Chapter 56
I don’t have time for us to absorb our surroundings as we are deposited into the Sister’s lair. One glance around the room and I realize the warping led directly into what looks to be a bedroom, the only decor a bed whose frame looks to be made of bone.
Nolan also glances around just once, and the brief look on his face tells me all I need to know—he’s remembering having been here before.
He’s remembering the fate that he so slimly avoided, the fate I passed off to our son.
We don’t have time to sit in such guilt.
Instead, we race toward the door. Nolan yanks it open and waves me through. I scramble to the other side, and he hurries to close it behind us.
As soon as the door clicks, we hear footsteps and voices on the other side. Peter and the Sister, conversing—though it’s mostly Peter, more talkative than usual. I assume he’s giving us the chance to scurry away and escape unheard.
Nolan and I silently communicate with our eyes, then pace quickly down the hallway. There are tapestries hanging on the walls, ones with gruesome images I don’t care to look at, so I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead. Besides, we’ll need to watch in case anyone else is here.
I assume that the inhabitants of the Sister’s lair include at least one other besides our son.
Malia was meant to be the wet nurse. I just hope we don’t encounter her, and if we do, perhaps she’ll be willing to help.
It’s a slim chance, a slim hope, that the Sister has already returned Malia’s son to her, but if we can help them both escape, we will.
If it comes down to between her son’s safety and mine…
Well, we’ve both made it clear which we would choose.
When we get to the end of the hall, I glance in both directions.
We are in a foyer now. It also includes tapestries on the wall, except these are framed in black adamant.
A quick survey shows me glimpses of great wars, of world-changing events.
Some of them I recognize from my tutoring growing up.
Others I don’t. I assume those to be events of other worlds.
The doors on opposite sides of the foyer are identical.
I remember John’s memory told me back in the caves that I had a fifty-fifty chance, and thinking about it would only delay me.
“To the right,” I say.
Though, if I’m to be honest with myself, it’s not simply chance, but a gut instinct.
A draw I feel toward that side of the house.
I’m not foolish enough to believe that I have the sort of motherly instincts that would lead me to my child.
If I had those at all, I would have never offered him up as collateral.
I would have found a way to protect him.
But I follow the urge just the same. Just in case there is anything to it.
Some innate primal response. One that has nothing to do with my character and everything to do with biology.
Nolan follows my lead.
We come to the door, and at first I fear it will be locked, but it opens easily. On the other side is a dark staircase that winds upward.
We shut the door behind us and begin our ascent. The lighting in here is dim, lit only by a single torch every few turns.
We climb until we reach the top. Again, sure that the door will be locked, sure that’s just our luck, I turn the knob. My heart sinks for, just as I expected, the latch catches.
“Don’t fret, Darling,” says Nolan. Out of his back pocket, he pulls an oblong leather pouch and unstraps it. Inside is a row of thin metal tools. He chooses two of them, then inserts them into the lock. After what feels like several minutes of fidgeting with it, sweat breaks loose on his brow.
“Is it all right if I try?” I ask.
He frowns at me, but in a way that only betrays surprise, not disappointment or a lack of trust. He hands them to me, and I place them in the lock.
“John and I made a hobby of this when we were children,” I say.
“Yes, well, I might have learned better, but my preference was always to break down doors,” says Nolan.
“We might have to resort to that,” I say, unsure that my skills are still noteworthy.
But after a moment, I feel the gentle pressure of the lock speaking back to me, reverberating through the tools and into my hands.
It’s a satisfying feeling, and I take it as an omen.
Something has finally gone right for us.
Another twist, and the door opens.
My chest tightens at the scene that unfolds before me. I don’t know what I had been expecting from this room.
There is no furniture, no adornments.
Nothing but a massive onyx sphinx.
Its paws are splayed out before us on the floor, only the front half of its body visible from where it is crafted into the wall.
“Ah. Newcomers,” says the sphinx. “It’s been a long while. Oh, don’t worry,” he says, having caught the fear on our faces. “I am not here to eat you—unless, of course, you fail the test.”
Nolan instinctively steps in front of me, and the sphinx lets out a low, echoing laugh.
Afraid that the sound will carry down the stairwell, I back up from behind Nolan and shut the door behind us, twisting the lock back in place.
