial offering as I could supply would entice you to trade.”

“Go on,” he said.

“You are offering us a service. Perhaps we should repay you with a service as well.”

Nero nodded thoughtfully. “Possible. The boy has some spirit. Indenture him to me for fifty years.”

Seth looked desperately at Grandma.

Grandma frowned. “I hope to leave the possibility of future business open, therefore I do not wish to leave you feeling slighted. The boy has spirit, but little ability. You would assume the burden of training him as a servant, and find yourself yoked to his incompetence. You would add more value to his life through education than he would to yours through service.”

“Your candor is appreciated,” Nero said, “although you have much to learn about bargaining. I begin to wonder whether you have anything of value to offer. If not, our discussion will not end well.”

“You speak of value,” Grandma said. “I ask, what value is treasure to a wealthy troll? The more riches he possesses, the less each new acquisition improves his total worth. A bar of gold means much more to a pauper than to a king. I also question what value a frail human servant would have to a master infinitely more wise and capable? Consider the situation. We want you to render a service of value to us, something we cannot do for ourselves. You should expect no less.”

“I agree. Take care. Your words are spreading a net at your feet.” A lethal edge was creeping into his voice.

“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.”