Fablehaven2-Rise of the Evening Star

by Brandon Mull

  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 failsafe.

  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.<
br />
  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.

  Go ahead, shine your light, you have no idea the doom

  hanging over you, the imp snarled.

  What do you mean? Kendra asked. Grandma and Seth

  both looked at her strange
ly. The imp was staring at her.

  What? Kendra said.

  No light will stave off the coming darkness, the imp

  said, eyes on Kendra.

  What darkness? Kendra replied.

  The imp made a choking sound and looked astonished.

  Can you understand his speech? Grandma asked in

  wonder.

  Can't you? Kendra said. He's speaking English.

  Grandma put a hand to her lips. No, he's speaking

  Goblush, the tongue of imps and goblins.

  You understand me, Stinkface? the imp tested.

  Is this a joke? Kendra asked.

  Because I understand you, the imp said.

  I've been speaking English, Kendra said.

  Yes, Grandma agreed.

  No, the imp said. Goblush.

  He says I'm speaking Goblush, Kendra said.

  You are, the imp said.

  That must be what he hears, Grandma said.

  You don't understand him? Kendra asked Seth.

  You know how imps sound, Seth said. No words, just

  growls and snorts.

  What are they saying? the imp asked. Tell them I'm

  going to cook their insides on a stick.

  He's saying gross things, Kendra said.

  Say nothing more, Grandma said. Let's get you away

  from here.

  Grandma hurried them down the hall. The imp called

  after them: Kendra, you don't have long to live. Sleep on

  that. I'll be out of here before you know it. I'm going to

  dance on your grave! On all your graves!

  Kendra whirled. Well, you'll be dancing alone, you ugly

  wart! All the rest of your kind got changed back into fairies,

  and they're beautiful and happy. And you're still a deformed

  freak! You should hear them laugh at you! Enjoy your glop!

  Silence. And then the sound of something slamming

  against the cell door, followed by guttural snarling. Knobby

  fingers protruded from the bars of the small window in the

  door. Come along, Grandma said, tugging Kendra's sleeve.

  He's just trying to upset you.

  How can I understand him? Kendra asked. The

  fairies?

  It must be, Grandma said, walking swiftly. We should

  have more answers tomorrow. Your grandfather got through

  to the Sphinx this morning and set up a meeting for tomorrow

  afternoon.

  Me too? Seth asked.

  Both of you, Grandma said. But keep it between us

  and your grandfather. We want everyone else to think we're

  going on an outing into town. They don't know that the

  Sphinx is currently nearby.

  Sure, Kendra said.

  What was the imp saying? Seth asked.