Sorcerer's Secret (32 page)

Alexa was crying, and Nicholas reached out to comfort her. Everyone had tears running down their cheeks at the sad tale except for the Fortune Teller (and Bridget herself, of course), who watched them all with eyes Bridget couldn't read.

“I never knew . . . ” Alexa sobbed. “Father always told me she died in an accident, protecting me. But that . . . that's horrible.”

“Nonsense,” the Fortune Teller said brusquely. “Someone had to be sacrificed. Kieft meant it to be your father. But your mother saved him, and if he hadn't given his word to the Agreement, who knows what would have come to pass? Especially since Kieft has proven so faithless–” Here she snarled, showing emotion for the first time.

“Who are you, really?” Nicholas asked, peering at her intently as if trying to see behind her skin.

“I am the Fortune Teller,” she replied, straightening her pressed blazer. “Here is my request of you. Kieft's treasure lies in that cavern. He sent it down to a place where no one could retrieve it. But you will find it.”

“How?” Rory asked, looking overwhelmed. “It sounds like it's in the middle of the earth! And that fall? It'll kill us for sure—or me, at least. How are we supposed to do this?”

“Just follow the path,” the Fortune Teller advised him. “The signposts are all there. Remember, your father—for, as you guessed, Henry is your father—once made his way down there, all by himself, so a mortal can survive. If you follow in his footsteps, you will surely find Kieft's treasure. Now, here is my request of you. When you find Kieft's treasure, you must take only one thing away with you. The rest stays, forever.”

“Hey, there's probably some good stuff down there!” Simon declared.

“It was never yours to take,” the Fortune Teller told him.

“What about my people's lost magic?” Soka asked. “Kieft has it all written down!”

“You do not need it,” the Fortune Teller said. “I promise you.”

“I will try to memorize what I can, then,” Soka muttered to herself.

Bridget didn't like this. Who knew what they'd find in Kieft's treasure, and if it would contain the spell to save their mother. The Fortune Teller was staring at her brother, as if his answer was the only one that mattered.

“You're asking me to trust you?” Rory asked. “How do I know that I won't have to make some awful choice between the city and my mom? I had to make that kind of choice already, and it hurt like hell.” Bridget knew he was talking about the time when Hex the magician forced him to choose between her life and a war between Munsees and gods by opening the Trap too soon. She didn't know if she could make that kind of tough decision.

“You've trusted me so far,” the Fortune Teller answered. “Remember, I'm giving you what you asked for.”

“Is this really what I asked for?” Rory said, then sighed. “Fine. You've got a deal.” He stuck out his hand and the Fortune Teller gave it a brisk shake. “So what will you give us in return for following your orders?”

“I will give you two things,” the Fortune Teller said. “One now, and one when you have kept your promise.”

“What will you give me now?”

“Advice,” the Fortune Teller said. “To help you survive the journey. First—Munsee magic will protect you on your journey. Without it, you are doomed. And second—know that the guardian does not require a life to be sated. It just requires a sacrifice.”

“Why do you always have to be so cryptic?” Lincoln said, looking cross. “Why not just tell the kid exactly what he needs to do?”

“Because that is what is required,” the Fortune Teller told him. “It must come from you, Rory. Otherwise, she will not listen.”

“Who won't listen?” Bridget asked, but the Fortune Teller closed her mouth, unwilling to speak further. Rory nodded, accepting the advice he'd been given.

“It doesn't matter what you tell me or don't tell me,” he said. “Nothing you say could scare me away. If this is the only way to stop Kieft and save my mother, I'm going to do it, even if it kills me.”

It chilled Bridget to hear him talk this way, and she promised herself, silently, that her brother would never have to go that far. If anyone made a sacrifice to save their mother, it would be her. After all, she thought, scratching her paper arm ruefully, she'd never feel it . . .

T
hey hurried back down the halls, past the rooms of the gods. Alexa led the way, speaking over her shoulder as they ran.

“Something about that cave sounds familiar to me,” she said. “I want to check the map room.”

“What's the map room?” Rory asked Lincoln, who was nearest him.

“It's pretty cool,” Lincoln replied. “See, it's this map in a room.” He smirked.

“Oh,” Rory said. “I should have guessed that.”

Although he wasn't paying much attention to the rooms they raced by on their way out, he could have sworn he heard the thud of a door closing as they passed one section. He pulled up, looking around. Two doors faced each other in this part of the hall, and while one was dead and dark, light was emanating from beneath the door of the other. His heart jolted as a shadow slid across the light under the door. Someone was on the other side! His first instinct was to run, but something made him glance at the name above the door. What he saw there made his heart thud even louder.

BURR.

This was Aaron Burr's room. Hex's room. The fallen god who had tricked him into helping him break into Tobias's bank, who had stolen Bridget's soul, who had set Rory's feet onto this path in the first place. He'd been arrested, held under lock and key in Peter Stuyvesant's barn until the burning of the Stuyvesant farm, during which Burr disappeared. And if this was his room, then was that shadow . . . ?

