In the middle of the room, an enormous stone dais rose from the sand, the remains of four thick marble pil ars spaced evenly along the edge.
On either side of the dais, two elegant winged statues crouched, primly facing one another, the tips of their spread wings nearly touching the ceiling.
They had the bodies of huge, sleek cats, paws and f lanks resting in the sand, but their faces were of cold yet beautiful women. Eyes closed, the sphinxes sat motionless, guarding a pair of stone doors beyond them.
Climbing onto the dais, we stopped at the edge, gazing up at the enormous creatures. Though the doors were only a few yards beyond the sphinxes' massive paws, no one moved to step between them.
“Huh.” Puck leaned back, peering up at the statues' impassive faces. “A sphinx riddle, is it? How positively charming. Do you think they'l try to eat us if we get it wrong?”
“You,” Grimalkin said, lacing back his ears, “wil remain silent in this, Goodfel ow. Sphinxes do not take kindly to f lippancy, and your ill - contrived remarks will not be well received.”
“Hey,” Puck shot back, crossing his arms, “I'll have you know, I've tangled with sphinxes before, cat. You're not the only one who knows his way around a riddle.”
“Shut up,” the Wolf growled at both of them, and pointed his muzzle skyward. “Something is happening.”
We held our breath and waited. For a moment, everything was stil .
Then, as one, the sphinxes' eyes opened, all bril iant blue-white with no irises or pupils, staring straight ahead. Stil , I could feel their ancient, calculating gaze on me as a warm breeze hissed through the room and the statues spoke, their voices quivering with ancient wisdom and power.
Time is the cog that turns the wheel. Winter leaves scars that do not heal. Summer is a fire that burns inside. Spring a terrible burden to hide. Autumn and death go hand in hand. One answer lies within the sand. But seek the answer all alone, Lest the sand claim you as its own.
“Er, sorry,” Puck said as the voices ceased and silence fel over the dunes again. “But could you repeat that? A little slower this time?”
The sphinxes stood silent. Their blue eyes shut, as quickly as a door slamming, and did not stir again.
But, something was stirring around us. The sand was shifting, moving, as if mil ions of snakes writhed below the surface. And then, the sand erupted, and countless scorpions, smal , black and shiny, spil ed from beneath the dunes and poured toward us.
Puck yelped and the Wolf snarled, the hair on his back and neck standing up. We crowded together on the platform, drawing our weapons, as the ground became a mass of wiggling bodies, crawling over one another, until we couldn't see the sand through the carpet of living, writhing black.
“You know, I think I'd rather be eaten by the sphinxes,” Puck exclaimed. He had to shout to be heard over the chittering that fil ed the air, the clicking of mil ions of tiny legs skittering over each other. “If anyone has a plan, or an idea, or a can of scorpion repel ant, I'd love to hear about it.”
“But, look.” Ariel a pointed over the edge of the platform. “They're not attacking. They're not coming any closer.”
I peered over the edge and saw it was true. The scorpions surged against the stone wall , f lowing around it like a rock in a stream, but they weren't climbing the three feet it would take to get to us.
“They will not attack us,” Grimalkin said calmly, sitting well away from the edge, I noted. “Not yet. Not unless we answer the riddle incorrectly. So, do not worry. We have a little time.”
“Right.” Puck didn't look reassured. “And this is the part where you tel us you know the answer, right?”
Grimalkin thumped his tail. “I am thinking,” he said loftily, and closed his eyes. His tail twitched, but other than that, the cat didn't move, leaving the rest of us to gaze around nervously and wait.
Impatient and restless, I scuffed a boot over the stone f loor, then stopped. In front of one of the broken pil ars, half-buried in sand, I saw letters carved into the stone. M-E-M-O-R. Kneeling down, I brushed away the dirt to reveal the entire word.
Memory.
Something stirred in my mind, an idea stil too hazy to make out, like a forgotten name keeping just out of reach. I had something here, I just couldn't bring it together.
“Look for other words,” I told Puck, who'd come up behind me, peering over my shoulder to see what I was doing. “There have to be others.”
Memory, knowledge, strength and regret. Those were the words we uncovered, carved into the stone f loor in front of each broken pil ar.
With each one we unearthed, the hazy puzzle pieces started to join, though stil not enough to form the whole picture.
“Okay.” Puck dragged his hands down his face, scrubbing his eyes.
“Think, Goodfel ow. What do memory, knowledge, strength, and regret have to do with the four seasons?”
“It's not the seasons,” I said quietly, as the pieces slid into place. “It's us.”
Puck frowned at me. “Care to explain that logic, prince?”
“Winter leaves scars that do not heal,” I recited, recal ing the second line of the riddle. “Doesn't make much sense, does it?” I pointed to a pil ar.
“But, replace it with that word, and see what you get.”
“Memory leaves scars that do not heal,” Puck said automatical y. He frowned again, then his eyes widened, looking at me. “Oh.”
The Wolf growled, curling a lip at the pil ar as if it was a waiting demon disguised as a rock. “So, we are to believe that the answer to this riddle, this ancient puzzle that has stood here for countless centuries, is us?”
