The Goblin's Puzzle

by Andrew Chilton

“Oh, her, right. Sorry,” said Ludwig. He glanced back and forth between Just Alice and the Princess. “It’s confusing.”

  Peeking out from behind the rock, the boy saw that Ludwig was confused. But apart from being about the same age, the two Alices did not look much alike. “He really can’t tell them apart,” whispered the boy to Mennofar. Ludwig’s ears twitched ever so slightly as the boy whispered.

  “We have come to rescue the Princess,” said Just Alice. Bold words did not keep her voice from trembling a little.

  “We?” said Ludwig. “Who else is with you?”

  Behind the rock, Mennofar and the boy froze. “No one,” said Just Alice. “It’s just a manner of speaking.”

  “But who were you talking to earlier, then?” said Ludwig.

  “No one,” she said. “I told you.”

  Ludwig wrinkled his brow and turned to the rock. He studied it for a long moment and said, “Come out from behind that rock, Mennofarlaksojardigonairejigroarfaviscogumegomoffkilgerspio—”

  “Mennofar is fine,” said Mennofar. He popped out from behind the rock. “It will take several hours to say the whole thing.”

  The boy braced himself to be called out by Ludwig as well, but Ludwig said, “Very well, Mennofar. You are a brave goblin to come here.”

  “How dare you!” said Mennofar. “I can assure you I am a complete coward.”

  “Then you did not come to rescue Alice?”

  “No,” said Mennofar, “I thought it was a terrible idea.”

  “I,” said Just Alice, pausing for a moment, “and I alone, have come to stop you.”

  Ludwig raised his head. “Have you really? How?”

  “Well, I’m not actually sure,” said Just Alice.

  “Oh,” said Ludwig. He sagged back down. “I was hoping you had figured something out.”

  “Foul beast, your nefarious schemes will come to naught,” cried the Princess.

  “She talks like that a lot,” said Ludwig to Just Alice. He turned to the Princess. “I keep explaining to you that the nefarious schemes are not mine. They belong to the one who has summoned me. I am bound to his will by an enchantment which no one can free me from.”

  “Vile worm, I will be saved by a brave prince,” said Princess Alice. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied the boy. “Or perhaps a knight”—she paused—“or squire?…Page?”

  “What are you looking at?” said Ludwig. He turned to stare at the boulder again. “Those old rags?”

  And with that, the boy knew he had something better than a spell or a magic weapon. He had no name. Ludwig could not see him. It was as good as having a ring of invisibility, and in The Tales, rings of invisibility were used for all manner of tricks. The boy started to stand up.

  “What are you doing?” whispered Mennofar.

  “I don’t have a name,” whispered the boy. “So he can’t see me.”

  “Yes, but he will see your trousers dancing around in front of him, and what will he think of that?” whispered Mennofar.

  The boy stopped. He had not thought of that. “What should I do?”

  “Take them off, thickwit,” whispered Mennofar.

  “You mean—” The boy blushed violently. “Not in front of the girls.”

  Mennofar sighed.

  “Who are you whispering to?” demanded Ludwig.

  “No one,” said Mennofar. “I mean, myself. I mutter to myself sometimes.”

  Ludwig eyed Mennofar. “That sounded more like whispering than muttering,” he said.

  “Well, it can be a subtle distinction,” said Mennofar.

  “Mennofar, I can’t,” whispered the boy. “Not with them watching.”

  In a booming voice, Mennofar said, “Ladies, would you please cover your eyes until I direct you to do otherwise.”

  “Is this some kind of trick?” asked Ludwig.

  “It is indeed a trick, and a very entertaining one, but it is a trick I will need the ladies to close their eyes for,” said Mennofar.

  Both girls put their hands over their eyes. Mennofar nodded to the boy. First the boy took his father’s ring from around his neck, giving it a quick rub as he did so. Then, very gingerly, the boy slipped his arm out of the sling. Finally, he skinned out of his trousers. He could only use his good arm, so it was a good thing that the trousers were so large. He took a deep breath to fortify his nerve and stepped out from behind the boulder. As soon as they caught a glimpse of him, both girls squealed and squeezed shut the gaps they had deliberately left between their fingers.

