The opportunity to put this question to the test came sooner than the wizard had expected. Scarcely had they gone a hundred paces farther on this dark portion of the trail when they reached a clearing, and as they entered the clearing from one side, the Green Riddler strode from the forest opposite them. One by one, his followers stepped from behind the trees around the clearing. The Riddler’s men were common forest ruffians, scruffy-looking, dressed in rags and animal skins, carrying clubs and daggers and rude spears, and all of them bore an expression of stupid malice. Their leader was unmistakable. He was bright green from head to foot—hair, beard, skin, and clothing were all green as spring grass—and the distance between these points was at least twice the height of an ordinary man.
The travelers halted, ringed by sullen men and facing their giant leader. The Riddler stood with folded arms, looking the trio over, and then he laughed, a deep slow rumbling laugh that suggested a very unpleasant sense of humor.
“Arm yourself, wizard,” said Dyrax in a steely undertone. “Side by side, we will fight to the death.”
“Don’t be hasty. There may be another way out of this,” Kedrigern said.
“There is none. The Green Riddler is merciless.”
“I don’t intend to appeal to his mercy.”
The Green Riddler raised one hand in greeting. Kedrigern returned the salute. Dismounting, he approached the giant, stopping just out of reach and working, as he walked, a quick protective spell to cover his companions and himself.
“Good afternoon, big fellow,” he said politely.
“Good afternoon to you, traveler, and welcome to my domain. You have arrived just in time for a wonderful dinner,” the Riddler boomed.
“Kind of you to invite us, but we’re just passing through on our way west. It’s too early for dinner, anyway,” Kedrigern replied.
“Not a bit early. You’re right on time. You’re the dinner!” the Riddler cried, roaring with unnerving laughter as he pointed at the wizard. “You yourself will be the appetizer. This husky swordsman will be our main course. And the lady will be a most delicious dessert.”
When the amused grunting of the Riddler’s men had subsided, Kedrigern said, “I’m afraid we must disappoint you. We are not staying.”
“They all say that. But they all stay.”
“All? Does that mean that you spare no one?”
Self-righteously, the giant proclaimed, “I am the Green Riddler, traveler. I have a reputation for fair play. If any who come this way can solve three riddles, they may pass in safety and enjoy my protection all the way to the banks of the Moaning River.”
“Excellent, excellent. Let’s hear the first riddle. No sense standing here all day,” said Kedrigern, folding his arms to match the giant’s stance and looking up with an expression of anticipation.
The giant looked around, gloating, and smiled to display very large greenish teeth. Stooping a bit, he recited:
“I am no woman, yet I bear
Children made of living air,
Invisible to every eye.
Unless I choose to slay them,
My daughters never die;
My sons live on forever.
Now say—what man am I?”
Kedrigern had never heard this one before, but he felt that he knew the proper answer. It was right there, fresh in his memory, close to the surface. He scratched his nose, and rubbed the back of his neck, and stroked his chin, and screwed up his face in an expression of profound concentration, while the Riddler leered at Princess and bared his teeth at Dyrax. Then the wizard flung up one hand and cried, “A maker of tales!”
The Green Riddler scowled. His men muttered in a sour, ominous tone. Kedrigern smiled and bowed graciously. “I can tell from your expression that I gave the right answer. Next riddle, please,” he said, snapping his fingers.
“You won’t get this one. You think you’re clever, but you won’t get two of my riddles in a row,” sulked the giant.
“Oh, get on with it.”
The giant snarled and ground his teeth while his men nodded confidently to one another and hefted their weapons. Kedrigern ignored it all, and at last the Riddler said:
“Motherless and fatherless, Born without a skin, I speak when I come in the world And never speak again,”
and placing his arms akimbo, he glowered down on Kedrigern.
