Konrad smothered the last of the fire with dirt. “I suppose it’s time to seek what not even the wisest can find.”
“Good thing we have at least one fool amongst us.” The words slipped out. I clapped my hand over my mouth. How could I say such a thing? And after all he’d done.
His solemn face split into a grin. “Well said, my lady.”
“Forgive me. I’m more the fool than you. You—”
He held up a hand. “I am a fool, trained to see the truth in foolishness and lessons in inconsistencies. I hope I’m fool enough to see the path.” His mouth quirked. “If you wish to claim the honor of fool, I will offer lessons. The only fee is a laugh a day.”
I raised a brow. “Only a laugh for the secrets that not even the wise know?”
“A poor trade, slanted in my favor.”
I snorted.
“A real laugh, my lady, or no lessons.”
“The lessons can wait,” croaked Peter. “Something is coming.”
Konrad drew two knives from his belt. “Which way?”
“It’s magical, but I don’t know if it’s dangerous.” Peter stretched his head out from Demuth’s pocket.
“Which way?” Konrad repeated.
Peter looked up. “It’s here.”
A large, white owl settled silently in the branches above us. He tilted his head and studied us with half-lidded eyes.
Konrad bowed. “Honored owl.”
The owl spread his wings and glided down, landing on a stone, and faced me. He was huge. His head was level with my waist. “You travel the sorcerer’s path?” His voice was soft, even as his beak clacked the consonants.
I shuddered. Another talking animal. And this one didn’t feel as harmless as Peter. I added my bow to Konrad’s. “We travel his path.”
“Give me the first token,” said the owl.
“Token?”
He ruffled his feathers. “Token. The words.”
Words?
Demuth spoke the first line of the sorcerer’s riddle, “Not even the wisest can find it.”
The owl swiveled his head and opened his eyes fully. “Correct. Answer what the wisest cannot, and you shall proceed. Answer not, and I shall feast.” He clacked his beak and looked at each of us.
A shiver ran down my back.
“Ask on.” Konrad flipped one of his knives into the air and caught it as he tossed the other. He juggled as if unafraid of the owl’s threat, but his jaw was tight.
The owl ruffled his feathers again. Was he larger?
I took a step back.
The owl spoke. “Beggars have it. Kings need it. If you eat it, you will die.”
What would beggars have that kings needed? “Master owl,” I said. “May we speak with each other before answering?”
The owl nodded.
Demuth and I huddled by Konrad. He stopped juggling and slipped one knife back into his belt, but kept a firm grip on the other.
“The riddle has three requirements,” I said. “We must find something that fits all three. But what? What do beggars have and kings need? What will kill you if you eat it?”
“Poison,” said Demuth. “But kings don’t need it.”
“Perhaps we should start by identifying truths to the individual statements and then find the common ground,” I said. “What do beggars have?”
Demuth’s brow furrowed. “Beggars have rags for clothes, empty stomachs, fear of bad weather and wild dogs.” She touched a fingertip for each point. “Little shelter, little hope, but sometimes many friends.”
“Kings don’t need any of those things,” I said. “Except for the friends. And kings often have many friends, too. If you ate a friend, would it kill you?”
“Princess Hette!” Demuth looked at me with reproof.
Konrad laughed.
“If we don’t look at each option,” I said, “then we might miss the answer. Ignoring a possibility will accomplish nothing.”
Konrad’s laughter changed to a chuckle. “It’s nothing.” He raised his voice. “Beggars have nothing. Kings need nothing. If you eat nothing, you will die.”
“Correct.” The owl stared at us with his large yellow eyes. “A barrel of beer weighs seventy-five pounds. What must you add to make it weigh sixty pounds?”
“It’s impos—”
“That is not our answer,” Konrad interrupted me.
The owl ruffled his feathers, and he was definitely larger. He stood as tall as the belly of Konrad’s horse.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I won’t speak.”
“Please speak with us first,” said Konrad. “So we can decide together.”
“It’s still impossible,” I said. “You cannot add something to make it lighter. Only remove.”
“Then let’s start with that,” said Konrad. “How can you remove something to make it sixty pounds?”
“The easiest way would be to remove fifteen pounds of beer.”
“And how would you remove that beer?”
I narrowed my eyes at Konrad. “Do you already know the answer?”
