Sorcerer's Secret by Scott Mebus Page A

mused. “What is Kieft doing?”
    â€œHe’s making certain that chaos reigns,” Hamilton said. “He must be passing these out to every spirit who wants one. The fear alone will drive people to his side.”
    â€œBut he could destroy Mannahatta forever!” Whitman said. “Why would he want that?”
    The councillors erupted in frightened chatter as they tried to come up with some reason for this wanton destruction. Nicholas felt his spirits sag. He’d been trying to find the one who would inspire them. He’d thought he might have found him among the Munsees, but Buckongahelas had no desire to lead any gods into battle. Then he’d hoped he discover the leader among the council members. But as he glanced around the roomful of frightened councillors, he knew that wouldn’t be happening, either. He’d have to continue his search. His eyes rested on the evil knives in the center of the table. He’d better find this guy soon. Because time was running out.

    R ory, Bridget, their father, and Soka landed in an industrial yard in the north of Queens, the boat coasting onto shore just before it could sink completely. Simon was waiting for them, grinning.
    â€œNice ride,” he said impishly as he kicked at the ruined boat. He glanced over at Peter Hennessy. “Where did he come from?”
    â€œHe showed up to help us!” Bridget exclaimed proudly, and Rory shook his head at the pride in her voice. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they would both soon be disappointed by their old man. Simon shook Mr. Hennessy’s hand warmly, however, and welcomed him to the hunt.
    Simon led them to a group of horses he had tethered to a warehouse door. Heavy bags hung from one horse, and when the stallion shifted, Rory thought he heard the sound of china clinking. Simon was now the God of the Good China, and he couldn’t go anywhere without his crockery. The new god untethered their steeds, helping Rory up behind him as Mr. Hennessy and Bridget shared a horse, his sister chatting away excitedly to her father the whole time. Soka took the third horse, looking lonely. Rory caught her eye, but she glanced away; he guessed she was still mad about his stunt at the lighthouse. Even though it had probably saved her from gambling away something important to her. It made no sense to him. He didn’t care, he told himself, so emphatically that he almost believed it.
    â€œSo, where to?” Simon asked.
    â€œThe Fortune Teller told Rory to look in the belly of the royal steed,” Soka said. “So I gather we’re looking for a horse of some kind.”
    â€œBut there aren’t any kings in Queens!” Bridget exclaimed, then giggled at what she’d just said.
    â€œMaybe a breed of horse?” Simon conjectured. “Royal horses?”
    Mr. Hennessy suddenly snapped his fingers. “There is one king in Queens, you know. Rufus King.”
    Simon slapped his forehead. “Of course!”
    â€œWho’s Rufus King?” Rory asked.
    â€œHe was a bigwig during the Revolution,” Simon explained. “Helped write the Constitution and I think he was a senator for a while. But beyond that, the guy never won at anything. He ran for governor, he ran for vice president, he ran for president, and he never won! He had the worst luck. That’s why he’s the God of Also-Rans.”
    â€œHe was a pretty bad gambler, too, as I remember,” Mr. Hennessy added. “He couldn’t come in first at anything. Not the guy you want betting on you to win.”
    â€œWell, he’s probably betting on someone right now, ’cause today is racing day, and he never misses racing day.” Simon’s face brightened. “I love racing day!”
    â€œWhat’s racing day?” Bridget asked.
    â€œYou’ll see,” Simon told her cryptically. “Come on. We’ve got some ground to cover if we want to beat the starting