When Grimnoshtadrano was fully in the clearing, he began to circle the three adventurers like a wolf closing in, studying them all the while. His eyes were golden green, slashed by vertical pupils and bright with a cold, alien intelligence.
“Well?” the dragon inquired. His voice was a deep, inhuman rumble that reminded Danilo of the reverberation of a kettledrum. Setting aside his lute, the Harper rose to his feet and bowed deeply to the dragon.
“Well met, noble Grimnoshtadrano. I am Danilo Thann of Waterdeep, Harper and bard, and these are my companions, bards both. You know what we seek from the words of my song.”
“This little trifle, I believe?” Grimnosh sat back on his haunches, and with a forepaw he removed a large bag slung over one of his horns. From it he pulled a roll of parchment. He laid it on the ground in front of him, and then placed beside it a small golden cask. With the tip of his tail he flicked open the latch and lifted the lid to reveal a hoard of sparkling gems. “You are prepared to earn this?”
“My talents do not run to riddles,” Danilo said. “I have brought you a more worthy opponent”
Vartain rose, his bald head held high. “I am Vartain of Calimport, a riddlemaster trained in the Mulhorand tradition. I have traveled from southern Shaar to Waterdeep, from the western Moonshaes to the eastern lands of Rashemen, collecting riddles and stories from a hundred kingdoms. From these, I have compiled a three-volume collection of riddles housed with honor in the libraries of Candlekeep. I am a scholar of languages both modern and forgotten, the latter so that I might plumb the wealth of earlier ages. Since an active life offers puzzles as well, I have aided the cause of many a famed explorer and adventurer. Modesty forbids that I name or number them.”
“I can see that it would,” the dragon agreed with a touch of sarcasm in his rumbling voice. “Welcome to the forest, Vartain of Calimport. It isn’t often that I’m gifted with such a challenge. You must give me a minute to think, that I might put forth a riddle worthy of your talents.”
“First, great Grimnoshtadrano, permit me to name my own reward,” Vartain added, earning an incredulous stare from Danilo and Morgalla. “I wish to recover a certain elven artifact, last seen in the village of Taskerleigh.”
The dragon snorted. “You’re too late. I traded it for a song, you might say, and not a particularly successful one at that, considering that you three are the first to respond to it.”
“To whom, if I might ask?”
“One matter at a time, if you please,” Grimnosh returned. “I will give you that information as a reward if you can answer my riddle. Agreed?”
Vartain inclined his head graciously. The dragon tapped at his fang-studded jaw as he reflected, and the metallic click of talon against tooth was a discomfiting sound. Finally, Grimnosh cleared his throat—emitting as he did a small puff of gas redolent of overripe eggs—and gave this puzzle:
“Now tell me, why did King Khalzol’s subjects bury him in a copper coffin?”
Silence hung over the clearing for a long moment Danilo nudged the riddlemaster and leaned close to his ear. “Because he was dead?” the Harper suggested, sotto voce.
Vartain shot a scathing glance at the young man. “Leave these matters to me,” he hissed in a fierce whisper, and he turned to face the dragon.
“This is a classic conundrum, in which a one-word answer is given, piece by piece, in several related riddles,” he announced aloud. “It is an elegant conundrum, to be sure, and unfamiliar to me. Nevertheless, here is its solution:
“What is to mull but to think over? Speaking quite literally, what lies over men’s thoughts but their hair? The word ‘a’ means one of something, as in ‘a pomegranate.’ A hold, or fortress, must be stronger than any force brought against it Put together, one obtains the site of King Khalzol’s grave: Mulharahold, a city to the south of the Mountains of Copper. The copper coffin, of course, is the clue that confirms the conundrum’s answer.” Vartain fell silent, his chin lifted in a expectant pose.
The dragon examined his claws with a satisfied air. “I rather thought you’d say that,” he rumbled.
Vartain reached out to claim the scroll, but the dragon batted the man’s hand away with a flick of his tail. “Humans are always in such a rush,” he purred. “The answer to the question ‘Why did his subjects bury King Khalzol in a copper coffin?’ is far simpler that you would make it, and I regret to say that the reason had nothing to do with his grave site. They buried him, dear riddlemaster, because he was dead!”
“He ain’t the only one,” muttered the dwarf.
“But strictly speaking, your puzzle was not a simple riddle,” Vartain protested in an aggrieved tone. “It was a conundrum!”
Morgalla huffed, exasperated. “But it was a conundrum,” she mimicked softly. “That’ll look good on yer headstone, if’n a mason alive can spell it!”
With two claws, the dragon picked up Vartain by the back of his tunic. He examined the dangling riddlemaster thoughtfully, then with the knuckles of his free paw he shined the man’s bald pate as if polishing an apple. The effect was chilling, the intention obvious.
“Wait!” Danilo shouted. He quickly offered Grimnosh the second challenge. “If you fail to answer the riddle I put to you, we go free, with the scroll our only treasure. But if you succeed, I will remain here in your employ for the remainder of my life.”
“Hmmm. It would be nice to have a musician on hand,” Grimnoshtadrano mused. He held Vartain out at arm’s length and considered him. The dangling riddlemaster’s pot belly and bowed, skinny legs lent him all the dignity and appeal of a captured frog. “And on the whole, this one looks rather unpalatable.” The dragon dropped Vartain, who disappeared with a grunt into a thick bank of ferns.
“The riddle is in song form,” Danilo began, picking up his lute.
“Really! How droll.” Grimnosh settled down like a watchful cat, propping his massive head up on one forepaw. “Riddle away, by all means.”
Danilo began to play the opening chords to the musical spell Khelben had given him, hoping that it would take effect before the dragon recognized the ploy. Hoping, indeed, that it would work at all! He had practiced the lute accompaniment, learned the melody, and memorized the arcane words, but he had not dared to combine them until this moment.
When he sang the first note, a wave of power surged through him and seemed to flow out with the melody. Although Danilo could not say exactly where it came from, the magic felt oddly familiar. He had the peculiar feeling that it had always been there in his favorite songs, like a shadow he had glimpsed from the corner of his eye. Exhilaration filled him as he sang and played, and a sense of fulfillment deeper than anything he had every known.
The effect on the dragon was equally profound. His enormous golden eyes grew dreamy and vacant The long green tail continued to twirl, but the elaborate pattern of movement simplified until just the tip swayed from side to side, moving in time to the music and looking like a languid cobra dancing to the horn of a Calashite snake charmer.