Dryden took a deep breath. His Boolean charts weren’t getting him where he needed to go, so he picked up a book on tarot cards and flipped to the back. Maybe if he started at the end, he could figure out the beginning? This was about the concept of death and freedom, lying and telling the truth, more than the math equations. He knew that Otto wanted him to find the answer but also deliver it in a clever way that would display all the nuances of the question.
Just as Dryden flipped to the tarot image of The Devil, he felt Otto’s presence in the room again. He heard the snapping of twigs and smelled ash after a forest fire. Oh no, Dryden thought. Not again. He lifted his head slowly, dreading the sight of Otto as the tree monster. But Otto was back to his soft form. His skin was no longer rough in patches or scarred. Hair covered his arms, his chest, and his beard grew fuller and thicker. More than that, he no longer wore the clothing that he once kept on him like a disguise. Now Otto stood in front of the fireplace naked, completely unashamed and unafraid. As he caught Dryden’s eyes, he smiled.
Dryden’s mind reeled. He tried to turn away, but his eyes lowered toward Otto’s lap instead. He wasn’t in love with Otto. He couldn’t have been, even before he found out everything he had wandered into. But Dryden knew he had attached himself to Otto in a way that wasn’t easily undone. Even if he solved all these riddles, even if he got out of the woods, Dryden knew his life would never go back to normal. That was what happened when bodies interacted. They collided; they combusted; they changed you.
“Do you like what you see?” Otto asked, sticking his hips forward. His cock, uncut and flaccid, was at Dryden’s eye level. Dryden’s stomach dropped. Even as he closed his eyes, he still felt the desire inside him surge, especially as he remembered the night before.
“You didn’t answer me,” Otto said. Dryden heard him take a few steps forward. “Why won’t you answer me?”
“How will I know you won’t use it against me?”
Otto laughed, and Dryden could feel his hot breath on his shoulders. He was so close now. Dryden opened his eyes but stared down at the floor where Otto’s hairy toes were visible. They were such simple toes. Dryden thought it cruel that there wasn’t a mark on Otto’s body at all that led people to know his curse, know the demons and years of history he kept inside. When he was in this form, he was so innocent. Just a man in the woods, with big arms, large enough to hold.
“Give me your hand,” Otto asked.
Dryden did, knowing he had no choice. Otto held it in his palm, warm and pressing. “You know, you could have a nice life with me.”
“What do you mean?” Dryden turned his gaze toward Otto, staring into his golden eyes. “You won’t kill me if I stay now? Won’t keep my treasure in the bucket with all the others? Why should I believe you? Aren’t you a knave, like the riddle?”
Otto laughed. “That is true. That’s what history looks like. But right now I’m not wearing red or blue. I have nothing on at all.”
Otto took Dryden’s palm, open-faced, and placed it on his hip. His skin was so warm, Dryden thought. So warm that it could be human. That it could be real and not some illusion like it surely was. Dryden didn’t remove his hand, but he did turn his gaze away.
“I still don’t know if you’re lying.”
“That is true. You’d have to trust me. But I can tell you this: I like you more than the others. You’re smarter than them.”
Otto’s free hand danced around Dryden’s curly hair. He plucked a strand, tugged it between his fingers, then curled it over Dryden’s ear. Dryden swallowed and tried not to respond. Past Otto’s body, the grains of sand fell away. Half an hour left. He’s just trying to trick you. Trying to bide time. Don’t fall for it.
“You know how many people have gotten this far?” Otto asked. “Not many.”
“But some have—and yet, they’re not here. So why should I believe you?”
“I understand how difficult this is for you. You have absolutely no logical reason to believe me. I’m not a puzzle like the kind I give you. But the heart is a tricky organ, isn’t it? It’s sacred, as you should know from all the art you’ve studied and seen. The heart will lead you down all sorts of pathways you don’t understand.” Otto’s fingers moved to Dryden’s chin, where he tilted his head up to look into Otto’s eyes once again. “If you stay with me, Dryden, you will use your heart. If you escape, you’ve used your head.”
“So?”
“One is always stronger than the other. One will always win. So you have to pick what beast inside you decide to feed.”
Dryden felt his chest constrict. He panicked. There were too many emotions here, too many options. Head or heart? Freedom or death? Red or blue? Was Otto a monster or misunderstood?
“How will I know what one you use?” Dryden asked. “Your head or your heart?”
Otto smiled. “See? Even right there. No one has ever asked me that before.”
Dryden shook his head and finally broke their stare. He knew each one of these moments meant to make him feel good were manufactured. He and Otto were always going to be giving lines to one another, performing a play. If only this were math, Dryden thought, then I’d know the right answer.
Something clicked inside of Dryden’s mind. He thought of the riddle, of how only one man could tell the truth, and the ultimate truth there was.
“I know the answer,” Dryden stated.
“What now?”
“If only one man can tell the truth, then all I have to do is ask either one if two plus two equals four,” Dryden said. “If the man wearing blue tells me it’s false, then I know he’s the knave. And I know not to take his pathway. That’s the ending for the riddle. That’s how I know who’s lying.”
