talk as the driver found the highway.
"How long is the trip?" Kendra asked.
"About an hour," Coulter said.
"Any last-minute tips?" Kendra asked.
"Don't reveal your name to anyone," Coulter said. "Don't mention Fablehaven, your grandparents, or where you come from. Don't tell your age. Don't show your face. Don't allude to any of your abilities. Don't mention the Sphinx. Don't speak unless you must. Most of the Knights eagerly gather information. Goes with the territory. Whether they're good or bad, I say the less they know the better."
"So what can I do?" Kendra asked. "Maybe I should just wear the invisibility glove and hide in a corner!"
"Let me qualify Coulter's recommendation not to speak," Tanu said. "Feel free to ask questions of your own. Get to know people. The fact that you're new gives you a valid excuse to solicit information. Just try not to reveal much. Gather info, don't dispense it. Be wary of any stranger who takes too much interest in you. Don't go anywhere alone with anyone."
"We'll stay close, but not too close," Warren said. "We all know other Knights, a few of them rather well. They will be able to spot us. We don't want to make it too easy for others to associate you with us."
"Do we have you wound up yet?" Coulter asked.
"I'm pretty nervous," Kendra confessed.
"Relax, have fun!" Warren encouraged.
"Right, while I try to follow all of my instructions and avoid getting abducted," Kendra moaned.
"That's the spirit!" Warren cheered.
Other cars on the highway had their lights on as dusk approached. Kendra settled back in her seat. The others had warned her it might be a late night. She had tried to sleep on the plane, but had felt too anxious, and the seat had not reclined enough. Instead she had used headphones to listen to the flight's different audio channels, including hit-and miss selections of stand-up comedy and pop music.
Now, in the dim limo, she had a little more room, and drowsiness caught up to her. She decided not to fight it. Her eyelids drooped and she spent a few minutes on the edge of sleep, hearing the others make occasional comments as if from underwater.
In her restless dream, Kendra found herself roaming a carnival holding a blue cloud of cotton candy on a disposable white stick. At the age of four, Kendra had gotten separated from her family at a fairground for almost half an hour, and the scene before her was quite similar. Calliope music hooted and shrilled. A nearby Ferris wheel ground round and round, elevating riders high into the evening sky before plunging them back down, the mechanism squealing and growling like the ride was about to collapse.
Kendra caught glimpses of family members in the crowd, but when she tried to shoulder through the throng to reach them, they were gone. On one such occasion, she thought she saw her mom walk behind a popcorn stand. When Kendra followed, she found herself confronted by a tall stranger with a gray afro. Smiling like he knew a secret, the man tore away a big piece of her cotton candy and stuck it in his mouth. Kendra held her treat away from him, glaring, and a fat woman wearing braces plucked at it from behind. Soon Kendra found herself pushing through the multitude, trying to get away from the many strangers devouring her cotton candy. But it was no use. The entire crowd was stealing from her, and soon all she retained in her grasp was a naked white stick.
When Coulter jostled her awake she felt relieved, although a lingering unsettled feeling persisted. She must be even more stressed about the evening than she realized to have such an obnoxious dream!
Warren had opened his bag and was dispersing robes and masks. The long robes were constructed of a thin, strong material, dark gray, with a slight shimmer. "We're almost there," Warren informed her. Unfastening her seatbelt, Kendra pulled the robe over her head. Warren handed her a silver mask. Coulter put on his. All four masks looked identical. Smooth and shiny, the simple, grinning mask covered her entire face. It felt a little heavier than she liked.
Kendra tapped her knuckles against the metallic forehead. "Are these things bulletproof?"
"They're not flimsy," Tanu said.
"Use your hood," Coulter suggested, his voice somewhat muffled by his mask. His hood was up, leaving none of his head exposed. He could have been anyone.
Warren handed Kendra light, snug gloves that matched the cloak. She removed her shoes and stepped