  For a long moment, the boy simply stood in front of Ludwig. Mennofar glanced back and forth between the boy and Ludwig. But Ludwig did not pounce on the boy. He just sat there. The boy took a few steps.

  “Well,” said Ludwig. “What’s the trick?”

  The boy walked right past Ludwig. Or he would’ve, if he hadn’t tripped over a rock and fallen flat on his face.

  “Who’s there?” said Ludwig.

  “No one,” said the boy. He slammed his hands over his mouth, but it was too late.

  “Idiot,” muttered Just Alice.

  Mennofar palmed his face.

  But Ludwig wrinkled his brow. “Is this the trick?” he said.

  “Yes,” said the boy. He stood up. Projecting his voice as forcefully as he could, he said, “I am no one.”

  Ludwig homed in on the boy’s voice. “How can you be no one?” he said.

  “Who is right in front of you?” said the boy.

  “No one,” said Ludwig. “But that does not make any sense.” He wrinkled his formidable brow. “When one says ‘no one,’ one means the absence of any entity. How can there be a ‘no one’?”

  “I can prove that I am no one,” said the boy. “You can see the names of all things. If I am not no one, if I am someone, you can see my name. Therefore, I challenge you, O dragon, to say my name,” said the boy.

  Ludwig sat for a moment and studied the spot where the boy stood. As the boy looked back at Ludwig, he had a queasy thought. He might actually have a name. His parents, whoever they were, could have given him one when he was too little to remember or even after he was taken from them. Ludwig had not seen his name yet, but that might not mean anything. For all the boy knew, names rarely used might be very small and hard to see. Ludwig might find it as soon as he looked hard enough. The boy held his breath. Ludwig’s head floated right in front of him. The tiniest lick of flame would be the end of him.

  Finally, Ludwig said, “I cannot.” He bowed his head a little. “I do not understand how, but you are no one.”

  The boy exhaled in relief.

  At the same time, he was a little disturbed. His parents should have named him, even if they thought he was dead. Their failure to do so suggested a certain cavalier attitude toward their duties as parents. He had to wonder if he really wanted to find parents like that.

  Still, he had to deal with Ludwig, so he set aside those thoughts for later. Drawing in his breath, he said, “Ludwig, I free you from your bonds.”

  Ludwig said, “Free me? But—”

  “Once a dragon is bound, no one may free it,” said the boy. He took a deep breath. If this didn’t work, there was going to be a lot of trouble. “I am no one, and I free you. Go! You are free!”

  Ludwig took a dainty step away from the Princess. When nothing happened, he took a bigger step. And another. Then he bounded off a fair distance. Still nothing happened. Ludwig glanced about and leapt into the sky. All four of them were scoured by the torrents of dust kicked up by the beating of his wings. He flew a mile or more away, wheeled about and flew back over them. “No one has freed me,” he called down to them. “Thank you, Alice. Thank you, Mennofar. Thank you for bringing me no one.” Slowly, Ludwig’s mighty wings carried him higher and higher into the sky and farther and farther to the north.

  “That’s it?” said the Princess.

  “That was brilliant, absolutely brilliant,” said Just Alice.

  “Well done, lad. Worthy of a goblin,�
�� said Mennofar, and offered the boy his hand.

  The boy shook Mennofar’s hand. “You know, I wasn’t sure that was going to work,” he said. Then he saw that both Alices were staring at him. He yelped, covered himself with his hands and darted behind the rock to get dressed again.

  Just Alice went to the pillar. “We have to get her down and get out of here before Ludwig comes back,” she said.

  Dressed again, the boy came out from behind the boulder. “Back?” he said. “Why would he come back?”

  “Because of the spell,” said Just Alice. “I assume it’ll only let him go so far.”

  “But the spell is broken,” said the boy. “I freed him.”

  “You were very clever,” said Just Alice, “but all you did was use a load of nonsense to trick him.”

  “How was that nonsense?” said the boy. It really was not fair. She wanted him to use logic, and when he did, she told him it was a lot of nonsense. There was no winning with her.

