Trumps of Doom (8 page)

And that was all.

I was a long time coming around.
 
My consciousness dribbled back, but my limbs were still leaden and my vision clouded.
 
The lady’s sting seemed to have delivered a neurotropic toxin.
 
I tried flexing my fingers arid toes and could not be certain whether I’d succeeded.
 
I tried to speed up and deepen my breathing.
 
That worked, anyway.

After a time, I heard what seemed a roaring sound.
 
It stepped itself down a little later, and I realized it was my own rushing blood in my ears.
 
A while after that I felt my heartbeat, and my vision began to clear.
 
Light and dark and shapelessness resolved into sand and rocks.
 
I felt little areas of chill, all over.
 
Then I began to shiver, and this passed and I realized that I could move.
 
But I felt very weak, so I didn’t.
 
Not for a while.

I heard noises-rustlings, stirrings-coming from somewhere above and before me.
 
I also became aware of a peculiar odor.

“I say, are you awake?” This from the same direction as the sounds of movement.

I decided that I was not entirely ready to qualify for that state, so I did not answer.
 
I waited for more life to flow back into my limbs.

“I really wish you’d let me know whether you can hear me,” the voice came again.
 
“I’d like to get on with it.”

My curiosity finally overcame my judgment and I raised my head.

“There! I knew it!”

On the blue-gray ledge above me was crouched a sphinx, also blue-lion body, large feathered wings folded tight against it, a genderless face looking down upon me.
 
It licked its lips and revealed a formidable set of teeth.

“Get on with what?” I asked, raising myself slowly into a sitting position and drawing several deep breaths.

“The riddling,” it answered, “the thing I do best.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” I said, waiting for the cramps in my arms and legs to pass.

“Sorry.
 
I must insist.”

I rubbed my punctured forearm and glared at the creature.
 
Most of the stories I recalled about sphinxes involved their devouring people who couldn’t answer riddles.
 
I shook my head.

“I won’t play your game,” I said.

“In that case, you lose by forfeit,” it replied, shoulder muscles beginning to tighten.

“Hold on,” I said, raising my hand.
 
“Give me a minute or two to recover and I’ll probably feel differently:”

It settled back and said, “Okay.
 
That would make it more official. Take five.
 
Let me know when you’re ready.”

I climbed to my feet and began swinging my arms and stretching.
 
While I was about it, I surveyed the area quickly.
 
We occupied a sandy arroyo, punctuated here and there with orange, gray, and blue rocks.
 
The stony wall whose ledge the sphinx occupied rose steeply before me to a height of perhaps twenty-five feet; another wall of the same height lay at about that distance to my rear.
 
The wash rose steeply to my right, ran off in a more level fashion to my left.
 
A few spiky green shrubs inhabited rifts and crevices.
 
The hour seemed verging upon dusk.
 
The sky was a weak yellow with no sun in sight.
 
I heard a distant wind but did not feel it.
 
The place was cool but not chill.

I spotted a rock the size of a small dumbbell on the ground nearby.
 
Two ambling paces-as I continued swinging my arms and stretching-and it lay beside my right foot.

The sphinx cleared its throat.
 
“Are you ready?” it asked.

“No,” I said.
 
“But I’m sure that won’t stop you.”

“You’re right.”

I felt an uncontrollable desire to yawn and did so.

“You seem to lack something of the proper spirit,” it observed.
 
“But here it is: I rise in flame from the earth.
 
The wind assails me and waters lash me.
 
Soon I will oversee all things.”

I waited.
 
Perhaps a minute passed.

“Well?” the sphinx finally said.

“Well what?”

“Have you the answer?”

“To what?”

“The riddle, of course!”

“I was waiting.
 
There was no question, only a series of statements.
 
I can’t answer a question if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s a time-honored format.
 
The interrogative is implied by the context.
 
Obviously, the question is, ‘What am I?”’

“It could just as easily be, ‘Who is buried in Grant’s tomb?’ But okay. What is it? The phoenix, of course, nested upon the earth; rising in flames above it, passing through the air, the clouds, to a great height-“

“Wrong.”

It smiled and began to slit.

“Hold on,” I said.
 
“It is not wrong.
 
It fits.
 
It may not be the answer you want, but it is an answer that meets the requirements.”

It shook its head.

“I am the final authority on these answers.
 
I do the defining.”

“Then you cheat.”

“I do not!”

“I drink off half the contents of a flask.
 
Does that make it half full or half empty?”

“Either.
 
Both.”

“Exactly.
 
Same thing.
 
If more than one answer fits, you have to buy them all.
 
It’s like waves and particles.”

“I don’t like that approach,” it stated.
 
“It would open all sorts of doors to ambiguity.
 
It could spoil the riddling business.”

“Not my fault,” I said, clenching and unclenching my hands.

“But you do raise an interesting point.”

I nodded vigorously.

“But there should only be one correct answer.”

I shrugged.

“We inhabit a less than ideal world,” I suggested.

