Quest for the Secret Keeper

  Ian squinted out the window. He could just make out what looked to be a roof on a summit that seemed impossibly high up. “How does anyone get up there?” he asked.

  “There’s a lift,” Perry told him. “The chalet was presented to that despicable fellow on his fiftieth birthday. I hear he’s afraid of heights too.”

  Perry’s voice had an odd quality about it, and Ian didn’t know if he liked the tone. He was about to say something when Adria spoke from her place at the table. Ian noticed she was letting Carl work on making hinges for the lid of the box. “What is your plan for tomorrow, Perry?”

  “I will take the boys to the school and enroll them as my sons. This uniform should prevent too many unnecessary questions. After all, no one questions the SS.” Perry laughed as if he’d just said something funny, but Ian saw no humor in it.

  “And after?” Adria asked, staring pointedly at Ian.

  Ian was a bit caught off guard but said, “Carl and I will find Wolfie Van Schuft and somehow get him to come with us to the portal on the bluff.”

  Adria nodded. “Very good. But you should be very careful with this boy, Ian. He appears to be a talented Thinker, and Thinkers are very clever Oracles indeed. They can be manipulative and are very often dubious. The best of them can easily read thoughts and influence decisions. If you and Carl don’t hide your intentions well, Wolfie will have you in the palm of his hand before you even know what’s happened.”

  Ian could feel the anxiety in the pit of his stomach grow, and he stopped eating his pastry, lest he get a bellyache. “We’ll be all right,” Carl said confidently.

  Adria eyed him shrewdly. “I hope so.”

  No one spoke much after that. Iyoclease ran a stone across the blade of his sword, which Carl promised to shrink for him right after he was through, to conceal it. Perry continued to stare at the Eagle’s Nest and Adria finished the silver box, which Ian would have sworn was far more beautiful than any of the others, especially since she had thought to adorn it with a few of the precious sapphires and emeralds.

  “It’s quite fetching,” Ian said when she caught him staring at her work.

  The Phoenician woman smiled proudly. “It’s a replica of a box that used to sit in Laodamia’s chamber. I believe it was one of her most prized possessions, in fact.”

  Iyoclease looked up curiously. “Oh?” he said. “I don’t recall her having something so exquisite.”

  Adria laughed. “Well, perhaps you haven’t given it to her yet.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, his brow furrowing.

  “As I recall, you presented Mia with that box on the anniversary of your engagement, which was a few months after you returned from the portal, if I’ve worked out the timing correctly. I believe you said you’d acquired her gift from a master tradesman from the East. I adored that treasure box, and studied it carefully before I crafted my own for the prophecies, which were not nearly as elaborate as the one you gave her.” Adria held the silver box up to catch the fading rays of sun slanting in through the window. With pride she said, “This one, however, just might do Mia’s box justice.”

  Ian felt so drawn to Adria’s creation that he was compelled to say, “If Laodamia’s box was anything as grand as that one, I’m sure she would have treasured it.”

  Adria beamed at him and then did something most unexpected. She stretched out her hands, holding the box toward him, and said, “Here.”

  “For me?” he asked, incredulous that she would give away something so valuable.

  Adria’s expression softened into an amused smile. “Yes, Ian. For you.”

  “But,” he said, staring at the beautiful treasure, “what am I supposed to do with it, mistress?”

  “Perhaps you could give it to Océanne,” she said easily. From his chair, Perry snorted.

  Ian was almost too stunned to speak. “Thank you,” he said, not knowing quite how to receive such a beautiful gift.

  Adria smiled as if she was quite pleased with herself before gathering up her tools and handing them to Carl. “These are for you.”

  “Me?” he said, echoing Ian perfectly.

  “Yes. Every Metal Master needs a set of tools to create their treasures with. I have had these specially crafted and they have served me well over the years.”

  “But what about you?” he asked. “What will you use?”

  Adria’s eyes turned melancholy. “I believe I am finished making treasures,” she said. “I want only to find my husband and a nice little villa somewhere in time to live out the rest of my days with him.”