The wizard chewed on his lip. The riddle was familiar. He had heard it somewhere, years and years ago, but his mind was a complete blank and the harder he thought the blanker it got. He had a vague memory of long-ago days, of himself as a boy, the servant of old Tarrendine. The work was hard, but Tarrendine was a kindly master and left him plenty of time to himself. There was an inn
nearby. He would go there sometimes, on the hot summer days, and drink beer. Sometimes the innkeeper had a tale, or a song, or a riddle. Often they were rather coarse
The Green Riddler began to chuckle in a nasty way. He swept the trio of travelers with a hungry glance. Kedrigern scowled. The answer to the riddle popped into his head, and he reddened, and shaking his fist, he cried furiously, “You boor! You churl! You base barbaric lout! You lumpish lubberly uncouth booby! How dare you pose such a riddle in a lady’s presence!”
Abashed, the giant retreated a step. “It’s only a riddle,” he said.
“It’s an extremely vulgar riddle that no one but a giant would repeat within a lady’s hearing, and I demand that you apologize to my wife this instant. Go on, apologize.”
Lowering his head, the Riddler muttered, “I’m sorry, my lady.”
Princess averted her eyes and acknowledged the apology with a dignified nod. Kedrigern, slightly mollified, said, “Go on to the next riddle. And mind it’s in good taste.”
The Green Riddler paused, pondered, and tumed narrowed suspicious eyes on the wizard. “Wait. You didn’t get this one yet.”
“Of course I did, but I’m not going to shout it out.” Kedrigern motioned for the Riddler to bend down, and when he had, whispered in his ear, “The riddle is about a fart.”
The Riddler howled in frustration. Thrusting several of his men aside roughly, he stalked to a tree at the edge of the woods, wrapped his arms around the trunk, and with a great straining grunt tore it from the ground and flung it from him. Shaking the dirt from his feet, he shook his fists at the sky, thumped his chest loudly, and roared.
Kedrigern, unperturbed, said, “When you’re quite ready, I’d like to get on with the riddles.”
With another roar, the giant ran to the uprooted tree. Raising it high above his head, he slowly bent the trunk, his skin darkening to the color of holly leaves with the
effort, until the tree broke in two with a terrible splintering noise. Hurling the pieces aside, he returned to take up his place before Kedrigern. When his breathing was back to normal, he glared at the wizard and spoke his third riddle.
“One, holding one, under one;
Two tops bare to the sun;
Three white sticks in a line;
One taps; one makes a whine;
No sound at all from three.
Say what this scene may be.”
With a disdainful sniff, Kedrigern said, “A pale, bald, one-legged beggar with a white crutch standing under a birch tree in winter.” The Riddler gaped at him and his green eyes grew wide. The wizard turned, walked to his horse, mounted, and in a kindly voice added, “If that’s really the best you can do, I think you ought to consider going into another line of business. Lumbering, perhaps. And now, if you’ll tell your men to step aside, we really must run.”
“How did you guess my riddles?” the Green Riddler demanded in a voice squeezed small by anger and frustration.
“Sheer brilliance,” Kedrigern replied off-handedly.
“No! You cheated!”
“We must fight, Master Kedrigern. We’ll cut our way through this rabble or die in the attempt,” said Dyrax.
“Patience, my boy. We’ll save the cutting for a last resort. Let’s
try using our wits first,” Kedrigern said in a lowered voice. Addressing the giant, he said aloud, “You’re not playing fair, Riddler. I solved your riddles and you must let us pass. You need not accompany us all the way to the Moaning River, but we would appreciate knowing of any shortcuts.”
The Green Riddler did not move from their path. His men shifted irritably from one foot to the other, sensing trouble, impatient to stop all this talk and get to work. Folding his brawny arms across his huge chest, the giant said, “It’s obvious to anyone that you cheated. Nobody
could solve my riddles without cheating. So we’re going to eat you. That should teach you a lesson.”
“Before you do anything you’ll regret, let me pose a riddle of my own. I’ll be happy to tell you the answer if you’re stuck,” said the wizard.
“Don’t try any tricks on me.”
“No tricks at all. I want you to solve this riddle. Ready?”