He only grinned. “And if I do?”
“Then give it.”
“No. I know the answer and we will be safe in this riddle. But there may come a time that I can’t answer, and it will depend on you, Demuth, or Peter.”
It was true. I’d had to face the witch without him. I shuddered. I didn’t want to face anyone else without Konrad by my side. But if I did, and needed to answer riddles, I’d need to learn the skill.
I swallowed. “The easiest way to remove the beer would be to open the spigot.”
“And what if there wasn’t a spigot?”
“Who would build a beer barrel without a spigot? The cooper should have added one from the beginning.”
“Oh.” Demuth clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Demuth, what is the answer?” I asked.
She glanced at Konrad and he shook his head. They expected me to figure it out.
A spigot would remove the beer. Or a dipper if the barrel lacked a spigot. But the cooper should have added a—Oh. “Konrad, do you add a spigot to remove enough beer to make it weigh sixty pounds?”
“I thought of adding holes,” said Konrad. “But adding a spigot is more accurate.”
“Correct,” intoned the owl. He slowly blinked. “Imagine you are on a one-and-a-half-foot by three-foot ledge in the middle of a canyon a thousand feet long with lava flowing along the bottom. The walls are obsidian slick. A narrow ledge, which you might reach if you jump, runs horizontally above you. Another ledge starts below you and off to your right, but it is only six inches wide. The lower path continues for as far as you can see, but also slants downward toward the lava. You have three stakes, a hammer, a hundred feet of rope, a fine woven piece of silk twenty feet by twenty feet, and a goat. What is the one sure way to escape?”
“How would anyone get on that ledge in the first place?” I whispered. “And why would they have those supplies? It isn’t logical.”
Konrad raised his brows. “Magic isn’t—”
“Logical,” I finished for him. “I know. But he hasn’t given us nearly enough information.” I faced the owl. “May we ask clarifying questions?”
He titled his head. “You may ask.”
“How far is the ledge from the top and bottom?”
“Fifty feet from the top. Twenty feet from the bottom.”
“Too far to jump,” muttered Konrad. “There is the goat. We could follow the path the goat takes. But I’ve seen goats walk up walls, and if this is obsidian, I’d have difficulty following it. Not a sure path.”
“If we anchored the rope to the wall with one of the stakes,” said Demuth, “we could lower down to the path.”
“But it’s not right below the ledge,” I said. “We’d need to create some pendulum motion to swing over to it. But I can’t remember the formula.”
Konrad's mouth pinched. “These were supposed to be riddles, not mathematical equations.” He blew out a loud breath. “Owl? How many people are on the ledge?”
The owl blinked. “One.”
“One,” repeated Konrad. “Let’s assume that one is me.”
“I’ll agree to that.” I pressed a hand to my rapidly ticking heart. Even the thought of trying to navigate the lava-filled canyon brought sweat to my forehead. I’d quickly die. Konrad, on the other hand, could possibly make his way out of that trap. He had the skill to leap, flip, and otherwise maneuver the cliff.
“So,” said Konrad. “I anchor the rope with one of the stakes, then climb down, and swing over to the lower path.”
“And if it’s a dead end?” asked Demuth.
“I’ll return to the ledge and try the upper path.”
“How will you get back to the ledge?” I asked.
He paused, and his brow crinkled. “I’d have to anchor the rope at the start of the lower path, so I could climb back up it if needed.”
“How do we even know the rock would hold the stakes?” I asked.
“Why would he give us stakes as supplies if we weren’t to use them?” he retorted, his face flushing.
“By that reasoning, we should also use the goat and the silk.”
Konrad scratched his head. “True. They are tools for possibilities. And as you said with the first riddle, we should explore the different possibilities. I’d still try the upper path next.”
“The crack that runs just out of reach?”
He nodded. “I’m taller than most men. Even if it was still out of reach, I could leap up and catch it.”
Demuth tilted her head. “Why not use the stake that you hammered into the wall for the rope earlier as a boost to get up to the crack?”
“Good point,” he said. “I’d bring the rope and the other stakes, plus a hammer, and see how far I could go along that upper path.”
“Send the goat before you?” I asked.
“Another good point.” His brow furrowed deeper. “But what is the silk for?”
What could the silk be used for? My brow furrowed like his. We already have a long rope and climbing twenty feet of silk won’t get a person much further. Silk and science. Where do they connect?
