Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle (5 page)

The mother uttered a small, appreciative throk—a clicking sound that ravens like to make. “And why are ravens so smart?”

“We watch and listen and learn,” replied the chick.

“Very good. And when a raven sees another raven, what does he do?”

“He tells a riddle.”

Nodding, the mother raven replied, “Very well. Tell me a riddle.”

The chick buried his beak in his chest to think, then raised his head with an enthusiastic blink. His eyesight was still weak, but he could make his mother out more clearly now. “What flies but has no wings?”

This seemed to surprise the chick's mother. She cocked her head.

“
Flies but has no wings
? What?”

“Time,” said the chick.

“Time!” His mother collapsed into a peal of throks. “I'm so proud of you, Paladin!” she said. “Now it is time to talk about a raven's greatest danger.”

“Owls!” said the raven chick. “Eagles? Hawks?”

“No, my love. Valravens.”

The young raven noticed fear in his mother's expression. He trembled slightly. “What are … valravens?”

“They look like us, but they are nothing like us. Doomed to live forever, they are wretched, bitter creatures. Nothing is funny to a valraven. That is why we greet each other with a riddle. A valraven will not delight in the answer. It is the best way to tell them apart from us.”

“But why do they hate us, Mother?”

His mother looked deeply into Paladin's eyes, wondering if he was ready for such a dark tale. Then she decided that it was important for his own safety.

“It is all because of a riddle,” she explained. “Long ago, when ravens were man's best friend, a furious battle erupted between creatures called dwarfs and humans. Each wanted to live on the earth's surface and banish the other underground. The dwarfs lost this battle, and were imprisoned in a dark cavern far beneath the earth's surface. Desperate
for sunlight and freedom, they offered a gift to the human king in return for their liberty—a silver necklace called a
torc
, which granted wishes. The king was wary of this gift, however, and asked his two ravens, Huginn and Muninn, for advice. Huginn, the bolder of the two, urged the king to accept the torc and use its power to rule, but Muninn, the wiser bird, reminded the king that the dwarfs were mischievous silversmiths who wove black magic into such gifts. The torc was sure to bring misery and despair, and Muninn advised him not to accept it.

“So the king refused the necklace and kept the dwarfs deep beneath the earth. Twenty years later, however, when he arrived to release them, he found a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” asked Paladin.

“The dwarfs' underground dungeon, a maze of caves and holes, had been transformed into a marvelous city of carved marble, granite, obsidian, and quartz. They had fashioned rock and rubble into glittering floors, vaulted ceilings, and towering marble columns veined with gold and silver. Their craftsmanship was so fine that they could sculpt furniture out of granite. Delicate beds and armchairs and sofas were carved to feel as soft to the touch as a quilted blanket or cushioned seat. A magnificent tower stood in the center of the cavern, tethered by a slender bridge, and every chamber in the surrounding cavern walls had windows shuttered with alabaster or jade and stately doors, and behind them more fantastic furniture wrought by the dwarfs' skill and ingenuity.

“Amazed, the king called out to his prisoners. ‘You have all earned your freedom!' His voice echoed through the cavern, but not a soul answered. It seemed that the dwarfs had tunneled an escape of their own, long ago, and left this extraordinary city to a few birds nesting in the cavern walls. ‘It belongs to the birds now,' declared the king, and he named the city
Aviopolis.
‘Come, Huginn and Muninn,' he said to his raven companions. ‘Let us go back to sunlight and forget this place.' ”

“But why would birds live in an underground city?” said Paladin.

“It was far away from humans,” his mother explained. “It was a huge safe haven, especially for birds that most feared humans, like the dodoes.”

“But what does Aviopolis have to do with the riddle?” Paladin asked.

“I'm getting to that,” said his mother. “As the king departed from Aviopolis, Muninn, the wiser bird, rode with him on his shoulder, but Huginn hung back. Some dark, enticing power drew him from room to room in this dark, magnificent cavern, until finally, he arrived in a chamber at the very top of Aviopolis. There, in a room grander and more exquisite than any other, laid upon a table of brilliant green marble, was the magic silver necklace the dwarfs had fashioned for the king. Huginn took it and placed it around his neck.

“It was many hours later, in the cold early light of dawn, that Muninn awoke from his perch in the king's bedchamber.
He felt an eerie sense of discomfort and opened his eyes to see a most horrible sight.

“The king looked deathly pale and lay rigid in his bed. The bold raven Huginn, wearing the glittering silver torc around his neck, stood upon his master's chest, eating his flesh.