At the giant’s nod, Kedrigern said, “Who is it that rides in the forest at peace with the world, no man’s enemy, wishing good to all, yet has the power to turn anyone who attacks him into a fieldmouse?”
“That’s not much of a riddle. It doesn’t even rhyme,” said the Green Riddler scornfully.
“Indulge me. Give it a try. Come on.”
The giant muttered to himself. He scratched his head loudly and dug his fingers into his tangled green beard. He rolled his eyes skyward, shook his head, and at last said, “I don’t know. Who?”
“Kedrigern, the wizard of Silent Thunder Mountain. And I am he,” the wizard announced. “I hope I make myself clear.”
The Green Riddler was not easily convinced. “You’re no wizard. You don’t even look like a wizard.”
“Observe my horse,” Kedrigern said patiently. “Would anyone but a wizard ride a horse like this? Would they dare? And look at my wife’s horse, if you can.”
The giant studied the great silver-horned steed and squinted helplessly in an attempt to see Princess’s horse, which was all but invisible in the bright sunlight. For a moment he seemed to waver, but then he cried in frustration, “I don’t care what kind of horse you ride, I don’t believe you’re a wizard! You look like . . . like a merchant!”
“Do you suppose I’m going to dress up as a wizard to please the likes of you? It so happens, Riddler, that I am secure in my professional identity. I require no pointy hat, and no long robe covered in cabalistic symbols, to prove
my status. I feel no need to dress any other way than the way I choose, and if you think I dress like a merchant, that’s your problem and not mine. Why do you have to go around all green and overgrown, I’d like to know. What are you trying to prove? You’re probably not even a giant,” said Kedrigern disdainfully.
“I am so a giant! And I’m not afraid of wizards, either. Just this summer, I caught the wizard Ashan trying to sneak through the forest. He couldn’t solve my riddles, so I ate him!”
Kedrigern gave a little jump in the saddle, and his motion made the black steed snort and toss his head and the silver horn to flash menacingly in the sun. The Green Riddler’s men started back. The circle came apart. Things began to happen all at once. Kedrigern heard a soft whitt at his side and turned to see Dyrax brandishing his sword. The air tingled and smarted with the presence of magic, and the Green Riddler flung out his hand in the first movement of a spell, but it shattered against Kedrigern's own protective spell, and before the giant could recover his wits, Kedrigern channeled all his power into a great transformation that lanced out before and behind them, and to the sides, touching the Riddler and all his followers. They vanished from sight, leaving nothing behind but a small commotion in the grass.
Dyrax, his sword poised for a blow, looked wildly about and cried, “Where have they fled? What has become of them?”
Kedrigern blinked, caught his breath, and replied in a strained voice, “They’re still around here somewhere. I turned them into fieldmice.”
“Keddie, are you all right?” Princess asked, hurrying to the wizard’s side.
“I’m fine, my dear,” he assured her, squeezing her hand weakly. “Just dizzy for a moment, that’s all. I had to put a lot into that spell, and do it quickly.”
“Let’s get away from this place,” she urged.
“Yes, at once. Lead on, Dyrax.”
They rode at a faster pace than before, wanting to get away from the clearing and its ugly memory. Ashan’s fate had come as a shock, and Kedrigern could not drive it from his mind. For all his bulk and bluster, the Green Riddler was a quick hand with a spell, and the spell he had tried to cast was a strong one; had Kedrigern not been prudent, and protected himself and his companions at the very outset, the situation might have been grave. Poor Ashan must have been taken completely unprepared. It was a sobering thought, and it led Kedrigern to some serious brooding on the vicissitudes of wizardry and the general hostility of the world and its inhabitants. It was hard enough to be safe in one’s own cottage; to go traveling in strange lands was sheer recklessness. And all for a wand. Surely, he thought, there must be an easier way to find a wand.
But then there was Panstygia—or Louise. One had to do what one could for a princess in distress. Not that much could be done after all this time. A fool’s errand, that’s what this was. If he was not careful, alert every second, they might all end up like Ashan, or worse.
