They say the mirror never lies, but what do they know? At best, the one in front of me was talking rubbish.
“In order to pass you must solve this riddle. One of us always tells the truth, and one of us always lies. Behind one door lies certain death, and the other safe passage. You must choose, but you may only ask one of us one question. Speak now.”
“Oh good grief, this old thing,” I snapped. For one thing, everyone knows the answer. And for two, it doesn’t work does it, because you’re a pair of talking mirrors.
I stepped back slightly, one eyebrow raised disparagingly. In front of me there were indeed two doors set into the featureless white stone of the maze in which I was currently, well, not lost exactly. Let’s say, trying to find my way though. On each door, where the doorknocker would usually be, there was a beautiful, ornate mirror. The glass of each was a perfect, unmarked disc of silver, set in polished wood that looked like sanded and finished driftwood, natural swirls and whorls making rather abstract, yet elegant, shapes around the sides. At the top of each mirror the shapes seemed to flow and form into faces that looked like the gnarly features you sometimes see in trees if you glance at them when you’re running for your life through a forest in the middle of the night. No? Just me then.
“If you know the answer,” said the face atop the mirror on my left rather piously, “use it and pass”. It didn’t exactly have arms, but if it had it would have folded them.
I sighed, “I don’t need to.” I walked closer to the right-hand mirror and looked carefully at the reflections in it. Then I looked behind me, no sense in being overconfident after all. The image was a perfect representation of the stone wall behind me. There was also a perfect representation of me: long, dark hair tied into a long braid, a rough cotton shirt with a fitted leather waistcoat over the top, leather trousers and short leather boots. It’s not that I have an sort of leather fetish you understand, it’s just practical. It’s hardwearing, protects your skin from minor cuts and scrapes, and on a cold night it keeps you warm. The mirror also reflected my eyes: dark blue with hints of green, in a face tanned from long days outside. It was definitely me..
On the other hand, the mirror on the left was showing an image of a man, with blonde hair and brown eyes, surrounded by walls of blue glass. Definitely not me. A lie, in fact.
“I’ve never liked that stupid riddle anyway,” I muttered, more to myself than the mirrors, “I mean, if the one that sets up the rules is the truth-teller, then you just ask him which way to go. And if he’s not the truth-teller, then none of the rules are right either are they? For all you know, both doors are booby traps.”
“Decide, adventurer,” said the mirror on my right.
I walked up to it, “ok, which door’s safe?”
The face smiled at me indulgently. “Are you sure that’s your question? I could give you a little clue, if you like?” The mirror on the left laughed.
“Just answer.” I stopped, and then added: “Please.” No good ever comes of being rude to magical artefacts, even really stupid ones.
The mirror did a sort of shrug, its features shuffling up slightly and the dropping down again. “Very well. That way.” Its eyes slid to the left hand door.
“Fine.” I didn’t question the answer, I’d wasted enough time. I walked up to the door on the left and pushed it. Then face on the mirror scowled at me, but the door slid open smoothly, and at the same time stone hands appeared out of the wall and shoved me, hard. I stumbled and fell.
But not far, because the ground below me was just more smooth stone. Unlike the ground to my right, where there was a sudden drop into a deep, dark pit. Had the hands pushed me that way, I’d have fallen straight down. I pulled a small copper coin out of my pocket and tossed it into the depths. It rattled once against the wall, and then silence. I counted to fifteen slowly in my head before I head a faint, ‘plop’. I whistled. Despite the stupidity of the puzzle, I felt incredibily relieved I was on the right side. On rather, the left.
I jogged onwards through the maze. It was boring, endless white stone in all directions. I made turns when I had to, but kept checking the small compass in my pocket so that I continued in a roughly northerly direction. I spotted some tripwires strung across the path at ankle height. They were easily dodged. I was half tempted to set them off from a distance, just to see what delightful little punishment they meted out but curiosity, as they say, killed the cat – and I’d prefer to stay alive. A little further on there was a dangerous-sounding growl from the left turn, but I had my ears open so I simply chose the right-hand path and never got to find out what caused the noise. Shame.
Eventually I came to a small, wooden door set into what would otherwise have been a dead end. I examined it closely, just in case. It looked pretty innocuous. Cautiously, I pushed it. It creaked open, revealing a huge lake inside an enormous cave. On the shore nearest to me, there was a chicken fenced into a small pen, a fox in a metal cage firmly attached to the stone floor with a heavy metal chain, a large bag of grain on a wooden table, and a small rowing boat. There was also a sign.
“Oh don’t tell me, let me guess,” I muttered as a peered at the sign. It read:
‘You must cross the lake in the boat, but you cannot leave the chicken unattended with the fox, for the fox will eat it, and you cannot leave the chicken alone with the grain, for it will eat that. You may only carry one – fox, chicken or grain – in the boat at any one time, and you may make no more than five journeys across the lake in any direction.’
I looked at the collect of objects and animals in front of me. I looked at the boat. I looked across the lake, where there was pen like the one on this side, presumably for the chicken, another table, and a similar metal cage for the fox with its door standing open. There was also another wooden door.
