Page 95 of Honour Bound
Written on parchment next to the flagons was a riddle.
My left is in dress and trousers and suit
No key however will unlock my loot.
My right is in feline, bold and proud
Only a fop would wear this shroud.
I read through it several times. Shroud had obvious implications – was that choice of words a red herring? I frowned, trying to work out what it meant.
‘Dress, trousers, suit,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Material? Cloth? Zip?’ My brain felt cloudy: the harder I thought, the more elusive the answer seemed to be.
The word ‘fop’ stood out, not just because it was old-fashioned but it wasn’t the sort of word a Sidhe would use. Could fop stand for something else? I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think. All I associated with the word ‘fop’ was a dandy like the Carnegie MC. A dandy feline.
‘Dandelion,’ I whispered. I opened my eyes and stared at the flagon on the right. It had to contain essence of dandelion which was entirely harmless. And the flagon on the left was… I grinned. Hemlock. That was the one to avoid.
Without wasting any more time, I grabbed the right flagon and poured myself a shot, muttered, ‘Bottom’s up,’ and downed it in one.
It tasted earthy and fragrant. I held my breath in case I’d made a mistake but the door in front of me opened and the crowd outside roared, either in approval or dismay. I couldn’t help throwing my arms in the air in delight.
‘Sorry, Angus,’ I whispered. Then I moved round the table just as another competitor ran up behind me.
I twisted my head to watch Tipsania. She didn’t even look at Angus and neither did she read the riddle – she simply poured from the same flagon that I had. She couldn’t have seen what I’d done because she’d been too far behind. I gritted my teeth. No – she already knew which one to choose. I rolled my eyes and ran on. Honour. It was a waste of breath to say the word around here.
The one thing in my favour was that the maze was too complicated for anyone to memorise. All I had to do was move faster to give myself more time at any stations like the last one and I could still do this. I ran even faster, still only turning left. Although the audience weren’t visible, they could obviously see what was going on. As I sprinted ahead, I could hear more and more people yelling my name. That was good; it meant I was doing well.
I hit another dead end and spun round, dirt flying up around my ankles. When I turned the next corner, I saw a long, long corridor stretching in front of me.
I stopped, warily. The corridor had to be a hundred feet long. I glanced from side to side. With my blurry reflection bouncing back at me from various angles, and with my white hair falling down my back, I looked a ghost. An avenging ghost, I amended.
It would be wise to be careful here. I yanked off a button from the top of my shirt and threw it forward. Immediately there was a whine and, from above the high walls of the maze, a sharp blade scythed downwards, slicing through the air and what would have been my soft flesh if I hadn’t erred on the side of caution.
Feeling like a character in a computer game, I prepared to run again. The difference between me and Lara Croft, though, was that I didn’t have an automatic save or infinite lives. Things were about to get hairy.
I watched the spot where the blade had come down, etching it into my memory, then burst forward. Three seconds before I got there, I threw myself into a roll, ducking under the great blade as it made another heavy swipe. I felt the air rush past my head. Damn, that was close. As soon as I was sure the danger had passed, I picked myself up and carried on running. I half-expected a giant boulder à la Indiana Jones to roll after me. Thankfully, that didn’t happen.
At the end of the corridor I was greeted by a smooth wall. My stomach lurched. Had I braved that damned scythe only to find myself at another dead end? Of all the shitty things to do… I cursed loudly. As I did, my breath clouded up the glass, revealing something underneath.
I paused, then breathed out some more. Indistinct words began to form on the glass; I breathed several times and read them quickly before they disappeared again.
Solitary life maketh me 24, my Clan maketh me 20. But add one more and beware for one extra maketh me unclean.
I smirked: this was easier than the last riddle. It helped, of course, that I’d broken similar codes in the past while breaking in to one or two homes owned by Sidhe who thought they were being clever by creating puzzles to remind themselves of their security passwords. I ran through the options in my head, checking and re-checking. The twenty-fourth letter in the alphabet was X. Put two Xs together and you got the old Roman numerals for twenty. Add one more and we were in Taylor territory with his girly magazines and dodgy porn websites – XXX.
I said it aloud but nothing happened. Pursing my lips, I breathed out to mist the glass again. I drew an X shape with the tip of my index finger, right across the entire riddle; there was a creak and the wall slid open, revealing the next section. Yahtzee.
I pelted round the corner. My palms were clammy and I could feel sweat beading my forehead. I was close now; I could feel it ? and when I saw what was right in front of me, I knew I’d been right. It was an open space with a small dais and smack-bang on top of it, in all its shining glory, was the red button.
Unfortunately there was another figure standing in the gap on the opposite side. Byron, panting slightly, stared at me while I stared at him. Distant sounds of skirmishes and cries could be heard from other parts of the maze. For us, however, time seemed to stop. He wasn’t ignoring me now: his emerald eyes glittered, challenge reflected in them. It was a mere six or seven strides to the finish – and victory. I could do this.
‘It’s me or you,’ he said.
I lifted an eyebrow. ‘It’s always me or you,’ I replied softly.
Something flashed across his expression, regret perhaps or something else. His muscles tightened as he prepared. From outside the maze, the audience was chanting. I couldn’t hear my name being yelled any more. They were all on Team Byron.
‘You have a lot of supporters.’