“My lady,” said Konrad. “Will you speak your thoughts so we can share them?”
“It will be rambling.”
He nodded.
I took a deep breath. “Silk is strong. It could be used like a rope, but is too short to be of much use in that fashion. Silk is tightly woven. It is used in clothing, bedding and—” a bit of news from the previous year came to memory, “—balloons. The Montgolfier brothers created a huge balloon of silk.”
I turned to the owl. “Is there any wind?”
He blinked and grew in size again. He was as tall as the shoulder of Konrad’s horse. We’d asked enough questions. We’d have to work with what he gave us.
“There has to be an updraft,” I said to Konrad and Demuth. “With the heat of the lava trapped by canyon walls, the air would be pushing upward. We could do like the Montgolfier brothers and capture the hot air with fabric and ride it to the top.” I hurried on as the plans traced out in my head. “You’d use the stakes to make holes in the four corners of the silk, four other holes halfway between the corners. A hundred feet of rope would divide into eight segments, which you’d tie to the eight holes. You’d attach the other ends of the ropes to you, throw the fabric out over the ledge and let the wind fill it and carry you upward. It would be difficult, but possible.”
Konrad blinked like the owl and then laughed low. “To trust the winds to carry me over lava on a bit of silk. It’s possible, but deadly. There is no sure escape. Each has a possibility for error.” He turned to Demuth. “What did the owl say, his exact wording?”
She bit her lip. “He said, Imagine you are on a one-and-a-half-foot by three-foot ledge in the middle of a canyon a thousand feet long with lava flowing along the bottom. The walls are obsidian slick. A narrow ledge, which you might reach if you jump, runs horizontally above you—” Her hazel eyes widened. “He said imagine.”
Konrad lifted his brows then laughed. “Demuth, you saw past the distractions, when we were caught in the details. You should answer.”
She turned to the owl. “The one sure escape is to stop imagining.”
“Correct,” said the owl.
Konrad stepped toward the owl. “We’ve answered your three riddles. We thank you for the pleasant game.”
The owl rose in the air. “Fools.” His voice reverberated. “The riddles are not yet finished.” He hovered over us, blocking the sun. His wings stretched wider than the length of a horse.
The owl would never let us go. He’d give us riddle after riddle until we answered wrong, and then he’d consume us.
Demuth grasped my hand.
Konrad bowed. “We are fools, and we will answer the next riddle.”
The owl settled back on the ground about ten feet from us. He was taller than Konrad. “What is my weight?”
“How are we supposed to know?” I whispered.
“We aren’t. It isn’t wisdom that will get us past the owl.” Konrad bent his legs slightly and leaned forward. “I suppose you are waiting for an answer.” He launched into the air, drawing his sword as he rotated.
The owl spread his wings as Konrad descended.
Konrad slashed, catching the owl across the shoulder. The force of the slash and Konrad’s rotation combined. The blade bit. Red stained the white feathers.
The owl lurched backward, one wing hanging.
Konrad landed in a crouch. Feathers clung to his sword. “It will soon be half the weight that it was before.” Konrad tossed a dagger.
The owl knocked it aside with his beak, then puffed his feathers. “I am not so easy to kill.” The red faded. He pulled his wing back against him, as if uninjured. He dove forward as Konrad raised his sword, knocking Konrad to the ground and pinning him under his talons.
It was only a matter of seconds from Konrad’s initial leap to his being pinned to the ground under an owl twice as tall as a man.
Could I get to Konrad’s bow? Even if I could, it was unstrung and wrapped in an oil cloth. Konrad depended on his knives and sword to protect us, and only got the bow out for hunting. Could I get one of the knives he threw? I inched sideways.
A kerplop sounded. Peter, in human form, launched himself onto the owl’s back, wrapping his arms around the owl’s neck. He clung even as the owl flapped, ducked, and jerked.
Konrad groaned as the owl swiveled, and talons bit into him.
I dove for a knife. Where would be the best place to strike? His neck, an eye? I couldn’t reach either. The stomach?
I rose and leaped on the owl. The blade deflected. I slid downward, pulling out feathers as I fell. He smelled like pine sap and cut hay. He should have smelled like a bog, like death.
His beak snatched the back of my dress, halting me before my feet reached the ground, then shook me, like a cat shaking a mouse.
