The Girl in the Red Cloak, Part 2: The Marble Halls
In which a girl runs into a man with a red cloak and has a riddle contest without understanding the stakes.
The sailor floated in the depths of the water, down in the dark where the storm-maddened waves blunted to sluggish currents. Even with eyes curiously adjusted to the brine, barely any light reached him—only enough to see shadows within shadows. He had sworn an oath to the sea to keep him from drowning. The ocean had not sworn any oaths to protect him from sea beasts.
However, the voice in his head had promised to keep him safe long enough to hear it out. Yesterday, he had been a simple crewman with no greater obligations than battening down the hatches in a storm. Now, a voice in the storm was demanding his loyalty. Whether it was a demon or a sorcerer, he knew not. It couldn’t be a Paragon or gift ancestor—could it?—They graced men with gifts without asking for oaths in return. The sailor wasn’t eager to make more promises but could not see a path to shore from the cold, gloomy depths.
Are you getting cold? You could swear your oath to me, and I promise you will make it to the shore. Or I could show you some of the secrets at the bottom of the ocean first if you prefer. Wonderful and terrible things down there.
"In shadowed depths where secrets lie,
Treasure gleams and terrors sigh."
But you’re stubborn, aren’t you? Always looking for a way out until the last minute. I’ve worked with shipwrecked sailors before, and most don’t look a gift horse in the mouth like this.
Suit yourself. I promised three stories, and I keep my promises. I told the story of the girl in the red cloak to men of the Marble Halls ages ago and came back many years later. This is how they told the tale.
Once upon a time, there was a girl gifted with extraordinary cleverness. She told everyone in her village that she was going to town to enter a contest and win the red cloak the king gave as a prize to the cleverest riddler.
The girl studied all the riddle books that she could borrow. As contest day drew near, an old woman told her, “You best head to town, or you will miss your contest.”
“No need,” replied the girl. “I am clever. I know all the shortcuts. I have plenty of time.”
“You’d do better to leave now and stick to the main roads,” the old woman answered. The girl, however, was stubborn. She studied and read and made up riddles until the very last day she could leave for town.
Now, a long road to the city wound around an ancient forest, and the trees were gifted with walking. Modern city folk would scoff at the idea, but the villagers told tales about how animals, plants, and places could be gifted, just like some people.
The clever girl was much too intelligent for such stories. Instead of taking the road through the hills, she went straight through the forest and camped the night. When she woke up, the trees had all changed places, and the girl could no longer tell north from south. She assumed the rising sun was east and turned at a right angle to head North toward the town but to no avail. She spent all day hiking, and then she camped again.
The next day was the riddle contest. The girl spent it drinking from streams and digging up edible mushrooms. She was sure that whichever direction she was headed, she should have been out of the forest by now.
On the fourth day, the girl was delighted to stumble upon another traveler. And what’s more, the traveler wore the bright red cloak of the riddle contest. The traveler hiked at a hectic pace, almost a jog, and was quite out of breath when the girl stopped him.
“Excuse me,” the girl said. “Could you please point me towards the town?”
The traveler gestured back the way he had come.
“Thank you!” said the girl. “I see you’re wearing the cloak of the riddle contest.”
The man looked down at the cloak as he caught his breath. “It appears I am. What is it to you?”
“I was preparing for that riddle contest when I got lost,” the girl said. “If I can beat you in a riddle contest, will you give it to me?”
The man paused, looked over his shoulder, and shrugged. “It’s a nice cloak, but it seems fair to me. If you can beat me, you’re the champion, and the cloak is yours.”
“Fine, we will both ask riddles. If the other person guesses the answer, they get a point. If not, the riddler gets the point. The first person to three points wins,” the girl said. “Since I didn’t make it to the contest, I’ll let you start.”
“Fair enough, fair enough,” the man said. He thought for a moment.
“In the forest deep, I prick my ears,
Silent, I stalk the prey I hear,
I howl at night, a haunting tune,
Who am I beneath the moon?”
“That’s easy,” said the girl. “You’re a wolf! My turn.”
“I strut and preen most elegantly; a hundred eyes are always on me,” the girl said.
“A princess,” guessed the man without much thought.
“Wrong!” cried the girl. “A peacock! I have two points. One more riddle!”
The man took a moment.
“I grow down as I grow up,
“I brighten your smile and help you sup.
“What am I?”
“Easy again,” the girl smiled. “The answer is teeth!”
“I suppose you’re far too clever for me,” said the man, taking on the cloak, carefully folding it, and handing it to the girl. “Too clever for your own good, perhaps.” And with that, the man took off into the forest at a quick pace.
The girl unfolded the cloak as she walked toward town. Everything seemed to have worked out in the end. The cloak was a bit dirty and had dark stains. The girl put on the cloak, which was quite warm in the dark and cool forest. Soon, the girl heard dogs and shouts.
“I must be close to the town!” she thought. “My little adventure is nearly over.”
The town guard raced towards the girl at the heels of furious, barking dogs.
“Murderer!” cried the town guard as the dogs tore the girl apart. Her dark blood spilled on the cloak, next to the stains from its previous owner.
The sailor cupped his mouth in horror at the sudden and violent end of the story.
I promised you three stories, said the voice. I didn’t say they would be light-hearted fare. Let this one be a warning: don’t try to get clever. Just swear the oath.
The sailor had never been clever before. He loved a sea breeze, a pint, and the company of his his betrothed ashore. If only he had listened more closely to the storytellers, spinning what he thought had been fanciful tales. He would have to learn to be clever—if he ever made it home.
Don’t fret. One way or another, this little adventure is nearly over.