The Darkness That Slept by Keegan Kozinski

Author:Keegan Kozinski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED HOUSE PUBLISHING
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

32

The Pieces Of A Riddle

The Winter Knight threw his head back with a peal of artificial laughter and submerged into the floor. Unperturbed, the High-Warden waited for his laughter to subside before addressing the Artist, “Where might we find a riddle?”

“I fear to hazard a guess, High-Warden; riddles are not my forte.”

“Then let us ask the Jester from where he contrives his riddles and jests.” They strode to the right-hand mirrors and searched the dancers within for signs of the Jester or any the Winter Knight’s snares. When he saw neither, the High-Warden stepped through the mirror and entered the vast hall beyond, its floor of earth and rooted vines shifting under his tread. The dancers stilled in their frantic ballet, the world falling dark as the faces on either side turned black, depriving the room of their light. The column-like trees groaned and cracked, spilling vestigial light that elevated the hall into twilight.

The dancers shifted focus to the High-Warden, masks of shadow materializing over their features. “Are these your children, Lady Artist?”

“No, they are lesser Faerie, those unsuited to inhabit the Winter Court. If I diminish further, I will join them.”

They proceeded through the silent ranks, some translucent and flickering in the light. “Why do they watch us?”

“Because we interest them. They are Fae and adore mischief.”

“Can you find the Jester?”

“With luck, perhaps. He is unpredictable and wanders many of the Court’s forgotten halls.” She glanced to the left and chuckled. “But of course, one does not find the Jester...”

The Jester skipped from the crowd, his bells tinkling and his grin widening. Arriving beside them, he batted his eyelashes and pressed his lips coquettishly. He maintained this posture briefly, then faced the Artist with a tinkling invitation to speak.

“Jester, we need your aid. The Winter Queen has ordained a competition between the High-Warden and Winter Knight.”

The Jester frowned, the painted grin converting into a leer. With a snap of his wrist and a crack, he opened a paper fan and batted it before his face. An image in green ink churned across its surface, composing first an image describing the Crones then of the Jester.

“He knows and comes to aid us, Lady Artist, but my knowledge concerning the Winter Court is incomplete; you will have to translate his meaning into our destination.”

The Jester returned their attention to his fan, where the image changed, becoming a forest, a leopard, and then a leaf with a woman formed of veins. The leaf shrunk, revealing more leaves, each with their own inhabitant. The image continued to expand until the leaves merged, becoming the forest from earlier. The image warped again, cycling through leopard, leaf, and tree.

The Jester stroked the fan's ribs, changing the ink to azure, and then exhaled on its surface as the tree attained its peak, casting the leaves into whirling flight. They spun about one another and condensed, assembling into the shape of an ancient, bearded man who separated into three smaller versions of himself.

The three images pirouetted and spun closer, their hands rising and falling in unison as they met and merged into a lake.

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