Heir Apparent (27 page)

"All right. What's the first riddle?"

"The first riddle is this: You see those woods outside this window?"

I nodded.

"That part wasn't the riddle," Xenos's father explained.

"I already guessed that," I said.

"Kids today. Anyway, you see the woods. My question is this: How far can you walk into those woods?"

I had no real sense of where I was, much less how big the woods were. And what did he mean, how far could I walk into those woods? Was there something blocking the way, a river or a cliff, something or someone danger-oils? Or did he mean how far could I walk before I tired out? Or how far in one day?

I decided it was time to clarify the rules. "I don't have just one guess?"

Xenos's father smacked his palm against his forehead. "If I was a stickler, I would call that your answer. Once the riddle is asked, you aren't supposed to say
anything
except the answer to the riddle. Haven't you ever done this before? You're lucky I'm a patient man. And I already told you, you can try as many times as you want. Now: How fir can you walk into those woods?"

Anything I said would be just a guess. So, remembering my boots, I answered, "Seven leagues?"

The floor opened under me, and I went flying down the fastest, slickest slide I'd ever been on, through a black tunnel, popping out a hole at the bottom of the far side of the hill the house stood on. Several of the catacomb ghosts had been caught at the same time I was and had made the trip down with me.
They
liked it—I could tell, picking up their excited psychic energy.
They
didn't have to worry about concussions or contusions.

I rubbed my bruised elbows and said the kind of words my grandmother grounds me for. Shakily, I got to my feet and walked back around to the front of the house.

Uldemar asked, "Got the hat?"

"Not yet. Xenos's father likes riddles. He wants to know about these woods here. Do you have any idea how big they are?"

"Square acreage?" Uldemar said, and I realized that would be no help at all, because the woods could be long and skinny, or a square, or who-knew-what? "Do you want me to check my scrying glass?"

"No," I said sulkily.

"What, exactly, did he say?"

"He said, 'How far can you walk into those woods?' And the trouble is, I don't know these woods."

"The trouble is," Uldemar corrected me, "he's not asking you a question; he's asking you a riddle."

I thought about it and groaned. I went back to the flagstone path and once more picked a way, using only cream-colored stones, to the front stoop. It was faster this time than last, but I still had several dead ends and reversals. I banged on the door.

Xenos's father opened it. "Hello," he said. "Care to play a riddle game?"

I followed him indoors, and he once again positioned me on the X.

Looking satisfied with himself, Xenos's father once more said, "The first riddle is this: How far can you walk into those woods?"

"Halfway," I answered. "After that I would be walking
out
of the woods, not into them."

"Very good!" Xenos's father cried. "See, you aren't hopeless after all. All right, the second riddle is this: Two great armies are about to do battle, the Great Army of the North and the Great Army of the South, and they meet exactly on the equator. After the battle is over, the bodies are too mangled to identify. Where do the survivors get buried?"

"Well," I said, "but which army won the battle?"

Too late I remembered his warning that I wasn't supposed to say
anything
except the answer to the riddle. The floor disappeared from under me. I tried to grab for the edge, but I was already going down that slide so fast it felt as though my butt was about to catch fire. This time, I could definitely hear a whispery ghostly, "Wheel"

After I hit the ground and the dizziness passed, I went back around to the front of the hill. Uldemar was sitting on the lawn, trying to make music with a blade of grass. I said to him, "Two armies meet at the equator and fight a great battle. After it's over, where..." I sighed, having caught up to myself. "Never mind." The ghosts could have told me that one.

Once again, I picked my way up the front walk and knocked on Xenos's father's door. I was beginning to get faster at this. "Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked.

"Immensely," he admitted.

He stood me on the great red X and said the long sad story again: "The second riddle is this: Two great armies are about to do battle, the Great Army of the North and the Great Army of the South, and they meet exactly on the equator. After the battle is over, the bodies are too mangled to identify. Where do the survivors get buried?"

I said, "The survivors don't get buried."

