by Scott Mebus
“This is impossible,” Alexa said, shaking her head. “Minuit is dead!”
“You don’t know everything you think you do, child,” a voice said from behind the door. Everyone let out a shout as they jumped back in shock. Lincoln threw closed the door to reveal an easy chair in a hidden corner. Sitting in the easy chair was a woman in a crisp business suit who looked an awful lot like the Fortune Teller. Only this version wasn’t fat and gross, nor was she tall and beautiful. She looked middle-aged, of average height and build—wholly unremarkable. But she didn’t feel unremarkable. In fact, she felt very powerful.
“You!” Rory said, his face white. “What are you doing here? Wait a minute, is this the third door?”
“The third door is not what you think it is,” the Fortune Teller said, leaning back in her chair comfortably. “The first two doors are secrets to be uncovered. But the last door finds you. The last door is not where you go to ask, it is where you go to be asked.”
“What are you talking about?” Nicholas asked. “Is Minuit dead or not?”
“That is not for me to say,” the Fortune Teller said. “I am here to give you a gift and ask a favor.”
She handed Rory a sheaf of papers, the top of which read Four. Rory looked like he wanted to punch someone.
“You had it the whole time! Why did you send us on this wild-goose chase?”
“It was anything but,” the Fortune Teller said, impervious to Rory’s anger. “You asked me your question and I gave you the path to follow to reach your answer. Everything you’ve done needed to happen in order for you to get to this place. And now the journey culminates with this package, which Adriaen gave to me knowing full well that he would never be able to return to me to retrieve it.”
“You’re making my head hurt, lady,” Simon complained.
“You’re a god now, aren’t you?” the Fortune Teller shot back. “Try to show a little backbone.”
“So you came to us to give us the journal,” Rory asked, still confused.
“In part,” the Fortune Teller said. “But I am also here to ask something of you.”
“What?” Nicholas asked, suspicious.
“Read,” the Fortune Teller instructed them. “Then we will talk.”
Though Bridget could see the questions burning in her brother’s eyes, he held his tongue, picking up the journal and flipping the page.
The journey to our destination began at the mouth of a wellhidden cave by the southern shore of the Collect Pond, not far north of the Commons. Already, the pond that held the drinking water for all of Manhattan was beginning to be polluted— the color was no longer the clean blue I remembered, but a rather dirty green. I was very much surprised to find that Kieft was not leading the way. Instead, the enigmatic Henry took the point position, lighting a torch and stepping first into the dark cave. Kieft and I followed, each eyeing the other warily as we walked into the black.
Soon the light of day disappeared behind us, and only the flickering of our torches brightened the gloom. After we’d walked through the dark for a bit, we came to a dead end. But Henry was not dismayed. He reached behind a strange symbol, which looked like the Munsee sign for danger, and pulled at a small rock. Suddenly the tunnel began to shake as rocks fell from the ceiling. We crouched down, trying feebly to protect ourselves. When the shaking ceased, we lifted our heads and saw, to our surprise, that the dead end had opened up into another tunnel. Henry strode forward without a second thought and we followed.
This new tunnel felt far older. More Munsee sigils lined the rough rock walls, but I had never seen their like. I had no idea what message was being conveyed, but the quick, almost frightened-looking lines made me nervous. There was something down here more powerful than mere gods, I felt. What it could be, I had no idea.
I do not know how long we journeyed down that ancient tunnel, but soon we began to hear strange sounds all around us. Laughter and the bubbling cries of newborn babes, the rattle of spears and the death moans of old men. Entire lives were being lived as we walked, civilizations rising and falling just beyond the walls of our tunnel, and the sounds grew louder the deeper we went. We began to pass white sticks on the floor of the tunnel—with a start I realized they were bones. Who had died here? I was not afraid of death, myself, as it had already happened to me once. But I could not imagine what the fear would be like for a mortal, hearing the sounds of death all around, unable to escape the knowledge that he, too, would die. I noticed that Henry was staggering as he walked. He touched his forehead, as if needing reassurance. I saw that a reddish-brown concoction had been daubed there. I asked him if it made him invisible.