Though I’m sure if the Sister discovers we’re up here, it will do little to delay her.
“Yes,” Nolan says. “We seek to merit use of your passage.”
He bows in honor to the sphinx, as the legends would suggest is wise.
“Well, that will not do. I’m only permitted to allow one into the sanctuary at a time. Lucky for you—it’s now empty. Other than what you’re seeking, I suppose.”
My heart races. There’s a chance that it’s not my son behind the sphinx. But I don’t want to raise the question aloud. It feels treacherous to do so.
Still, what else would the Sister guard this heavily?
“It should be you,” Nolan and I say simultaneously.
I shake my head, fear lancing through me. “No, you’re the better fighter of the two of us. There’s no guessing what else is behind that wall. If there are guards, you need to be the one to fight them off.”
Nolan frowns. “Is that what you’re afraid of, Darling? That you’ll find guards behind that wall?”
My yes catches in my throat, and my husband cranes his head at me knowingly.
“You’re his mother, Darling,” he says.
I hug my arms to my chest. “And that’s always been the problem, hasn’t it?” I ask, my voice raspy. “Please. Please, you go. I don’t want to fail him again.”
Before Nolan can argue with me, the sphinx yawns. “You can continue this conversation if you wish, but know it is a waste of time. I will grant passage to whichever of you is the first to solve my riddle.”
Nolan and I glance at each other, and I try to silently convey that if I figure it out first, I’ll whisper it to him so he can present it to the sphinx.
“What’s the riddle, then?” I ask.
“I only exist when my enemy is partial,” says the sphinx.
I swallow, glancing at Nolan. I’ve never been any good at riddles.
“Are we allowed to discuss with one another, or will you count our guesses as our final answer?” asks Nolan.
The sphinx grins. “You may discuss. But I would discuss quickly if I were you. It seems you are not meant to be here.”
Panic taps against my chest.
“Could it be some sort of criminal?” asks Nolan. “Judges are what I think of when I think of someone being partial or impartial.”
I shake my head. “Criminals exist whether a judge is being partial or not. Besides, judges could be partial either way, toward or against the criminal.”
“What about light?” asks Nolan.
I blink. “That could work. Light doesn’t exist where darkness is total.”
The sphinx’s voice drawls. “Is that your final answer?”
Nolan offers me a look of question.
I nod my head. “You do it,” I say.
He frowns, but answers all the same. “Light is our final answer.”
It hits me as the answer comes out of his mouth—light doesn’t need darkness to be partial to exist. Light exists even in the absence of darkness.
The sphinx’s laugh reverberates through the otherwise empty room. “Wrong.”
My heart plummets out of my chest, the fear that we’ve lost the one chance at getting our baby back all-encompassing.
Nolan puts his hand on the hilt of his sword, but the sphinx shakes his head. “No need to defend yourself yet. I can be reasoned with. Should the girl figure it out, I will spare both of you and let her through.”
Tears sting at the edges of my eyes. I can’t bring myself to be relieved, not with the pressure of getting this right bearing down on me.
“I can’t think, Nolan,” I say, the tears beginning to stream now. “I’ve never been good under pressure.”
“Darling,” says my husband, taking me in his arms. “You can do this.”
I’m shaking at his chest, my mind whirring.
The only answer I can think of is darkness, but I’m fairly sure that’s only coming to my mind as it’s the enemy of our last answer.
But it doesn’t work. Darkness doesn’t need light to be partial to exist. There could be no light at all, and it would still be dark.
‘“Nolan, I can’t do this,” I say.
This time, instead of answering, he hugs me so tight he picks me off the floor, my feet weightless as they hang. I wipe the tears from my eyes and glance over his shoulder, where our silhouettes merge in a single shadow stretching across the floor, cast by the glowing lamp behind me.
My heart stops.
Because darkness might not need light, partial or not, to exist.
But a shadow does.
“A shadow,” I whisper.
“Very good, but only the girl may go forward,” says the sphinx, just as Nolan sets me down. The sphinx rests its head on the ground, then opens its mouth, its tongue rolling out like a carpet leading to a door at the back of the sphinx’s throat.
I offer one last glance to my husband, then proceed toward the door.