“But WHY?” I said aloud. I got into the boat, and was about to push off when something occurred to me. I got out, grabbed the grain sack, got back into the boat and started rowing swiftly across to the opposite shore. I spat into the depths on the way past, just to see if swimming might have been an option. Small fish with mouths full of tiny, needle-sharp teeth immediately surfaced and snapped at the ripples. I nodded to myself and wryly made a mental note not to fall in.
I reached the other side, jumped carefully into the shallowest part of the water and quickly pulled the boat out. Then I walked over and shoved the door. It was locked. “Someone did put some thought into this then,” I muttered. I slammed the door of the empty fox cage and dumped the grain sack onto the wooden table. There was an audible click and the door opened an inch.
I glanced back at the chicken and the fox I’d left alone on the other side. They were still in their separate enclosures, not bothering each other at all.
Through the door the maze changed. Instead of endless white stone, it had become dense walls of some sort of evergreen plant I’d never seen before. It smelled of moist soil, pine and thunderstorms, and for the first time in a long while I could see the sky overhead. It swirled with dark, angry-looking clouds.
Before long I came across the next puzzle; a precariously narrow bridge strung across a wide pit. Just to really hammer home the point, the pit was lined with spikes. It goes without saying that it was too far to jump. There were three golden balls on the floor by my feet and, over on the other side, three ball-shaped indentations on a small platform next to yet another door cut into a wall of ragged, irregular dark stone. I was tempted not to even read the sign, but you never know. It might say something unexpected. It didn’t.
‘You must cross the bridge. You may only pass once. It can only carry the weight of you and two of the golden spheres. If you try to hold three at once, it will break.’
I picked up the balls and considered for a second. I knew the theoretical solution to this problem but I’d never been entirely sure if it would really work. Those spikes looked sharp, and I wasn’t particularly keen to experiment. On the other hand, it was the quickest way...
I hefted the weight of the spheres, and threw them upwards on a neat, vertical path. They were nicely weighted and within a few seconds I had them sailing through the air in a controlled juggling movement. Keeping my eyes on the balls and, in the distance, the path on the other side, I stepped briskly onto the bridge. It creaked, but held. As quickly as I could I made my way across, throwing the balls ahead as soon as I was sure they’d land safely. After another few seconds my feet touched solid ground again, and I breathed a sigh of relief, snatched the spheres up off the ground and dropped them into the indentations by the door. It swung all the way open silently.
I entered a cavern, dimly lit with orange, flickering light. The air was hot and filled with sulphurous fumes. I coughed and blinked, my eyes watering. In front of me was a pool of bubbling lava. Floating on the surface were a series of tiles, each of which had a letter carved into its stone surface. I picked a stone up and dropped it on a letter X near my foot. The tile collapsed as though it were paper. Ah.
This time the sign said:
“I have a mouth but cannot speak; I have a bed but do not sleep; I never walk but I can run; spell my name and you’ll be home.”
I really didn’t have time for this. I looked up and then pulled a small grappling hook out of my pack and tossed it over one of the rocky outcrops above the lava pool. It caught, and didn’t budge when I tugged on it. I took a few steps backwards and then dashed forwards and swung...
I was a little short. I let go of the rope at the top of its arc, and had to fall rather further than I might have liked. My back foot landed hard on the letter R on the far side, but the tile held and I stumbled forward, out of danger. For now.
In front of me was yet another door, but this time there was no locking mechanism. It opened when I touched it, to reveal a brightly-lit room. The walls were polished white stone and otherwise undecorated. There was a man sitting on a large, ornate chair in the centre of the room and, next to that, a stone pedestal holding a large, misty-white crystal ball. I blinked in the sudden brightness.
“Ah, Alena. Do shut the door behind you, I absolutely loathe that smell. Well done, you are the first,” said the man, “although your methods were in places rather... interesting. ” He had piercing eyes, the most brilliant shade of emerald green. His features were rather hawk-like, all sharp angles, the effect enhanced by a neat triangular beard. His entirely black outfit contrasted sharply with his pale skin and bright, red hair. Call me old-fashioned, but that red hair didn’t really work with the rest of the look. I really felt he ought to have jet black hair. Possibly slicked-back white blonde. At the very least bald and wearing eyeliner. But no, red hair it was. I knew him, of course.
“You said we had to get through the maze quickly, and alive, Capstorm. I’ve done that.”
“Indeed, yes,” he replied. “Although Zenia is not far behind you, I think she will be here in a minute or so. She is an intelligent girl despite her efforts to convince everyone otherwise, but not very imaginative. She does like to do everything by the, ah, letter.” He beckoned me over to the crystal ball and motioned me to look into it. When I did, the mist cleared and I could see a pretty girl with short, fair hair and wearing what was, to my mind, a ridiculously short leather dress and long boots, jumping rather clumsily from stone tile to stone tile on the lava. Capstorm looked expectantly at me, clearly hoping I’d smile at his pun. I didn’t.
