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His sister, Natalie, giggled. She was holding an invitation and looking very pleased with herself.
Before Dan could kick Ian in a soft spot, the gray-suited man answered. “To be the beneficiaries of Grace Cahill’s will. Now, if you please, those with invitations will gather in the Great Hall.”
People with invitations hurried toward the house like somebody had just yelled “Free food!”
Natalie Kabra winked at Dan. “Ciao, cousin. Must run collect our fortune.” Then she and her brother strolled up the drive.
“Forget them,” Amy said. “Dan, maybe you’re right. Maybe we’ll inherit something.”
But Dan frowned. If this invitation was such a great thing, why did the lawyer guy look so grim? And why had Grace included the Kabras?
As he passed through the main entrance of the mansion, Dan glanced up at the stone crest above the door — a large C surrounded by four smaller designs — a dragon, a bear, a wolf, and two snakes entwined around a sword. The crest had always fascinated Dan, though he didn’t know what it meant. All the animals seemed to glare at him, like they were about to strike. He followed the crowd inside, wondering why those animals were so mad.
The Great Hall was as big as a basketball court, with tons of armor and swords lining the walls and huge windows that looked like Batman could crash through them any minute.
William McIntyre stood at a table in front with a projector screen behind him, while everybody else filed into rows of seats. There were about forty people in all, including the Holts and the Kabras and Aunt Beatrice, who looked completely disgusted to be there — or maybe she was just disgusted that everybody else had been invited to her sister’s will reading.
Mr. McIntyre raised his hand for quiet. He slipped a document from a brown leather folder, adjusted his bifocals, and began to read: “‘I, Grace Cahill, being of sound mind and body, do hereby divide my entire estate among those who accept the challenge and those who do not.’”
“Whoa,” Eisenhower Holt interrupted. “What challenge? What’s she mean?”
“I am getting to that, sir.” Mr. McIntyre cleared his throat and continued: “‘You have been chosen as the most likely to succeed in the greatest, most perilous undertaking of all time — a quest of vital importance to the Cahill family and the world at large.’”
Forty people started talking at once, asking questions and demanding answers.
“‘Perilous undertaking’?” Cousin Ingrid shouted. “What is she talking about?”
“I thought this was about money!” Uncle José yelled. “A quest? Who does she think we are? We’re Cahills, not adventurers!”
Dan noticed Ian and Natalie Kabra exchange a meaningful look. Irina Spasky whispered something in Alistair Oh’s ear, but most of the other spectators looked as confused as Dan felt.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please,” Mr. McIntyre said. “If you will direct your attention to the screen, perhaps Madame Cahill can explain things better than I.”
Dan’s heart did a flip-flop. What was Mr. McIntyre talking about? Then a projector on the ceiling hummed to life. The shouting in the room died down as Grace’s image flickered on the screen.
She was sitting up in bed with Saladin on her lap. She wore a black dressing gown, like she was a mourner at her own funeral, but she looked healthier than the last time Dan had seen her. Her complexion was pink. Her face and hands didn’t look as thin. The video must’ve been made months ago, before her cancer got bad. Dan got a lump in his throat. He had a crazy urge to call to her: Grace, it’s me! It’s Dan! But of course it was just an image. He looked at Amy and saw a tear trickling down the base of her nose.
“Fellow Cahills,” Grace said. “If you are watching this, it means I am dead, and I have decided to
use my alternate will. No doubt you are arguing amongst yourselves and giving poor Mr. McIntyre a hard time about this contest I have instituted.” Grace gave the camera a dry smile. “You always were a stubborn bunch. For once, close your mouths and listen.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” Eisenhower Holt protested, but his wife shushed him.
“I assure you,” Grace continued, “this contest is no trick. It is deadly serious business. Most of you know you belong to the Cahill family, but many of you may not realize just how important our family is. I tell you the Cahills have had a greater impact on human civilization than any other family in history.”
More confused shouting broke out. Irina Spasky stood up and yelled, “Silence! I wish to hear!”
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“My relatives,” Grace’s image said, “you stand on the brink of our greatest challenge. Each of you has the potential to succeed. Some of you may decide to form a team with other people in this room to pursue the challenge. Some of you may prefer to take up the challenge alone. Most of you, I’m afraid, will decline the challenge and run away with your tails between your legs. Only one team will succeed, and each of you must sacrifice your share of the inheritance to participate.”
She held up a manila envelope sealed with red wax. Her eyes were as bright and hard as steel.
“If you accept, you shall be given the first of thirty-nine clues. These clues will lead you to a secret, which, should you find it, will make you the most powerful, influential human beings on the planet. You will realize the destiny of the Cahill family. I now beg you all to listen to Mr. McIntyre. Allow him to explain the rules. Think long and hard before you make your choice.” She stared straight into the camera, and Dan wanted her to say something special to them: Dan and Amy, I’ll miss you most of all. Nobody else in this room really matters to me. Something like that.
Instead, Grace said, “I’m counting on you all. Good luck, and good-bye.”
The screen went dark. Amy gripped Dan’s hand. Her fingers were trembling. To Dan, it felt like they’d just lost Grace all over again. Then everyone around them started talking at once.
“Greatest family in history?” Cousin Ingrid yelled. “Is she crazy?”
“Stubborn?” Eisenhower Holt shouted. “She called us stubborn?”
“William!” Alistair Oh’s voice rose above the rest. “Just a moment! There are people here I don’t even recognize, people who may not even be members of the family. How do we know — ”
“If you are in this room, sir,” Mr. McIntyre said, “you are a Cahill. Whether your surname is Cahill or not doesn’t matter. Everyone here has Cahill blood.”
“Even you, Mr. McIntyre?” Natalie Kabra asked in her silky British accent.
The old lawyer flushed. “That, miss, is beside the point. Now, if I might be allowed to finish — ”
“But what’s this about sacrificing our inheritance?” Aunt Beatrice complained. “Where’s the money? It’s just like my sister to come up with some foolishness!”
“Madam,” Mr. McIntyre said, “you may certainly decline the challenge. If you do, you will receive what is under your chair.”
Immediately, forty people felt around under their chairs. Eisenhower Holt was so anxious he picked up Reagan’s chair with her still in it. Dan discovered an envelope under his, stuck on with tape. When he opened it, he found a green slip of paper with a bunch of numbers and the words royal bank of scotland. Amy had one, too. So did everybody in the room.
“What you now hold is a bank voucher,” Mr. McIntyre explained. “It shall only be activated if and when you renounce your claim to the challenge. If you so choose, each of you may walk out of this room with one million dollars and never have to think of Grace Cahill or her last wishes again. Or ... you may choose a clue — a single clue that will be your only inheritance. No money. No property. Just a clue that might lead you to the most important treasure in the world and make you powerful beyond belief ...”
William’s gray eyes seemed to settle on Dan particularly. “... or it might kill you. One million dollars or the clue. You have five minutes to decide.”
Excerpted from "The 39 Clues: The Maze of Bones" by Rick Riordan. Copyright 2008, Scholastic, Inc.
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