Xenos's father gave a great drag on his cigar. He said, "I haven't had this much fun since Xenos had a cold and was sneezing centipedes. All right, here's the third riddle: Where was Moses when the lights went out?"

That
one I knew. "In the dark."

"There. See," Xenos's father said. "I don't know what you were worried about."

I said, "Those riddles were hardly the quality of the riddle of the Sphinx."

Xenos's father shrugged. "Egyptian humor. Personally, I don't get it. Now for your hat." Sure enough, he picked up the awful pink one. But then he reached into the crown of the hat, and pulled out another, a crumpled knitted ski cap the color of March slush. "So, I'm assuming Xenos told you all about this. Don't bother answering; that's what's known in the business as sarcasm, dearie. The hat lets you keep moving when all about you is still—that part he told you, I'm sure. What he probably left out is that once you put the hat on, whatever you're doing—whether it's stealing money from the poor box in church, or spying on the boyfriend when he's out without you, or sneaking back into the house so your parents don't know you climbed out the bedroom window—"

I interrupted. "Those are pretty lame reasons to be using a hat that lets you avoid the time stream."

"Do I criticize you when you're giving examples? All I'm saying is that whatever you're doing, you only have a limited time to do it. Ironic, isn't it? Get it? Time/time?" He shook his head. "You don't get it."

"I get it," I assured him. "How long do I have?"

"If you count like this," he said at a leisurely pace, "one Rasmussem Enterprises, two Rasmussem Enterprises, three Rasmussem Enterprises ... then you'd get to three hundred Rasmussem Enterprises, and the hat comes back here."

Nothing like a little bit of blatant self-endorsement. And what he was saying was that I had five minutes. Five minutes.

"The hat..." I said.

"Comes back here," he finished.

"With me?"

He shook his head.

"Leaving me..."

"With your hand in the poor box, or your face pressed up against somebody else's window, or climbing up the stairs to the second floor while your father's sitting there watching you."

Or, in my case, face-to-face with the dragon.

"Yeah," Xenos's father said, taking another drag on the cigar. "I didn't think he'd told you. Any questions?"

I sighed, but said, "No."

Yet again the floor swallowed me, and I went skittering down that slide through the hill and out the other side. Luckily, I managed to keep hold of the hat. But I was going to be a mass of bruises even before meeting the dragon. More and more ghosts were joining me for each ride.

I picked myself off the ground and yelled up to the house, "Ever wonder
why
nobody ever comes to visit you?"

Still staggering, I rejoined Uldemar. "Got it," I told him.

He had the decency not to say, "About time."

Sitting at the bottom of Xenos's father's hill, Uldemar did his calculations of exactly where I had to step to have the seven-league boots take me to Old Hag Mountain. The trouble was that the direct route was not divisible by the seven leagues each step would take me, so I had to head off southwest to a certain point, then turn and head due east. There was also a minor detour to avoid a step that would have landed me directly in someone's kitchen.

"That's not a physical problem," Uldemar told me. "As you're moving, the boots pass through solid objects." Which explained how, in the previous game, Xenos had walked through the wall but then was not seen by Penrod's men outside. Uldemar continued, "But it would be unsettling to those seeing you. Out of fear, they might harm you."

"What if I land inside a tree?"

"You can't. You'd land on top of it. I'll try to keep you away from trees."

We decided it would be best not to have the boots take me directly into the dragon's cave. If the creature was home, it might kill me before I had a chance to get my bearings.

"This route will take you to a flattened area between the summit and the base of the mountain," Uldemar said. "It should be climbable."

Should be.
Don't you love it?

It was getting to be dusk, but I decided to start, anyway. Once I got to the mountain, I could make up my mind if it would be better to continue up at night or wait there till morning. Dragons, Uldemar told me, were like cats, taking a lot of little naps throughout the day and night so no time was better than others to try sneaking up on it.

I tucked the hat I had riddled for into the bag that held my evening meal and Orielle's potion, and I looped the bag over my belt.

