Dream Park

And left her standing empty.'

The stout warrior looked at Yak challengingly. 'Tell me, who was my sister?'

Yali rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 'Such a fine meal you've just enjoyed. Would any of you care to share a bottle of wine with me?' He grinned maliciously at Oliver. 'Rest assured that it won't be the same bottle our friend drank atop that famous bridge.'

Oliver looked only slightly chagrined. 'Close enough. Jenny equals gin, not wine.'

'Ah... quite.' Yali pulled a chair up and sat carefully, cross­ing one leg over the other with exaggerated care. 'It is said among my people that some things are improved by death. Tell me, what stinks while living, but in death, smells good?'

Griffin's mind raced as he tried to come up with an answer.

'Oh, come now. Surely such clever minds as yours won't find this too consuming a problem.' Yali smiled smugly.

Leigh raised a tentative finger. 'Ambergris. From whales. They stink while they're alive, but when they're dead, you can make perfume from the ambergris.'

YaM seemed delighted. 'Very clever. Very clever indeed. Un­fortunately we simple island folk rarely traffic in expensive per­fumes. The proper answer is: the pig. I believe that you people were treated to one of the succulent creatures two days ago? Such a delicious aroma when roasted. But perhaps you feel I was un­fair. Would you care to ask me a question in return?'

The sorcerer thought hard for a minute, then said, 'All right. Riddle me this: what goes through the door without pinching it­self? What sits on the stove without burning itself? What sits on

the table and is not ashamed?' He said it all in one breath, and as he waited for his reply he panted slightly.

'Excellent. Let me think...' Yali scratched his ear. His eyes slid shut. Was he getting hints from Lopez? Griffin didn't want to believe it.

Yali's eyes flew open, and his mouth formed an 'Aha!' oval. 'Could it be the sun? Yes, I rather thought it might.' His eyes rested with gentle malice on Alan Leigh, who squirmed uncom­fortably. 'We may have further business later, you and I. Now

who is next?'

Acacia glared at him. 'Let's hear it, Yali.'

'So eager. Let me think... what have we for the headstrong young lady? Ah, I know. What work is it that, the faster you work, the longer it is before you're done, and the slower you work, the sooner you're finished?'

The laughter in Yali's face was totally unreflected in Acacia's. She beetled her brows and twisted a curl of dark hair around and around on a forefinger.

'Miss Garcia, I'm afraid I must insist on an answer.'

'Ah... weaving a basket? The f-faster you do it, the more mistakes you nuike, and the more likely you are to have to redo it...

'Such inventive minds we have here today. No, I'm afraid that the correct answer is ‘roasting meat on a spit'. Don't you see, the faster you turn it, the slower the meat cooks. And of course, the slower you turn it, the faster it cooks. Isn't that just a corker?'

'A corker.' Acacia's eyes were half-lidded, and there was an umber flush to her cheeks. Alex could almost smell the sulphur bubbling in her words. 'All right, ‘Yali', try this one.

Whilst I was engaged in sitting

I spied the dead carrying the living.'

She tossed her dark hair back with a flip of her head. 'What did I see?'

Yali closed his eyes and hummed. He drummed his heels gently against the white floor. He scratched his ear.

'Mr. Yali,' Acacia said curtly, 'I'm afraid I must insist upon an answer.'

He glared at her. 'Quite right, Miss Garcia. Could it be a stretcher? A stretched hide carrying a wounded man?'

'What an ingenious fellow you are. And so quick with your reply. A pity to disappoint you. I'm afraid that the proper answer

is a ship. A vessel made of dead wood, carrying living men.' She curtsied in her seat, and YaM smiled wanly.

'Well, that helps your side a bit, but you're going to need more. Who's next?'

Gina, who had been lost in thought, perked up. For the first time, Griffin found no trace of a dreamy cloud in her expression. Even the fire in her hair seemed to blaze brighter. 'I'll take it.'

'So. Try this: ‘I know a word of letters three. Add two, and fewer there will be.''

Gina buried her head in her hands and moaned. At first Alex was worried, then he listened more carefully to the sighs and realised that they were phony.

'Oh my,' she said finally, wiping her eye clear of a nonexistent tear. 'The answer wouldn't be ‘few', would it?' Her bright red eyebrows arched, and her face screwed up in an expression of mock-concern. Yali nodded unhappily. Gina hitched her chair closer, teeth showing whitely in her smile. She resembled nothing so much as a cat on the hunt, and Alex found himself silently cheering her on.

Her voice was warm honey. 'I have a little old question for you, dear. I give you a group of three. One is sitting down, and will never get up. The second eats as much as is given to him, yet is always hungry. The third goes away and never returns.' Her smile became beatific. 'Who are they?'

Yali seemed very displeased. He rose from his chair and click-heeled across the room, blank-eyed, mumbling to himself. Ulti­mately he turned on his heel to face them. 'Yes, yes, I know, time is against me. I admit I have no answer.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. The correct answers are Stove, Fire, and Smoke. We're even again,' Gina said sweetly.

'So you are, and you have one player left to go. Mr. Tegner. Or do you prefer Griffin?' There was a peculiar gleam in Yali's eye, and Alex knew that Lopez was having his little joke.

'In this context I prefer Griffin,' he said.

'Very well, Griffin. There is a saying you may have heard in your business:

Whoever makes it, tells it not.

Whoever takes it, knows it not.

And whoever knows it wants it not.

Can you tell me what I speak of?'

Alex brooded. In your business. What did he mean by that? As the Griffin, the Thief? As Gary Tegner, restaurateur? Previous riddles had referred to food... Or as Alex Griffin, Dream Park Security head? Nice wide range of choices, there.

Whoever makes it, tells it not. Why? Something illegal or im­moral? That would fit the Thief and the Security Chief. Good.

Whoever takes it ... whoever knows it. If you know what it is, you don't want it. A restaurant owner might take black market meat if he didn't know what it was. Do you 'make' black market meat? Or bad meat, meat that wouldn't pass honest inspection. Pass?

'Excuse me, Griffin, but I'm afraid I need an answer now.'