Sorcerer's Secret by Scott Mebus Page A

marched up a concrete staircase in the back, disappearing through a door at the top. The Fortune Teller didn’t even bother to watch them go.
    â€œRory Hennessy,” she purred. “So lovely to see you.”
    â€œWhere are we?” Bridget demanded. “This doesn’t look like the inside of a lighthouse!”
    â€œThis is my spot,” the Fortune Teller said, waving a languid hand to encompass the smoky room. “My little slice of heaven. Come in through the door at the top of the stairs, and you sit in on the hottest high-stakes poker game in town. But enter by the door you five just stepped through . . . well, the stakes get even higher. There’s no limit to what you can gamble away.”
    â€œIs that what we have to do?” Fritz asked. “Gamble?”
    â€œYou’re no stranger to gambling, are you, Mr. M’Garoth.” The Fortune Teller winked at him. “Now, winning, that’s another matter entirely.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” Rory said. “Why did you call me here?”
    â€œWell, that’s a different story,” the Fortune Teller replied. She reached over and picked up a box from the table. “Cigar?”
    â€œThat’s disgusting!” Bridget declared. “Smoking is for losers!”
    â€œVery true.” The Fortune Teller smirked, setting the box back down. “That’s why these are so popular among my clientele.” She took a long puff of her cigar. “So why have I called you here, Rory Hennessy? Well, you have a question to ask, don’t you? Of course you do. Normally, when someone enters through the lighthouse door, wishing to ask me something, they have to play one of my games of chance. The more random the game, the higher the stakes. Your father, for example, played me in a game of blackjack. He beat me, but only barely.”
    â€œWhat did he want to know?” Bridget asked excitedly.
    â€œYou will have to ask him that,” the Fortune Teller replied.
    â€œWhat would he have lost if you’d won instead?” Nicholas asked.
    â€œHis firstborn child.” The Fortune Teller pointed a long finger right at Rory. “Which would have been you.” Bridget gasped, grabbing her brother tightly by the waist as the others gave him a shocked look.
    â€œNo wonder he was against you coming here!” Fritz declared, shaken. “So if we have questions . . . ”
    â€œYou will have to make a wager and win,” the Fortune Teller finished for him. She shrugged. “I’m told it’s a worthwhile bet, at least by the winners. The losers . . . well, they are not so enthusiastic.”
    â€œSo I have to beat you in a game?” Rory asked, confused.
    â€œWell, you are a special case,” the Fortune Teller admitted. “Your way has been paid in advance.”
    â€œBy who?” Rory asked, taken aback.
    â€œBy a Dutch gentleman with a very keen eye for cards,” the Fortune Teller replied ruefully. “He was a God of Justice, I believe.”
    â€œAdriaen!” Nicholas guessed and the Fortune Teller nodded. “Adriaen van der Donck beat you for Rory’s question?”
    â€œSo he said. Not Rory, specifically, but rather the next Light to ask for my help. It was a little while ago, you see, and he did not know how much time would pass.”
    The others marveled over Adriaen’s prescience, but something about this didn’t sit quite right with Rory. He spoke up. “But you called for me specifically down in the Tenements. How did you know that I was Adriaen’s Light?”
    â€œThe time had arrived, that’s all,” the Fortune Teller said, but her eyes glanced away and Rory could tell she was hiding something. Before he could ask what, Soka stepped forward.
    â€œWhat must I wager to have my question answered?” she asked.
    â€œSoka, no!” Rory blurted out. “Who knows what she’ll demand if you