Otto’s face fell. He moved his hand from Dryden’s shoulder and chin and then rubbed his fingers together as he took a step back. Dryden rose from under his pile of books and Boolean codes. His breath was still caught in his throat. That was it, wasn’t it? Otto had to be upset because Dryden got the right answer. And now, it’s just another three days—another three days until the new riddle, and then I can go home, and….
“No.”
“No?” Dryden repeated. His voice cracked. “What do you mean no?”
“That’s not the right answer to the riddle,” Otto answered, turning away from Dryden. Dryden watched as the scars along Otto’s back popped up again. Otto turned to a harsher material as he sauntered down the hallway, precariously picking out clothing again. Whatever moment they had had before was gone, ruined. Dryden didn’t know whether to mourn or celebrate.
“What do you mean? All of this checks out. Math can never be wrong. It’s a unified system. It’s—”
“It’s not what I asked you to solve for.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I told you to find the road to freedom. How do you know that the knave stands on the road to death? You don’t. You merely assumed because all bad must align with the bad. But that’s not the case, Dryden. Sometimes the most beautiful thing can have a dark history, and the ugliest thing can lead you to home. You—more than anyone else—should have known that. Especially by now.”
Dryden’s eyes watered, and his face contorted to keep tears from spilling forth. He could hear the thick tones of mockery in Otto’s words, and he realized how wrong he had been. He had asked a stupid question about math, only to assume that everything did line up. That good led to good and bad led to bad. Of course that was never the case.
“You have to ask a question about the pathway,” Otto reaffirmed. “In order to know what direction to go. Now, I suggest that you try really hard this last time. Think a little bit more. You can’t get this wrong—because you really should save at least one bad guess for the last, harder riddle. Especially after you’ve rejected my other offer. For now, at least.”
Dryden still felt the burn of Otto’s fingers on his chin. He heard Otto’s voice echo the head or the heart? in his ears. He didn’t want to answer that question
right now. He needed to think with all his might, especially as the hourglass drained to the five-minute mark.
Dryden grabbed his Boolean table to see the many outcomes of the logic problem. He was still too shaky with math to really feel confident picking only one question to ask either the red or the blue knave. Do the colors matter? Dryden wondered. What if their colors signified something he couldn’t tell before? No, he chastised himself. He placed the paper down on the table and drew his knees close to his chest. Rocking slightly, he closed his eyes and wandered into the logic question himself. He imagined himself approaching a fork in the road—this time, lined with daisies and a lemon tree. To the right, wearing red, was Otto in his hunter uniform. To the left was the fox, with his startling blue eyes, he had come across before. Both of them stood on their separate pathways and warned Dryden about what way to go.
But only one of them can lie, Dryden reminded himself. And if I ask Otto, he may or may not tell the truth. I still don’t know who he really is. But if he asked the fox—a relative stranger—he still may not know either. So there can only be one real question to ask, and it’s never about the person’s character. That can be deceptive. It doesn’t matter. So that can only mean….
Dryden’s mind clicked into place. He saw all the possible answers, and latched onto the only one he hoped it could be.
“Two men at crossroads, and only one can lie. So what man can lead to the road of freedom?” Dryden repeated the riddle, eyes still closed, before he gave his answer. “I must ask either man: ‘Would you answer yes if I asked you does your path lead to freedom?’ And if the man says ‘yes,’ then the path leads to freedom. But if he says ‘no’ then it does not. I say this because the knight will always give me the right answer I can trust. But the knave, however, will always lie about whether his path leads to freedom. So when I ask him two questions in one, his answers will mirror the knight’s truth, so I will know what pathway to take, no matter what.”
When Dryden opened his eyes, he saw Otto’s body harden. Not turn into the monster, but stiffen as anger coursed through his veins. The lines in his skin grew deeper as a sneer spread across his face. Though Dryden was frightened by Otto’s response, he was also overjoyed. That reviled sneer meant Dryden had gotten the answer right.
“Well done. You already know you’re correct.” Otto sauntered over to the hourglass and slid it back inside the desk drawer. With another set of pounding footsteps, he walked over to his hall closet as Dryden celebrated his victory.
“Where are you headed?” Dryden asked after Otto had put on his jacket.
“I think that’s enough for now,” Otto remarked. He pulled the same set of bow and arrows down from his wall, holding them close to his back like he had before. “I must be on my way.”
“Wait,” Dryden said. “You’re not staying? Why not give me the next riddle now? I’ll have three days. That’s plenty of—”
“Don’t tell me the rules in my own house.”
Dryden shuddered at the rage in Otto’s voice. He was pretty sure even his blood stopped moving as he froze in the center of the house. Otto’s face reddened, but his eyes were wide and fearful. Within a blink, the expression was gone.
“You have already proved yourself a very competent young man. If we rush through this, it will only ensure that both of us will end up in a bad way.”
The threat was heavy in Otto’s voice. He walked across the small cottage slowly until he was right by Dryden’s face. His breath was hot, sticky, and reeked of mushrooms that hid under houses in the middle of spring. Dryden coughed and choked, his entire body rejecting Otto in a burst of feeling. He couldn’t believe he had once allowed him inside. Shame pricked Dryden’s skin. He supposed he had trusted and fallen in love with Otto the way people often did in fairy tales—suddenly and without question. The two had created a dream together, inside the bedroom at night, and Dryden had bought into every word.
