Fablehaven: The Complete Series (53 page)

“Sounds good to me,” Seth said. “Have the brownies ever made you brownies?”

Grandma winked. “Where do you think brownies got their name? The little masterminds invented the treat.”

They reached the metal door. Grandma produced a key. “Remember, keep your voices down, and stay away from the cell doors.”

“Do we have to do this?” Kendra asked.

“Are you nuts?” Seth asked. “They’re locked up, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“There is plenty to worry about,” Grandma corrected. “I know you’re just trying to encourage your sister, but never treat the dungeon casually. The creatures down here are imprisoned for a reason. Your grandfather and I bring the keys to the individual cells into the dungeon only when transferring prisoners. That should tell you something.”

“I’m not sure I want to see what’s down here,” Kendra said.

Grandma placed a hand on her shoulder. “Running toward danger is foolhardy. As your brother has hopefully learned. But so is closing your eyes to it. Many perils become less dangerous once you understand their potential hazards.”

“I know,” Kendra said. “Ignorance is no longer a shield, and all that.”

“Good,” Seth said. “That’s settled. Can we go in now?”

Grandma inserted the key and pushed open the door. It squealed a bit. A cool, damp breeze greeted them. “We need to oil those hinges,” Grandma said in a hushed voice, shining the beam of her flashlight down a long corridor. Iron doors with small, barred windows lined the hall. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all made of stone.

They entered and Grandma closed the door behind them. “Why only flashlights?” Seth asked.

Grandma pointed the flashlight beam at a light switch. “From here forward, the dungeon is wired for lighting.” She shone the beam on some naked lightbulbs dangling from the ceiling. “But most of our guests prefer the dark. To be humane, we generally stick to flashlights.”

Grandma walked over to the nearest door. The barred window was about five feet off the ground—low enough for all of them to see into the vacant cell beyond. Grandma pointed to a slot near the base of the door. “The keepers slide in trays of food through the slot.”

“The prisoners never leave their cells?” Kendra asked.

“No,” Grandma said. “And escape is difficult. All of the cells are magically sealed, of course. And we have a few stronger containment areas for more powerful occupants. In the event of a jailbreak, a whisper hound serves as a fail-safe.”

“Whisper hound?” Seth asked.

“It’s not a living creature—just an enchantment,” Grandma said. “Every now and then down here you brush past an icy cold pocket. That is the whisper hound. It becomes quite ferocious if a prisoner breaks out of a cell. I’ve never heard of that happening here.”

“It must be a lot of work feeding the prisoners,” Kendra said.

“Not for us,” Grandma said. “Most of the cells are empty. And we have a pair of keepers, lesser goblins who make and serve the glop and keep things reasonably tidy.”

“Wouldn’t goblins let the prisoners out?” Kendra asked.

Grandma led them down the corridor. “Smart ones might. Our keepers are the type of goblins that have managed dungeons for millennia. Scrawny, servile creatures who live to take and execute orders from their superiors—meaning your grandfather and myself. Besides, they have no keys. They enjoy dwelling in the dark, supervising their dismal domain.”

“I want to see some prisoners,” Seth said.

“Trust me, there are many you don’t want to meet,” Grandma assured him. “Several are quite ancient, transfers from other preserves. Many speak no English. All are dangerous.”

The corridor ended in a T. They could turn left or right. Grandma shone the flashlight both ways. There were more cell doors down both halls. “This hallway is part of a large square. You can go either left or right and end up back here. A few other corridors branch off, but nothing too complex. There are some noteworthy features I want to show you.”

Grandma turned right. Eventually the corridor elbowed to the left. Seth kept trying to peek into the cells they were passing. “Too dark,” he reported quietly to Kendra. Grandma had the light pointed ahead of them.

Kendra peered into one of the windows and saw a wolflike face glaring back at her. What was Seth’s problem? Were his eyes bad? He had just looked into the same cell, reporting he could see nothing. It was dim, but not black. After seeing the wolfman, she did not peek through any of the other barred windows.

Some distance down the hall, Grandma stopped at a door carved out of blood-red wood. “This leads to the Hall of Dread. We don’t ever open it. The prisoners in those cells need no food.” As they continued down the hall, Seth’s eyes lingered on the door.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kendra whispered.

“What?” he said. “I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

The hall angled to the left again. Grandma shone the flashlight into a doorless room where a cauldron bubbled over a low fire. A pair of goblins squinted and held up their long, narrow hands against the light. Short, bony, and greenish, they had beady eyes and batwing ears. One balanced on a three-legged stool, stirring the foul-smelling contents of the cauldron with what looked like an oar. The other grimaced and cringed.

“Introduce yourselves to my grandchildren,” Grandma said, shining the flashlight away from them so it illuminated them indirectly.

“Voorsh,” said the one stirring the cauldron.

“Slaggo,” said the other.

Grandma turned and continued down the corridor. “The food smells awful,” Kendra said.

“Most of our guests rather like glop,” Grandma said. “Humans aren’t normally fond of it.”

“Do any of the prisoners ever get released?” Seth inquired.

“The majority are serving life sentences,” Grandma said. “For many mystical creatures, that is a very long time. Because of the treaty, we have no death penalty for captured enemies. As you may recall, under most circumstances, to kill on Fablehaven property is to destroy all protection afforded you by the treaty and render yourself so vulnerable to retaliation that the only option is to depart and never return. But certain offenders cannot be permitted to roam free. Hence the dungeon. Some lesser offenders are kept here for prescribed periods of time and then released. For example, we have a former groundskeeper imprisoned here for selling batteries to satyrs.”

Seth compressed his lips.

“How long is his sentence?” Kendra prodded.