“What are you doing?” Bridget's voice said loudly in his ear. He jumped a foot in the air, turning quickly to shush her. Everyone was behind her, curious as to why he'd stopped. But when Nicholas saw the name over the door, his face grew grim.

“He wouldn't . . .” Nicholas mused. “He's fallen. It would take unbelievable hubris to claim your room when you've been cast out.”

“Desperate people do desperate things,” Alexa said thoughtfully. “What should we do?”

“Go in!” Lincoln whispered fiercely. “We can take him!”

“We don't have time,” Alexa maintained.

“Yeah,” Bridget agreed. “If we're going to get to Kieft's treasure in time, we've got to . . .” She never finished her sentence, as Nicholas quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. But it was too late. The door to Burr's room flew open, revealing the disheveled, dirty, and most of all, hungry face of Aaron Burr.

“You've found it?” he asked, eyes boring into Bridget. Being on the run clearly did not agree with the fallen god. His clothes were in tatters and he looked sickly. “Where?”

“Hello, Hex,” Rory cut in, his stomach rolling at having to face his betrayer. “Still running and hiding out, huh?”

“Don't give me that holier-than-thou crap,” Burr spat. “This is still my room. I earned this room and they can't take it away.”

“Then you should have kept the door shut,” Fritz said, shaking his head. “You know we're going to tell the council you're down here, right? You were cast out a long time ago. You lost all these privileges.”

Burr sneered. “Tell whom you wish, I'll be long gone.” He peered at Rory intently. “You should let me come with you. No one knows Kieft better than I do. Even if you think you know where his treasure is, it will be heavily guarded. I can be useful.”

“Do you really think we'd ever trust you again?” Rory asked, incredulous. “You betrayed us over and over, in every way. I could never trust you.”

“You have to fight magic with magic,” Burr insisted, opening his hand and letting sparks jump from knuckle to knuckle. “Kieft will set traps. I will be able to see those traps and disarm them. I wouldn't ask for much. Just some choice items. I won't do anything you don't ask me to do, I promise.”

Soka gave the fallen god a disgusted look. “We don't need you, pretend medicine man. I am with Rory, and I can protect him.” She lifted her hand, and clouds formed, raining down on her palm, small jolts of lightning snaking out to zap her fingertips. Burr flinched, gazing at the Munsee girl with new respect. He did not give up that easily, however, turning back to Rory with renewed urgency.

“Rory, all it takes is one false move and this little girl could be killed by one of Kieft's traps,” he said. “Let me be the one to take those risks. Let me be the one who risks his life, not your pretty friend. There is no way for you to lose!”

“I only lose with you, Hex,” Rory told the old man, suddenly tired. “I don't have time for this.” With that, he turned to walk away. The others followed, leaving Soka to give the last warning.

“Follow us and you will pay,” she promised the old magician. “Understand me?” The lightning licked off her palms onto her fingertips. Burr took a step back, alarmed.

“Who are you, girl?” he asked.

“Stay away,” she told him, before turning to follow Rory and the rest. Burr yelled after them, though he did not budge from his door.

“You'll regret walking away from me! You'll regret ever casting me aside. You need me!” But they kept walking, and soon even his echoing voice was a memory.

S
ooleawa sat in Tackapausha's wigwam, the rest of the elders long gone. The newcomer army was coming to them, convinced that Kieft's army was going to attack the park. The elders had to decide what to do. Even at this moment, they weren't fully agreed. But the night had grown late, and they dispersed. Tackapausha had asked Sooleawa to stay behind, and now she was waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I just want the anger to go away,” Tackapausha said, suddenly looking tired. “I thought it would disappear when my son returned to me, but it won't leave me be. Why is that?”

“You've been hurt, deeply,” Sooleawa told him. “That kind of hurt is hard to heal. It takes time.”

“I feel broken,” he said, slumping down. “The newcomers broke me with their lies and their wars.”

“It takes more to forgive than many have to offer, I believe,” Sooleawa said. “Anger is fire . . . it consumes you and leaves nothing but ash. It tears down our houses and leaves us homeless. Forgiveness, understanding—that is how we build again.”

“I fear I am not as strong as you,” Tackapausha sighed. “My anger had burned through me so completely that I am nothing but a shell that can crumble at any time. Part of me wishes to take our battle to Kieft, as I doubt I can survive the wait. Either way, I know I will not survive this last fight. My son will do my forgiving for me.”

“Do not speak so,” Sooleawa scolded him. “You have more strength than you know.”

Tackapausha opened his mouth to reply, but Sooleawa never got to hear his words as just then a ripping sound echoed through the wigwam and a knife appeared in the wall, cutting a hole from the outside. Black figures poured in through the hole, firelight glinting off their knives. Tackapausha didn't have time to fight back as one of the knives found a home in his chest. Sooleawa immediately began to summon a spell, grasping at the wampum she kept in her pouches.

Tackapausha's killer turned to her—it was Askook. She felt no surprise as the snake-faced Munsee approached her. She gripped her wampum, pulling as much magic into her as she could bear, and just as the knife descended she sent herself out, soaring through the air in one last moment of freedom, even as her body fell. She soared on, searching for her children, desperate to say good-bye.