  Ian had almost forgotten about Adrastus. “Should we be looking for the general?” he asked.

  Adria nodded. “Iyoclease and I will go in search of him while Mr. Goodwyn looks after you. We will meet back at the portal when you have the fifth Oracle.”

  “If you’re off looking for Adrastus, how will you know when we’ve got the boy?” Perry asked.

  “I’ll know,” she told him. “I know whenever a portal has opened.”

  “Yes, but how will we open it?” Ian asked.

  “By bringing back the Thinker,” she said easily. “The portal will open on its own when you are ready to take him back to Dover.”

  “But what if he won’t come willingly?” Carl wondered.

  “Oh,” Adria said, laughing, “I’ve no doubt that he won’t come willingly, Carl. He’ll put up a good fight. You’ll have no choice but to force him through.”

  Ian was worried about that. He detested Dieter Van Schuft, thinking him intrinsically evil, but did that justify kidnapping his son? Ian had his doubts.

  Iyoclease seemed to know what he was thinking, because he looked up from sharpening his sword and said, “You must force him, Ian. In fact, you must do whatever it requires to take the fifth Oracle back through the portal. Laodamia’s prophecy insists upon it, and she would not have insisted if she were not certain that it was vital to the cause.”

  Ian gave the soldier a reluctant nod. “Very well,” he said. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “Just don’t do anything that would call attention to yourselves until you reach the woods,” Perry warned. “I’ll be waiting there to help you get the boy back through the portal.”

  Ian felt a bit better when he heard that. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I just hope we can keep our intentions from him until we’re ready.”

  “You must, Ian,” Adria insisted, her tone sharp. “If he suspects you and reads your thoughts, there will be little we can do to save you.”

  Ian gulped. What terrible mess were he and Carl about to get into? He could only imagine it was going to be a sticky one indeed.

  TWO THINGS WICKED THIS WAY COME.…

  Caphiera the Cold glared hard at her sister with her one remaining good eye. “Come along, Atroposa!” she snarled when her sibling fell behind yet again. They’d been moving nonstop across the countryside, working to avoid notice by mortals and intent on their destination.

  They were traveling in great haste even though they’d been wounded in the disastrous encounter with the Keeper and the young Guardian. Caphiera had lost an eye and endured a deep puncture to her arm, while her sister had struggled to recover from the spear, which had lodged in her back. But none of their injuries would compare to the damage their sire, Demogorgon, would inflict if he learned that they had failed to capture the Secret Keeper before he’d fled through the portal.

  “I must rest!” Atroposa moaned. “I can feel the tip of that spear still lodged in my back.”

  Caphiera stopped abruptly, turning in anger and spitting an icicle at her, but it hit the dirt by Atroposa’s feet. Atroposa waved her hand at the icy dart and it came up out of the ground and whirled back toward Caphiera.

  Had the icicle been a little more to Caphiera’s left, she never would have seen it now that she was missing her left eye, but she caught the movement just in time and put her hand up to absorb the icicle in her palm. Her temper was piqued, and Caphiera shouted
at Atroposa, “You’re slowing us down!”

  Atroposa scowled and stretched out her arms as a strong breeze came rolling across the hills. The wind strengthened her. “I am wounded,” she said flatly. “There is only so much ground I can traverse before I must regain my strength.”

  Caphiera pointed to the patch across her eye. “Am I not also wounded?” she shrieked.

  Atroposa ignored her and moved away to a nearby boulder to sit down. She held out her arms again as another strong wind rolled over the hilly terrain. “Why must we make this detour?” she asked, as if she’d completely forgotten the argument.

  Caphiera glared at her through her one good eye. “I told you,” she said tartly. “Now that the Secret Keeper has escaped, we have no choice but to enlist the help of our brother and sister, and as Lachestia has obviously trapped Magus somewhere near her lair, we must make haste to free him and convince her to join us. In order to find Magus, we will need his beasts, and in order to command them, we will need Magus’s servant, who is the only one besides Magus that they trust.”