“What about tha- what about Rothbert?” I’d been going to say, ‘that idiot Rothbert’, but remembered in time that he was, in fact, Capstorm’s nephew. Capstorm the powerful, could-crush-you-with-a-blink, wizard’s nephew.
“Ah,” said Capstom. “A lesson – “ He was interrupted by the door opening again. Zenia, the blonde girl, ran in, clearly expecting to be first. More surprisingly, no more than five seconds behind her, a tall, handsome and well-muscled young man with light brown hair, carefully tousled into a fashionable look, tight trousers and a too-white shirt. They both looked annoyed to see me.
“Bathos!” called the wizard, clapping his hands. As if from nowhere, a huge dark-skinned man appeared from the back wall. Interestingly, he was bald and wearing eyeliner. I turned to stare at the wall as he walked towards Zenia and Rotherbert, and realised that there was another section of wall there, creating a path between it and the main wall that was virtually invisible unless you knew it was there.
“Bathos, please escort our two, ah, runners up to the exit.”
“Wait,” said Zenia sharply her eyes flashing, “this isn’t fair!” She pointed at me: “She cheated! I saw her swing across the tile puzzle just as I arrived. She didn’t solve it, her stupid hook’s still hanging there.” She folded her arms and glared at me accusingly.
I shrugged. I’d never claimed otherwise.
“Alena simply took the shortest route,” replied Capstorm. As she has already, quite correctly, reminded me, I merely told you to get through the maze. I didn’t specify how.” At this he glanced at Rothbert, who I noticed was looking rather shifty. “Besides, I suspect she does know the answer to the riddle, since she took the trouble to land rather neatly on the last letter of the answer.” He looked at me and said, “if you wouldn’t mind?”
“River,” I answered promptly.
“But – “ protested Zenia.
The wizard cut her off. “There’s no shame in looking for different, quicker solutions to problems Zenia. You should remember that.” He picked up his heavy, oak staff which had been leaning against the back of the chair in one hand and let it fall with a heavy slap into the other. It’s not wise to waste energy on say, complicated magic like a silencing spell if you happen to have a large stick.”
Scowling silently, Zenia followed Bathos out of the room. Rothbert followed, looking slightly confused.
Capstorm waited until they were gone and then looked at me, “I know you’re wondering how he managed to arrive so soon after her, no, don’t be polite.” He shook his head sadly. “The lad may be my sister’s son but anyone can see he can barely tie his own shoelaces without help. Look.” He waved at the crystal ball again. I stared into it, and this time the mists swirled blue and purple, and I had a sense of backwards motion.
Eventually the fog cleared and I saw an image of Rothbert, standing in front of the pair of mirrors. Surely he didn’t screw this up? I thought, just before I saw him push the door on the right. I winced as hands pushed him roughly into the hole, and then watched in disbelief as a strong wind blew up and cushioned his fall. He fell no more than ten feet, landing with a gentle slosh into six inches of water, suffering nothing more than wet feet. There was a tunnel there, leading away. Shaking his feet, Rothbert walked through it.
The crystal ball followed his movements. He walked for about five minutes before the tunnel opened up into a large cave lit with flickering, orange and red light. With a jolt I realised it was a the cave with the lava and the tile riddle, but he was entering it from the side. He read the sign and looked puzzled, then tentatively put a foot on one of the tiles, which immediately crumbled under his weight.
His head snapped round at a sound behind him. He threw himself back towards the way he’d come. He just about managed to get out of sight when Zenia ran past from the other direction. He watched her read the sign and then start jumping from tile to tile, waited until she was virtually through and then started matching her step for step. Frankly I was surprised he remembered five tiles he had to land on. And so it was that he ended up running through the door to this room just a few seconds after his rival.
“In a way it’s fortunate he found the, ah, shortcut. He would undoubtedly have triggered the tripwires and we might have found him at least 6 inches shorter today,” said the wizard shaking his head sadly. “Anyway, as I was saying before we were interrupted earlier, the lesson here is that it’s not always what you know but whom. More often than not, blind luck and borrowing the intellect of others will get you a long way. In this case, not quite far enough. But,” he fixed his piercing green eyes on mine, “don’t forget this Alena. Life is not often fair.”
I nodded. “Well,” he said after a long pause, “we must get started on your apprenticeship Alena. But before we go, logic is as important as lateral thinking. You solved the bridge yourself and I’ve already heard the answer to the tiles. So, the correct solution to the doors? Assuming the mirrors don’t give themselves away that is.”
“Ask one of them which way the other would say.”
“Good, good. And the boat?”
“Take the chicken across, come back, collect the fox, then take the chicken back to the other side. Then pick up the grain and take that over, then back, then chicken.”
“Excellent. Well done.” He smiled, picked up his staff and walked through concealed passage at the back of the room. I followed, feeling glad he hadn’t asked me for the solution to the tile puzzle before he’d shown me Alena in the crystal ball the first time, because up until then, apart from being pretty sure it ended in R, I hadn’t had a clue.
