Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5)(82)

"The word is abroad that Graulas has claimed this house," Newel said by way of greeting.


"We were hoping it was a hoax," Doren added. "No trick," Seth said loudly. "I was asked to claim it on his behalf." He lowered his voice. "Please don't yell about my hoaxes where any imp can hear."


"Right," Newel said with a knowing wink. He cupped a hand beside his mouth. "We had better clear out of here before the dark master of this haunted abode returns!"


"You don't have to oversell it, either," Seth whispered.


"We brought you some gear," Doren said, unshouldering his pack and rummaging through the contents. He pulled out an oval shield about a yard tall. "Heroes need proper equipment."


"Thanks," Seth said.


"Adamant," Doren said proudly, handing over the shield. "We fished it out of the same tar pit where we found the shirt of mail."


"Probably all belonged to the same careless adventurer," Newel speculated. "Too much money, not enough talent."


Seth hefted the shield. It felt light, almost like a toy or a prop, but he knew that if it was made of adamant, it was stronger than steel and absolutely priceless. "What a great gift."


"We were reserving it to trade for batteries," Newel explained. "But in light of our new arrangement--well, investors need to protect their interests."


"It would be a shame if I died before you got your generator," Seth said.


Doren nudged Newel. "The shield isn't all."


From his pack, Newel removed a sword in a battered leather scabbard. Jewels adorned the golden hilt. Newel presented it to Seth, who drew the sword. It felt too light. "This isn't adamant too?" Seth asked.


"Tempered adamant," Doren gushed. "We found just the naked blade. The edge is keen. The nipsies crafted the hilt, and we salvaged the scabbard from an old scrap heap."


"The nipsies couldn't have made it just now?" Seth asked.


"No," Newel chuckled. "It took them six weeks. We were simply preparing another item for barter."


Seth belted on the scabbard and sheathed the sword. "Why don't you guys have armor?"


Newel snorted derisively. "Slows us down. We prefer to avoid injuries by not getting hit."


"What about the helmet?" Seth asked.


Newel rapped the helm with his knuckles. "This old thing? It's my good-luck charm."


"Tell him the story," Doren urged.


"Satyrs never wear armor, including helmets," Newel began, using his hands expressively. "But years ago I was in a play, and the helm was part of my costume. During the big battle scene, a few of us were assailing a castle. We had quite a set. The main tower must have been fifteen feet tall, fashioned from real stone. Anyhow, as we actors were laying siege, a big chunk of the battlement dislodged from atop the tower."


"Shoddy workmanship," Doren inserted.


"Definitely not part of the rehearsed scene," Newel emphasized.


"Newel was delivering a line," Doren laughed.


"Behold, the enemy falters!" Newel quoted in a bold voice, raising a finger skyward for dramatic effect. "I was facing the audience and focused on my diction, so the falling stonework blindsided me."


"Biggest laugh of the night," Doren chuckled.


"Those might have been my last words if not for this helmet," Newel said. "Cumbersome or not, any object that lucky deserves to be worn in battle."


"Is that how the helmet got dented?" Seth asked.


"Exactly," Newel confirmed.


"Newel wouldn't let anyone repair it," Doren said.


"I'm surprised you weren't injured," Seth said.


"I was unconscious for almost two days," Newel clarified.


"His understudy was elated," Doren said.


Newel smirked. "The botched scene was such a success, I had to give up the theater. All everybody wanted from me thereafter was slapstick. And trust me, with satyrs involved, slapstick hurts a lot."


"He came home from rehearsals mottled with bruises," Doren remembered.


"I see Doren brought a bow," Seth pointed out.


"He's a handy archer," Newel said. "I prefer a sling."


Seth motioned for them to lean close and lowered his voice to a faint whisper. "I got our assignment from Patton. It will take us on quite a journey. I think we should probably get Vanessa out of the Quiet Box to help us. What do you guys say?"


"Absolutely," Newel affirmed. "Best idea I've heard all day."


"I'll second that," Doren said gladly. Seth gave the satyrs a doubtful scowl. "Wait a minute. You guys just think she's pretty."


"I've been around a long time," Newel said. "Vanessa Santoro is not just pretty."


"He's right," Doren agreed. "She's walking dynamite. My pulse is rising just talking about her."