Fearful Symmetry Page 6

  Dryden swallowed hard. He didn’t know what he wanted to offer, didn’t understand the connotations. But when was that new? He just had to try and realize he was not the only person who had sat in the same position as he was. “More. There has to be more. You must want to keep me alive.”

  “Maybe,” Otto said. “Sometimes I allow my people to live. Sometimes I even allow them to leave.”

  “How?”

  “This is a magic zone. You need to break the magic code and spell. I don’t make the rules, just enforce them. But if you can answer three riddles….”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Otto raised a branch-finger, parts of the digit flicking off as he shook it in front of Dryden. “Ah-ah. You must let me finish. This is how you got here in the first place. You don’t understand our social contract.”

  Dryden nodded, eyes down. “Tell me everything, then. All the details, all the caveats. I want to know everything.”

  Otto laughed lightly. “There is your first mistake—thinking you can know it all and do this all by yourself. But all right, young one. Let me see if I can tell you what you need to know if you wish to fight the magic zone.” He cleared his throat; the sound of hollowed-out wood shot through the cabin. “There will be three riddles you have to crack. The first one, you will have three minutes to do so. This riddle will be the easiest. The next one you will have three hours to complete, and the final riddle will allow you three days for deliberation. You will only have three spare guesses for the entire time. You must get each riddle right in order to move on, and you cannot leave unless you answer the last one without question.”

  “That’s it?” Dryden asked. “Just three riddles—in as many days?”

  “You need to slow down. Now more than ever before. Take a moment to think about this and all that it means.”

  Dryden bit his lip. He ran over everything he knew in his head. His mother was full of stories, so surely some of that had prepared him for riddles? Like Stone Soup, he thought. He knew how to make something from nothing because of that tale. It was an old story, so old that everyone knew it. If his mother could know that—and so could Otto—then that gave Dryden some hope. Next, he checked all the words Otto had used to explain the deal to him to see if any had double meaning. He scanned the room and spotted the red-backed dictionary on the shelf.

  “May I?” he asked Otto.

  Otto followed his gaze and gave him a slight nod. “I’m glad you’re thinking something through.”

  Dryden tried to ignore Otto as he walked to the shelf. Dryden’s skin burned as he felt Otto’s gaze on him as he looked up each word. He asked Otto for clarification a few times, then placed the dictionary back delicately.

  “Have you found all that you need?”

  Dryden didn’t feel safe answering, so he moved on. “If I’m successful with these riddles, what happens? In real terms?”

  “You leave my house.”

  “And the magic circle?”

  “Sure. If you can run as fast as you can and make it over the line in time, you may leave once you are correct.”

  Something niggled at the back of Dryden’s mind. As fast as he could? He could run as fast as he wanted, but it still didn’t mean he could go free. “I have to run in order to leave?”

  “It’s the safest way.”

  “And you’re the judge on what’s correct?”

  “More or less. These riddles have been around for centuries. Either you know the right answer, or you don’t.”

  Dryden nodded. So long as riddles were not solely heresy from Otto or mixed-up mysteries, he could handle that. And he could run fast, too. He would want to run if he was able to leave this cabin again. Run and never look back. But the consequences of his actions still niggled at his mind. He asked the one question he didn’t want—but absolutely needed—the answer to. “If I lose and answer incorrectly, what happens next?”

  “Then I will learn from you, like I have learned from the others.”

  Dryden swallowed, thinking of the antlers on the wall and small bits of bone inside the bin. He knew the reality of what was being offered; he may have been young and rushed into this, but his eyes were wide open now. Every single discovery happened on the bodies of others. The fact that he was not the only person in this house, receiving these riddles, was no longer a shock, but an eerie reality. Maybe he could finally be the lucky one.

  Just as Dryden turned to speak with Otto, a puff of red fur flashed from outside the window. Dryden glanced and saw what he thought was the fox from the day before run across the garden. The small beast—no, a mere animal—turned back and looked at him. The blue eyes were still as clear and like gemstones as they had been at night.

