Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle (17 page)

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you,” Gabriel said.

“Maybe you didn't
mean
to, but you did,” replied the raven. “Let me remind you that human children take a year just to
walk
!”

“True.”

In the following week, Paladin made great progress. He
learned to take off, land, and hover. The boy and the raven became so accustomed to sharing their thoughts that they could argue without speaking a word out loud. Most of their quarrels had to do with paravolating, because neither knew exactly how to do it.

Could we try flapping our wings at the same time?
suggested Paladin.

But I don't have wings
, replied Gabriel.

Don't argue, just flap your arms instead!
Paladin answered.

Flapping his arms for several minutes, Gabriel slumped into a chair, sweaty and frustrated.
I feel silly.

You looked ridiculous!
laughed Paladin.

You're not helping very much.

No matter how they tried, they couldn't merge as Adam Finley had with Baldasarre.

Paladin's wings developed a handsome blue sheen, and his neck feathers formed a very dignified ruffle around his sleek black neck. He could be quite charming, too. He bowed to Aunt Jaz in the evenings, which Gabriel knew was a high compliment. In return, Aunt Jaz told Trudy Baskin that the bird could be fed in the kitchen.

“But his germs!”

“Trudy, I think we can agree that the bird is quite clean.”

Pamela offered peanuts to the raven, who would now accept them from her with a courtly bow.

“Isn't he just amazing!” she cooed.

“I doubt he's any more intelligent than a trained parrot,” snapped Trudy.

Paladin repeated Trudy's words, with the same snippy tone:
“I doubt he's any more intelligent than a trained parrot!”

Before breakfast, Gabriel would pose a riddle to Paladin.

“When do strawberries get upset?”

“Hmm.” Paladin noticed a jar on the table. “I know,” he said.
“When they get in a jam!”

Then Gabriel exploded in laughter, and the bird uttered
throk throk throks
of glee.

Pamela watched their conversations with quiet yearning. One evening, she came to Gabriel with a favor. “May I please tell Paladin a riddle?”

“Sure,” said Gabriel. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” she said, looking nervously at Paladin. “It goes like this: Who shows up at breakfast, never appears for lunch or dinner, but comes twice for dessert?”

Paladin cocked his head at Pamela thoughtfully, then said, “The letter ‘s.' ”

“Yes, that's it!” said Pamela.

Paladin laughed giddily.
Throk throk throk!

“That was pretty good,” Gabriel told Pamela.

Pamela sighed. “I wish I had a raven.”

“I don't
own
Paladin,” Gabriel reminded her. “Aunt Jaz told me that I could take care of him but one day he would probably decide to go his own way.”

The girl's smile faded. “You're still so lucky!” She stamped angrily upstairs.

Gabriel tried to talk to Pamela later. He paused by her door, listening to the sad song she was playing on the violin. The music stopped for a moment, but when he tapped on the door, it resumed.

The next day on the way home from school, Gabriel complained to Abby about Pamela's sulk.

“I feel exactly the same way,” Abby admitted. “You're telepathic. How cool is that? You have a fantastic power nobody else has!”

“Oh, yes, a
fantastic
power,” mocked a voice. Somes Grindle had just caught up with them. “You're both so very special just because you know what goes up but doesn't come down or what's black and white and red all over! When's your next club meeting?” he said scornfully. “Don't forget your badges and T-shirts!”

Glaring at the two, Somes barged past, knocking Gabriel into the fence so that he dropped his backpack.

“Pest!” muttered Gabriel.

Abby stared after Somes. “Poor Somes. I think he feels left out.”

“Yeah, poor Somes,” Gabriel said wryly, picking up his backpack. He left Abby at her gate and crossed the street.

But when he got to his house, he saw two men standing
at the gate. The first had a familiar face: he wore a green poker visor and spectacles with extra lenses perched on the corners. Beside him stood a tall gentleman wearing a long tweed coat with a crimson silk scarf around his neck. But the most striking thing about him was the bird sitting on his shoulder—a magnificent raven as white as bone.

Aviopolis

“A
h, there he is!” said Mr. Pleshette to his companion. “Young man, I just came by to see how you were doing with your raven.”

“Okay—why?” said Gabriel cautiously.

Pleshette withdrew his wallet. “I have decided to make you an even better offer for—”

“He's still not for sale.”

“Not for three thousand? A fine box of Cuban cigars, a case of excellent Madeira wine, or a pair of hand-stitched Italian shoes?”

When Gabriel shook his head, Mr. Pleshette frowned. “I see. Disappointing, very disappointing indeed. Then allow me to introduce you to Mr. Crawfin here.”

“How do you do, young fellow?”

The gentleman beside Pleshette had not spoken; it was the bird.

“Oh!” said Gabriel to the bird. “Fine, thank you!”

“Let me introduce my amicus,” said the white raven. “Mr. Septimus Geiger.”

Gabriel took another look at the tall man. He wasn't much older than Pleshette, but his hair was white and his skin was rugged, like that of someone who had traveled great distances in all kinds of weather.

“A pleasure, my lad, a great pleasure,” said Septimus Geiger, shaking Gabriel's hand. Casually, he reached into his pocket and tossed a mouse into the air.

The white raven caught it in a swift movement and devoured it. Then the bird tilted his head curiously at Gabriel. “So, my young friend, what's the difference between a churchgoer and a donkey?”

