Fablehaven I (18 page)

What about Muriel? Kendra asked. If she unties that

last knot, will she be free?

She was originally bound by thirteen knots, Grandpa

said. She can loosen none on her own, though it doesn’t

seem to stop her from trying. But other mortals can undo

the knots by asking a favor and blowing on them. Powerful

magic holds the knot in place. When released, Muriel can

channel that magic into granting the favor.

So if you ever need her help again…

I will look elsewhere, Grandpa said. I never wanted

her to get down to a single knot. Freeing her is not an

option.

I’m sorry I ended up helping her, Seth said.

Did you learn anything from the ordeal? Grandpa

asked.

Seth lowered his head. I feel really bad about the fairy.

She didn’t deserve what happened to her. Grandpa made

no response, and Seth kept studying his shoes. I shouldn’t

have messed around with magical creatures, he finally

admitted.

Grandpa placed a hand on his shoulder. I know you

meant no harm. Around here, what you don’t know can

hurt you. And others. If you have learned to be more careful

and compassionate in the future, and to show greater

respect for the inhabitants of this preserve, then at least

some good came of all this.

I learned something too, Kendra said. Humans and

walruses should never mix.

Hugo

The triangular wooden board rested on Kendra’s lap.

She studied the pegs, planning her next jump. Beside

her, Lena gently tilted back and forth on a rocker, watching

the moon rise. From the porch, only a few fairies could

be seen gliding around the garden. Fireflies twinkled among

them in the silver moonlight.

Not many fairies out tonight, Kendra said.

It may be some time before the fairies return in force

to our gardens, Lena said.

Can’t you explain everything to them?

Lena chuckled. They would listen to your grandfather

before they would ever heed me.

Weren’t you sort of one of them?

That is the problem. Watch. Lena closed her eyes

and began to sing softly. Her high, trilling voice gave life

to a wistful melody. Several fairies darted over from the garden,

hovering around her in a loose semicircle, interrupting

the warbling tune with fervent chirping.

Lena quit singing and said something in an unintelligible

language. The fairies chirped back. Lena made a

final remark, and the fairies flew away.

What were they saying? Kendra asked.

They told me I should be ashamed to sing a naiadic

tune, Lena replied. They detest reminders that I was once

a nymph, especially if those reminders imply that I am at

peace with my decision.

They acted pretty upset.

Much of their time is spent mocking mortals. Any

time one of us crosses over to mortality, it makes the others

wonder what they might be missing. Especially if we appear

content. They ridicule me mercilessly.

You don’t let it get to you?

Not really. They do know how to needle me. They

tease me about growing old-my hair, my wrinkles. They

ask how I will enjoy being buried in a box. Lena frowned,

gazing thoughtfully into the night. I felt my age today

when you called for help.

What do you mean? Kendra jumped a peg on the triangular

wooden board.

I tried to rush to your aid, but ended up sprawled on

the kitchen floor. Your grandfather reached your side before

I did, and he is no athlete.

It wasn’t your fault.

In my youth I would have been there in a flash. I used

to be handy in an emergency. Now I come hobbling to the

rescue.

You still get around great. Kendra was running out of

moves. She had already stranded a peg.

Lena shook her head. I would not last a minute on the

trapeze or the tightrope. Once I played on them with facile

agility. The curse of mortality. You spend the first portion

of your life learning, growing stronger, more capable. And

then, through no fault of your own, your body begins to

fail. You regress. Strong limbs become feeble, keen senses

grow dull, hardy constitutions deteriorate. Beauty withers.

Organs quit. You remember yourself in your prime, and

wonder where that person went. As your wisdom and experience

are peaking, your traitorous body becomes a prison.

Kendra had no moves left on her perforated board.

Three pegs remained. I never thought of it that way.

Lena took the board from Kendra and began setting up

the pegs. In their youth, mortals behave more like

nymphs. Adulthood seems impossibly distant, let alone the

enfeeblement of old age. But ponderously, inevitably, it

overtakes you. I find it a frustrating, humbling, infuriating

experience.

When we talked before, you said you would not

change your decision, Kendra reminded her.

True, given the opportunity, I would choose Patton

every time. And now that I have experienced mortality, I

do not imagine I could be content with my former life. But

the pleasures of mortality, the thrills of living, come with a

price. Pain, illness, the decline of age, the loss of loved

ones-those things I could do without.

The pegs were set up. Lena began jumping them. I am

impressed by how glibly most mortals confront the debilitation

of the body. Patton. Your grandparents. Many others.

