Eavesdropping

Kendra Sorenson jogged through the warm mist, damp gravel crunching underfoot, wondering if the moisture in the air was falling enough to be called rain. Sprinkles, maybe. She glanced up at the grey blur of the sky beyond the treetops, then over at a trio of fairies, each surrounded by a hazy halo of light. Nothing pattered against the hood of her windbreaker, but it was wet, as were the leafy branches on either side of the long driveway.

This was the murkiest morning of the summer, at least since Kendra had started jogging. The fifteen-year-old typically got up just before sunrise and ran around the perimeter of the big yard three times. Each lap included running up the driveway to the gate and back. Any larger route would either take her beyond the boundaries of Fablehaven, exposing her to threats from outside the preserve, or else make her vulnerable to some of the dangers held back by the magic protecting the yard. Roaming the woods of the sanctuary was not a safe proposition.

There had been no sunrise to watch today. The greyness had simply grown brighter as she followed her standard path, soles slipping on the wet grass.

The gate came into view up ahead, closed as usual—wrought-iron topped with fleurs-de-lis, the only potential opening in the fence that enclosed the entire preserve. Kendra always touched the gate before turning around.

As she approached the black bars and reached out a hand, Kendra paused. She heard a motor approaching, and tires mashing gravel.

That was highly unusual.

The gate to Fablehaven was well back from the main road. A distracter spell helped motorists ignore the nondescript turnoff, and you didn't have to travel far along the driveway before finding several emphatic signs warning away trespassers.

People did not come to Fablehaven by accident.

And when visitors were expected, it was big news. Grandpa or Grandma Sorenson inevitably brought it up ahead of time. Often the gate was left open for the arrival.

So who was approaching?

Who might come to Fablehaven unannounced?

An old friend? A spy? An enemy?

Or somebody really lost and fairly illiterate.

In case the visitor was an enemy, Kendra hurried off the driveway, withdrawing into the trees and crouching behind some shrubs. Leaving the driveway reduced her protection from magical threats, but trouble seldom happened this close to a protected area. The chance to hide seemed worth the small risk.

Before long, a white sedan pulled into view and parked just outside the gate. A figure emerged from the vehicle.

Kendra had a hood herself. The weather called for covering your head. But the hooded brown robe of the stranger looked to have come from a bygone era. It deliberately concealed the face in deep shadow. This was no lost tourist. It might not even be human. This had to be somebody who knew about preserves for magical creatures.

Was the stranger going to try to break in? The gate wasn't visible from the house, but parking on the driveway didn't seem very subtle.

Then Kendra heard crunchy footsteps on the gravel from the direction of the house. She remained frozen as Grandpa Sorenson strode into view, wearing a jacket and a baseball cap. She held her breath as he walked up to the gate. It didn't open.

"You want to talk?" Grandpa called through the bars to the robed figure.

"Briefly, yes," the figure replied in a raspy voice.

As Captain of the Knights of the Dawn, the organization that policed the magical preserves of the world, Grandpa met from time to time with various individuals who provided information. Those exchanges often happened in his office. Apparently, he also sometimes met informants at the gate.

Kendra felt guilty for eavesdropping, but it seemed more awkward to announce herself at this point. She hunkered lower behind the shrubs.

"The situation continues to deteriorate," the figure warned. "They will most likely be needed. The boy should settle his affair with the Sisters."

"I understand he has the better part of a year to meet their terms," Grandpa said.

"Owing the Sisters is no small concern," the figure insisted. "Who knows where he might end up over the coming months? What if circumstances prevent him from paying his debt? Why not seize the moment? For how long do you want the sword in his possession? It is powerful, but is it safe? That weapon has a history of corrupting those who wield it."

"I hear you," Grandpa said. "I'll consider advising him. Any word from Soaring Cliffs?"

"No good tidings," the figure responded, taking a step back. "I should depart. We'll be in touch."

"Thank our mutual friend," Grandpa said.

"Thank him by taking the necessary action, Stan Sorenson," the figure warned. "This could quickly become a bigger mess than the previous crisis. Prepare while you have time."

Grandpa glanced down the driveway back toward the house.

"Expecting someone?" the figure asked.

"My granddaughter is out for her morning run," Stan said.

"I must away," the figure said, retreating to his car.

Grandpa started back to the house without a wave.

The engine started, and the vehicle rolled forward and back to make a multipoint turn. By the time the sedan passed out of sight, Kendra could no longer hear her grandfather.

She waited in silence until the sound of the car faded to nothing.

What had she just heard? They had to be talking about her younger brother, Seth. Kendra knew that he had made a deal with some witches to find the legendary sword Vasilis. But why was some shady outsider taking an interest? And what big problem was brewing? Whose help was needed? It sounded like the trouble could involve her and her brother.

Kendra crept back to the road and looked down it carefully. Grandpa was no longer in sight; he had probably entered the house. She jogged back to the yard, then did part of another lap before quitting and going inside.

She found Grandpa Sorenson in his study.

"Good morning, Kendra," he said.

"Good morning," she replied, watching him. He seemed relaxed.

"Strange weather today," Grandpa observed.

"Gray and soggy. Did we have a visitor?"

Grandpa scrunched his eyebrows. "Why would you think that?"

Kendra weighed how much to say. "I noticed you walking down the driveway."

Grandpa smiled. "Just checking the gate. I do that when I get restless."

"Okay," Kendra said. She didn't want to press him. "See you later."

She walked from the room. It wasn't like Grandpa to lie. Part of his job both as a caretaker of Fablehaven and as Captain of the Knights involved keeping secrets. She had no doubt that Grandpa would lie to protect a secret he thought might be harmful to others.

It bothered Kendra to know part of a story that probably involved her and her brother. Should she tell Grandpa she had seen the stranger? Should she relate what she had heard? Should she demand to know the identity of the mysterious figure? Should she ask why she and her brother might be needed?

Her instincts warned her that further probing would yield little fruit. Whatever the details might be, Grandpa wasn't ready to share. And he was a professional at keeping secrets.

Should she talk to Seth about it? Kendra doubted whether her brother could keep this quiet, especially since it involved him directly and there was more to find out. For now, it might be best to worry and wonder on her own. Whatever secrets Grandpa and this stranger knew, one thing seemed clear—serious trouble was coming.