Conundrum

call it “leaving” in the Maritime Sciences Guild. You can say “embark” or “set sail” or “weigh anchor” or “put to sea.” “Leaving” is a lubberly verb you should break yourself of using. That goes for every and all lubbers. If you are going to be a sailor, you must learn to speak like one. Navigator Snork here will conduct remedial classes in shipboard etiquette and protocol once we are under sail.”

Sir Grumdish chewed on that, while Professor Hap raised his hand, as though he were in school. “I have a question. I thought this was a submersible deepswimmer Class C, yet you keep talking about setting sail. How does one use a sail underwater?”

“One doesn’t use a sail, one sets sail, and one doesn’t set sail underwater at all. Unless…” the commodore’s voice trailed off as his brain wheels begin to spin. “A tidal sail, employed underwater to catch the sea currents…” he muttered while fumbling at his pockets in search of a pencil.

Seeing his commander thus distracted, Navigator Snork completed his thoughts. “Indestructible is equipped with a normal step sail-you can see it there, rising from the conning tower-for use when “running on top,” as we call it. We shan’t always be traveling underwater. In fact, during the trip to the Blood Sea, we’ll probably not submerge at all, except for drills. We’ll sail on top for most of the way. Of course, Commodore Brigg has developed several improvements to the standard wind and sail design that should shorten the trip considerably.”

Returning from his woolgathering, Commodore Brigg said, “So, no more questions? Good. Come. Let’s go meet your fellow officers. Sir Grumdish, you can leave your armor with the crane for loading.”

Sir Grumdish eyed the crane dubiously as they made their way down the bluffs. There, all manner of activity was underway. Hundreds of gnomes scurried to tasks more numerous and varied than could possibly be identified. Most seemed concerned with the loading and preparation of the Indestructible. In addition to the shipwrights, carpenters, and ironsmiths engaged in the building of the various ships, boats, and other fascinating devices of mysterious purpose, there were carters and craters, net weavers and sail hemmers, accountants and bookkeepers and counters of everything from beans to butter tubs. Crates, boxes, and barrels lined the docks awaiting loading by surly, foul-mouthed longshoregnomes. And for every gnome lifting, pushing, pulling, dragging, flinging, hoving-to, clicking-off, checking-out, battening-down and buttoning-up, there were two or three more watching, worrying, directing, misdirecting, or noting the labors of the others. Over, under, around, and on top of it all were the ever-present, watchful members of the Mishaps Guild with their clipboards and surveying equipment. Every movement, every nail hammered and cog oiled was carefully catalogued and recorded in case something unexpected happened, for better or for worse.

As Commodore Brigg led them through this hive of activity toward Indestructible’s dry dock, Sir Grumdish’s mechanical armor attracted its share of speculative whispers and appreciative exclamations. Behind Sir Grumdish’s horse, Professor Hap-Troggensbottle and Razmous Pinchpocket compared observations, shouting so as to be heard over each other. Navigator Snork ticked off the things he still had left to do before the launch as he walked closely behind Razmous and removed the various interesting objects that unaccountably tumbled into the kender’s pouches.

Busy as he was with his musings and kender thwarting, Snork barely noticed the tugging at his sleeve. Only when a brash voice said his name almost in his ear did he turn.

He found before him a younger gnome who was taller than he only by the shock of red hair standing up from the crown of his head. Red hair was most unusual in gnomes, the general rule being white hair or no hair at all, except for the obligatory beard. This one’s beard was as red as his hair. The newcomer wore a leather apron and long white pullover with the emblem of the PuzzlesRiddlesEnigmasEtcetera Guild mysteriously affixed-meaning it was not sewn, stitched, embroidered, pinned, or even heat-transferred-over the right breast pocket. His gray eyes had a sort of philosophic inward stare that made him look shy, as though he were trying to avoid meeting the gaze of anyone else because he was busy solving some complex mathematical puzzle, such as trying to compute the volume of an open container. As Snork looked him over, the young gnome looked right back.

