"And she won't last more than another day or two," Kendra said. "The second dead Kendra this week."

* * *

Seth sat on a sofa in the living room, tapping his knees as if playing the bongos. Grandpa had called an emergency council. They were all waiting for Tanu to come down from examining the stingbulb. Everybody was quiet and thoughtful.

Seth frowned as he looked around the room. With the Sphinx coming ever closer to his goal, were these the people to stop him? More than half of them looked too old or too young. Sure, they had weathered some attacks from the Sphinx, but generally he kept getting what he wanted. And nobody had launched any sort of successful counterattack against him. Seth felt certain the time had come to go on the offensive.

Tanu came down the stairs and entered the room.

"How is she?" Grandma asked.

"Her wrist is badly sprained. The leg is broken, but could be worse. A minor fracture. She also picked up plenty of road rash and a fairly severe concussion. Who knows how she managed to drive so far? She definitely has a lot of heart. I gave her some substances that will dull the pain and speed her recovery."

"Not that she'll live to enjoy a recovery," Kendra muttered.

"She's aware of her tiny lifespan," Tanu said. "She kept asking to speak to you, Kendra. She hopes there is some other way she can serve you before she dies."

"We could pack her in the Quiet Box," Seth said. "I'd rather preserve her in limbo than the evil Maddox. You never know when a duplicate Kendra might come in handy down the road."

"Wouldn't that be torturous for her?" Kendra asked.

"Seems like she's content as long as she has a purpose," Tanu said.

"Wouldn't hurt to make her the offer," Grandma suggested. "See what she thinks."

"We'll explore those possibilities with the duplicate after the meeting," Grandpa said.

"I have an unpleasant question," Warren said. "Could the Kendra stingbulb have been corrupted? Or could it be a different stingbulb than the one Kendra left behind at the house in Monmouth?"

"Stan and I have thought this through," Grandma said. "The Sphinx has clearly learned about the key at Wyrmroost. He didn't glean the info from Kendra or a stingbulb, because Kendra didn't learn that information until after she escaped. We see no strategic value he might gain in letting us know what he has discovered. In fact, the Sphinx would want to keep that discovery a secret in order to pursue the key at Wyrmroost uncontested. We'll keep an eye on the replicated Kendra, but Stan and I feel comfortable trusting her report."

"Wait a minute," Seth said, eyes widening. "What if the Kendra we rescued is just another replica? What if this isn't actually Kendra! She could have led the bad guys to our hotel room! We may not have seen the real Kendra yet! She might still be their prisoner."

Everyone turned to Kendra. "It's really me," Kendra assured them. "Isn't there some sort of test? Some way to differentiate for sure?"

"She could read the message Patton left in the hidden chamber," Grandma said. "That ability could not have been replicated by a stingbulb. Only potent fairy magic could bestow the capacity to read those words."

Grandpa nodded. "Agreed. But I appreciate your vigilance, Seth. We must remain wary. Question everything. Take nothing for granted. I want to turn our attention to the matter of the Sphinx and the Translocator." Grandpa summarized what he, Kendra, and Coulter had learned about the location of the Translocator and where Patton had hidden the necessary keys.

"What are the chances of the Sphinx acquiring the first horn of a unicorn?" Grandma mused.

"What were the chances of him finding stingbulbs?" Coulter replied.

"How rare are unicorn horns?" Seth asked.

"Unicorns are among the least encountered of all magical creatures," Grandpa said. "We believe they still exist, but there is no certainty on the matter. They are elusive creatures of extraordinary purity, and their horns exhibit potent magical properties. Long ago, they were hunted to near extinction by greedy wizards. During the lifespan of a unicorn, each grows three horns. They shed the first two as they mature, sort of like humans losing baby teeth. The horn here at Fablehaven is the only first horn I know to exist anywhere."

"But that doesn't mean the Sphinx will fail to find another one elsewhere," Coulter emphasized.