“There is nothing that can make me invisible to what surrounds us here,” he told me, miserable. “But it keeps them at bay.”
“Keeps who at bay?” I asked him, looking around the tunnel, bare but for the three of us. Kieft wasn’t even looking at us—his black eyes were focused ahead.
“They are not your concern,” Henry said stiffly. “You are beyond them. I’ll be fine. Just please, leave me be.”
And he pushed on, relentless.
Gradually, I noticed a roaring in the distance. We turned a corner and came upon a rushing underground stream. I searched for some sign of how to proceed, but I could see nothing but the rapids.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked Henry. Kieft stepped up behind me and whispered in my ear.
“We go down.” And he pushed me, hard, into the river. I thought I heard a shout far behind me as the water sucked me down. I could not see a thing as I was carried along, and I struggled to no avail to control my progress. But I could do nothing to save myself from what came next. The water pushed me out, over a ledge, and then I was falling.
I fell for a long time. The water fell with me—I could feel it on my skin moving as I tumbled. Everything was black around me. I had never felt more frightened in my life, not even on the day I died. I could not stop falling. And then my feet hit a floor of water, hard but yielding, and I splashed down into an underground lake, sinking all the way to the bottom. It took me a moment to come to my senses, but then I kicked, hard, pushing myself to the surface. I burst up into the air, violently, gasping with terror. My gasps of fear soon changed, however, to gasps of wonder.
I was floating in a lake inside a huge underground cavern, large enough to hold the entire Manhattan colony ten times over. The water danced all around me, sparkling under the bright twinkle of the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. The ceiling, far above me, glittered with millions of tiny lights, like stars, only brighter, and their glow sent dazzling reflections bouncing off the underground lake onto the jagged walls that lined the shore. I felt as if I’d landed inside a diamond. It made my heart weep to see it.
A splash behind me brought me to my senses. A hole in the ceiling poured water down into the lake—it was through this hole that I had fallen. The splash proved to be Kieft, who soon broke to the surface not far from me. I could not see Henry, and I had my doubts about whether any mortal, no matter their power, could survive such a plummet. I swam for the nearest shore, giving Henry up for dead.
I pulled myself onto soft, dark sand, falling back to collect my wits. Kieft emerged not two feet from me, but to my surprise, he immediately began scrambling for the wall. I scanned the lake, but I could see nothing to be frightened of. I spied a body floating in the water near me. I ran over and pulled it out—it was Henry, and he was deathly pale. I knew he was dead, which was why I was so surprised when he suddenly coughed, turning to vomit water onto the ground. He staggered to his feet, looking as near to death as one can without actually crossing over, but instead of joy at being alive, he looked resigned.
“How did you survive that?” I asked him. He gave me a pained look that I did not understand.
“That was not the part of the journey I was worried about,” he told me.
“Then what was?” I asked. Instead of answering me, he glanced over my shoulder and blanched.
&nbs
p; “Run for the wall!” he yelled at me, and turned to follow his own advice. I spun to see what had frightened him so. At first I could see nothing. But then I noticed a ripple in the water. Something was coming . . . something big. I only had time to see a flash of white before the water exploded and a creature, as large as a warship, burst out of the lake. I could not make out its form, but I could see its rows and rows of teeth as its jaws opened wide, about to clamp down on me. I would have been swallowed right then and there if Henry hadn’t grabbed my belt and pulled me away. The jaws slammed shut a foot from my face, sending a blast of air blowing my hair back like a hurricane wind.
I still could not make out the form of the thing—it was too big and too close. As I staggered back, I heard Kieft yelling at Henry.
“Why did you save him?” he screamed. “He was our sacrifice!”