  “Young Dryden.” Otto touched his tree-fingers to the table. Each crack sounded like a snap of bone and shed twigs from Otto’s body. “Do we have a deal?”

  Dryden returned his gaze from the window. He nodded. He saw no other way out. “Yes. We have a deal.”

  Otto grinned, his teeth almost yellow in the light. He took a step forward and shook Dryden’s hand. His grip was sharp, his skin rougher than it had been the night before. Dryden pushed the thoughts of the night before away from his mind. No need to torture himself now, when the beast in the woods was about to do that for him.

  “Shall we begin?” Otto asked.

  Dryden could only nod.

  Chapter Five

  OTTO’S TREE roots broke away from the floorboards. Dryden could barely watch as the branches from his back were tucked away and under his skin again, his bark folded back into his body like petals closing up at night. As a man again, Otto paced behind Dryden. His raspy tree-voice still lingered, though, as he murmured into Dryden’s ear.

  “Sit at the table again,” Otto demanded. Dryden’s skin prickled with fear, but he did as he was told. Flies had come into the room in the short period of time and waited on the leftovers from their abandoned breakfast together.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Dryden said. He tried to smile, but it probably came out as a sneer. Good.

  “Here is the first riddle: What is the only thing that breaks as soon as it is named? You have three minutes.”

  Otto sauntered to another drawer at the back of his house. He pulled out a large, ancient looking hourglass with blue grains of sand. He tipped it over and then glanced back toward Dryden at the table. Dryden noted that the first grain of sand didn’t fall until Otto let out a low breath.

  “Go on,” Otto declared. “You have three minutes to solve. You better not let me distract you.”

  Dryden blinked. Otto continued to pace as Dryden’s mind reeled. He became acutely aware of how heavy each second felt.

  Dryden turned away from Otto’s stare and tried to focus. He repeated the riddle in his mind: What is the only thing that breaks as soon as it is named? He had never heard of this riddle before. He searched his brain for a story his mother may have told him about naming. Rumpelstiltskin? He thought back to his mother telling him about the short man who spun hay into gold and demanded a child as payment. When the woman had guessed his name correctly, Rumpelstiltskin had torn himself in two. This wasn’t the same, Dryden realized. Rumpelstiltskin still existed whether someone said his name or not. This was not the same as being broken because he was named.

  Dryden soon disregarded the story and tried to start again. He heard the steady steps of Otto against the ground and saw the hideous figure of him as a tree in his mind. What else was there? Dryden saw the dictionary on the shelf and wondered if he had been in the right section to know and think of other words.

  “Can I have help?” Dryden asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “May I look through books? What if I can solve the riddle, but I need to use something else? Does that still count?”

  Otto thought for a long moment. When he stood still like this, it was hard to take him for anything other than a tree in the woods, silent and watching.

  “Ye
s. Help is fine. But are you sure you want to waste your time looking through books? The answer is probably there, but how can you reach it in time?”

  Dryden’s jaw stiffened. He glanced toward the shelf and saw the grains of sand fall out and collect on the bottom of the glass.

  “Halfway,” Otto reminded him. “Better search quickly.”

  Dryden jumped down from his seat at the table. He grabbed the red dictionary from the bottom shelf, then another journal full of old observations of the outdoors. Maybe the ledger book? he thought. What if someone’s name had been written down, and this was a trick question? All riddles were trick questions, but maybe one of the prior victims had been named something that had broken. Or their name was Broken. Maybe….

  Dryden’s fingers shook on the pages. His vision blurred. Even if he was in the right section, he knew he’d never have enough time. There was no way he could do this. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the clattering against the wall of the cabin. He looked up and saw that Otto was surprised as well.

  “Away,” Otto beckoned. His long arms still looked like tree branches as he moved toward the window where a dove was perched. The white bird’s beak tapped against the small bits of glass relentlessly. Both Otto and the bird seemed to be at a standoff. It cooed and pecked, while Otto waved his arms. It would have been comical if not for the time that was falling away around Dryden. Just as he noticed a small red mark on the center of the bird’s left wing, he turned back to the books.