Kedrigern rode for the rest of the day in sullen silence. Princess, aware of the strain that working spells can place on one, kept a close protective eye on him but did not fuss. She knew how much pleasure he could derive from solitary brooding, and let him indulge himself.
The brush with danger seemed to have had a salutary effect on Dyrax. He rode a bit taller in the saddle. His eye was brighter, and there was a spring to his step. When they made camp that evening, he even chose a comfortable and picturesque spot overlooking a small waterfall to spread his blanket.
Princess insisted on casting that night’s warning spell, and Kedrigern made not even a token protest. He was still weary, feeling weak, and glad to avoid anything that would further drain his powers. He turned in as soon as they had eaten, and slept like a man entranced—until Princess shook him awake in the dark.
“Someone’s coming, Keddie. Can you feel it?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said groggily, rubbing his eyes. “A lot of people. And they’re coming fast. Let’s go.”
Dyrax sprang up at a word, and they were quickly on their way. Just before dawn, as they came to the top of a rise, Kedrigern called for a halt and reined in his great black steed. Tuming to face back down the trail, he raised the medallion of his guild to his eye and peered through the Aperture of True Vision at the medallion’s center.
“Can you see them?” Princess asked anxiously.
“There’s a man all in black . . . a very big man . with twenty-two . . . no, twenty-seven . . . thirty . thirty-six followers. All big, all dressed in black. Thirty-six of them, and their leader, and they’re hot on our trail.”
“What shall we do?”
“We will meet them sword in hand and fight to the death!” Dyrax cried joyously.
“Are you mad, Dyrax? We will flee!”
“This is dangerous ground, Master Kedrigern. The enchanted wood lies near, and in the faint light, we might easily lose our way.”
“Princess and I can usually tell when there’s magic around. We’ll be safe enough, Dyrax.”
“I could cast a small spell to mislead the people following us,” Princess offered.
“An excellent idea—but make it very small, my dear. I’ll need a few days to get my strength back, and we mustn’t deplete yours.”
“Can’t we just stand our ground and challenge them? I’d appreciate the opportunity to perform a heroic deed.”
“Heroic, yes; suicidal, no,” said the wizard flatly. “We flee, Dyrax. Cast your spell when ready, my dear.”
Princess faced down the road and rolled back her sleeves. Turning to Kedrigern, she sai
d, “I’ll confuse them for a day. There’s no point in doing more. We’re not even sure they’re after us. They could be friendly.”
“Great big scowling men dressed in black from head to
foot may be friendly souls, but somehow I doubt it. Confuse away, my dear.”
Princess extended her slender arms. She shut her eyes tightly and murmured in a soft, barely audible voice. “There. It’s done,” she announced, adjusting her sleeves and brushing back a stray lock of hair. Kedrigern, who had observed their pursuers through the Aperture of True Vision, seized her hand, kissed it, and raised it high in a victorious gesture, crying, “And very well done, too! I’m proud of you, my dear. They’re already milling around and blaming each other for losing the track. We should have ample time to elude them.”
They rode all morning, stopped for a short rest at midday, then pressed on, steadily westward. About midafternoon Kedrigern felt a faint tingle in the air, and rode to Princess’s side.
“I have a feeling of magic near. Do you feel anything?” he asked.
She looked about, rubbed her hands, and at last said cautiously, “No, nothing. But I’m still not good at sensing magic.”
“It takes practice,” he admitted. “The magic seems to be over that way,” he said, waving vaguely to his left.
“Then let’s go that way,” said Princess, raising the black staff and pointing to their right.
“Look at those woods, my dear. Impenetrable. We’ll just have to wait until we come to a side road. By the way, I’ll be glad to carry Louise for a while. You’ve had her since yesterday.”
“I don’t mind, Keddie. I’ll carry her until you’re fully rested.”
“Well, as long as you don’t mind . . . Look, I’d better warn Dyrax about the magic. We don’t want him blundering into anything,” Kedrigern said, urging his mount forward.
Kedrigern in Wanderland Page 11