  “No one has no name. You have no name. Therefore, you are no one. That’s wrong,” said Just Alice. “It’s like saying the Princess’s name is Alice, and my name is Alice. Therefore, I am the Princess. It’s what’s called a fallacy.”

  “But, but—”

  “Which you should know because you are not no one,” said Just Alice. “And don’t get me started on reification—”

  “Maybe the spell was supposed to be broken by a person without a name,” said the boy. “Magic’s always a bit peculiar.”

  “Perhaps there was no spell,” said Mennofar. “Maybe he was bound solely by his own belief.” He gave the boy a meaningful look.

  “He’d have to be pretty dumb to fall for that,” said the boy. “Poof. You have to do whatever I say. Why? Because I say so.”

  “It’s not hard to see right through that,” said Just Alice.

  The Princess called out, “Gallant peons, were we not just discoursing on the subject of…” She trailed off as if she did not know what to say next. “Oh, just get me down!” And she burst into tears.

  —

  Just Alice showed the Princess how to get down. Although the Princess was reluctant to try, she managed quite gracefully. More gracefully than Just Alice had, which Just Alice found strangely irritating.

  When she was safely on the ground, the Princess took a moment and composed herself. Then, addressing the boy, Just Alice and Mennofar, she said, “Stout yeoman, stalwart maid, loyal, uh…goblin, you have delivered me from the clutches of a noxious creature, an act of valor and fortitude for which you have my eternal thanks. Let us away unto fair Farnham, where my father the King will reward you all richly and handsomely. Now, conduct me unto my carriage.”

  “Carriage?” said the boy.

  “Yes, so that I may be conveyed back to Farnham in a manner befitting my station in life.”

  There was a long, silent moment.

  The Princess looked around the blasted and desolate country. “Then perhaps a palanquin?” she suggested without much real hope.

  “What’s that?” asked Just Alice.

  “It’s a sort of box you get in and slaves carry you around,” said the boy.

  “No palanquins,” said Just Alice. “We’re on foot.”

  “Very well,” said the Princess. “I shall not complain about these tribulations, as the great majority of my future subjects travel our lands on their feet. For a monarch, or a future monarch, to learn of the ways of the people is the source of great wisdom, and—”

  “The way you go on,” said Just Alice. No sooner had she said it than she realized she had spoken out of turn. “Er, I mean, the way Your Highness does go on.” That was not much better.

  But the Princess dropped the lofty tones, fancy accent and arch diction. “You don’t like the way I talk?” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness, it’s just that when you go on and on like that, you sound a little pompous,” said Just Alice. “Doesn’t she?” said Just Alice to the boy.

  The boy looked away, while Mennofar just hummed a little tune.

  “Er, I’m sure you’re a very nice person,” said Just Alice.

  “Well, how am I to know what to do?” said the Princess. “Father is always after me to be less frivolous and act like a queen, and the Chamberlain says that’s how people want royalty to talk, and you say I sound ridiculous and pompous, and, and”—she burst out crying all over again—“and I’m cold and tired and hungry, and I was kidnapped by a dragon who wouldn’t shut up about how clever that other Alice was.” Her tears streaked the dirt on her face.

  “Would you like us to take you home?” the boy asked gently.

  “Yes!” bawled the Princess.

  “Then let’s go,” he said. He took her hand in his and led her away, leaving Just Alice and Mennofar to scurry after them.

  —

  When the Princess stopped crying, she wiped her face with the sleeves of her dress. Whether this made her face any cleaner was debatable. “I was wondering something,” she said to the boy. “You said palanquins are carried by slaves, but what are slaves?”

  “You don’t know what slaves are?” said the boy.

  “How can you be so ig— How can you not know that?” said Just Alice.

  “Is it unpleasant?” said the Princess. “The Chamberlain ordered my tutors not to teach me about anything unpleasant. He says that it is unbecoming for young ladies to know about unpleasant things.”

  “Slaves are people who are owned by someone else, their master,” said Mennofar. “The master gets to decide everything, and the slaves just have to do what they are ordered to.”

  “That doesn’t sound very nice,” said Princess Alice. “I hope it pays well, at least.”

  “It doesn’t pay at all,” said Just Alice. “It’s not a job.”