“Yes.” In the center of the platform, Grimalkin opened his eyes. “The prince is correct. I have reached the same conclusion.” He gazed calmly around the platform, pausing at each of the four broken pil ars.
“Memory, knowledge, strength, regret. The seasons represent the four of us, so we must match the right word to the correct stanza.”
“But, there are five of us,” Ariel a pointed out. “Five of us, but only four pil ars. Which means one of us is missing. Or, left out.”
“We shal see,” Grimalkin mused, unconcerned. “First, though, we must figure out the rest of the puzzle. I believe the prince has already found his place. What about you, Goodfel ow?” He looked at Puck, twitching his tail. “Summer is a fire that burns inside. What word best describes you?
Knowledge has never been your strong suit. Strength…perhaps.”
“Regret.” Puck sighed, with a quick glance at me. “Regret is a fire that burns inside. It's regret, so shut up and get on with the others.” He moved toward the pil ar opposite me, crossing his arms and leaning against it.
The scorpions were getting louder, more frantic, as if they knew we were scant seconds away from solving the riddle. Their legs and cara-paces scraped against the rock, an ocean of noise surging around us.
Grimalkin sniffed and shared a glance with the Wolf.
“I believe the last two are fairly obvious, are they not?” he mused, sauntering toward the pil ar that said Knowledge. “I do agree, knowledge is sometimes a terrible burden. The last pil ar is yours, dog. I do not think we can argue your strength. Your intel igence, perhaps, but not your strength.”
“What about Ariel a?” I glanced at her, looking a bit lost on the edge of the platform. “She has the burden of knowledge as well , not just you, cait sith.”
“Ariel a is a Winter fey, and we already have a Winter,” Grimalkin replied easily, hopping onto the broken pil ar of Knowledge, peering down at us all . “And I think you would be in favor of solving this quickly, prince. In any case, I believe we have to stand on the pil ars together. That is general y how these puzzles work.”
The Wolf growled, leaping atop the broken stone, huge paws close together on the edge. “If this does not work, cat, I will make sure to eat you first before the scorpions get to us,” he muttered, balanced pre-cariously on the smal platform. Grimalkin ignored him.
Puck and I followed suit, jumping easily onto the broken pil ars, as the sea of scorpions chittered and writhed below us. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, the sphinxes' eyes opened, searing blue, their voices echoing through the room.
“You—” they breathed, sending a ripple of power over the sand “—have chosen…incorrectly.”
“What!” Puck yelped, but it was drowned by the furious buzz of mil ions of scorpions, stirred into a frenzy. “No, that can't be right. Furbal 's never wrong! Wait—”
“You—” the sphinxes breathed again “—will die.”
I drew my sword, tensing to drop down as the scorpions rushed forward, scaling the platform and spil ing over the edge. Ariel a gasped and stumbled backward, as the living carpet of claws and legs and stingers began covering the platform.
“Stay where you are!” Grimalkin's voice rang through the chamber, booming and steely with authority. We froze, and the cat turned wild golden eyes on Ariel a, baring his teeth, all his fur standing on end.
“Time!” he spat, f lattening his ears. “Time is the fifth answer, the cog that turns the wheel! Stand in the center now!”
I clenched my fists as Ariel a ran to the middle of the platform, the f lood of scorpions closing in from all sides. They swarmed up the pil ars, crawling over my clothes, legs and pinchers digging into my f lesh. I lashed out and sent dozens of them f lying, but of course there were always more. They were not stinging…yet. But I felt the seconds ticking away, and knew that if the creatures beat Ariel a to the heart of the dais, we were finished. Puck yel ed a curse, f lailing wildly, and the Wolf roared in fury as Ariel a finally reached the center of the dais.
As soon as she set foot in the middle, a shiver went through the air, starting from the center of the dais and spreading outward, like ripples on a pond. The f lood of scorpions halted, inches from swarming Ariel a, and started f lowing backward, leaving the platform and crawling down from the pil ars. I shook the last of the tiny predators off me and watched the carpet recede, disappearing beneath the sands once more.
In seconds, they had vanished completely, and the dunes were stil .
“You have chosen…correctly,” the sphinxes whispered, and closed their eyes again.
Ariel a was shaking. I leaped from the platform and went to her, wordlessly pul ing her close. She trembled in my arms for a moment, then gently freed herself and drew away, smoothing her hair back.
“Wow,” Puck muttered, dusting off the front of his shirt, “now, that was weird. And to think, I never thought I'd live to see the day….” He trailed off, grinning.
I eyed him wearily. “Fine, I'll bite. You don't mean the scorpions or the sphinx. We've seen much stranger then that.”
“No, ice-boy. I never thought I'd see the day when Grimalkin was wrong.”
Grimalkin, stil on his broken pil ar, didn't react, but I saw his whiskers bristle as he glanced our way. “Goodfel ow,” he said with an enormous yawn,
“I feel obliged to point out that, had I been wrong, you would all be ful of tiny holes right now. Anyway, we are wasting time. I suggest we move out, quickly. I certainly do not wish to be stuck here until the end of time with any of you.” And before we could reply, he leaped down and trotted off in the direction of the now-open door, passing between the sphinxes with his tail held high.