Henry didn’t reply, and I had no time to ask him for an explanation as the huge white jaws before me came biting back. I backed up again, narrowly missing being crushed. But suddenly I slammed into a wall. Turning, I saw nothing behind me. Yet I could not move any farther back. Something was holding me in place. I have since suspected that Kieft was working his magic to trap me, making certain I would not survive, but at the time I only knew I could not escape from the monster. I spun back to face the creature, realizing that I had run out of room and run out of time. I closed my eyes, waiting for oblivion.
“Adriaen!” a voice screamed. My eyes flew open and there she was. Pulling herself out of the water like a ghost. My Marta, my beautiful wife, who must have followed me down to the gates of hell. She had never trusted Kieft, she was right not to, and she never was one to ignore her fears. I can still see her, dripping from her plunge into the lake, running toward me with fear in her eyes.
“Marta, no!” I screamed, my heart stopping.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, you will protect our people—she told me so,” she cried, reaching my side to give me a kiss. I can still feel her lips on mine, wet with the lake water and my tears, loving me and saying good-bye. I reached out to pull her from harm’s way, but she danced out of my reach, turning to the great creature before us, and leaping, willingly, into its maw.
The scream that ripped from my body as my wife, my love, disappeared forever into the beast’s belly, tore part of my soul from my body, I know it. I have never felt whole again since. I can only approach that state when I see my Marta in Alexa’s face. Oh, my wife! What was promised to you that you would do such a thing? I fear I will never know the answer.
I dropped to the ground, crying, even as the jaws retreated back into the water. Kieft came up to my side.
“That was supposed to be you,” he told me, turning the screw. I felt no surprise. Of course, he meant to sacrifice me. He watched the water with a puzzled expression, as if he couldn’t understand how anyone could ever do something so selfless, so loving. Henry came up behind me, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder.
“Come, it isn’t far,” he said, and I could hear the sympathy in his voice. But I could not move, not yet. I sat still, shaking with grief, and tried to understand how I could have lost so much so quickly. I’ll never understand it. But in time, I came to see that without Marta’s sacrifice, our bargain would have been made completely by Kieft. And that would have been a disaster. It is small solace, true, but it is something.
Alexa was crying, and Nicholas reached out to comfort her. Everyone had tears running down their cheeks at the sad tale except for the Fortune Teller (and Bridget herself, of course), who watched them all with eyes Bridget couldn’t read.
“I never knew . . . ” Alexa sobbed. “Father always told me she died in an accident, protecting me. But that . . . that’s horrible.”
“Nonsense,” the Fortune Teller said brusquely. “Someone had to be sacrificed. Kieft meant it to be your father. But your mother saved him, and if he hadn’t given his word to the Agreement, who knows what would have come to pass? Especially since Kieft has proven so faithless–” Here she snarled, showing emotion for the first time.
“Who are you, really?” Nicholas asked, peering at her intently as if trying to see behind her skin.
“I am the Fortune Teller,” she replied, straightening her pressed blazer. “Here is my request of you. Kieft’s treasure lies in that cavern. He sent it down to a place where no one could retrieve it. But you will find it.”
“How?” Rory asked, looking overwhelmed. “It sounds like it’s in the middle of the earth! And that fall? It’ll kill us for sure—or me, at least. How are we supposed to do this?”
“Just follow the path,” the Fortune Teller advised him. “The signposts are all there. Remember, your father—for, as you guessed, Henry is your father—once made his way down there, all by himself, so a mortal can survive. If you follow in his footsteps, you will surely find Kieft’s treasure. Now, here is my request of you. When you find Kieft’s treasure, you must take only one thing away with you. The rest stays, forever.”
“Hey, there’s probably some good stuff down there!” Simon declared.
“It was never yours to take,” the Fortune Teller told him.
“What about my people’s lost magic?” Soka asked. “Kieft has it all written down!”
“You do not need it,” the Fortune Teller said. “I promise you.”
“I will try to memorize what I can, then,” Soka muttered to herself.
Bridget didn’t like this. Who knew what they’d find in Kieft’s treasure, and if it would contain the spell to save their mother. The Fortune Teller was staring at her brother, as if his answer was the only one that mattered.