  “That’s terrible,” said the Princess. “I would never agree to be a slave.”

  “It isn’t something you get to decide,” said the boy. “You’re just born that way.”

  “If I were a slave,” said the Princess, “I wouldn’t follow any of their stupid orders.”

  “Then they’d whip you,” said the boy.

  “I’d run away,” said the Princess.

  “Then they’d hang you,” said the boy.

  “That’s awful,” said the Princess. She shuddered. “It all sounds awful. When we get home, you must tell Father so he can do something about it. He is the King, you know.”

  “It is just possible that he already knows,” said Mennofar.

  “No, he would have done something about it,” said the Princess. “The Chamberlain must be keeping it secret from him, too.” She thought about this a moment more. “I’m beginning to wonder if the Chamberlain might not be entirely trustworthy.”

  “Never mind all that,” said the boy. Talking about slavery made him nervous. “We need to keep a lookout for the next monster.”

  “What next monster?” said Just Alice.

  “In The Tales, there are always three monsters to be defeated, each more fearsome than the last,” said the boy. “So ogre, dragon, and then what?”

  “The Tales are a load of old nonsense parents use to get little children to eat spinach,” said Just Alice. “Now, let’s get to Castle Geoffrey, where it’s safe.”

  Duke Geoffrey sat atop his great black warhorse and surveyed his courtyard full of men. They were almost ready to depart, but they had been almost ready for over an hour. Still, they kept adjusting their saddles or fiddling with their luggage straps or dawdling over nonexistent tasks. It was tempting to ride off and leave them all behind, but he could not. Duke Geoffrey had every intention of appearing to heroically best the dragon in single combat and rescue Princess Alice. And appearances need witnesses. So he sat and waited.

  “Your Grace, Your Grace,” puffed the Majordomo. He hurried to Duke Geoffrey’s side, red-faced and gasping. “Your Grace, the Princess is here.”

  “Princess Alice?” said Duke Geoffrey. He slid from his saddle. “Then
the dragon is defeated?”

  “By your glorious martial prowess, no doubt,” said the nearest man-at-arms. “Three cheers for the Duke. Hip—”

  Duke Geoffrey clouted the man on the back of the head. “Silence, dolt.” He turned back to the Majordomo and said, “Take me to her.”

  The Majordomo led Duke Geoffrey to the gate. “May it please Your Grace,” he said, “I present Her Royal Highness the Princess Alice, and her retinue”—he glanced at her three companions—“a local girl, a ragamuffin and”—he took a second look—“their pet tree frog, perhaps?”

  The Princess was dirty. Her clothes were tattered and stained. And she was keeping company with the Earl’s absurd champion and his pet. But it was her. That much was beyond doubt. Duke Geoffrey swallowed hard. Something had gone gravely awry. Somehow, that simpering twit of a dragon had actually managed to let the Earl’s preposterous gutter urchin defeat him, wrecking Duke Geoffrey’s carefully laid plans in the process. Still, there was an opportunity in this defeat. His father always said that fortune favors the bold, but Duke Geoffrey had found that she also looks kindly on the flexible. And without knowing it, his enemy had just delivered herself into his hands.

  Duke Geoffrey put on his best face and swept Princess Alice up in his arms. “Sweet cousin, to know that you are back safe in our protection brings such gladness to my heart.”

  “Dear cousin,” said Princess Alice, “it weighs heavily upon us to think that our petty cares burdened you with any worries.”

  “So kind, so selfless,” said Duke Geoffrey. He took hold of her shoulder and steered her toward the main hall. Her companions and the Majordomo all fell in behind them. “Now, if you will forgive some meddling by an older relative, I should like to speak of the future. You are, after all, of age.”

  “Not quite,” said Princess Alice.

  “Close enough, though, that you must have given some consideration to the question of your matrimonial prospects,” said Duke Geoffrey.

  “Happy we are to address these matters,” said the Princess. “There are gladsome tidings, for I am newly engaged to be wed.”

  “What! Who?” said Duke Geoffrey. It was not possible. There might have been some discussions with Crown Prince Edgar of East Stanhope, but the King could not have actually made an agreement without Duke Geoffrey’s spies at court getting wind of it.