"We would be unwise to count on him failing," Warren agreed, "especially if he's gaining mastery over the Oculus. Somehow, somewhere, he'll find one."

"For all we know, he may already have one," Grandma said bleakly.

"If this is our worry," Grandpa said, "I see no other option than to try to beat the Sphinx to the key at Wyrmroost. We have all witnessed the Sphinx's resourcefulness. Knowing the location of the key to the Australian vault, he will find a way to get Navarog into the dragon sanctuary. And once he recovers the vault key, his acquisition of the Translocator will not be far behind."

"But can we protect the vault key better than the dragons of Wyrmroost?" Tanu asked.

"At least we can keep the vault key in motion," Grandpa replied. "We can use it or transfer it. Since the Sphinx knows the current location, it is only a matter of time before he claims it."

"Then our first task is to retrieve the horn from the centaurs," Grandma said.

Dale whistled. "Good luck with that one. That horn is their most prized possession. They revere Patton for giving it to them. It provides the energy that turned Grunhold into a safe haven during the shadow plague."

"Could we convince them we only mean to borrow it?" Grandpa proposed. "We could return the horn after the mission."

"Unless we're all eaten by dragons," Coulter mentioned. "It will be tough to convince them," Grandma said. "That's an understatement," Dale asserted. "Why not steal it?" Seth suggested. The others laughed darkly.

"Unpleasant as it sounds," Warren said, "it may come to that. Anybody know much about where they keep it?"

"The centaurs have a proud, private society," Grandpa said. "But as caretaker, I technically have a right to visit them without fear of harm once a year. Otherwise they have the right to slay any who venture onto their allotted land. I

have only exercised the right twice. Theirs is not pleasant company."

"We would want to get as close to the horn as we can," Grandma said. "Analyze the lay of the land, so we can plan a raid if necessary. Then we can make a case for borrowing it."

"If they refuse to lend us the horn, the visit doubles as a reconnaissance mission," Warren finished.

"I'll send them word of our visit right away," Grandpa said. "We'll go tomorrow."

"I'm coming," Seth declared.

"The centaurs have no fondness for you," Grandpa reminded him. "Your impertinence led to Broadhoof's humiliation at Patton's hands. We'll want you as far from their domain as possible."

"They will blame us all for the death of Broadhoof," Grandma said.

, "Which is why we should bring Kendra," Grandpa said. "Broadhoof helped her defeat the plague. Her purpose there will be to honor the centaurs for Broadhoof's sacrifice. If she can do so with sincerity, it may help our cause. We can't expect to dodge the issue."

"I'd be happy to apologize," Kendra said. "I feel terrible that he died, and he really did help save us all."

"You'll have to be careful," Grandma said. "They won't want your pity. Their pride will reject any such offering. But if you show sincere gratitude for his sacrifice, acknowledging his role in saving Fablehaven, it might make some headway."

"Would it be safe for Kendra?" Coulter asked. "Won't the centaurs blame her more than anyone for his death? She was riding him at the time."

"They may," Grandpa said. "But under the protection of my annual visitation rights, they will not be able to harm her. Furthermore, they will hesitate to openly blame a young girl for his demise. Being slain by a mighty demon has a much more heroic ring to it."

"Who else should accompany you?" Tanu asked.

"Most of you," Grandpa replied. "I'll want as many pairs of eyes assessing the situation as possible."

"Except mine," Seth muttered.

"We mustn't leave Seth and the house unguarded," Coulter said.

"Unguarded?" Seth complained. "Are you trying to destroy my self-esteem?"

"Dale has crossed paths with the centaurs more than most of us," Grandpa said. "Ruth is a talented negotiator. Warren, Tanu, and Coulter are all seasoned adventurers with experience recovering guarded items. Plus Coulter has specific expertise involving magical items."

"I can hold down the fort," Seth assured them stoutly.

"I'll stay behind," Warren, Tanu, and Coulter offered in unison.

"Warren will remain at the house with Seth," Grandpa stated. "Seth, the decision to leave you with extra protection has nothing to do with our estimation of your valor, and everything to do with your age."

