The sphinx gave a sage nod. "I surround the world, yet I dwell within a thimble. I am outside of--"

"You are space," Bracken interrupted.

The sphinx compressed her lips and gave him a hard stare. She spoke again. "In the morning I walk on four--"

"Stages of a man's life," Kendra blurted. All eyes turned to her. "It's a famous one," she apologized. "In the morning I walk on four legs, in the afternoon on two, in the evening on three--the more legs I have, the weaker I am. Something like that."

The sphinx was fuming.

"Knock, knock," Warren said. The sphinx glared at him.

"Don't take offense," Bracken placated, stepping in front of Warren diplomatically. "We have had a taxing day. There are three of us, we answered three riddles. May we pass?" He bowed politely.

"You may pass," the sphinx allowed, serenity returning.

"Say no more," Bracken whispered to Warren.

Warren struggled against a grin.

Kendra felt like the eyes of the sphinx were boring into her back as they passed her and walked to the dome. Bracken led them to a hatch in the side that had a large keyhole. As Kendra studied the hatch, she recalled that the Fairy Queen had recently destroyed three of her shrines. What if this was one of the shrines she had eliminated? It seemed a likely candidate since it was sealed.

Deciding she would have an answer to her concern soon enough, Kendra inserted her rod, jiggled it until it caught, and then twisted. The lock clicked, and Warren pulled the hatch open.

Fairies crowded toward the open portal from all directions. Bracken stepped through first, followed by Kendra, who felt fairies brushing past her as she entered. The dome cut out all daylight except what filtered in through the hatchway, but the inside of the dome was also lit by scores of glowing fairies and the steady radiance of a luminescent pond. Kendra gazed at the vibrant variety of fairies, wondering how many years they had been trapped in here. As Warren came through the hatchway, more fairies poured in, twittering at long-lost friends.

The oblong pond took up nearly a quarter of the room. Water trickled down from the top of a conical island in the center of the pond. Five terraced mounds surrounded the glassy water, blooming with exotic flowers despite the lack of sunlight. From one side of the pond, white stepping-stones created a somewhat precarious walkway from the shore to the island.

"This is where I sit on the sidelines," Warren said. "I'll stay back and guard the hatch."

"Fair enough," Bracken said. He led Kendra over to the stepping-stones, lightly leaping to the first, which Kendra thought had been placed a little too far from the shore. He stepped to the next stone and waited for Kendra. Not wanting to look scared, and trying not to think about what guardians might lurk beneath the surface of the glowing water, Kendra sprang to the first stone. It was slick, but she landed well. Bracken reached back to steady her. They proceeded along the rest of the stones without difficulty and reached the steep, grassy shore of the island.

Bracken led the way around to the back of the island. As they went, Kendra saw that water actually trickled down from the top of the island along three different routes. The drizzling flow of water on the far side of the island collected in a pool halfway up the back slope. Beside the pool stood a tiny figurine of a fairy beside a bronze bowl engraved with delicate patterns.

Kendra started toward the pool, then paused to look back at Bracken, who had halted farther down the slope. He met her eyes. "It has been a long time since I last spoke with the Fairy Queen." He clenched his jaw, fingers fidgeting, eyes shining. Was he nervous?

"I'm sure she'll be happy to see us," Kendra encouraged. "I feel really good about this."

"Of course," he said, striding forward, head erect.

They knelt together in front of the fairy figurine. The water in the pool next to the figurine did not glow, although it struck Kendra as abnormally reflective. A breeze stirred the still air, and Kendra smelled citrus fruit, sand, sap, jasmine, and honeysuckle.

Bracken spoke first, aloud, but seemingly also with his mind. "Greetings, your majesty. It is I, Bracken the hornless unicorn, also known by other titles. I am accompanied by Kendra Sorenson."

A feeling of pure joy flooded over Kendra, clearly emanating from the Fairy Queen. How did you reach this shrine? Kendra had never before sensed surprise from the Fairy Queen.

