What do you mean? Kendra said. You heard us talking.

Grandma smiled sadly. As a chicken, thinking clearly becomes an exhausting challenge. My mind was in a haze.

To interact with you like a person, even for a moment, required tremendous concentration.

Seth nodded toward Muriel. Should we stop her? I bet the three of us could take her.

If we attack, she will be able to defend herself with magic, Grandma said. We would forfeit the protection afforded by the foundational covenants of the treaty.

Have we messed things up? Seth asked. Setting her free, I mean.

Things were already dismal, Grandma said. Having her on the loose certainly complicates the situation.

Whether my assistance can compensate for her interference remains to be seen. Grandma looked flushed. She fanned her face. Your grandfather left us in quite a predicament.

It wasn't his fault, Seth said.

Grandma bent over, placing her hands on her knees.

Kendra steadied her. I'm all right, Kendra. Just a little woozy. She stood up experimentally. Tell me what happened.

I know undesirable beings entered the house and took Stan.

They took Lena, too, and I think they turned Dale into a statue, Kendra reported. We found him in the yard.

Grandma nodded. As caretaker, Stan is a valuable trophy.

Same with a fallen nymph. By contrast Dale seemed unimpressive and was left behind. Any clue who took them?

We found some footprints near Dale, Seth said.

Did they lead you anywhere?

Have you any idea where Grandpa and Lena are being held?

No.

Muriel probably knows, Grandma said. She has an alliance with the imps.

Speaking of Muriel, Kendra said, where did she go?

They all looked around. Muriel was no longer in sight.

Grandma frowned. She must have special means of hiding or traveling. No matter. We aren't equipped to deal with her now.

What do we do? Seth asked.

Our first order of business is to find your Grandpa.

Learning his location should dictate how best to proceed.

How do we do that?

Grandma sighed. Our nearest option would be Nero.

Who? Kendra said.

A cliff troll. He has a seeing stone. If we can successfully bargain with him, he should be able to reveal Stan's location.

Do you know him well? Seth asked.

Never met him. Your grandfather had dealings with him once. It will be dangerous, but at present he is probably our best alternative. We should hurry. I'll tell you more on the way.

Trolling for Grandpa Have you ever heard people conversing while you're falling asleep? Grandma said. The words reach you from a distance, and you can barely glimpse the meaning.

That happened to me in a motel once when we were on a trip, Kendra said. Mom and Dad were talking. I fell asleep, and their conversation turned into a dream.

Then to some degree you can grasp my state of mind as a chicken. You say it is June. My last clear memories are from February, when the spell was enacted. For the first couple of days I remained fairly alert. Over time, I lapsed into a twilight consciousness, incapable of rational thought, unable to interpret my surroundings as a human would.

Weird, Seth said.

I recognized you kids when you arrived, but it was through a clouded lens. My mind did not reawaken until you let those creatures in through the window. The shock jolted me out of my stupor. It was a struggle to cling to my elevated consciousness. I cannot describe the concentration it required to write that message to you. My mind wanted to slip away, to relax. I wanted to eat the delicious kernels, not arrange them into bizarre patterns.

They traveled along a wide dirt road. Rather than head back toward the house, they had continued on the trail beyond , venturing deeper into the forest. The trail had eventually forked and then intersected the road they were currently following. The sun blazed overhead, the air was heavy and humid, and the forest remained unnaturally silent all around them.

Kendra and Seth had brought a pair of jeans, but they turned out to be from Grandma's skinnier days, and were not even close to fitting. The tennis shoes belonged to Grandpa and were several sizes too big. So Grandma now wore a bathing suit under her robe, and her feet remained in slippers.

Grandma raised her hands, staring as she opened and closed them. Strange to have proper fingers again, she murmured.

How did you become a chicken in the first place?

Seth asked.

Pride made me careless, Grandma said. A sobering reminder that none of us are immune to the dangers here, even when we imagine we have the upper hand. Let's save the details for another time.

Why didn't Grandpa change you back? Kendra asked.

Grandma's eyebrows shot up. Probably because I kept laying eggs for his breakfast. I like to think that if he had taken me to Muriel in the first place, I could have prevented all this nonsense from happening. But I suppose he was searching for an alternate cure for my condition.

Besides asking Muriel, Seth said.

Exactly.

Then why did he have Muriel cure me?

I'm sure he knew your parents would return soon, leaving insufficient time to discover another remedy.

You had no idea Seth had become a mutant walrus and been restored by Muriel? Kendra said.

I missed all that, Grandma said. As a hen, most details escaped me. When I urged you to take me to Muriel, I assumed she still had two knots remaining. Only when I looked up and observed the single knot did I begin to fathom the actual predicament. By then it was too late.

Incidentally, how did you end up as a walrus?

Seth and Kendra related the particulars about turning the fairy into an imp and the subsequent retribution.

Grandma listened, asking a few clarifying questions.

As the path curved around a tall thicket, a covered bridge came into view up ahead. Spanning a ravine, the bridge was composed of dark wood. Although aged and weathered, it appeared to be in reasonably good repair.

Our destination draws near, Grandma said.

Beyond the bridge? Kendra asked.

Down in the ravine. Grandma stopped, studying the foliage off to either side of the road. I am suspicious of the stillness in these woods. A great tension rests upon Fablehaven today. She resumed walking.

Because of Grandpa? Seth asked.

Yes, and your newfound enmity with the fairies. But I worry there may be something more. I am anxious to speak with Nero.

Will he help us? Kendra asked.

He would rather harm us. Trolls can be violent and unpredictable. I would not solicit information from him if our situation were less dire.

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.

Seth Andrew Sorenson, you mind your grandmother!

I want you to come down from there.

Stop distracting me, he said.

It may seem like fun on these lower logs, but when you get higher- I climb high stuff all the time, Seth insisted. My friends and I climb up in the bars under the bleachers at the high school. If we fell there we could die too. He rose to his feet. He seemed to be getting better at it. Seth landed on the next log, straddling it for a moment before getting to his knees.