"Maybe I could join you guys in disguise," Seth proposed.

"We can't take this mission lightly," Grandma said. "We must keep this visit as civil as possible. If we fail to recover the horn, the Sphinx will recover the key unchallenged. Your history with the centaurs is tainted, Seth. They may be able to get over the heroic death of Broadhoof. But centaurs never forget an insult."

"I hate how my past actions keep messing up my future options," Seth muttered.

"Then you've started down the road to wisdom," Grandpa replied.

Chapter 12 Grunhold

Seth tromped across the yard wearing insulated boots. No snow remained on the lush green lawn or in the vibrant flower beds. The fairies had melted it away. Beyond the yard, the rising wind had shaken much of the snow from the naked tree branches, leaving the ground below blanketed by whiteness. A gray expanse of featureless clouds dulled the sky from horizon to horizon.

Last night they had transferred the stingbulb Kendra into the Quiet Box, removing the fake Maddox, who would soon expire in his dungeon cell. The stingbulb Kendra had been excited at the prospect of using the Quiet Box to prolong her life. Seth found it very weird that he had now met three separate versions of his sister.

At the edge of the yard, Seth set off into the trees, feet punching through the icy glaze atop the snow and then sinking at least ten inches into fluffy powder. Where the snow had drifted, it rose above the tops of his boots.

"Ahoy, Seth!" Doren called from where he reclined on a hammock.

Newel slid off his hammock, hoofed goat legs sinking in a deep drift. "You got our message?"

"1 saw it from my window." Somebody had stomped the words "hammocks today" in the snow beyond the perimeter of the yard outside the attic window.

"We noticed you weren't among the group that left earlier," Doren said. "Where were they heading?"

"To the centaurs."

"Lucky day for you!" Newel said. "They'll get nothing but high heads and dirty looks from that lot."

"I wanted to go. I know centaurs can be jerks, but they're just so cool."

"Don't believe the cool part for a second," Doren said. "The extra set of legs turns them into pompous nimrods."

"You'll fare much better in our company," Newel avowed. "Two hooves are glorious. Four are overkill."

"I'm glad to see you guys," Seth said, smiling for the first time that day.

"Your hammock is waiting," Newel offered. "Make yourself comfortable. We've been thinking about our prior discussion, and we have a new proposition for you."

"I think you'll like this one," Doren said.

Seth sat down on his hammock, kicked his boots together to knock the snow off, then swung his legs up. "I'm listening."

"We've been trawling the tar pit some more," Newel began.

"We know you feel uncomfortable about removing valuables from Fablehaven," Doren said.

"But what if we found something you could use here?" Newel proposed. He rummaged in a large, coarse gunnysack and removed a metal breastplate, smoky gray, with a rich sheen.

"Whoa," Seth said, sitting up.

"I know," Doren said. "How cool is that?"

"Seth, this spell-forged breastplate is composed of adamant," Newel explained, turning it over in his hands. "The lightest, strongest magical alloy ever devised. In bygone days, wars were waged to obtain armor of this quality. A wealthy lord would have gladly emptied his treasury in exchange for a piece like this."

Doren motioned toward the armor. "These days, an article like this is considerably rarer. The breastplate is absolutely priceless."

"What do you want for it?" Seth asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Newel and Doren exchanged a glance. Doren nodded and Newel spoke. "We were thinking 96 size C batteries."

Seth had to resist an urge to laugh. Would they really part with precious armor for batteries? "Let me see it."

Newel handed the breastplate to Seth. It felt almost as light as plastic, but when he tried to bend it, the metal was unyielding.

"What do you think?" Doren asked.

"Feels kind of flimsy," Seth said. Wearing his best bargaining face, he examined the armor suspiciously.

"Flimsy?" Newel exclaimed. "Hugo couldn't scratch it with a sledgehammer. The light weight is part of the value. Without restricting your freedom of movement, that breastplate will turn any blade, stop any arrow."