"Good luck," Uldemar said. "Remember to always walk straight in the direction you're feeing." He'd already said that about seven times. "Don't try to take big strides—-just walk normally. The boots will take care of themselves."
That
he'd said about nine times.

"Will you be all right?" I asked him. Maybe I'd asked him once or twice before but I felt guilty leaving him.

"I'll be fine," Uldemar assured me.

So I took a deep breath, said, "Seven leagues," and put my right foot forward.

When I'd tried to make too big a jump on Xenos's father's front walk, I'd felt as though a rubber band had yanked me back. Now I felt like the rubber band itself, all stretched out, with my vision a meaningless blur and an awful rushing-of-air sound so intense I was sure my eardrums were about to burst. I was tempted to bring that right foot back, canceling the seven-league step so that I could try again later. But I knew it wasn't going to get better. I moved my left foot forward.

And found myself in a totally different place from where I'd just been.

Instead of Xenos's father's hill on an otherwise flat area bordered by woods, I saw gently rolling hills coming down to an immense lake.

Thank you for not landing me in the lake,
I thought to Uldemar.

I took another step and found myself in yet another landscape: farm country, with fields of barley and rutabaga.

And another, this time landing in a rocky, desolate place. That was where I was supposed to turn ninety degrees to the left to avoid the unpredictable kitchen. I stepped onto a seashore.

Step after step I took until finally, as the sky turned dramatically pink, I found myself partway up what had to be Old Hag Mountain.

Amazing! I had never, in my heart, actually believed it would be so easy.

I left a whole bunch of broken sticks so I would be sure—if I survived my encounter with the dragon—to be able to start my return trip from the exact right spot.

Next was climbing up.

It should be climbable.

Yeah, right.

I had to find handholds and toeholds and trust my life to an anemic tree that didn't have the sense to grow out of horizontal ground.

This would be a lot easier,
I told myself as my arms began to ache,
if I was stronger.

Which was when I remembered Orielle's potion.

One hour of being as strong as Abas, followed by two of being as weak as Dusty at her arthritic worst.

Should I take it now?
I looked up the remainder of the way I had to go. It was getting dark, so I wasn't able to see clearly. I
thought
that if I was stronger I could make it up in less than an hour—if I didn't fell off the mountain first from not being able to see. But what then? Then, with night coming on, I would have to find my way into the lair, avoid the dragon, locate the crown, and hope that my two hours of total helplessness didn't strike while I was still in there. It was the same thing I would have to do if I waited until morning, but my chances had to be better if I could see what I was doing.

I found a cozy little crack in the stone, and I settled in for the night, hoping the catacomb ghosts wouldn't think it a good joke to roll me out and over the side while I slept. Thinking about the ghosts, I suddenly realized I had no sensation of them around me.
They weren't able to keep up to those seven-league steps,
I thought.
Ha!

They were probably still at Xenos's father's house, riding down that slide.
Double ha!

I ate my meal of bread, cheese, and cold mutton, with an apple tart the castle cook had packed for dessert. For drink, I had warm water from a clay jar. I was happy for the tart, but a double-cheese pizza and a milk shake would have been even nicer.

I
H
E
A
R
D
the dragon several times during the night, moving about, snoring occasionally, once singing—I
think
it was singing—in its dragon language. To me it sounded like a recording of a cough, played backward at slow speed.

Once it got to be light—my third day in this adventure (my, how time flies when you're having fun)—I ate the last of my bread and drank almost all of my water, saving a bit for just-in-case.

I started climbing back up that mountain, but it wasn't any easier today than it had been last night. When I almost fell because my fingers cramped, I realized it was time to try Orielle's potion. Pressing myself onto a ledge big enough for about half of one foot, I got out the vial, took out the stopper, and downed the whole thing in one excruciating gulp. Not one of her best-tasting potions had Orielle said? Imagine a ninety-five-degree August day, and a construction worker slaving away on the melting asphalt. Then imagine licking toothpaste out of his armpit.