Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5)(106)

"Don't let your guard down," Vanessa advised. "You know they'll ask a lot of you. Come out of there with a bargain you can live with. We'll be waiting."


"You can do this," Doren said.


"If all else fails," Newel counseled, "throw sand in their eyes and run."


Chuckling, Seth strode to the door and knocked three times. It opened right after the third knock landed. Vanessa had brought walrus butter from the house, so Seth was able to properly recognize the scaly green troll with gill slits in his neck. Broad and heavily muscled, the troll stood a head taller than Seth.


"What business have you here?" the troll inquired in a low, slobbery voice.


"I want to talk to the Singing Sisters."


"I can make no promises that you will come out alive."


"I get it."


The troll smacked his thick lips. "I need you to declare that you willingly enter as an uninvited visitor."


Seth glanced over at Vanessa, who gave a nod. "I willingly enter as an uninvited visitor."


"Step inside," the troll said, pivoting to allow Seth access.


Seth squeezed by and the troll closed the door. Carved stone stairs descended in an irregular series of curves. The troll walked in a slouch behind Seth, flat feet slapping the steps. He carried a clay lamp.


"What sort of troll are you?" Seth asked to end the silence.


"River troll," came the answer from behind. "Western variety. We're not as lanky as our eastern cousins, nor as afraid of the sun as the northern breed. How'd you learn Duggish?"


"Picked it up along the way," Seth said vaguely, not wanting to reveal more about himself than necessary. "Do many trolls live here?"


"Many. Only trolls serve the Sisters. Goblins are too stupid. It is a high honor."


At the bottom of the long stairwell, several short trolls with puffy builds and oversized heads greeted Seth. They had wide mouths with thick lips, gaping nostrils, and large ears. Huddling around Seth, the trolls ushered him along a hall. Thick lime coated the walls, giving the corridor the appearance of a pale gray throat. The river troll did not join them.


The hall opened to a damp room with multiple puddles on the floor. Each puddle contained a huge, white maggot, glistening segments flexing grotesquely. Around one of the largest puddles, three women stood in a ring, hands joined. The tallest was also the thinnest, the shortest had lost most of her hair, and the other was excessively flabby. All three looked to be approaching the end of middle age.


Another troll with a bloated head stood on a stool feeding leeches to the tallest woman off of a platter. The short trolls guided Seth toward the women. A closer look showed Seth that the women were not holding hands--they had no hands. Their wrists were fused together, creating a conjoined ring of three.


"Seth Sorenson," said the flabby woman. "We expected you. Draw closer."


Seth edged forward. The trolls fell back. The three women stared at him. The tallest had to look over her shoulder.


"He's nervous," cackled the short one. "Are you the Singing Sisters?" Seth asked. "We are known that way collectively," said the tallest. "I'm Berna."


"I'm Orna," said the shortest.


"And I am Wilna," said the flabby one. "Tell us why you have come."


"I need to find Vasilis, the Sword of Light and Darkness."


Orna cackled. "He has his bravado!"


"He looks like him," Berna said.


"Vaguely," Wilna sighed. "Takes a little wishing."


"Like who?" Seth asked.


"Patton, of course," Orna said.


"You know we're related?" Seth asked.


"We know whatever we choose to know," Wilna said importantly.


"Do you know I'm trying to save the world?" Seth asked. "Told you," Orna snickered. "Patton Burgess all over again."


"We have no interest in your motives," Wilna said. "Like all of our other supplicants, we take for granted that you have your reasons. We care only about what you can offer us."


"What did Patton offer you?" Seth asked.


"Every negotiation is different," Berna said. "Patton came to us more than once, and the cost of our aid was never the same."


"Patton was our favorite," Orna whispered, blushing.


"He was a splendid specimen," Wilna said aloofly. "Come closer."


Seth stepped close enough to touch the ring of women. He looked down at the puddle over the conjoined arms of Wilna and Orna. The maggot in the puddle slowly reared up and twisted. It was as long as his leg and as thick as his forearm.


"Vasilis is no trivial prize," Wilna said, speaking with sudden vehemence. "It is one of the six great swords, a shining remnant from an age of wonders, its present location heavily shielded from prying minds. You ask much, Seth, and must give us much in return."


"Three lives," Berna hissed. "We want three lives. A friend, an enemy, and a relative. Give us three lives and we will share the location of Vasilis."