My head snapped, and I tried to curl against the motion.
“Let them go!” Peter yelled from the owl’s back.
The beak released, and I fell next to Konrad, my legs sprawled across his arm.
The owl stared down at me with large, yellow eyes. “I have one more question. And if you answer well, then the rest may go.”
“Let me answer,” Konrad gasped.
“No, the woman will.” He lifted one foot from Konrad and pinned me. “Tell me a truth, and I will bite off your head. Tell me a lie, and I will peck out your liver. Which will it be?”
I closed my eyes. He was giving me a choice in my death.
“It’s—” Konrad began and cried out in sharp pain. “It’s—”
The owl shifted and placed one taloned foot over Konrad’s face.
Peter dropped to the ground beside us and grabbed the knife. He slashed as the owl knocked him sideways with his wing. Peter flew across the clearing, struck a tree trunk and slumped in a limp heap.
Demuth, in toad form, hopped toward us.
I had to answer before he killed them all. What would my final truth be? Or my final lie? The truth was I’d soon be dead. Which way did I want to go—decapitation or disembowelment? Decapitation would be quicker. My final truth.
I opened my mouth, and paused. Oh. “Owl, you will peck out my liver.”
He laughed, a deep rumbling that shook the trees. He lifted his foot from me and then from Konrad.
Konrad leaped to his feet and placed himself between the owl and me.
The owl laughed louder and shrank in size. He spread his wings and flew into the branches. “She has answered well. You are all free to go. Fare thee well on your journey.”
The owl flew away. As he flew, he called back, “Beware the growing madness that would shadow the armored man.”
Konrad reached out to me and took my hand. He trembled. “My lady, are you hurt?”
My body ached, but I wasn’t cut, nor was anything broken. “No. We should see to Peter.”
Peter slumped at the base of the tree. A lump rose from the back of his shorn head. He had changed more. His breath came slow and shallow through actual lips instead of a stretched out mouth. His shoulders were broad, his arms and legs muscular through his rags. His head slumped sideways upon a thick neck. He looked like a blacksmith. A man strong enough to cling to that owl.
Demuth hopped up to us. “What are your injuries?”
“Peter isn’t bleeding, but he has a knot on the back of his head,” I said. “And I’m uninjured.”
“Good,” she said. “Then I need you to do exactly what I say until Peter wakes and can change me back.”
Konrad stood from where he’d knelt next to Peter, and wavered.
“Konrad, lie down,” Demuth commanded. “Now, before you faint. Hette, get the bandages from the saddle bag.”
Konrad held his side and blood seeped from between his fingers. How had I missed that? “Konrad,” I hissed. “Lie down like she said.”
The rest of the day was a blur of cleansing and dressing Konrad’s punctured chest wounds—the ones left by the owl’s talons—applying a compress to Peter’s head, doing whatever else Demuth instructed, and hoping I was doing it right.
Peter awoke near evening. He opened his black-lashed eyes and stared. “Where’s the owl?”
“Hette answered the riddle,” said Konrad as he lay next to a fire that I’d built. It had taken me more than an hour before it finally took to flame, even with their instruction.
Demuth sat near my side. “What was the answer? I didn’t understand.”
I glanced down at my hands, scratched from building the fire and raw from cleaning wounds with medicinal alcohol. “The owl said he’d kill me one way for a truth and another way for a lie. I told him he’d kill me the way that was the consequence for a lie. But if he killed me that way, it would make it a truth and invalidate his argument. It was the final riddle.”
“No,” Konrad said. “Not the final riddle. There was one more. But I don’t know what it means.”
“Then it is a good thing he didn’t ask us to solve it,” muttered Peter. “I’ve had enough riddles to last me every boring winter holed up in the mud.” He picked up Demuth. “Thank you for kissing me.”
Her toad mouth stretched wider. “I wasn’t being any help. Thank you for protecting us.”
He shook his head. “I tried. But it seems Princess Hette was the one who saved us.”
I scowled. “We each had a part. Now kiss Demuth, and let her take over before I kill someone with my unskilled medical ministrations.”
Konrad laughed and winced.
I bit my lip. If the owl was the first part of the path, the part not even the wisest could find a way through, then heaven help us with what we’ll meet next. A place that not even the bravest dare go.