by A. R. Cook
“As you may have read in some poorly written book, a man came along one day and answered the sphinx’s riddle. She was so distraught at her defeat, she cast herself off a cliff and fell to her death, and the city rewarded the man by making him king. But then, if that were all true, how do you explain her?” Nico made a careless wave at Acacia. “No, not quite the correct tale. If it hasn’t been made clear to you yet, sphinxes tend to be … lovelorn. And when you’re the only one of your species, you may become … desperate for affection.”
Acacia’s snarl had now developed into a full menacing growl. David winced as her claws dug deeper into his arm.
“The truth is, the sphinx gave that idiot Oedipus the answer, so he could tell the people of Thebes that he had solved the riddle and defeated the beast, and they would make him king. It was her token of love, because all she wanted was for him to be happy.” Nico scrunched up his face, as if he had just swallowed a piece of rotten fruit. “So the man became famous, remembered in timeless lore, and in return, he helped the sphinx fake her death and escape from Greece. Eventually she settled in the deserts of Egypt, rumored to have once been a home to a tribe of male lion-men, Nature’s prototype of sphinxes perhaps—but she forever pined for that human, like a lovesick fool.”
Acacia lunged out with her paws, narrowly missing Nico’s face by a hair’s breadth, and slammed her claws down on the table. She pulled back, leaving deep gouges in the tabletop. She regained her composure, standing up straight and staring coldly at her cousin.
“That’s enough,” Agalope said. “This is a sacred festival. I will not allow this sort of hostility in our home. Watch your mouth, Teumessian.”
Nico yawned nonchalantly. “I can’t help it if she’s so touchy.” He looked back at David. “That was more for your benefit. Fair warning, is all. Cousin …” He looked into Acacia’s eyes, and saw in them something he had never seen before. It was a subtle change, a soulful spark that those of the Drakaina bloodline could obtain only one way. He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, you let the boy give you a name? Predictable. How about a short game of riddles? I’ve been anxious for another round, to give you a chance to best me this time. If, of course, you have the stamina for it.”
David thought back to what Acacia had said in his dream, that she was unable to communicate normally without “risking her health.” It must have accounted for why she got sick after speaking her banishing spell to the Jenglots. He wondered what the reason was behind it—was she under a curse? Had sphinxes devolved so much that it was a strain on their minds and bodies to speak? Whatever the reason, the Teumessian was exploiting the fact that she could not speak and was taunting her. Hopefully Acacia could see through him and wouldn’t give in to the ridicule.
The sphinx sat down at the table. By the look on her face, she was perfectly willing to a contest of riddles. She took a deep breath, and remained perfectly relaxed.
“Bravo, Cousin. Such bravery.” Nico leaned his elbows on the table. “But none of that ‘what walks on four legs, then two then three’ nonsense. That’s pathetic.”
The war of wits commenced. The two opponents batted riddles back and forth, Acacia posing hers as concisely as she could in soft-spoken Latin, and Nico delivering long-winded conundrums, relishing in the sound of his own voice. Both seeming equally matched in intellect. A small crowd of guests began to gather, and David figured this must be a long standing rivalry in the family to attract such attention. But he could see, gradually, that it was getting more difficult for Acacia to continue. She was getting pale again, sweat beading on her forehead. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t necessary, that it was ridiculous to suffer over a stupid game. The deadly glint in her eye, however, warned him not to interfere.
On his fourteenth turn, the Teumessian stated, “A man walks into a tavern and asks the owner for a drink of water. The owner instead draws out and points a knife at the man’s face. The man thanks the tavern owner and leaves. Why?”
The sphinx furrowed her eyebrows, and bit her lips. There was a tension hanging in the air, as the other guests waited in anticipation. Acacia tapped her claws on the table as she pondered.
David put a hand to his mouth and made a “hic” sound.
Nico frowned, glaring at him.
David cleared his throat, and made another “hic” sound.