"We had aid from the Sphinx," Bracken replied. "The demon Graulas brought him the remaining artifacts, and is in the process of usurping his authority. First things first. Could you please vouch for my trustworthiness to Kendra?"

A potent emotion of heartbreaking love washed over Kendra. Bracken is among the most trusted of all my servants. I have deeply missed his presence. The feeling of love abruptly hardened into chastisement. Her next words were directed to Bracken. I warned you not to travel to this preserve.

"And I spent long years in a dungeon as payment for my disobedience," Bracken replied. "Forgive me, your majesty, I took the risk in your service."

You should come home, the Fairy Queen pressed. A powerful feeling of longing accompanied the statement. Suddenly Kendra felt like she was eavesdropping on something intensely private. Bracken shot her a glance, as if guessing her feelings.

"Necessity dictates otherwise," Bracken said. "I still have much work to do, your majesty. Nearly in a position to open Zzyzx, the Society is now run directly by demons. I must oppose them while there remains any chance to thwart their designs. Perhaps we can converse privately in a moment. First, Kendra has a favor to ask."

"Me?" Kendra exclaimed, glancing at Bracken uncomfortably. "Seems like you have this handled."

"Go ahead," he urged.

Kendra cleared her throat, feeling self-conscious. Her conversations with the Fairy Queen had always been unobserved. To make matters worse, it was clear that Bracken had a long, close relationship with her. Shouldn't he be the one making requests? "We are desperate for a way out of Living Mirage. Warren is with us too."

You have not transformed any of my astrids yet. I have tried to send them in your direction. I lost track of you when you came to this accursed preserve. No astrids are currently near. Yet even without my warriors, I believe I have a solution to your dilemma. It will require a little time.

"Thank you, your majesty," Kendra said.

Bracken winked at her. "Could you give me a few minutes alone with her? There are a few unicorn-type matters I would like to discuss."

"Sure," Kendra said, standing, the dismissal making her even more uncomfortable.

"I'm glad you were here for this much," Bracken assured her. "Hopefully you now have good reason to trust me. Stay here on the island. We'll walk back together."

Feeling a little better, Kendra strolled down the slope to the edge of the radiant water. She could not help wondering what Bracken and the Fairy Queen were discussing. Was she angry at him for getting captured? Did they simply need to catch up? What was their relationship? Did the Fairy Queen have as big a crush on him as the other fairies seemed to? Would the Fairy Queen put more pressure on him to come to her realm? Kendra figured if any creature belonged in an unspoiled realm of purity, it would be a unicorn.

But it was hard to think of Bracken as a unicorn. He seemed way too human. He just felt like a really cool friend. Kendra looked up the slope, watching him as he knelt beside the little pool, his back to her. What a relief to know she could trust him! He was right that an endorsement from the Fairy Queen allowed Kendra to lay aside her concerns about his legitimacy. After so many betrayals, it felt heavenly to know there was somebody she could truly count on.

After some time, Bracken came down the slope. He looked rejuvenated.

"You're all smiles," Kendra said.

"I missed that complete form of communication the Fairy Queen can provide," Bracken said. "Mind to mind, heart to heart. And I missed her. She is very important to me. Since her consort fell, she has borne a very heavy burden alone."

"What kind of help do you think she'll send?" Kendra asked.

"I'll be curious to see," he responded vaguely. "Let's go tell Warren help is on the way."

Chapter 17 Preparations

Newel and Doren arrived at the manor just as Seth was deciding they wouldn't show. Seth had waited on the porch for nearly an hour after contacting Bracken, his confidence steadily waning. He was on the verge of asking Hugo to take him back to the main house when the satyrs came scampering across the unkempt lawn. Each had a pack over his shoulder. Newel wore a dented helm. Doren had a bow.

"The word is abroad that Graulas has claimed this house," Newel said by way of greeting.

"We were hoping it was a hoax," Doren added. "No trick," Seth said loudly. "I was asked to claim it on his behalf." He lowered his voice. "Please don't yell about my hoaxes where any imp can hear."