  Think, Dryden commanded himself. If only he could think for long enough, he could get this. What is the only thing that breaks as soon as it is named? The pecking at the window worsened. All the noise came again at once. He couldn’t shut it out.

  “Ten seconds,” Otto said, then clattered his fingers against the window once more. “Time’s almost up.”

  Fuck, Dryden thought again. If I could only just think. Think.

  “Five seconds.”

  All he needed was some fucking silence and then maybe, maybe he could get the answer. But all of this was too much and—

  “I know it,” Dryden said. Otto had already raised his hand and held up the number three, counting down the final seconds Dryden had left. “I know it,” Dryden repeated. Otto’s hand fell by his side, and the blue grains of sand in the hourglass paused.

  “You do?”

  “I do.” Dryden beamed.

  “Well, all right, then. What is the one thing that breaks as soon as you name it?”

  “Silence.”

  Otto stood very still. Dryden’s exhilaration soon turned to confusion. This is the right answer, right? It has to be. He glanced back at the hourglass and saw it was still paused. That had to be a good sign—if nothing happened, then it meant there was no need to finish the final countdown because he had been right. Dryden glanced back at Otto, who had now moved toward the window. The dove was nowhere to be found now.

  The dove, Dryden thought weakly, who led me to the answer. Without all that noise…. Dryden didn’t want to think of what could have occurred.

  “Very well done,” Otto finally answered. “You got the correct answer. Now, since you’re already off to a good start, I’ll start in with the next round. You will have three hours. We will start—” Otto moved back to the table and flipped the hourglass over; blue sand gathered at the top again and began to fall away. “—now.”

  Chapter Six

  THAT CAN’T be fair, Dryden thought. The last riddle, Otto had spoken the question before he started the clock. Now he stood silently and made Dryden wait as the first few grains of time fell away. Dryden dared not mention this, only hoped that the three hours that would follow would be sufficient.

  “So.” Otto started to pace. “My next question is a longer riddle. You come across two men standing by a fork in the road in the forest. One of them, since he is a knave, always tells a lie. The other man, a knight, always tells the truth. You don’t know who is who, but the man on the left is wearing red and the man on the right wears blue. You also don’t know what road leads to certain death and what road leads to freedom. By asking one yes or no question, can you determine the road to freedom?”

  “Yes, of course,” Dryden stated. He had heard this riddle a long time ago, told by neighborhood children. Of course it was possible to solve what road was which.

  “All right, then, who is whom?”

  Dryden’s stomach quivered as if he was sick. He knew this riddle—but not the answer. “You just asked if it was possible. And it is. I’ve seen people solve this before.”

  “Ah yes, but you still haven’t solved this for me,” Otto stated. “I expect you to give me the answer. Not probe at my semantics.”

  “Isn’t that the whole point of answering riddles? To find the trick questions?”

  “Not quite, my dear.” Otto’s voice lingered on the later syllables, his smile still visible through his bark-like skin. “This problem in particular is about logic. I’ve painted you a picture—two men on a fork in the road, dressed in red and blue—and now you must solve the puzzle. Tell me who is who. Shall you try again?”

  Dryden swallowed hard. He shook his head. “I still need to solve it, then.”

  “Oh. In that case, you’ve wasted my time, so I shall waste yours. You now have two guesses remaining.”

  “What? That’s not fair! I didn’t guess incorrectly! I said it was possible to solve and it is and—”

  “You told me you had an answer, but you didn’t deliver. Silence—while it may have been the previous response—will only get you so far. You need to slow down, dear Dryden, or you’ll guess your life away.” Otto paused, a look on his face that sent chills down Dryden’s spine. “Then again, I suppose you already have.”

  Dryden’s gaze fell. Blood rushed to cheeks, his anger mixed with shame.

  “Anyway, on you go. Two guesses left. Use them wisely.”