“Hm.”

“We could just call it a tie,” I offered.
 
“Nobody wins, nobody loses.”

“I find that esthetically displeasing.”

“It works okay in lots of other games.”

“Also, I’ve grown a bit hungry.”

“The truth surfaces.”

“But I am not unfair.
 
I serve the truth, in my fashion.
 
Your mention of a tie raises the possibility of a solution.”

“Good.
 
I’m glad you see things-‘

“That being a tie breaker.
 
Ask me your riddle.”

“This is silly,” I said.
 
“I don’t have any riddles.”

“Then you’d better come up with one fast.
 
Because it’s the only way out of our deadlock-that, or I judge you the loser.”

I swung my arms and did a few deep kneebends.
 
My body felt as if it were afire.
 
It also felt stronger.

“Okay,” I said.
 
“Okay.
 
Just a second.”

What the hell .
 
.
 
.

“What’s green and red and goes round and round and round?”

The sphinx blinked twice, then fiurrowed its brow.
 
I used the time that followed for some more deep breathing and some running in place.
 
The fires subsided, my head grew clearer, my pulse steadied .
 
.
 
.

“Well?” I said some minutes later.

“I’m thinking.”

“Take your time.”

I did a little shadowboxing.
 
Did some isometrics, too.
 
The sky had darkened a bit more and a few stars were now visible off to my right.

“Uh, I hate to rush you,” I said, “but-“

The sphinx snorted.
 
“I’m still thinking.”

“Maybe we should set a time limit.”

“It shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Mind if I rest?”

“Go ahead.”

I stretched out on the sand and closed my eyes, muttering a guard word to Frakir before I slept.

I woke with a shiver, light in my eyes and a breeze upon my face.
 
It took me several moments to realize that it was morning.
 
The sky was brightening to my left, stars were fading to my right.
 
I was thirsty.
 
Hungry, too.

I rubbed my eyes.
 
I got to my feet.
 
I located my comb and ran it through my hair.
 
I regarded the sphinx.

“.
 
.
 
.
 
and goes round and round and round,” it muttered.

I cleared my throat.
 
No reaction.
 
The beast was staring past me.
 
I wondered whether I might simply be able to slip off...

No.
 
The gaze shifted to me.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully.
 
There was a brief gnashing of teeth.

“AlI right,” I said, “you’ve taken a lot longer than I did.
 
If you haven’t got it by now I don’t care to play any longer.”

“I don’t like your riddle,” it said at last.

“Sorry.”

“What is the answer?”

“You’re giving up?”

“I must: What is the answer?” I raised a hand.

“Hold on,” I said.
 
“These things should be done in proper order.
 
I should have the preferred answer to yours before I tell you mine.”

It nodded.

“There is some justice in that.
 
All right-the Keep of the Four Worlds.”

“What?”

“That is the answer.
 
The Keep of the Four Worlds .”

I thought of Melman’s words: “Why?” I asked.

“It lies at the crossroads of the worlds of the four elements, where it rises from the earth in flames, assailed by the winds and waters.”

“What about the business of overseeing all things?”

“It could refer to the view, or to its master’s imperialistic designs. Or both.”

“Who is its master?”

“I don’t know.
 
That information is not essential to the answer.”

“Where’d you pick up this riddle, anyhow?”

“From a traveler, a few months back.”

“Why’d you choose this one, of all the riddles you must know, to ask me?”

“It stopped me, so it had to be good.”

“What became of the traveler?”

“He went on his way, uneaten.
 
He’d answered my riddle.”

“He had a name?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“Describe him, please.”

“I can’t.
 
He was well muffled.”

“And he said nothing more about the Keep of the Four Worlds?”

“No.”

“Well,” I said.
 
“I believe I’ll follow his example and take a walk myself.”

I turned and faced the slope to my right.

“Waitl”

“What?” I asked.

“Your riddle,” it stated.
 
“I’ve given you the answer to mine.
 
You must now tell me what it is that is green and red and goes round and round and round.”

I glanced downward, scanned the ground.
 
Oh, yes, there it was-my dumbbell-shaped stone.
 
I took several steps and stood beside it.

“A frog in a Cuisinart,” I said.

“What?”

Its shoulder muscles bunched, its eyes narrowed and its many teeth became very apparent.
 
I spoke a few words to Frakir and felt her stir as I squatted and caught hold of the stone with my right hand.

“That’s it,” I said, rising.
 
“It’s one of those visual things-“

“That’s a rotten riddle!” the sphinx announced.

With my left index finger I made two quick movements in the air before me.

“What are you doing?” it asked.

“Drawing lines from your ears to your eyes,” I said.
 
Frakir became visible at about that moment, sliding from my left wrist to my hand, twining among my fingers.
 
The sphinx’s eyes darted in that direction.
 
I raised the stone level with my right shoulder.
 
One end of Frakir fell free and hung writhing from my extended hand.
 
She began to brighten, then glowed like a hot silver wire.