"Right," Newel said with a knowing wink. He cupped a hand beside his mouth. "We had better clear out of here before the dark master of this haunted abode returns!"

"You don't have to oversell it, either," Seth whispered.

"We brought you some gear," Doren said, unshouldering his pack and rummaging through the contents. He pulled out an oval shield about a yard tall. "Heroes need proper equipment."

"Thanks," Seth said.

"Adamant," Doren said proudly, handing over the shield. "We fished it out of the same tar pit where we found the shirt of mail."

"Probably all belonged to the same careless adventurer," Newel speculated. "Too much money, not enough talent."

Seth hefted the shield. It felt light, almost like a toy or a prop, but he knew that if it was made of adamant, it was stronger than steel and absolutely priceless. "What a great gift."

"We were reserving it to trade for batteries," Newel explained. "But in light of our new arrangement--well, investors need to protect their interests."

"It would be a shame if I died before you got your generator," Seth said.

Doren nudged Newel. "The shield isn't all."

From his pack, Newel removed a sword in a battered leather scabbard. Jewels adorned the golden hilt. Newel presented it to Seth, who drew the sword. It felt too light. "This isn't adamant too?" Seth asked.

"Tempered adamant," Doren gushed. "We found just the naked blade. The edge is keen. The nipsies crafted the hilt, and we salvaged the scabbard from an old scrap heap."

"The nipsies couldn't have made it just now?" Seth asked.

"No," Newel chuckled. "It took them six weeks. We were simply preparing another item for barter."

Seth belted on the scabbard and sheathed the sword. "Why don't you guys have armor?"

Newel snorted derisively. "Slows us down. We prefer to avoid injuries by not getting hit."

"What about the helmet?" Seth asked.

Newel rapped the helm with his knuckles. "This old thing? It's my good-luck charm."

"Tell him the story," Doren urged.

"Satyrs never wear armor, including helmets," Newel began, using his hands expressively. "But years ago I was in a play, and the helm was part of my costume. During the big battle scene, a few of us were assailing a castle. We had quite a set. The main tower must have been fifteen feet tall, fashioned from real stone. Anyhow, as we actors were laying siege, a big chunk of the battlement dislodged from atop the tower."

"Shoddy workmanship," Doren inserted.

"Definitely not part of the rehearsed scene," Newel emphasized.

"Newel was delivering a line," Doren laughed.

"Behold, the enemy falters!" Newel quoted in a bold voice, raising a finger skyward for dramatic effect. "I was facing the audience and focused on my diction, so the falling stonework blindsided me."

"Biggest laugh of the night," Doren chuckled.

"Those might have been my last words if not for this helmet," Newel said. "Cumbersome or not, any object that lucky deserves to be worn in battle."

"Is that how the helmet got dented?" Seth asked.

"Exactly," Newel confirmed.

"Newel wouldn't let anyone repair it," Doren said.

"I'm surprised you weren't injured," Seth said.

"I was unconscious for almost two days," Newel clarified.

"His understudy was elated," Doren said.

Newel smirked. "The botched scene was such a success, I had to give up the theater. All everybody wanted from me thereafter was slapstick. And trust me, with satyrs involved, slapstick hurts a lot."

"He came home from rehearsals mottled with bruises," Doren remembered.

"I see Doren brought a bow," Seth pointed out.

"He's a handy archer," Newel said. "I prefer a sling."

Seth motioned for them to lean close and lowered his voice to a faint whisper. "I got our assignment from Patton. It will take us on quite a journey. I think we should probably get Vanessa out of the Quiet Box to help us. What do you guys say?"

"Absolutely," Newel affirmed. "Best idea I've heard all day."

"I'll second that," Doren said gladly. Seth gave the satyrs a doubtful scowl. "Wait a minute. You guys just think she's pretty."

"I've been around a long time," Newel said. "Vanessa Santoro is not just pretty."

"He's right," Doren agreed. "She's walking dynamite. My pulse is rising just talking about her."

"She also might be a traitor," Seth stressed.