  With another taunting glance back toward the hourglass, Otto walked away from Dryden. He busied himself in his kitchen, picking up the tattered rags of clothing he had once worn before his skin had turned to bark. Dryden hardly noticed how much of Otto’s skin had been exposed; he didn’t dare examine his captor’s body, especially when he still saw—and heard—his joints move like ash and twigs snapping in the woods. Otto had still worn some clothing, though, even after his transformation. Whatever else had been exposed and left bare turned to a half bark, half treelike substance that gave Otto cover and made him invulnerable.

  “I will be right back. Don’t leave—at least without me,” Otto said as he left the room. Dryden didn’t respond, but this time, he did raise his eyes and glimpsed the small of Otto’s bare back, covered in scars. Or were his skin’s marking just like the grain of wood?

  No matter, Dryden told himself. I am running out of time. Dryden moved toward the bookshelf and coaxed himself to move calmly through the texts. He could consult these for real answers—maybe, since it was a logic puzzle more than a riddle, an obscure law book might have the answer? Just because they were in a place without law, that didn’t mean the stories of law didn’t exist. He paged through each book slowly and methodically, all the while trying to avoid Otto’s gaze as he stepped back into the room.

  “Are you getting comfortable?” Otto walked along the perimeter of his house, his feet clicking hard against the floorboards. The sound echoed in the house, making it seem like the room—though full of beautiful items—was really hollow all the way through. “I hope you’re getting comfortable.”

  Dryden didn’t answer. He struggled to remember when and where he had first heard this riddle, beyond the neighborhood kids’ chatter. What books did his father keep by his bedside when he wasn’t chopping wood? Was it from one of those? Or maybe it was from an old, discarded history book? Yes, Dryden realized. This wasn’t from the law books his father enjoyed sometimes, but math. Soon, he found a mathematics table in the back of an older textbook Otto owned. Boolean codes, he remembered, were there to help predict all t
he possible ranges to a problem. Dryden knew this, he remembered it now. With renewed hope, he dug inside another bin until he found more scrap pieces of paper and a pen to work out some equations. After a couple scenarios involving the blue and red men, he was pretty sure he was on the right track.

  Otto still paced around him. Even as he walked behind Dryden and asked how he was once again, Dryden remained quiet.

  “Dryden,” Otto chastised, voice harsh. “Don’t be rude. There is nothing I hate more than rudeness.”

  With a sigh, Dryden raised his eyes from the book. He spotted the hourglass behind Otto and watched as more red grains of sand fell away. “I have three hours, right? I need to concentrate so I don’t waste any more guesses. I’ve found some math to help me, so I will take my time.”

  Otto leaned close to Dryden. His warm body pressed against his shoulder as he leaned over and examined the Boolean chart. “At least you’re learning small lessons here and there. Let’s hope they stick.”

  Dryden kept his eyes on his book again. He read an example problem involving two carts leaving at similar times and going to different destinations; he found some charts with completed Boolean tables and art illustrating the word problems. While interesting and compelling, he knew this couldn’t help him. None of these examples were of the same problem he faced now, only examples to show him how to get there. He went back to work, configuring the way he could get answers out of the hypothetical blue and red men. Dryden wasn’t sure if he could narrow down all the options he had come up with, especially if there was only one yes-or-no question to ask.

  After some time, Otto came back into the center of the room. The hourglass was now half-emptied. “Want to try again?” he asked.

  “I’ll try when I’m ready.”

  “Fine, then. One hour left.”

  Dryden’s jaw tightened. He watched as the grains of sand sped up, removing some of the time Dryden thought he had. He knew this was unfair, but what did it matter? It was clear, more than ever, that Otto was a knave of the forest. If there had been the same fork in the road, with red and blue men on either side to warn Dryden, he wondered if he would be able to pick the correct person even then. He knew that he probably wouldn’t. He reacted to stories—like his first response here—rather than contemplated them. If he ever wanted to get anywhere else in life, Dryden knew he would have to start slowing down.