In a Weary World

Chapter XXIV: The Second Challenge

Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure. -- J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Solvej got a nasty shock as she approached the island. The Magician stood on a jagged rocky outcropping, looking right at her. She stifled a yelp and shot to the side, expecting a spell to come flying in her direction at any moment. Nothing happened. She hovered over the choppy water, not daring to move closer or further away until she knew what the Magician planned to do.

He was barely visible as a patch of black against a dark sky. The parasite was another black patch landing beside him. The wind carried their voices to Solvej.

"I thought I saw something," the Magician was saying. "Something white."

"The waves breaking on a rock," the parasite suggested.

If the Magician replied, Solvej couldn't hear it.

"You're certain no one followed you?" was the next thing she heard.

"Of course I'm certain." The parasite sounded offended. "You think I'd have come here if I wasn't?"

"Yes, you would have," the Magician said. "I ordered you to come here."

Solvej's eyebrows shot up. He ordered it to come here? How? How had he been in contact with it? Was he spying on the palace?

She decided that enough time had passed for the Magician to forget his suspicions. She moved closer to the island, staying about a foot over the waves. Beneath her the ocean heaved and tossed. Spray flew into the rain like a constant drizzle of rain.

Wearing a cloak that magically turned someone into a swan was only a poor substitute for actually being a swan. Solvej was soaked through. Strands of her hair had worked their way out of her braid and plastered themselves against her face. Her dress clung to her in most uncomfortable ways. A trickle of water had found its way down the back of her dress.

The parasite was saying something, but the crash of waves breaking on the island drowned out her words. Solvej flew slowly round the island until she found a spot where she could hear clearly.

"...So what should I think of this time?" was the next bit of the conversation that reached her ears.

The Magician growled so loudly that she could hear him distinctly over the noise of the wind and waves. He really sounded startlingly like an angry dog when he did that. She would have to remember to tell him that, at their inevitable next meeting.

"Think of a glove," he snapped, "or a hair-pin, or -- No. No more thinking of clothes. That would be too easy for him to guess. Think of a coffin. He'll never guess that."

Solvej grinned to herself. Dear, dear. The Magician was far too overconfident. How she wished she had seen the look on his face when he heard they had correctly answered the first riddle! And how she wished she could see the look on his face when they correctly answered this one, as well!

~~~~

"It's a coffin," Solvej said at breakfast the next morning.

Hjalmar looked at the table, which looked like a perfectly normal table, and the chairs, which looked like perfectly normal chairs, and the toast and porridge set out on the table, which looked a great deal like toast and porridge and nothing at all like coffins. After looking around the room, he came to the conclusion that Solvej was thinking about something else when she made that remark. It was a simple leap from that conclusion to deciding she must be referring to the second challenge.