Grip of the Shadow Plague (Page 66)

"Come over to the edge and I’ll hand it to you," taunted an unseen naiad. Several other voices tittered.

"The bowl is their most treasured keepsake," Lena said. "They, we, will never relinquish it. I had best go. My sisters become skittish when I spend too much time near the surface."

Kendra felt tears well in her eyes. "Are you happy, Lena?"

"Happy enough. My sisters have striven to rehabilitate me. The glimpse of Patton was thoughtful, although it made old wounds ache. For the kindness of the gesture, I told you what you wanted. Enjoy what time you have."

Lena sank into the pond. Kendra stared after her, but the pond was deep, and Lena was soon out of sight.

Grandpa approached behind Kendra, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Well done, Kendra. Very well done."

"The withered one grabbed the obnoxious one," observed a voice.

"Push her in!" cried another.

"Let’s get away from here," Kendra said.

Chapter Seventeen

Preparations

The largest of the three tents Dale had brought from the house was the biggest privately owned tent Seth had ever seen. The square monstrosity had broad purple and yellow stripes and a steep, curving roof that sloped up to a high central pole with a banner at the pinnacle. The flap over the wide entrance was propped on rods to form a sizable awning. The smaller tents were also fairly roomy, but their dimensions and coloring were less eccentric.

Seth sat in the entrance of the tent where he, Warren, and Dale would be staying. Grandma and Grandpa were sharing the big one. And Kendra got her own, which Seth did not like, but sadly he could think of no reasonable arguments why the arrangements should be otherwise. He had resolved that if the weather stayed pleasant, he would go sleep in one of the gazebos.

A barefooted dryad approached Grandpa’s tent. Her long, auburn hair hung past her waist, and her robes evoked memories of bright autumn leaves. She crouched to duck through the entrance. How tall did that make her? Seven feet? More?

Seth had seen several interesting characters come and go from Grandpa’s tent over the past hour. But when he had sought admittance, Grandma had shooed him away, promising that he would soon be part of the conversation.

A red fairy with wings like flower petals shot through the air. Seth could not tell whether she had emerged from Grandpa’s tent or had come whizzing over the top from behind. She hovered for a moment not far from Seth before streaking out of view.

Absently uprooting handfuls of grass, Seth resolved not to be excluded any longer. Clearly Grandpa and Grandma preferred to gather news and opinions in a way that wouldallow them to regulate the information, sharing only those facts and ideas deemed suitable for his frail brain. But hearing the unedited details from the actual creatures was half the fun, and whether his grandparents believed it or not,Seth knew he was mature enough to handle anything they could hear. Besides, was it his fault that the walls of a tent were so thin?

He rose and strolled to the back of the yellow and purple tent, sitting in the shade on the lawn with his back to the fabric wall. Straining to listen, he tried to look idle and bored. He heard only the clamor of the satyrs playing on the boardwalk.

"You won’t hear anything," Warren said, coming around the side of the tent.

Seth hopped guiltily to his feet. "I just wanted to relaxin the shade."

"The tent is magically soundproof-a fact you might have known if you’d helped us set it up."

"I’m sorry, I was-"

Warren held up a hand. "If our roles were reversed, I would have been anxious to meet all the creatures here too. Don’t worry, I would have come and nabbed you had we really needed your help. Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"The centaurs weren’t very nice," Seth said.

"It looked like they spoke to you. That alone is a feat."

"What’s with them?"

"In a word, arrogance. They see themselves as the apex of all creation. All else lies beneath their notice."

"Kind of like fairies," Seth said.

"Yes and no. Fairies are vain, and find most of our affairs boring, but whatever they pretend, they care what we think of them. Centaurs neither seek nor appreciate our admiration-if anything, they take it for granted. Unlike fairies, centaurs sincerely perceive all other creatures as inherently lower than themselves."

"They sound like my math teacher," Seth said.

Warren grinned.

Seth noticed some dark fairies floating just beyond the nearest portion of the hedge wall. "This plague got to the centaurs just like it affected everyone else."

"Had it not, I doubt they would display any interest," Warren said. "In fairness, they have some excuse for their haughtiness. Centaurs tend to be brilliant thinkers, gifted artisans, and formidable warriors. Pride itself is their greatest flaw."

"Seth!" Grandma called from the other side of the tent. "Dale! Warren! Kendra! Come counsel with us."

"There you go," Warren said, sounding relieved himself.

"The wait is over."

Part of Seth wondered if Warren had wandered to the back of the tent in order to quietly verify whether it was actually as soundproof as purported. They walked around to the front of the tent, passing the towering dryad with the autumnal robes and an aged satyr with a white goatee and deep laugh lines. Kendra unzipped her tent and came outside. Dale jogged toward them from the direction of the dwarf encampment. Grandma and Grandpa waited at the entrance of the tent and welcomed them inside. Both Stan and Ruth looked tired and careworn.

The tent was so large that Seth half expected to find it furnished, but there were only a pair of rolled sleeping bags in the corner and some gear. They all sat on the floor, which was quite comfortable, thanks to the springy turf underneath. The sunlight filtering through the yellow and purple fabric gave the room an odd cast.

"I have a question," Kendra said. "If the evil brownies stole the register, can’t they just change the rules and let dark creatures come in here?"

"Most of the boundaries and borders of Fablehaven are fixed by the treaty that established the preserve and are therefore unchangeable while the treaty stands," Grandma explained. "The register simply allowed us to regulate access to the preserve as a whole and to dictate which creatures could cross the barriers guarding our home. The magical barriers protecting this area are different from most of the boundaries at Fablehaven. Most boundaries are established to limit access by particular types of creature-there are certain sectors where fairies are allowed, and satyrs, and fog giants, and so forth. Some creatures are granted more area to roam than others, based on how potentially harmful they are to others. Since most of the boundaries are divided according to species, when the light creatures started turning dark, they retained access to the same areas."