This time Acacia looked over at him curiously. Recognition spread over her face, and she grinned. She looked back at Nico and answered, “Singultare.” Hiccups.
The guests around them responded simultaneously, “Ahhh.”
“That’s not fair! The human gave it away,” Nico protested.
“I didn’t hear him say anything,” Thelxepeia said.
“Neither did I,” Molpe agreed.
The guests murmured amongst one another. Acacia narrowed her eyes at Nico, but she was smirking. Nico wrinkled his nose again, but calmly replied, “You seem to think you have a knack for this sort of thing, David. I don’t suppose you are as good at asking riddles as you are at ruining them?”
David put a finger to his chin as he thought. “Well, I do have one I think is pretty good. But it may be too simple for the likes of you.”
Nico knew a dare when he heard one. “Please, by all means, share your simple riddle.”
David took a breath—while noting the curious although skeptical look from Acacia—and spoke:
“I save the lives of kings and heroes, if they heed me.
I save the tongues of knaves and charlatans, if they know me.
I turn masters into servants, and fools into wise men.
I bring idols down from their thrones.”
Nico pursed his lips, and chuckled. “Did you write that one yourself?” he asked in a manner meaning, How cute, the boy thinks he’s actually intelligent.
David smiled awkwardly.
The Teumessian shook his head, picking up a wine glass from the table and sipped from it. “Poorly constructed. It’s mediocre, at best. You practically give away the answer in the riddle itself.”
“Then you must know what it is,” David replied.
Nico’s smile morphed into a grimace. His orange eyes darkened. “What makes you think you can talk to me like that?”
The boy and the fox-man stared down one another, until David gave him a wry grin of triumph.
Nico slammed his glass down on the table, nearly shattering it. “This is ridiculous. Why do we allow her to bring her humans here? It’s degrading and embarrassing, like bringing in a parade of rodents. Now this one thinks just because he’s her dear favorite, he’s worth a lick of salt? Leave the pets at home next time, Cousin, and have a shred of dignity.”
Acacia clasped her paws together on the table, and gave him a look that said, Do you give up?
Nico shrunk back into his seat, crossing his arms. He remained silent.
“It would seem the Teumessian is stumped,” Agalope commented. “But I certainly am curious to know the answer.”
“Humility,” David responded, “Although, I suppose it was a little unfair to pose that riddle to you, Nico—given that you don’t know what humility is.”
Acacia tried to muffle her snickering beneath her paw.
After the festivities, the sirens led the caravan’s horses to a stable used specifically for the guests’ steeds. They offered the gypsies lodging for the night at one of their “nests,” which was a lush lagoon surrounded by tall marble columns and finely crafted statues. The water led into a wide-mouthed cave, set up with accommodation much like any of the hotels David would have stayed in back in his own world. As soon as camp was set up along the rim of the lagoon, the caravan folk jumped into the water to bathe. Modesty was apparently not an issue among these people, although the women and children gathered at one spot of the lagoon while the men gathered at another—there was no effort to hide anything.
David opted not to bathe. He lay down on shore, gazing up at the night sky. The faint smells of the women’s milk soaps wafted in the air. He
heard the laughter of the children as they played in the water. He looked over, watching the boys and girls playing with Acacia as she swam seamlessly across the lagoon’s pool. She was as agile and graceful as a fish, her wings spread out like two great fins. She was looking better, although she still moved about carefully, taking time to recover from the riddle match.
“What’s the matter with you, boy?” Gullin climbed out of the water and walked up to him. Fortunately, the man still had on his trousers. He had only waded in to splash water on his torso. “Don’t want any of the ladies getting a peek?”
“It’s not that. It’s crowded in there right now.”
Gullin grinned, sitting down. “You’re a shy one. Too shy. You never join in on the fun.”