“Fifty years. By the time he gets out, he’ll be in his eighties.”

Seth stopped walking. “Are you serious?”

Grandma grinned. “No. Kendra mentioned you were planning on doing a little business while you were here.”

“Way to keep a secret!” Seth accused.

“I never said I would,” Kendra replied.

“She was right to tell me,” Grandma said. “She wanted to make sure it wouldn’t endanger you or the preserve. It should be all right, if you keep it simple. Just don’t leave the yard. And don’t let your grandpa know. He’s a purist. Tries hard to keep technology off the grounds.”

As they progressed down the long corridor, they passed a couple of hallways that branched off. At the third, Grandma paused, seemingly deliberating. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

The hall had no cell doors. It was the narrowest passage they had seen. At the end was a circular room, and in the center of the room was a metal hatch in the floor. “This is our oubliette,” Grandma said. “There is a cell at the bottom for a most dangerous prisoner. A jinn.”

“Like a genie?” Kendra asked.

“Yes,” Grandma said.

“Sweet! Does he grant wishes?” Seth asked.

“Theoretically,” Grandma said. “True jinn are not much like the genies you have heard of in stories, though they are the entities through which the myths arose. They are powerful, and some, like our prisoner, are cunning and evil. I have something to confess.”

Kendra and Seth waited quietly.

“Your grandfather and I were very distraught over what happened to Warren. I took to conversing with the jinn, opening the hatch and calling down to him from up here. As our prisoner, his powers are curtailed, so I did not fear he would escape. I became convinced he could cure Warren. And he probably could have. I talked it over with Stan, and we decided it was worth a try.

“I studied all I could on the subject of bargaining with jinn. If you obey certain rules, you can negotiate with a captured jinn, but you have to take care what you say. In order to open negotiations, you must make yourself vulnerable. They get to ask you three questions, which you must answer fully and with absolute truthfulness. After you answer the questions honestly, the jinn will grant you a favor. If you lie, they are set free and gain power over you. If you fail to answer, they remain captive but get to exact a penalty.

“The one question they are not permitted to ask is your given name, which you must never let them learn by other means. Before asking the formal three questions, the jinn can try to persuade you to agree to a bargain other than the traditional answering of three questions. The petitioner can only wait patiently and speak carefully, because every word you utter to a jinn is binding.

“To make a long story short, I entered the oubliette, with Stan standing watch, and the jinn and I negotiated. It makes me angry thinking about it—the jinn was so devious. He could have talked the devil into attending church. I was out of my depth. The jinn haggled and flattered and cleverly sought hints to what questions he should ask. He offered many alternatives to the questions, several of which were tempting compromises, but I detected traps in all his propositions. We exchanged offers and counteroffers. His ultimate goal was clearly to secure his freedom, which I could not allow.

“After our conversation had consumed many hours, and I had revealed more about myself than I liked, he finally quit dickering and proceeded to the questions. Stan had spent days changing passwords and other Fablehaven protocols so that I knew nothing vital to our security. I had thought through all the questions he could pose, and felt prepared to answer anything. He used his first question to inquire what he could ask that I would be unwilling to answer. As you may imagine, I had anticipated a question like this, and had prepared myself to be able to respond that I would freely answer any possible question. But in the moment of his asking, perhaps called to my remembrance by some power that permeated the proceedings, I realized a piece of information that I could not reveal, and so chose not to answer the question. It was all I could do to prevent him from being set free. Consequently, I opened myself to retaliation. He couldn’t kill me, but he did turn me into a chicken.”

“That’s how you became a chicken!” Seth exclaimed.

“Yes,” Grandma said.

“What was the secret you couldn’t reveal?” Seth asked.

“Something I cannot share,” Grandma said.

“The jinn is still down there,” Kendra said softly, gazing at the hatch.

Grandma started walking back the way they had come. Kendra and Seth followed. “The hatch to the oubliette requires three keys and a word to open it,” Grandma said. “At least one living person must know the word that opens the hatch, or the spell is broken and the prisoner freed. If any of the keys are destroyed, the same happens. Otherwise, I would melt the keys and never tell the word to anyone.”

“What’s the word?” Seth asked.

“It’s two words,” Kendra said. “
Dream on.”

“Kendra’s right. Perhaps one day you’ll be ready for that sort of responsibility.” Grandma patted him on the back. “But probably not before I’m long gone.”

They returned to the main corridor and followed it until it turned left again. Grandma stopped at a floor-to-ceiling alcove and shone the flashlight on a strange cabinet. A bit taller than a person, it looked like the kind of box a magician would use to make people vanish. Fashioned out of glossy black wood with gold trim, the cabinet was simple and elegant.

“This is the Quiet Box,” Grandma said. “It is much more durable than any cell in the entire dungeon. It holds only a single prisoner, but it always holds a single prisoner. The only way to get the captive out is to put another in.”

“Who’s in there?” Seth asked.

“We don’t know,” Grandma said. “The Quiet Box was brought here when Fablehaven was founded, and was already occupied. Word has been passed down from caretaker to caretaker never to open it. So we leave it be.”

Grandma proceeded down the hall. Kendra stayed near her, while Seth lingered in front of the Quiet Box. After a moment, he hurried to catch up. Near the final elbow of the hall, the one that would complete the square, Grandma paused at a seemingly random cell door. “Seth, you said you wanted to see a prisoner. There is the imp who injured your grandfather.”

She shone the flashlight through the little window in the door. Kendra and Seth crowded close to see. The imp stared at them coldly, frowning. He stood nearly as tall as Dale. A short pair of antlers jutted from his brow. Leathery skin sheathed long, muscular limbs. Kendra had seen many imps. Too bad this one had not been changed back into a fairy like the others.