Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(9)

“Stop!” Sean snapped.

She ignored him. “Ask your riddle.”

Magic swirled around the sphinx. Two massive golden wings thrust from its back, unfolding, each synthetic feather sharp like a glossy metal blade. A shadow fell upon the arena as they blocked the sunlight.

“The pact has been made,” the sphinx announced.

Thin tendrils of gold light wound about the werewolf woman, binding her in place.

“Say my name, and I will disappear. What am I?”

The werewolf woman opened her mouth. Uncertainty flared in her eyes.

“Not another word,” I said. “If you answer wrong, he will devour your mind.”

The sphinx’s feline lips stretched, revealing a row of four-foot fangs, white and sharp like swords.

The werewolf woman paled.

“This is why they’re banned from Baha-char,” I told her. “They trap beings with their riddles and when they don’t get the right answer, they absorb their minds. Your body will live on, but you will not. Don’t say anything. Don’t even cough. He can’t touch you until you make a sound.”

She clamped her lips shut.

I had to save her. I had to do something.

Sean had a familiar contemplative look on his face. There were many species Sean could kill with a knife, but a battle with the sphinx would be incredibly difficult. No, we needed to beat him on his own terms. We needed…

Wait.

“I’ll be right back. Sean, don’t do anything until I come back.”

I took off at a run. Behind me the low rumble of sphinx’s chuckle rolled through the Old Arena.

I dashed through the streets, veering left and right. Here’s hoping he hadn’t left yet.

The side street spat me out onto one of the main thruways. I crossed it and climbed the stone stairs on the side of a building leading up to a terrace above. The Tooth of Shver, a massive ivory fang twelve stories tall and carved into a terraced palace, rose to my left, and the sapphire glass tower was straight across. Okay, I knew where I was.

I jogged along the terraces, crisscrossing the streets on narrow bridges, turned right, jogged for another four blocks, turned right again, and finally emerged onto a wide street.

A towering tree rose in front of me to a hundred and fifty feet, its bark hard and smooth, more stone than wood and swirling with deep red, gold, black, and creamy white as if it were made of brecciated jasper. Its thicker limbs were a full twenty feet in diameter, its thinner branches were about five feet across, and most of them were hollowed, punctured with windows and ornate doors. Balconies curved around the entrances, cushioned in the tree’s foliage.

I headed to the entrance, a ten-foot-tall door in the thick trunk, and knocked.

Twin cameras swiveled toward me from above, looking like two dandelions on thin stalks. A high-pitched voice emanated from a hidden speaker.

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to see the First Scholar.”

“The supplicant hours are not now. Come back tomorrow.”

“I must see him. It’s an emergency.”

“The First Scholar is busy. He has no time for you now. Come back tomorrow.”

Oy. “The First Scholar knows me.”

The voice let out an exasperated chirp. “Human! The First Scholar is very important. Very busy. You are a not-important stupid human. Go away!”

If making a good impression wasn’t crucial, I’d have been hopping up and down from sheer frustration. “Tell him Dina of Earth is here to see him.”

“Dina?” A voice asked from above.

I backed away from the door. Far above me, the First Scholar emerged onto the balcony of one of the higher branches. He was about three feet tall, plump, and old, with feathers that had gone completely white except for the touch of scarlet on his bushy tail and the tips of his wings. Two dinosaurian arms thrust out from under his wings and gripped the balcony rail with clawed hands. His beak was yellow, and his eyes were round and bright like two brilliant zircon jewels.

The official name of the species was koo-ko. Sean called them space chickens and refused to keep to the proper name. They had held a philosophical debate at Gertrude Hunt during last Treaty Stay, an innkeeper holiday, and since nobody died, it was considered a resounding success.

The First Scholar spread his wings. “Dina!”

“First Scholar!”

“We meet again!”

A smaller, younger male koo-ko with turquoise tips on his wings emerged from the doorway behind the First Scholar and plopped an elaborate headdress of golden wire and jewels onto his head.

“Your tree has many branches,” I told them. Flattery never hurt.

The First Scholar preened. “Yes, it is splendid, isn’t it? It can house all our students, faculty, and staff. What brings you here?”

“I need your wisdom, Great Scholar.”

The First Scholar’s eyes sparkled. “What may I do for you?”

“Someone I know has been trapped by a sphinx.”

The First Scholar’s feathers stood on end. “Here? At Baha-char? They are banned from the Great Bazaar!”

“It’s a juvenile male. The riddle has been asked, and by the time the authorities catch on, it might be too late. Please help me, First Scholar. I will be in your debt.”

The First Scholar drew himself to his full height. His headdress listed to the left, threatening to fall off his head. “Not another word. I will take care of this.”