Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5)(93)

"Good point," Seth whispered back.


He surveyed the trap in silence. An irregular trail of gold coins led from the stream to a wide patch of sand ringed by rocks. Along the trail, a few of the coins were half-buried, a couple completely buried. In select places they had scattered multiple coins within a small area. Patton had explained that leprechauns couldn't resist unattended gold. Finding lost and hidden treasure was how the little men built their wealth.


In theory, the trail of gold would lead Cormac to a point where he would notice the hanging sack, which contained seventy gold coins. A small flask of whiskey, provided by the satyrs, awaited atop the coins inside the sack.


Minutes trickled by. Without the stimulation of conversation, Seth began to nod drowsily. He had not slept soundly the night before, and had awakened early. He was slipping into a colorful dream involving pie and llamas and water-slides when Doren elbowed him in the ribs.


Seth jerked his head up. A little man in a red frock coat was pulling a half-buried coin out of the sand. He stood not much taller than Seth's knees, wore an outdated hat, and had a bristly auburn beard. The leprechaun wiped the coin on his coat, sniffed it, and tucked it away into a pocket.


Cocking his head back, the little man studied the sack above him. "Foolish place to hide a treasure," he said in an Irish brogue. He spoke loudly, as if to a slightly deaf companion, although he appeared to be alone. "Might be the poor sap hoped to keep it out of the reach of animals. Might be he had no time to stash his savings properly. The fellow might be so rich he can afford to be careless. Might simply be an idiot--the world boasts an endless supply. Then again, might be a trap."


Glancing left and right, the leprechaun rubbed his knobby nose. Fortunately, Seth and the satyrs had chosen a thick bush a good distance from the bag.


Creeping forward, the leprechaun recovered another coin from under the sand. The little man flicked the coin, held it to his ear, then addressed it fondly. "Tell me about your brothers. Do you hail from a large family?" He squinted up at the sack. "I expect you do."


The coin disappeared into a pocket. The leprechaun stood with his hands on his hips, considering the bulging sack and the tree from which it hung. In his letter, Patton had explained that leprechauns tended to be clever, but that gold and whiskey had been known to cloud their judgment. Seth watched intently.


"Might be a trap," the little man repeated, peering furtively over his shoulder. "If so, what if old Cormac swipes the bait and leaves the rest? I see no evidence of sophistication. History has shown that few have the wits to get the better of me. That blighter Patton Burgess has been dead and buried for years. And what if it isn't a trap? I would be the prince of fools to leave a rich haul like this to another." He rubbed his hands together. "Very well, no use debating once my mind is made up."


The leprechaun scampered to the base of the tree and scaled the trunk. Newel and Doren crouched lower, and Seth mimicked them. The little man walked out along the limb to the spot where the bag was tied. There he paused, surveying the vicinity one last time. Satisfied, he shinnied down the cord to the mouth of the sack, loosened it, and squirmed inside.


The instant the leprechaun disappeared from view, Newel and Doren were up and running. Despite their haste, Seth didn't hear a single leaf rustle. He did hear the leprechaun talking to himself inside the sack. "Well, well, fancy meeting you here. Don't mind if I do."


Seth found it hard to hold still, but the satyrs had warned that the leprechaun would hear him if he tried to stay with them. He watched as Newel and Doren stepped softly onto the sandy patch beneath the sack. Newel used a knife lashed to a pole to reach up and sever the cord. Doren caught the sack and held the mouth closed.



Now that they had the leprechaun, silence no longer mattered. Heedless of the leaves he rustled or the twigs he snapped, Seth dashed to join the satyrs. Now all they had to do was prevent the leprechaun from outsmarting them. Once he was caught, as long as they kept hold of him, Cormac's magic was useless. Patton had provided an extensive list of warnings and advice.


Doren opened the mouth of the sack just enough for Seth to reach in. Seizing the little man by his feet, Seth pulled him out. The leprechaun clung to the flask of whiskey.


"Unhand me!" the leprechaun demanded, upside down, squirming doggedly.


"Hi, Cormac," Seth said. "Patton sends his regards." The letter had promised this would quickly get the leprechaun's attention.


The little man stopped struggling. He looked stricken. "Patton, you say? He gave you my name? Who are you? What is this?"


Seth set the leprechaun on the sand, but kept hold of one arm. The little man used his free arm to hug the whiskey flask.


"The bag's empty!" Doren said, feeling inside.


Cormac scowled up at him. "Of course it's empty. It was empty when I found it."


"It was full of gold coins," Newel corrected.


The little man glowered. "I may be a clumsy dullard for getting caught, but I'm not so slow that I would miss the chance to pocket a coin or two."


"Or seventy!" Doren said. "And thirty along the bank of the stream. How many pockets do you have?"


The leprechaun permitted himself a cunning smile. "More than a trio of gangly criminals might expect."