"What?" Doren asked. "Verl guaranteeing his humiliation? Loud and clear!"
"A voice calling my name," Seth said.
Visit me tonight. There is little time.
The voice was like distant thunder.
"Nothing?" Seth asked.
The satyrs shook their heads.
The faint rumbling faded.
Newel tapped Seth on the arm with his fist. "Feeling all right there, buddy?"
Seth forced a smile. "I'm okay. I keep hearing things lately. Maybe I should get back to the yard." He slid out of the hammock.
"Keep the breastplate," Newel said. "Just don't forget that you owe us--"
"--one hundred and twenty size C batteries," Seth finished.
* * *
Four stoic centaurs waited at the border of their domain, muscular torsos bare except for wolf skins draped across their powerful shoulders. Kendra recognized two of them. The silver one with the enormous bow was Cloudwing. The other was Stormbrow, whom Kendra had mostly seen as a dark centaur. The coat of his horse body was white dappled with gray. He had a high forehead and long, lank hair. One of the unfamiliar centaurs had a golden hide and was not as excessively muscled as the others. The final centaur had chestnut fur and curly auburn hair.
Hugo brought the cart to a stop in front of the centaurs. Grandpa had already explained that Hugo would not be able to enter the centaurs' realm.
"Greetings, Stan Sorenson," proclaimed Cloudwing in a clear, musical baritone.
"Good day, Cloudwing," Grandpa said. "Stormbrow. Quickstride. Bloodthorn. I take it you received my message."
"Yesterday the golem bore us tidings of your advent," Cloudwing replied. "You brought many companions."
"We need to counsel with Graymane," Grandpa said.
Cloudwing dipped his head. "Such is your right once per annum."
"You have the girl with you," Stormbrow accused, his voice deep and harsh.
"She accompanies us to offer appreciation for Broadhoof's noble sacrifice," Grandpa said.
"Her gratitude is not required," Stormbrow grated.
"Nevertheless, here we are," Grandpa replied, climbing down from the wagon.
"Stay aboard the cart," Cloudwing instructed. "We will tow you onward."
The golden centaur and the reddish centaur came forward and took hold of the handles Hugo had used to pull the wagon. Grandpa had explained that if they didn't solicit help, the centaurs might offer this service in order to shorten the duration of their visit.
They were currently on the far side of Fablehaven's marshlands. The road they had traveled had skirted the fens for the latter portion of the journey. Behind them, vapor hung above the foul, unfrozen water, where slime, moss, and tall weedy plants thrived in defiance of winter.
With no further words, the centaurs broke into a canter, towing the cart along at great speed. Kendra reviewed the instructions Grandpa had given. Unless engaged in conversation, centaurs considered eye contact a challenge. She was supposed to keep quiet unless Grandpa identified specific opportunities for her to speak. They were all under orders to accept insults graciously and without rebuttal. Given his knack for infuriating centaurs, she was relieved that her brother had stayed home.
The centaurs hauled them through an extensive vineyard and a sweet-smelling orchard populated by diverse fruit trees. Fairies flitted among the vegetation, driving back the snow and keeping the plants unseasonably fruitful. Only at the main house and near the Fairy Queen's shrine had Kendra ever seen so many. She also spotted female centaurs in the midst of the trees, effortlessly balancing huge baskets laden with fruit. Wrapped in furs, the women possessed a hard, cold beauty.
Beyond the orchard, they passed into a snowy grove of tall evergreens. Occasionally Kendra glimpsed pavilions through the trees. When the cart emerged from the grove, a tremendous block of stone loomed before them. Three times as tall as it was wide, the megalith towered thirty feet high. Off to either side, Kendra saw other monolithic standing stones, curving out of sight to form a ring around a broad hill.
"We will proceed on foot," Cloudwing announced. "Welcome to Grunhold." The centaurs who had been towing them released their hold on the wagon.
Kendra clambered down along with the others and followed the four centaurs around the megalith and up the gentle slope. Their path wound around hedges and earthworks, beneath arched trellises, up ramps, and over small, decorative bridges. As in the vineyard and the orchard, colorful fairies filled the air, keeping the vegetation in bloom. Among the terraced gardens, Kendra observed standing stones of varied shape and size, smaller cousins of the megaliths encircling the base of the hill. Here and there male and female centaurs roamed or conversed, showing little interest in the visitors. Occasionally Kendra noticed yawning entrances recessed into the hillside. Kendra wondered how far the shadowy tunnels extended.
As they neared the top of the hill, Kendra stared up at the primitive dolmen on the summit. Five massive upright stones served as columns to support an immense slab of rock, together forming a crude shelter. It looked as though an army of giants would have been required to place the enormous slab atop the other stones. Beneath the massive capstone waited a brooding centaur the color of a storm cloud. His long gray hair matched his bushy beard and the fur of his equine body. His eyebrows were the same darker gray of his tail. Although his face looked older than the other centaurs, it was not wrinkled. His torso may have carried more fat than the others, but none were more heavily muscled.
"Greetings, Stan Sorenson," Graymane intoned as they approached. "What brings you and yours to Grunhold?"
"Greetings, Graymane," Grandpa answered formally. "We are here to honor the nobility of Broadhoof and to ask a favor."
"Come forward," Graymane invited, backing away.
There was ample room inside the dolmen for the five centaurs and the six human visitors. The shelter had no furniture, so they stood facing one another, the centaurs on one side, the humans on the other. Kendra glanced up nervously at the enormous slab above them. If it fell, they would all be squished flat as tortillas.
"I am not acquainted with all of those in your party," Graymane said.
"You remember my wife, Ruth, and my assistant Dale," Grandpa said. "This is Tanugatoa, a renowned potion master. Coulter, a lifelong friend and an expert in magical relics. And my granddaughter, Kendra."
"The selfsame Kendra who sat astride Broadhoof as he perished?" Graymane asked, glancing at Cloudwing.