Rise of the Evening Star Read online

Page 16

  Grandma, Seth, and Kendra entered the room first. The bartender was shaking his head. No patrons under twenty-one, he said. Then Mr. Lich appeared and pointed toward a stairway in the corner. The demeanor of the bartender changed instantly. My mistake. He turned away.

  Mr. Lich ushered them up the carpeted stairs. At the top, they pushed through a beaded curtain into a room with shaggy, calico carpet, a pair of brown sofas, and four suede beanbag chairs. A heavy ceiling fan spun slowly. A large,164 old-fashioned radio stood in the corner, softly playing bigband music, as if tuned to a station broadcasting out of the past.

  Placing a hand on Grandma's shoulder, Mr. Lich motioned toward the couches. He did the same for Seth.

  Turning to Kendra, he gestured toward a door on the other side of the room. Kendra glanced at Grandma, who nodded.

  Seth flung himself onto a beanbag.

  After crossing to the door, Kendra hesitated. The silent car ride and unusual environment had already made her uncomfortable. The prospect of facing the Sphinx by herself was unsettling. She looked over her shoulder. Both

  Grandma and Mr. Lich motioned for her to enter. Kendra knocked softly. Come inside, said a deep voice, barely loud enough to be heard.

  She opened the door. A red curtain fringed with gold tassels and embroidery blocked her view. She pushed through the velvet curtain into the room beyond. The door closed behind her.

  A black man with short, beaded dreadlocks stood beside a Foosball table. His skin was not merely a shade of brown ----

  it was as close to truly black as Kendra had ever seen. He was of average height and build, and wore a loose gray shirt, cargo pants, and sandals. His handsome face had an ageless quality-he could have been in his thirties or his fifties.

  Kendra glanced around the spacious room. A large aquarium held a vibrant collection of tropical fish.

  Numerous delicate, metallic mobiles dangled from the ceiling.

  She counted at least ten clocks of eccentric designs on165 the walls, tables, and shelves. A sculpture made of garbagestood beside a life-sized wooden carving of a grizzly bear.

  Near the window was an elaborate model of the solar system, intricate planets and moons held in place by wire orbits.

  Would you join me in a game of Foosball? His accent made Kendra think of the Caribbean, although that was not quite right.

  Are you the Sphinx? Kendra asked, bewildered by the unusual request.

  I am.

  Kendra approached the table. Okay, sure.

  Would you prefer cowboys or Indians?

  Spitted on rods were four rows of Indians and four rows of cowboys. The cowboys were all the same, as were the

  Indians. The cowboy had a white hat and a mustache. His hands rested on his holstered six-guns. The Indian had a feathered headdress, and his reddish-brown arms were folded across his bare chest. The feet of each cowboy and Indian were fused together to better strike the ball.

  I'll be Indians, Kendra said. She had played some

  Foosball at the rec center back home. Seth usually beat her two out of three games.

  Let me forewarn you, the Sphinx said, I am not very good. There was a mellow quality to his voice that evoked images of old-time jazz clubs.

  Neither am I, Kendra admitted. My little brother usually beats me.

  Would you like to serve the ball?

  Sure. 167 He gave her the bright yellow ball. She put her left handon the handle that controlled the goalie, dropped the ball into the slot with her right, and started wildly spinning her nearest Indians as it rolled across the center of the table. The

  Sphinx controlled his cowboys with more calm, using quick, precise jabs to counter Kendra's reckless spinning. It was not long before Kendra scored the first goal.

  Well done, he said.

  Kendra marked the goal by sliding a bead along a bar at her end of the table. The Sphinx took the ball out of his goal and served it through the slot. The ball rolled to his men. He passed it up to his front row of cowboys, but the

  Indian goalie blocked the shot. The Indians spun madly, mercilessly pounding the ball at the cowboys until they scored a second goal.

  The Sphinx slid the ball into the slot. Her confidence boosted, Kendra attacked even more aggressively with her

  Indians, and ended up winning the game five goals to two.

  I feel like General Custer, the Sphinx said. Well played. Can I offer you something to drink? Apple juice?

  Cream soda? Chocolate milk, perhaps?