“ ‘Brother! What have you done?' cried Muninn.

“His beak shiny with blood, Huginn glanced up with a sullen, cowardly look in his eyes. ‘I found it, brother,' he whispered. ‘The necklace that grants wishes. I wished to live forever, and it compelled me to eat the flesh of my amicus.' He looked regretfully at the dead king. ‘I feel sick, sick and wretched. But changed.'

“Then his eyes danced wickedly. ‘Time passes differently for me now. I am immortal and fearless! Join me, brother. Become a valraven, as I have! One bite of flesh is all it takes!'

“Muninn shuddered. ‘Join you? Never! That torc has twisted your soul, Huginn. Give it to me, before it does more harm!'

“ ‘Be off!' The scornful raven laughed. ‘You're no match for me now!'

“Muninn tipped his head craftily at Huginn. ‘No match? Prove me wrong. Answer a simple riddle, and if I win, the torc is mine. If you win, do as you wish with your new power.'

“No raven or valraven can resist a riddle,” his mother reminded Paladin.

“Yes, I know, but what was the riddle, and who won?” asked the baby raven anxiously.

“Muninn's riddle was simple,” she continued. “A raven has one, a valraven has two, and a man has none. What is it?”

“Hmm,” said Paladin, thinking. “My first guess would be a life, but a valraven doesn't exactly have two lives.”

“And men have lives just as ravens do,” added his mother.

“It's a very hard riddle.” Paladin frowned.

“The answer is simple,” said his mother. “It's the letter ‘v.' ”

“Oh!” said Paladin.

“When Huginn couldn't guess the answer, the torc flew from his neck onto Muninn's neck. Bitter and furious, Huginn promised to get it back by force. ‘I'll raise an army of valravens,' he vowed. From then on, he haunted the battlefields, where it was possible to tempt other ravens to eat the flesh of their fallen comrades. Soon, there were thousands of valravens, all seeking the torc.”

“But what happened to it?”

“Well, my understanding is …,” she began, but then she gasped.

A large bird had landed on the rim of the nest. Its neck feathers were splayed out in fury, its wings raised as if prepared to attack, and one leg brandished three black talons. In a deep, foreboding voice, it spoke:

Without showing any doubt, Paladin's mother replied. “I believe that would be a lock. You
feed
it with a key!”

The visitor's proud neck feathers deflated very suddenly. It uttered a broad, raspy laugh that was as merry as it was loud.

“Oh, good show, Endora! Good show indeed!”

“Bertolt!” exclaimed Paladin's mother. “You almost scared the wits out of little Paladin. How dare you creep up on us like that?”

Bertolt buried his beak in his chest for a moment. “My dear Endora, one has to be careful. I come with a warning.”

Paladin had stopped shaking. He was interested to hear his mother's name spoken:
Endora.
He had never heard it before. Being so young he had assumed that she was called “Mother” by everybody.

“A warning? About what?”

Bertolt looked around, then whispered the word:

“Valravens. Three of them. Sent from below. They're on the move, Endora. One of them attacked Argus when he couldn't answer a riddle.”

“What was the riddle?”

“A very unpleasant one,” said Bertolt, shaking his neck feathers. “What do owls taste like?”

“What a disgusting question!” replied Endora. “As if any raven would want to know what owls taste like.”

“The valraven went for Argus's eyes. That's what they do, you know. They blind their victims when they don't get what
they want. This one was looking specifically for a young raven with a boy amicus.”

“I thought they were looking for the torc!” said Paladin.

Bertolt looked down at Paladin with a stern frown. “Oh, you know about the torc, do you?”

Paladin trembled under the bird's wise stare.

“Um, yes.”

“Are you ready to fly?”

“He needs a month or two,” said Endora, putting her wing protectively over Paladin.

Bertolt looked at Endora. “Does he know any riddles?”

“Oh, yes, he's already learned a few.”

Bertolt cast a thoughtful glance at Paladin. “Guard him well, Endora. A lot may depend on this young raven.”

Then, raising his wings and uttering a cheery farewell
throk!
Bertolt flew off into the sky.

“What did he mean by a lot may depend on me, Mother?”

Endora gently nuzzled her sleepy chick. “That is a story for another day, my dear,” she whispered.

The Raven's Amicus

G
abriel couldn't wait to get back to the diary. The next entry described how Gabriel's grandfather brought a portrait of Adam's missing brother, Corax, down from the attic to show him. Adam was very upset by his resemblance to his brother.

But the most interesting entries were about Adam's conversations with his raven, Baldasarre.