They just accept it. I have always feared aging. The

inevitability of it haunts me. Ever since I abandoned the

pond, the prospect of death has been a menacing shadow

in the back of my mind.

She jumped the final peg, leaving only one. Kendra

had seen her do it before, but had not yet succeeded in

copying her moves.

Lena sighed softly. Because of my nature, I may have

to endure old age for decades longer than regular human

beings. The humiliating finale to the mortal condition.

At least you’re a peg-jumping genius, Kendra said.

Lena smiled. The solace of my winter years.

You can still paint, and cook, and do all sorts of

things.

I do not mean to complain. These are not problems to

share with young minds.

It’s okay. You aren’t scaring me. You’re right, I can’t

really picture being grown up. Part of me wonders if high

school will ever really happen. Sometimes I think maybe

I’ll die young.

The door to the house opened, and Grandpa’s head

poked out. Kendra, I need to have some words with you

and Seth.

Okay, Grandpa.

Come to the study.

Lena stood, motioning for Kendra to hurry along.

Kendra entered the house and followed Grandpa into the

study. Seth was already seated in one of the oversized

chairs, drumming his fingers on the armrest. Kendra

claimed the other one while Grandpa settled in behind his

desk.

The day after tomorrow is June twenty-first, Grandpa

said. Do either of you know the significance of that date?

Kendra and Seth shared a glance. Your birthday? Seth

attempted.

The summer solstice, Grandpa said. The longest day

of the year. The night before is a holiday of riotous abandon

for the whimsical creatures of Fablehaven. Four nights

a year, the boundaries that define where different entities

can venture dissolve. These nights of revelry are essential

to maintaining the segregation that normally prevails here.

On Midsummer Eve, the only limits to where any creature

can roam and work mischief are the walls of this house.

Unless invited, they cannot enter.

Midsummer Eve is tomorrow night? Seth said.

I did not want to leave you time to fret over it. As

long as you obey my instructions, the night will pass without

incident. It will be loud, but you will be safe.

What other days do they run wild? Kendra asked.

The winter solstice and the two equinoxes. Midsummer

Eve tends to be the rowdiest of them all.

Can we watch out the windows? Seth asked eagerly.

No, Grandpa said. Nor would you enjoy what you

saw. On the festival nights, nightmares take shape and

prowl the yard. Ancient entities of supreme evil patrol the

darkness in search of prey. You will be in bed at sundown.

You will wear earplugs. And you will not arise until sunrise

dispels the horrors of the night.

Should we sleep in your room? Kendra asked.

The attic playroom is the safest place in the house.

Extra protections have been placed on it as a sanctuary for

children. Even if, by some misfortune, unsavory creatures

entered the house, your room would remain secure.

Has anything ever gotten into the house? Kendra

asked.

Nothing unwanted has breached these homestead

walls, Grandpa said. Still, we can never be too careful.

Tomorrow you will help prepare some defenses to afford us

an extra layer of protection. Because of the recent uproar

with the fairies, I fear this could be a particularly chaotic

Midsummer Eve,

Has anyone ever died here? Seth asked. On this

property, I mean?

We should save that topic for another time, Grandpa

said, standing up.

That one guy changed into dandelion seeds, Kendra

said.

Anybody else? Seth insisted.

Grandpa regarded them soberly for a moment. As you

are learning, these preserves are hazardous places.

Accidents have occurred in the past. Those accidents generally

happen to people who venture where they do not

belong or tamper with matters beyond their understanding.

If you adhere to my rules, you should have nothing to

worry about.

The sun had not yet risen far above the horizon as Seth

and Dale walked along the rutted lane that ran away from

the barn. Seth had never particularly noticed the weedy

cart track. The lane began on the far side of the barn and

led into the woods. After meandering for some time

beneath the trees, the track continued across an expansive

meadow.

Overhead, only a few wispy clouds interrupted the

bright blue sky. Dale walked briskly, forcing Seth to hustle

in order to keep up. Seth was already getting sweaty. The

warm day promised to be hot by noon.

Seth kept watch for interesting creatures. He spotted

birds, squirrels, and rabbits in the meadow, but saw nothing

supernatural.

Where are all the magical animals? Seth asked.

This is the calm before the storm, Dale said. I expect

most of them are resting up for tonight.

What sort of monsters will be out tonight?

Stan warned that you might try to pry information out

of me. Best not to be so curious about those kinds of

things.

Not telling me is what makes me curious!