  “Van Schuft,” Atroposa said with disdain. “I never liked that mortal.”

  “He’s a mortal,” Caphiera said simply. “What’s to like?”

  “Demogorgon will require an audience with us soon,” her sister warned, her voice even more mournful than normal.

  “He is unlikely to punish us too severely when we tell him we have rescued our brother and tamed our sister,” Caphiera replied.

  But Atroposa only frowned more. Lachestia was the most powerful by far of her siblings and her madness only increased the danger she posed to them all. “You’re assuming that we will be victorious in both those endeavors?”

  “We have no choice,” Caphiera said. “Without the Keeper or the box, we have nothing to present to our sire, and as you know, he doesn’t suffer such failures lightly.”

  Atroposa shuddered, moving from the boulder, and appeared ready to get under way again. “Then let’s be off,” she said. “We’ll not stop until we find Van Schuft and force him to fetch Magus’s mutts.”

  With that the two wicked sisters set off again, determined to find Dieter Van Schuft and get on with recovering their brother before time and their sire’s patience ran out.

  TWO NEW BOARDERS

  Ian and Carl stood, tentative and nervous, next to Perry just outside the headmaster’s office in the Berchtesgaden School for Boys. It was midmorning and most of the students were in class and the hallways were relatively empty.

  And even though only the occasional priest passed by the young men’s post, Ian felt incredibly exposed, convinced that at any moment someone would point him out as a British spy and he’d be taken away and shot.

  Also, his new uniform itched terribly; he wanted nothing more than to take it off and put on his own clothes. Still, as he looked up at Perry, he had to consider that at least he wasn’t wearing the black uniform of the SS, posing as an officer in the private army of the Führer.

  At half past nine, footsteps from the other side of the door sounded, and a stern-looking priest with a sharp, thin nose and a nearly lipless mouth abruptly opened the door. “Herr Goodwyn?” the priest asked.

  “Yes,” said Perry, snapping his heels together and offering a “Heil Hitler” salute.

  Ian forced himself not to flinch. He hated that salute. He hated Hitler. Most of all, he hated being there and pretending to be a young German.

  By the look on Carl’s face, Ian guessed he hated it too.

  “And these are the boys in question?” the priest asked, returning the salute with a bit of lackluster.

  “Yes. These are my sons. Karl and Liam.”

  Carl had been lucky; he’d gotten to keep his name, although Perry had warned him to spell it with a K. Ian, however, had been told that he would have to use a more German-sounding first name, and Adria had suggested he take the name of the innkeeper’s son, Liam. “It almost sounds like your name, doesn’t it?” she’d told him.

  Ian had agreed to use it, although it irked him that he couldn’t simply use his own name, as no one would know him here.

  “They are the same age?” the headmaster asked, motioning the three of them into his office.

  Perry took a seat in a chair in front of the headmaster’s ornately engraved desk, and Ian and Carl found spots on a small wooden bench at the back of the room. “Yes. They are twins,” he said.

  The priest squinted at Ian and Carl. “They are very different,” he remarked.

  “Fraternal,” Perry told him, and left it at that.

  The priest seemed to accept his explanation. “Tell me about their education in Berlin.”

  On the previous eve, just before dusk, Perry had dropped off two applications for their enrollment. He’d then come back and lectured the two young men about what he’d written on the applications: mainly that Carl and Ian had both been educated at a small school outside Hamburg, but as Perry’s duties were now in Berchtesgaden, he thought it best to bring the boys with him.

  The priest nodded, lacing his fingers together as he placed his elbows on his desk. “You appear quite young to have sons of fourteen,” he remarked.

  Ian tensed and felt Carl do the same. But Perry merely chuckled easily and said, “Yes, I’ve been told I look remarkable for my age, Father. I practice daily robust exercise and eat a healthy diet, as the Führer has advised all good German men should do!”

