A Beautiful Evil

Chapter Six

Researching isn't what I'd call fun, exactly.

As a matter of fact, it mostly consists of reading the riddle over and over again, hoping that one change of inflection will suddenly make the meaning clear.

"'In competition claimed by the bright-eyed and Unwearying'," Oscar starts again, pacing the well-worn carpet next to our table. "'In vehement rivalry with he who shakes the earth'. What is that, an earthquake?"

I shrug from my slumped-over position on the desk.

"'Three given by her tribute, none by his'. That helps, we get gender at least." He's wringing his hands now, something he only does when he's really concentrating. "'And so for six and many more years, it lay in her possession, the master of two and two."

"That one doesn't make any sense," I interject. "Why say six and many more, instead of just six?"

Oscar grimaces, nodding, before he continues, "'This city reborn holds answers of the gray one'. Well, we know that one. Kind of. I guess it means that you have to go somewhere to learn more about Graham."

"But what does reborn mean?"

Oscar shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine." We both soak in the silence, trying to think of any possibilities. After a minute, Oscar interrupts again. "Come on, come on, we gotta brainstorm out loud. That's what usually leads to figuring stuff out. Let's start with the first line."

I suppress a groan. "Someone won something in a competition. Maybe they won the city?"

Oscar sits in the chair next to me. "And that someone was the bright-eyed and Unwearying. Two people, or one person?"

"I very much hope that bright-eyed doesn't mean sick. I have a weak immune system," I say, and Oscar snorts, a small crack in the serious facade.

I see the moment where his brain goes back into thinking mode, and he stares at me, his eyes slightly unfocused. My face starts to heat up at being the subject of such an intense look.

"'In vehement rivalry with he who shakes the earth'," he says, frowning. "Could that have something to do with the earthquake today?"

I sit up taller in my chair. "That's what I was thinking! See, I'm not entirely useless."

Oscar smiles at me. "Nova, you're not useless at all."

I hastily continue with the riddle before his words can fluster me. "'Three given by her tribute, none by his.' You said before, that helps with gender."

"And number!" Oscar says excitedly. "The bright-eyed and Unwearying must be one person, and feminine. And he who shakes the earth matches up."

"So they both made tributes." I furrow my brow. "And if the bright-eyed and Unwearying is the 'her', then her tribute was better because it gave more stuff? And that's why she won?"

"Right, right. Because then it goes on to say that she had it for six and many more years, it being the city? Possibly?" He pauses. "And there's another riddle as to her identity: the master of two and two."

"And then we get back to the last line, which we already decoded."

Oscar nods. "Okay, let's start again."

I lay back over the chair, my hand dramatically flung over my forehead. "No," I groan. "Break, please."

"Fine. I shall have mercy upon your poor, overwrought soul."

"Yes," I hiss as I bolt upright, before correcting myself. "I mean...oh, thank you, good sir." I slump pitifully over the table.

I hear Oscar laugh. "You're hopeless."