But no more. In that moment, despite the disgust that overflowed, Dryden was happy his head was winning this battle. He would shut out his entire heart forever if it meant he could survive.
“I will be back in the morning,” Otto stated. “You will stay here and think about the next three days.”
Dryden nodded. He tried not to look into Otto’s gold eyes, even as he felt Otto’s hands grip his chin. After Dryden refused to meet Otto’s gaze, Otto’s fingers twisted against Dryden’s neck as he pulled him up. Dryden allowed his body to go limp; he continued to breathe even with the hand around his throat, but he was forced to stare into Otto’s eyes again.
“You must be sure of the answers,” Otto warned.
“Of course.”
“No. I am not talking about riddles right now.”
Dryden paused. He didn’t move or speak.
“Head or heart? You choose. But whatever you neglect will wither up and die. People may be able to survive without a brain, without intelligence, but who really lives without a heart? Without love? Remember that tonight.”
Otto moved away so quickly that Dryden nearly fell onto the floor. His neck smarted where Otto’s hand had been; if there was a mirror close by, Dryden suspected he would have seen red fingerprints marking him as property. As he caught his balance, Dryden found his arms reaching out. For a moment, he allowed his mind to savor the sweet feeling of arms catching him. He wanted to forget the past and move forward. He wanted… he wanted… so many contradictory things. He forced himself to stay in place. He imagined himself rooted to the ground.
“Do you understand?” Otto said, glancing back by the door.
“I do.”
“Good. Dream wisely tonight. You will need it.”
Dryden stood perfectly still until the door closed. Then he waited on the tips of his toes as he watched Otto leave through the side window in the kitchen. When he could no longer tell Otto’s green shirt from the forest trees, he stepped aside. The house was still filled with flies at the table, with uneaten breakfast now gone cold and an empty hourglass that taunted him. He sat back down at the kitchen table. The gray bucket of toys from former children no longer startled him. But when he saw the remnants of his bracelet—the sacred heart—on the ground, he felt a hole inside his body grow three sizes. He picked up the stray pieces from the floorboards but knew that there was no way he could fix this. Not without other materials from his mother, not without help from someone else.
“I’m so sorry,” Dryden murmured. His voice was cracked, and his throat still ached from the assault. When he knew there was nothing else he could do today, Dryden drew his knees close to his body, put his face in his hands, and wept.
Chapter Seven
THE INSIDE of Otto’s house made Dryden’s skin crawl. If he spent too much time in one section of it, the weight of his reality came crashing down around him. He thought of the childlike bones in the bucket, the old toys from people before him. Small moments of calm would come to him slowly, only to remember the other side of the bargain. Head or heart? Dryden knew if he spent enough time alone in this house that the world inside of it would become normal. He would cease to see horror in the bones, the stray toys, and the riddles themselves.
That’s his plan, Dryden told himself. That’s all Otto wants to do.
To distract his mind, Dryden moved to the bookshelves. He found one of the only works of fiction and soon fell asleep reading it. When he awoke several hours later, the fire inside the cabin had burnt down to the ashes. The cold had set in, and there was darkness all around. Fear gripped Dryden’s chest before he let out a low breath between his teeth. He was already partly owned by the beast inside the woods. What else bad could happen to me? Hasn’t the worst already been done? The thoughts gave him the confidence to walk through the house in the dark until he found one of the same flares Otto had used when he found him in the woods. Dryden also lit some candles in the cabin and watched as gold light flooded the area from the copper pots. He clutched at the remaining pieces of the sacred heart bracelet he now kept
in the small secret hem inside his pants pocket. It seemed foolish to hide a broken piece of useless jewelry there, but Dryden wanted some secrets. In this foreign place, he wanted anything to call his own.
Dryden walked out the front door and onto the lawn. He didn’t take his shoes, so the grass was cool against his feet. The moon hung close to a cluster of stars in the sky. The moon was in the same place in the sky, and Dryden was pretty sure it was on the same phase as well. Waxing gibbous. The sky would probably remain in stasis like this for some time. Though Otto had said that time here was malleable, and not the same as the real world Dryden was from, the days and nights still fell in succession. In another few “hours” (if Dryden could really call them that), Dryden knew he would see dawn on the other side of the house. There were no rules here, Dryden reasoned, but there was a structure. There had to be in order for riddles to be the main form of currency.
When Dryden found a small fire pit by the back of the house, he decided to light it. Again, what’s the worst that can happen? If he wanted to sleep out here, instead of inside where all the other prisoners had been, what else could really be done to him? As he placed logs around and then started the flame from the flare he held, Dryden wondered if his smoke would be visible if it got high enough in the sky. Would people in surrounding places see it? Could they send help that way? Dryden began to add more logs, then snuffed the flame faster to make smoke. He had almost used up the entire store of logs by the cabin when he realized he would only pull anyone else who came to help him back into this vortex with him. Smoke signals, if they worked, would only get him so far.
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