Fablehaven

What’s the plan? Seth asked.

Our only chance is clever bargaining. Cliff trolls are cunning and ruthless, but their avarice can be a weakness.

Avarice? Seth asked.

Greed. Cliff trolls are miserly creatures. Treasure hoarders. Cunning negotiators. They relish the thrill of besting an opponent. Whatever agreement we reach, Nero will have to feel like the undisputed victor. I only hope we can determine something he values that we are willing to part with.

What if we can’t? Kendra said.

We must. If we fail to reach an arrangement, Nero will not let us leave unscathed.

They arrived at the brink of the ravine. Kendra placed a hand against the bridge and leaned forward to look down.

It was surprisingly deep. Tenacious vegetation clung to the steep walls. A narrow stream trickled along the bottom.

How do we get down there?

Carefully, Grandma said, taking a seat at the edge of the precipice. Rolling over onto her stomach, she started backing down the slope feet first, looking ridiculous in her robe and slippers. The incline was not completely vertical, but most of the descent was quite steep.

If we fall, we’ll tumble all the way to the bottom, Kendra observed.

A sensible reason not to fall, Grandma agreed, moving carefully downward. Come along, it looks worse than it is. Just find solid handholds and take it one step at a time.

Seth followed Grandma, and then Kendra started down, desperately hugging the side of the ravine, taking tentative steps, hunting blindly for the next place to rest her foot. But Grandma was right. Once she got going, the climb was less difficult than it appeared. There were many handholds, including scrawny bushes with well-anchored stems. After proceeding gingerly at first, she grew in confidence and increased the speed of her descent.

When Kendra reached the bottom, Seth was squatting near a cluster of blossoms at the edge of the stream.

Grandma Sorenson stood nearby. Took you long enough, Seth said.

I was being careful.

I’ve never seen somebody move an inch per hour before.

No time for bickering, Grandma said. Kendra did just fine, Seth. We need to hurry along.

I like the smell of these flowers, Seth said.

Come away from those, Grandma insisted.

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.

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.