Suddenly, Snork slapped himself on the forehead. “Conundrum!” he shouted.

The younger gnome bowed. “Cousin Snork,” he answered.

“The last time we met, you were entering your guild back at Mount Nevermind. I see you made it.”

“I did,” Conundrum answered proudly. “I am now an important member of the Guild of PuzzlesRiddlesEngimasRebusLogogriphsMonogramsAnagramsAcrosticsCrosswordsMazesLabyrinthsParadoxesScrabb leFeminineLogicandPoliticians-otherwise known as P3 for short, though no one knows exactly why it is called P3 for short, unless it is that there are three words starting with P in it, in which case it might also be called L2, M2, or even A2 for short.”

“Hmm, what are you doing here?” Snork asked.

“Didn’t you receive my letter?” Conundrum asked.

“Letter? No, I don’t recall a letter. How did you send it?”

“By the automated post,” Conundrum said.

“Ah, of course, that would be the problem then. What did the letter say?”

“I asked if I could go with you,” Conundrum said. His eyes twitched for a moment, and that brief flicker conveyed such an overwhelming flood of desperation that Snork took a step back in surprise. Then he stepped closer and took Conundrum by the elbow, leading him into a narrow alcove between stacks of crates.

When they were alone, Snork leaned close to his cousin and whispered, “What’s the matter? Why do you want to go with me” on this dangerous mission? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

With each question, Conundrum twitched as though struck with a ruler across the knuckles. He pulled his hands up close to his bearded face, knitting his fingers in an endless weave of nervous energy.

“It’s my Life Quest,” Conundrum said, “given to me by the Guild-to solve an unsolvable puzzle, to create the world’s most unsolvable puzzle. It doesn’t matter what kind of puzzle. It could be a puzzle or a maze or a riddle or whatever, the only stipulation being that it must be a true puzzle and not just a question without an answer. And it must be a puzzle with an answer, one which no one could ever possibly find out.”

“But no one has invented the unsolvable puzzle yet!”

Snork exclaimed. “How are you supposed to solve it if it hasn’t been invented?”

“Yes, I know. You see my conundrum,” Conundrum answered.

Snork pondered this for a moment, then asked, “What does that have to do with the voyage of the Indestructible?”

“Nothing,” Conundrum said.

“Then, why?”

Conundrum’s gray eyes locked with those of his cousin. He breathed a sigh that seemed to come up from his shoes. “I have an office in the guild hall, an important office, with a secretary and an assistant. There aren’t any books in my office, no maps, no diagrams, not even any paper or a pencil or a protractor. I sit in my office and wait to invent an insolvent puzzle. And I wait. And wait. I need to get out and see and do things. No more waiting.”

Pity and understanding welled in Snork, and, without another word, he dashed away, dragging Conundrum behind him in pursuit of Commodore Brigg and the others.

Snork and Conundrum caught up with the commodore at the quays as Sir Grumdish’s armor was being hoisted aloft by the six-armed crane. Sir Grumdish stood beside his mighty steed, nervously stroking the beast’s knee while he watched his armor rise a hundred feet in the air and halt, dangling like a hanged man above the bay. His heart was in his throat, his face as gray as a sun-bleached board.

Commodore Brigg was just introducing everyone to Chief Engineer Portlost, the gnome directing the loading operation, and explaining the chiefs Life Quest-to record and detail the most extraordinary mishap the world has ever seen, whenever that might occur.

“I am confident of just such an opportunity on this voyage,” Chief Portlost was saying with a toothy grin as he shook hands with everyone. Like the commodore and the navigator, Chief Portlost wore the tarbrush-and-bilge- pump symbol of the Maritime Sciences Guild on his left breast pocket, but on his right breast pocket he wore the upside-down-burning-gnomeflinger emblem of the Mishaps Guild.

“Chief Portlost is our engineer and chief mishaps officer,” Snork added solemnly.