Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(10)

The koo-ko assistant pointed at the doorway and murmured something.

“It will be a teachable moment,” the First Scholar declared and waved his wing at the doorway. “Come!”

A flood of koo-ko of all sizes and colors erupted onto the balcony. They spilled over the rail, spread their wings, and glided to the ground around me. One, two, five...ten…I lost count. Their belts and harnesses differed but every single one came with a holder containing a fat scroll. It looked like they were carrying a personal roll of toilet paper with them. Normally it made me giggle in my head, because somewhere deep inside I was seven years old and potty humor was still funny, but right now any humor was in short supply.

The First Scholar pushed his headdress back onto his head. “Pay attention, young ones. This will be an experience you must commit to memory. Form a flock and bring me my teaching stick!”





I rushed through the streets. The koo-ko had no trouble keeping up with me despite being about half my height. If needed, all of them could outrun me and then some. Including the First Scholar and two of his helpers, one carrying his hat and the other dragging a long stick of polished blue wood with a bright red tassel attached to its tip.

“Tell me the riddle,” the First Scholar asked.

“ ‘Say my name, and I will disappear. What am I?’ ” I was pretty sure I knew the answer but "pretty sure" didn't count when a life hung in the balance.

“You’re right. The sphinx is very young. No matter. Youth isn’t an excuse for willful flouting of the rules, although it is certainly the right time for it.”

We turned into the dark alleys. The shaggy sloth creature saw us and waved a little piece of bright red cloth like a flag as we passed. The other vendors stared. They had now seen Sean run into the Old Arena, then run out, then come back with me, then I ran out, and now I was back leading a flock of koo-ko. It was more excitement than they probably had seen the entire month.

We spilled into the Old Arena. Everything was as I had left it: the sphinx, Sean, and the female werewolf, still locked in the glowing golden helix of the sphinx’s power.

“Why don’t you answer?” the sphinx purred, power vibrating in every vowel. “Go on. Take a chance. You cannot wait forever. Soon you will soil yourself. Then will come thirst, then hunger. You are a brave warrior. Is that how you want to die? Alone, wasting away in your filth because you are too scared to answer a simple riddle?”

“Keep quiet,” Sean told her.

“She has answered you,” the First Scholar declared.

The sphinx turned its massive head and looked at us.

The First Scholar’s assistant on his left deposited the headdress onto the elder’s head. The assistant on his right thrust the stick into his clawed hand. The three dozen koo-ko arranged themselves into a crescent behind the First Scholar.

A violet sheen rolled over sphinx’s eyes. “And who are you, small bird?”

His voice was back to normal. The power-saturated sound only occurred when he spoke to the one bound by his riddle.

The First Scholar raised his stick, sending the tassel flying. “Do not change the subject. By the very act of remaining quiet, she has answered your riddle, for the answer to your question is silence.”

The sphinx frowned.

“The right answer has been given. Release this creature as per your bargain,” the First Scholar demanded.

The sphinx pondered it, clearly stumped.

“That is not a proper answer,” he finally said.

“Then ask me another question, and I will answer for her,” The First Scholar declared. “She is but a humble warrior, while my mind holds decades of academic knowledge. She is a snack, but I am a delicious feast.”

The sphinx smiled, and the nightmarish forest of fangs in his mouth glinted in the sun. The golden glow around the female werewolf died and she tumbled to the ground.

The sphinx opened its metallic wings, the golden feathers reflecting sunlight in a blinding glow. Golden light spiraled around the First Scholar. He was barely three and a half feet tall, counting the headdress, and the sphinx was forty feet at the shoulder.

The koo-ko scholars cooed in unison, the sound of collective anxiety.

The First Scholar raised his head. “Ask your question.”

“The more there is, the less you see. What am I?

“Darkness.”

The Sphinx opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“That is an embarrassingly easy question. Ask another,” the First Scholar said. “Go ahead.”

“Once offered one, you shall have two or none at all—”

“A choice. Let us try again. Reach deeper.”

“I have one color but many sizes. I touch you yet you never feel me. Light gives me existence, darkness--”

“A shadow.” The First Scholar sighed. “Let me save you the trouble. Wind, time, self, light, youth, fire. Shall I continue?”

The sphinx stared at him, mute.

A few seconds passed.

“How?” the sphinx managed finally.

“You’re obviously going through Bartran’s Guide to the Questions of an Inquisitive Mind and the Nature of Existence.” The First Scholar turned to his students and waved the stick. “Note this moment.”

The koo-ko pulled scrolls from the holders on their belts and produced styluses.