  Cream soda sounds good, Kendra said. She was feeling more at ease after trouncing him.

  Excellent choice, the Sphinx said. He opened a freezer and withdrew a frosty mug with ice in it. From a small refrigerator he removed a brown bottle, uncapped it with a little tool, and poured the yellow soda into the mug. It was surprisingly foamy. Please, sit down. He nodded to a pair of chairs facing each other with a low table in between. 168 Kendra took a seat and the Sphinx handed her the mug. Her first few sips were all froth. When she finally reached the soda, it was a perfect mix of sweet, creamy, cool, and bubbly. Thanks, this is delicious, she said.

  The pleasure is mine. A miniature gong sat on the table between them. The Sphinx tapped it with a small hammer. While the gong vibrates, none can overhear our conversation. I have at least part of the answer you came here seeking. You are fairykind.

  I am very kind?

  Fairy. . . kind, he said, enunciating carefully. It is written all over your countenance, woven into your speech.

  What does that mean?

  It means that you are unique in all the world, Kendra.

  In my long years and many travels, I have never met anyone who was fairykind, though I am familiar with the signs and see them expressed plainly in you. Tell me, did you sample the elixir you prepared for the fairies?

  There was a hypnotic gravity to his voice. Kendra felt like she had to snap out of a trance in order to answer the question. Yes, actually, I did. I was trying to convince them to try it.

  The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, showing dimples in his cheeks. Then perhaps you gave them an incentive, he said. They had to either make you fairykind or watch you die.

  Die?

  The elixir you ingested is fatal to mortals. You would169 have eventually suffered a torturous death had the fairies notchosen to share their magic with you.

  The fairies cured me?

  They changed you, so that you no longer required curing.

  Kendra stared at him. People have said I was fairystruck.

  I have met individuals who were fairystruck. It is a rare and extraordinary occurrence. This is much more rare, and much more extraordinary. You have been made fairykind. I

  do not believe it has happened in more than a thousand years.

  I still don't understand what it means, Kendra said.

  Neither do I, not entirely. The fairies have changed you, adopted you, infused you with their magic. A semblance of the magical energy that naturally dwells in them now dwells in you. The diverse effects that could flow from this are difficult to anticipate.

  That's why I don't need the milk to see anymore?

  And why Warren found himself drawn to you. And why you understand Goblush, along with, I imagine, the other tongues derived from Silvian, the language of the fairies. Your grandfather has been in touch with me regarding the new abilities you have been manifesting. The

  Sphinx leaned forward and tapped the little gong with the hammer again.

  Kendra took another sip from her mug. This morning,

  Coulter was showing us a ball protected by a distracter spell.

  Seth couldn't pick it up; he kept losing focus and getting170 redirected someplace else. But it didn't work on me. I couldgrab it just fine.

  You have apparently developed resistance to mind control.

  Kendra wrinkled her brow. Tanu gave me a potion that made me
feel ashamed, and it worked just fine.

  The potion would have been manipulating your emotions.

  Mind control functions differently. Pay close attention to all the new abilities you discover. Report them to your grandfather. Unless I am mistaken, you are only beginning to scratch the surface.

  The thought was thrilling and terrifying. I'm still a human, right?

  You are something more than human, the Sphinx said.

  But your humanity and your mortality remain intact.

  Are you a human?

  He smiled, his teeth shockingly white in contrast to his black skin. I am an anachronism. A holdover from long-forgotten times. I have seen learning come and go, empires rise and fall. Consider me your guardian angel. I would like to conduct a simple experiment. Do you mind?

  Is it safe?

  Completely. But if I am right, it could provide the answer to why the Society of the Evening Star has shown such interest in you.

  Okay.

  A pair of short copper rods rested on the table. The

  Sphinx picked up one and handed it to Kendra. Hand me the other one, the Sphinx said. After Kendra complied, he171 held his rod in both hands, one at each end of the rod. Hold your rod like me, he instructed.

  Kendra had been holding the slender rod in one hand.

  The instant her other hand touched it, she felt a sensation like she was falling backwards through the chair. And then it passed. And she was inexplicably sitting where the Sphinx had been sitting, and he was seated in her chair. They had instantaneously switched places.