“You’re asking me to trust you?” Rory asked. “How do I know that I won’t have to make some awful choice between the city and my mom? I had to make that kind of choice already, and it hurt like hell.” Bridget knew he was talking about the time when Hex the magician forced him to choose between her life and a war between Munsees and gods by opening the Trap too soon. She didn’t know if she could make that kind of tough decision.
“You’ve trusted me so far,” the Fortune Teller answered. “Remember, I’m giving you what you asked for.”
“Is this really what I asked for?” Rory said, then sighed. “Fine. You’ve got a deal.” He stuck out his hand and the Fortune Teller gave it a brisk shake. “So what will you give us in return for following your orders?”
“I will give you two things,” the Fortune Teller said. “One now, and one when you have kept your promise.”
“What will you give me now?”
“Advice,” the Fortune Teller said. “To help you survive the journey. First—Munsee magic will protect you on your journey. Without it, you are doomed. And second—know that the guardian does not require a life to be sated. It just requires a sacrifice.”
“Why do you always have to be so cryptic?” Lincoln said, looking cross. “Why not just tell the kid exactly what he needs to do?”
“Because that is what is required,” the Fortune Teller told him. “It must come from you, Rory. Otherwise, she will not listen.”
“Who won’t listen?” Bridget asked, but the Fortune Teller closed her mouth, unwilling to speak further. Rory nodded, accepting the advice he’d been given.
“It doesn’t matter what you tell me or don’t tell me,” he said. “Nothing you say could scare me away. If this is the only way to stop Kieft and save my mother, I’m going to do it, even if it kills me.”
It chilled Bridget to hear him talk this way, and she promised herself, silently, that her brother would never have to go that far. If anyone made a sacrifice to save their mother, it would be her. After all, she thought, scratching her paper arm ruefully, she’d never feel it . . .
They hurried back down the halls, past the rooms of the gods. Alexa led the way, speaking over her shoulder as they ran.
“Something about that cave sounds familiar to me,” she said. “I want to check the map room.”
“What’s the map room?” Rory
asked Lincoln, who was nearest him.
“It’s pretty cool,” Lincoln replied. “See, it’s this map in a room.” He smirked.
“Oh,” Rory said. “I should have guessed that.”
Although he wasn’t paying much attention to the rooms they raced by on their way out, he could have sworn he heard the thud of a door closing as they passed one section. He pulled up, looking around. Two doors faced each other in this part of the hall, and while one was dead and dark, light was emanating from beneath the door of the other. His heart jolted as a shadow slid across the light under the door. Someone was on the other side! His first instinct was to run, but something made him glance at the name above the door. What he saw there made his heart thud even louder.
BURR.
This was Aaron Burr’s room. Hex’s room. The fallen god who had tricked him into helping him break into Tobias’s bank, who had stolen Bridget’s soul, who had set Rory’s feet onto this path in the first place. He’d been arrested, held under lock and key in Peter Stuyvesant’s barn until the burning of the Stuyvesant farm, during which Burr disappeared. And if this was his room, then was that shadow . . . ?
“What are you doing?” Bridget’s voice said loudly in his ear. He jumped a foot in the air, turning quickly to shush her. Everyone was behind her, curious as to why he’d stopped. But when Nicholas saw the name over the door, his face grew grim.
“He wouldn’t . . .” Nicholas mused. “He’s fallen. It would take unbelievable hubris to claim your room when you’ve been cast out.”
“Desperate people do desperate things,” Alexa said thoughtfully. “What should we do?”
“Go in!” Lincoln whispered fiercely. “We can take him!”
“We don’t have time,” Alexa maintained.
“Yeah,” Bridget agreed. “If we’re going to get to Kieft’s treasure in time, we’ve got to . . .” She never finished her sentence, as Nicholas quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. But it was too late. The door to Burr’s room flew open, revealing the disheveled, dirty, and most of all, hungry face of Aaron Burr.