David had discovered that Gullin was prepared to talk about anything, from the lightly amusing to the bluntly vulgar to the cleverly humorous, but no matter how many times or in what manner David inquired, Gullin would not give him a hint as to how soon they would arrive back in a human city. So David had stopped asking, knowing they had to arrive in a town at some point.
Gullin gave David a light punch in the shoulder. “Might as well have some fun, if you’re tagging along for the ride. You know, some of the girls talk about you. They’re hoping you don’t have a lass back home.”
David didn’t reply to that.
“Well, do you?”
“No.”
“Now that’s a shame. A fellow like you should have a girl. Someone you can show off all that brain of yours to. Ladies like the smart ones.”
“I doubt that,” David said curtly, but then he made his tone more casual. “I study to better myself, not impress others. Education is a more important matter than frivolous flirting.”
“Trust me, you’ll learn more from a lady than from any book, boy.”
“If you mean learn about love … books hold all of the best romances in the world—if I were interested in that sort of thing. Writers can imagine unspoiled, true love and not have to think about if that love ever rots after the story finishes. Romantic impulses in real life pale—would pale in comparison. But tell me about yourself, Gullin. Do you have a señora?”
“Can’t say that I do. I was married, once. She passed away a while ago …” He trailed off, a hardness entering his brow. “She had the ‘chat’ with you yet?”
“Huh? Who?”
“The mistress. She had the chat with you yet, when you’re asleep?” Gullin reiterated.
David raised his eyebrows at him. “Does she appear to all of you in dreams too?”
“She and I used to chat pretty regularly. Been a while now since our last talk.” Gullin gave David a stern look. “What’d she tell you?”
David wrinkled a corner of his nose at Gullin’s glare. The juggler was awfully touchy when it came to the sphinx. “Nothing much. It wasn’t a very long conversation.”
Gullin let out a heavy breath. “You just watch what you say to her, you hear? She acts differently ‘round you. Don’t be doing anything to upset her, got it?”
“Fine, fine,” David said, putting up his hands in defense. “I’m fine, you’re fine, Acacia’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
Gullin suddenly stiffened. “Acacia?”
“Yes, that’s the name I’ve given her. I guess you don’t have to call her that, if you don’t want to. She seems fine with it.”
Gullin opened his mouth to say something, but he came up empty. He looked surprised, then befuddled, and then he just made a faint tense smile and a slight nod. He walked away quickly, leaving David perplexed.
When the gypsies retired to the comfortable lodging within the cave, David stayed outside by the lagoon. He figured that if he was quick, he could give himself a decent enough wash without being seen. But he had not even gotten his shirt off when a voice jumped out from behind him.
“Forgive me for intruding,” Nico said as he emerged from the brush. His tone clearly indicated he wasn’t sincere about it. “I don’t suppose the Lady Sphinx is around? I mean to apologize for my behavior this evening.”
David tugged down his shirt, wiping his hands down the front. Before he could reply, Nico rattled on. “By the way, I should address her by her new name. It’s only good manners. Tell me, what lovely moniker did you bestow on her?”
“Acacia,” David answered suspiciously.
Nico cocked an eyebrow critically, and made a light snort. “Well, one can’t account for another’s taste. How long have you been with your darling’s little rabble?”
“She’s not my ‘darling’.”
The fox-man chuckled. “That seems unlikely, given the circumstances.”
David’s expression gave away his confusion.
“For all your supposed genius, you don’t know how it works with our kind, do you?” Nico twirled his vest’s chain in his fingers. “Have you never wondered why many of the monsters in old tales didn’t have names? They were simply called what they were—chimera, hydra, sphinx. A name carries a lot of power with it. For clans of the Drakaina born, it carries so much power, it can determine ownership. Giving one of us a name, a personal one like you humans have, is similar to your tradition of giving … what is it called? An engagement ring.”