  The Sphinx released one hand from the rod and then grabbed it again. The moment his hand came back into contact with the rod, Kendra felt her insides lurch again, and suddenly she was sitting back in her former chair.

  The Sphinx set the rod down on the table, and Kendra did likewise. We teleported? Kendra asked.

  The rods enable users to trade locations over short distances.

  But that is not what makes what happened unusual.

  Those rods have been dead for decades, useless, drained of all energy. Your touch recharged them.

  Really?

  Fairykind are known to radiate magical energy in a unique way. The world is full of burned-out magical tools.

  Your touch would revitalize them. This amazing ability alone would make you tremendously valuable to the Society of the

  Evening Star. I wonder how they know. An educated guess, perhaps?

  Do they have a lot of things that need recharging?

  The Sphinx tapped the gong again. No doubt, but

  I refer more directly to the five hidden artifacts your grandparents told you about. The ones on the five secret172 preserves. If any of them lie dormant, as is likely, your touchwould reactivate them. All five would have to be functional in order for the Society to achieve their goal of opening

  Zzyzx and freeing the demons. Without your gift, reactivating talismans of such monumental power would be most difficult.

  Here's what I don't get, Kendra said. Why have keys to the prison? Why not make a demon prison without keys?

  The Sphinx nodded as if he approved of the question.

  There is a fundamental principle of magic that applies to many other things as well: Everything with a beginning has an ending. Any magic that can be done, can be undone.

  Anything you can make, can be unmade. In other words, any prison you can create, can be destroyed. Any lock can be broken. To construct an impenetrable prison is impossible.

  Those who have tried have invariably failed. The magic becomes unstable and unravels. If it has a beginning, it must have an end.

  The wise learned that rather than attempting to make a prison impenetrable, they should focus on making it extraordinarily complicated to open. The strongest prisons, like

  Zzyzx, were crafted by those who understood that the goal was to make them nearly impenetrable, as close to perfect as possible without crossing the line. Because there is a way to open Zzyzx, the magic that holds the demons bound remains potent. The principle sounds simple, although the details become quite complicated.

  Kendra shifted in her seat. So if the Society just173 destroyed the keys, would that unravel the magic and openthe prison?

  Nimble thinking, the Sphinx said, dark eyes twinkling.

  Three problems. First, the keys are virtually indestructible-note that I say virtually; they were made by the same experts who created the prison. Second, if my research is correct, a fail-safe would cause any destroyed key to be reconstituted in a different form in an unpredictable location, and that process could go on almost indefinitely.

  And third, if the Society were somehow to free the demons by permanently destroying an artifact, they would become victims like the rest of humanity. The Society must parley with the demons before their release in order to obtain any measure of security, which means they must open the prison properly rather than simply undermine the magic that upholds it.

  Kendra drank the last of her cream soda, ice tumbling against her lips. So they can't succeed without the artifacts.

  Therefore we must keep the artifacts from them. Which is easier said than done. One of the great virtues of the

  Society is patience. They make no rash moves. They research and plan and prepare. They wait for the ideal opportunities. They understand that they have an unlimited amount of time in which to succeed. To them, it is the same to achieve their aims in a thousand years as it would be to triumph tomorrow. Patience mimics the power of infinity.

  And nobody can win a staring contest with infinity. No matter how long you last, infinity is just getting started. 174 But they aren't infinity, Kendra said. The Sphinx blinked. True. And so we attempt to equal their patience and diligence. We do our best to stay far ahead of them. Part of that means moving an artifact once they learn its location, as we fear has happened with the artifact at Fablehaven. Otherwise, somehow, sometime, they will exploit a mistake and lay hands on it.

  Grandpa mentioned another endangered artifact, in

  Brazil.

  Some of my best people are working on it. I believe the artifact remains on the fallen preserve, and I believe we will retrieve it first. He threw up his hands. If the Society manages to recover it, we will have to steal it back.

  The Sphinx gazed at Kendra with fathomless eyes.

  Kendra looked away. What letter of mine did you read? he finally asked.

  Letter?

  All of my letters carry enchantments. They leave a mark upon those who read them surreptitiously. You bear the mark.