“A churchgoer and a donkey?” said Gabriel. “Hmm.” He thought for a moment. “Well, a churchgoer sits and prays, but … I'm sorry. I don't know the answer to that one.”

“One sits and prays, the other spits and brays!” Crawfin chuckled, his laugh as rusty as a garden gate.
Cachh! Cachh! Cachh!

Septimus regarded the bird sternly. “As riddles go, I don't think it's especially funny. At least, it's not worth all that
cackling
!”

Crawfin turned to Gabriel. “I think it's a pip!” He nibbled at Septimus's ear. “I deserve an extra mouse for that riddle.”

“I think you've had enough,” scolded Septimus.

The bird stared at his amicus. “Do I tell
you
when you've eaten too much?”

Sighing, Septimus dug into his pocket, produced another
small white mouse, and held it up by the tail. Crawfin gulped it down in an instant.

All this time, Mr. Pleshette had been glancing impatiently at his watch. “As we have no further business to discuss, I'll be on my way,” he said, looking miserably at Gabriel.

“Bye,” said Gabriel.

When Pleshette reached the end of the block, Gabriel expected the shopkeeper to turn and offer him something else ridiculous, like a bearskin coat and snowshoes, but the man rounded the corner and disappeared.

“Poor Pleshette,” said Crawfin. “He doesn't understand that a raven and his amicus have an unbreakable bond. Septimus and I go together like salt and pepper.”

“Eggs and bacon,” added Septimus.

“Fish and chips,” said Crawfin.

“I have a fine eye for valuable things—” said Septimus.

“And I have the talent for stealing them,” added Crawfin. “I'm the one with the courage and—”

“No,
I'm
the one with the courage,” protested Septimus.

“You have all the courage of a
hedgehog
!” snapped Crawfin.

As they argued, Gabriel began to wonder what they wanted from him.

“Dear boy,” said Septimus, sensing the boy's confusion, “we bring news of your father.”

Nothing else could have convinced Gabriel to invite such strangers into his house. Eagerly, he led them down to the kitchen. There was no sign of Trudy, which was a relief.

“So, about my father …,” Gabriel said. “Where is he? What's happened to him? Is he okay?”

Septimus raised his hand. “He is in fine health, I assure you. Until just recently, I was imprisoned with him in Aviopolis.”

“Really?” said Gabriel. “Do you know where Aviopolis is?”

“Of course I know where it is,” whispered Septimus, pointing downward with dramatic emphasis. “Corax's dim, cavernous realm lies miles right beneath us! A maze of polished stone, marble, anthracite, and alabaster. A city of birds, ruled by Corax and his hordes of valravens. In its center lies a fortress containing thousands of prisoners. Your father and I were captives together with only bread, water, and friendship to sustain us. He wants nothing more than to come home, dear boy. I promised I would aid his escape, which is why I am here!”

Gabriel couldn't believe his good luck. “And you say it's miles beneath us? Where exactly—”

“I understand you have a raven friend?” interrupted Crawfin.

“Yeah, but—”

“Well, we must be introduced immediately!” said Septimus.

“But I really want to know more about my dad,” Gabriel replied.

“Patience, lad. One hand washes the other, does it not?” said Septimus.

This was an odd reply, but Gabriel saw that he had no choice but to fetch Paladin. When he explained about the visitors the young raven raised his neck feathers warningly.
If they came with Mr. Pleshette, are you sure they can be trusted?
he asked.

Septimus is a friend of my father's
, Gabriel explained.

You mean, he
said
he's a friend of your father's
, the raven corrected him.

When they returned, Paladin regarded Crawfin with a wary glance and immediately challenged him with a riddle. “What can burn you without fire, and lie without speaking?”

“A carpet,” said Crawfin.
“Caw, caw, caw!”

Paladin laughed, but then pinched Gabriel's shoulder with his foot, signaling that he wasn't quite ready to trust them.

Septimus sensed their doubt. “Relax, my friends,” he said. “We are just like you! A raven and his amicus!”

“Tell me, can you actually fly together?” asked Gabriel. “Para—”

“Paravolate,”
interrupted Septimus. “Let me demonstrate!”

Rising from his chair, the man flexed his fingers. “Now, it's rather like jumping while standing still. You have to
think
about jumping, without actually moving your muscles.”

Locking his glance with Crawfin's, he made a small upward gesture with his finger and promptly vanished.

Gabriel looked around the room.

“Oh, I'm right here, dear boy.” Septimus's voice spoke
merrily from the mouth of the white raven. “Or, if it's preferable to Crawfin, he may travel in my form.”

Suddenly, Septimus reappeared, and the white raven vanished from sight.

“Why would a bird want to be human?” asked Gabriel.

Septimus tried to reply, coughed, then removed the remains of a mouse tail from his mouth. “Crawfin,” he snapped, “it appears you didn't finish your snack!”

The white raven rematerialized on the chair and gulped the mouse tail from the man's fingers. “I can answer that,” said Crawfin. “There are perils to being a raven. If, for example, we are among great horned owls or falcons, it is far preferable to be human. To be eaten by an owl is a very nasty way to go.”

“And there is one other benefit,” added Septimus. “Together, our differences are diminished and our similarities are enhanced. Crawfin and I are smarter when we merge …”