The Raven’s Riddle The Raven’s Riddle Gabriel was just as excited to examine the parchment as Septimus and Crawfin. The verses were written in scratchy script by the raven Baldasarre. He read aloud:
“To those who seek this wondrous prize,
My humble verse please heed;
The mischief that this necklace brings
Hails from an ancient deed:
One thousand dwarfs raised arms against
A mighty chieftain’s reign,
But this bold king imprisoned them
Beneath his great domain.
And so they forged a kingly gift,
With malice and invention,
A torc that would all wishes grant
To gain their swift redemption.
To thee I say, resist its lure,
Devised in evil plot.
Around the staff this torc must stay,
Its wickedness forgot.”
When they had finished this part of the verse, Septimus’s forehead, which had been wrinkled to start with, cleared with obvious amusement. “What a charming little rhyme!”
Gabriel frowned. “It sounds to me like a serious warning,” he said. “Like signs on a fence that say ‘Danger, Keep Out!’ ”
“Oh, yes,” laughed Septimus. “I’ve always ignored those signs. Why, if Crawfin and I paid attention to Keep Out signs, we would be—”
“Out of business,” interrupted Crawfin.
Septimus rubbed his hands. “This raven Baldasarre enjoys preaching a lot of gloom and doom, but I wish he would get to the point!”
“Let’s move on,” said Crawfin impatiently.
Gabriel passed his finger down to the next part of the verse.
“To find the torc, the seeker must
Prove worthy in its thrall,
Brave in spirit, warm of heart,
And selfless, most of all.”
“That’s me,” said Septimus. “No truer words were said.”
The white raven looked doubtfully at Septimus. “If that’s you, I’m an ostrich.”
“I was brave in my youth.”
Crawfin rolled his eyes.
Gabriel read on:
“A daring task must be performed
To gain that for which you yearn:
Give back the druid stone to those
Who pine for its return.”
“Druid stone? It sounds valuable!” Septimus’s eyes brightened.
“And I wonder who pines for its return?” Gabriel said.
“It must be quite precious,” Septimus declared. “What a shame to go to such trouble to find it, just to give it away to somebody else.”
“Maybe Baldasarre means that this stone must be traded for the torc,” Gabriel replied. “A selfish person would keep the druid stone and never get as far as finding the torc.”
Crawfin smirked. “The boy makes sense.” Septimus, however, rolled his eyes and gestured for Gabriel to continue.
“On pillars made of granite stone,
Lady Justice rests her feet.
Or, in despair, retreat.”
“On pillars made of granite stone, Lady Justice rests her feet. Well, that sounds like the big courthouse building downtown,” guessed Gabriel. “It has pillars. The top of the building has a statue of a woman holding a sword and a flaming torch. I’ll bet that her ‘resident,’ whoever it is, lives behind that statue and has this druid stone.”
“What sort of creature would live up there?” said Septimus. “Rather a high place, I reckon. Windy. Cold. Very unpleasant this time of year.” He and Crawfin shared a pointed glance.
“I don’t know, but we’ll just have to find out,” said Gabriel.
“Now, isn’t he a fine chap?” Septimus remarked to Crawfin. “Volunteering on such a dangerous mission!”
“I didn’t exactly volun—” Gabriel said, but he was interrupted by a desperate noise—three weak throks. An exhausted raven appeared in the doorway, one wing drooping, his chest heaving.