  Both the priest and Perry laughed, and Ian and Carl forced a chuckle too. The headmaster and Perry spoke for another twenty minutes, and Ian marveled at his schoolmaster’s calm and easy demeanor. He concluded that Perry was a natural spy at heart. As the clock on the wall crept toward quarter past ten, Perry ran his fingers along the inside of his officer’s cap and said, “And now I believe I shall leave my sons in your most capable hands, Father. I must be off, you see. There is much to do for the Führer’s visit next week.”

  The priest stood, which allowed them all to do the same. “Quite right,” he said. “I would beg you for an introduction, Herr Goodwyn, except that I’ve already asked a colleague of yours, Herr Van Schuft, to grant me an audience with the Führer.”

  Perry’s smile widened. “Oh, you know Dieter?” he said.

  “His son attends our school,” the headmaster told him.

  “Ah!” Perry said enthusiastically. “I did not know Dieter had enrolled his son, Wolfgang. This is excellent, Father! My sons would welcome the chance to meet him, right, boys?”

  Ian nodded enthusiastically, just like he knew he was expected to. Carl, he noticed, nodded a bit more reluctantly, but Ian could hardly blame him.

  Perry turned his attention back to the priest. “They should room together!” he announced.

  The priest appeared taken aback. “Oh,” he said. “Wolfgang is a bit younger than your sons, Herr Goodwyn. And it is our tradition to arrange our students in rooms with others in their same class—”

  “Change the arrangement,” Perry interrupted, his voice hard and brokering no argument. When the priest stared at him in surprise, Perry added, “Father, my good friend Herr Van Schuft and I will be working closely together over the next several months. I am sure he would welcome a chance for our sons to become acquainted. In fact, I’m quite certain he would also insist on it.”

  The priest’s expression grew uncertain, and perhaps even a bit afraid. Ian noticed that his eyes roved briefly to the red armband with the black swastika around Perry’s right arm, and after only another second of hesitation, he said, “But of course, Herr Goodwyn. I will have the boys arranged all in one room.”

  Perry’s smile flashed again. “Excellent, Father!” he said, taking out several of the gold coins Adria and Carl had crafted and handing these to the priest. “This should be enough to cover the cost of admission,” he said.

  The headmaster took the coins curiously. “These are quite valuable,” he said, turning them over in his hands. “I believe they are collector’s pieces.”

  Perry smil
ed winningly. “My wealthy uncle, who was a collector of such things, left them to me and I’m afraid I have no use for them other than to provide my sons with a proper German education.”

  The priest was also smiling, but Ian could tell he was still quite nervous with the SS officer in front of him and was anxious to be rid of him. “Very good, Herr Goodwyn,” the priest said. “Your sons will be in the best of hands.”

  Perry swiveled sharply to Ian and Carl. Placing one hand on each of their shoulders, he said, “You two be good students and do your best to make friends with little Wolfie.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ian said.

  “Yes, sir,” Carl repeated.

  Without further ado, Perry strode out of the room, leaving them alone with their new headmaster. “Karl, Liam,” the priest said sternly. “Let’s get you two a schedule and your books so that you may join your next class.”

  Ian and Carl spent a tense day at the back of all their classes, doing their best to melt into the background. One or two of the boys nearby had smiled at them, but Carl had glared so hard in return that it wasn’t long before they could hear whispers among their classmates about how unfriendly they were.

  Ian did nothing to try to ingratiate himself with the other young men. He didn’t want to like them, and he knew that if he got to know any of them by name or even engaged in a casual conversation, he’d probably change his view of them as the enemy, and he couldn’t risk that.

  So he and Carl kept to themselves, then, at day’s end, reported as directed by the headmaster to the priest in charge of their dormitory.

  This priest ordered them to follow, and they made their way outside and down a walkway to a large square structure that Ian assumed was the boys’ dormitory. Here they were led up a large staircase to the second floor, down a long corridor, and around a corner to a lone room with the door open.

  Inside, two boys were busy packing their belongings, and one sat dejectedly in the corner on his bed, reading a book, ignoring everyone around him.