The young man’s eyes shot wide open. Was the Teumessian joking? “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, don’t be stupid. You understand perfectly.” Nico scratched himself behind the ear. “I’ve spent a good deal of time in your world, so I was smart enough to legally name myself. Even have the documents to prove it. It leaves me in complete control, no risk of romantic imprisonment.” He made that dirty grin again at David. “But I can only guess it was your idea to give her a name. You humans don’t like things you can’t label. I’m sure she didn’t oppose it … not one bit. I fear perhaps by now she may be in deep sleep, so do give her my apologies, won’t you? There’s a good boy.” He turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of you now, David. Welcome to the family.”
David could only stand there for a long time, alone. He was too stunned to speak.
Acacia had not fallen asleep yet. She had, in fact, become concerned when David did not come into the cave with the others for the night. As she walked out of the cave and around the lagoon, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Nico before he vanished off.
She approached David slowly, gauging him. When he saw her, he stepped away. Then his face grew angry, and his fists clenched.
“Is it really tradition for your kind to take someone who gives you a name, as a mate?” he seethed.
She stopped cold. She could only gaze at him, patiently. Her eyes began to glow.
David thrust an arm over his eyes. “No! Don’t try to trick me. I can understand enough of Latin. Just tell me yes or no. Did you allow me to name you, knowing you could claim me for yourself?”
He kept his arm over his eyes as he waited. Then he smelled her sweet, enticing breath in his face. He held his breath, using his free hand to pinch his nose shut. He stepped back, turning around to put his back to her. He knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to calm him down. But he didn’t care, there was no amount of sweet breath she could use on him to quell his anger.
“I guess that answers it,” he hissed. “Let me tell you something, Sphinx, I don’t consent to it. You can’t keep me, and you can’t tell me what to do. I want you to take me back to my world immediately. I have my own life! I have an education, an apprenticeship waiting for me, and a good, secure future. You can’t take me away from that. Besides, being a monster’s mate is just … revolting!”
He expected her to react instantly. He expected the mauling, flesh-tearing, and strangling that she undoubtedly wanted to give him. But nothing happened. There was no reaction, not even a sound. David slowly turned to look back at her, keeping one eye shut and the other squinted just in case.
She was gone.
The island was quiet now, a striking contrast to the gala
of music and laughter that had permeated the air only a short time ago. Even residents of the magical worlds must sleep eventually, with the exception of the two-headed Amphisbaena, whose front head was resting while the head attached to his tail stayed awake. The attentive head watched David as he walked past through the bounty of ferns and tropical trees and towards the shoreline, before it turned its attention to a wandering mouse scurrying nearby.
David walked down to the beach, which looked out onto the dark sea reflecting the midnight sky. He wondered if it was the same sky that he had always lived beneath, or if maybe the sky was like a mirror and on the other side of it was his world. He gazed out towards the horizon, where he could just make out the cloudy haze of the Curtain. He tested a foot on the water to see if he could still walk across it. His boot dipped into the cool reef, soaking through to his toes. He withdrew his foot and sighed, considering if it would be worth the risk to swim out to sea.
He heard footsteps approaching, and turned to see two of the gypsy women coming towards him. He recognized them; Isabella and a young dancer named Moline. David couldn’t imagine that Acacia had sent them in an attempt to retrieve him. Why not just come after him herself? He waited as the women arrived.
“We’ve come to take you back home,” Isabella stated.
David blinked in surprise. “She sent you to do this?”
“Yes,” replied Moline. “She spoke to us in our sleep. She said you do not belong with us, and that we can guide you back to your home through the Curtain.”
“But how? Can we do that without her? How do we even get over to it?”
“She taught us how. Come.” Isabella held her hand out to David, and Moline did the same. A sense of relief washed over David as he took the women by their hands. The three of them stepped out onto the water, and easily remained above the surface. With each step, the Curtain got rapidly closer, almost lurching forwards towards them, and David clung tighter to his guides’ hands. He kept repeating to himself, Almost home, almost home … then I can wake up and all this will have been a silly dream …