Chapter 16. The Trial Of Wisdom
Meeting a sphinx was rarely good news.
Sure, they were magnificent creatures, guardians of ancient knowledge and sacred places - but they also had this rather unfortunate habit of eating people who couldn't answer their riddles. Which, historically speaking, was most people.
The whole setup was rather unfair, really. Here you had beings who'd spent centuries, or even millennia contemplating the mysteries of existence, asking impossible questions to folks who were just trying to get through their day without being eaten by a giant cat-bird-person hybrid.
Not that anyone would point this out to a sphinx. That would be the kind of mistake you'd only make once.
And of course, because the universe had a sense of humor that bordered on sadistic, sphinxes were almost always found in exactly the places you couldn't avoid - guarding ancient treasures, protecting forbidden knowledge, or, in this particular case, serving as the arbiter of a Test of Wisdom in a magical labyrinth designed by someone who clearly enjoyed watching people suffer.
At least they were better than dragons. Dragons just ate you without the courtesy of a philosophical discussion first.
Or so Adom heard.
The sphinx lounged across the chamber's entrance, its massive form both graceful and terrifying. Golden fur rippled over muscles that could tear a man in half without effort. Its wings, folded now, stretched halfway up the cavern walls - each feather edged in metallic bronze. A golden monocle glinted over its right eye, somehow making its leonine features even more unsettling.
Its tail - thick as a young tree - swished lazily against the stone floor as it studied them, head tilted at an angle that somehow managed to look both regal and predatory. A deep purr rumbled through the chamber, like distant thunder trapped underground.
"Hello, friends," it said pleasantly, voice rich and cultured despite coming from a mouth filled with teeth longer than daggers.
"We're not your friends," Bob growled, still planted firmly between Adom and the sphinx. Several gears dropped from his beard, their multiplication making a small cascade of metallic sounds. "And don't try any of that riddle nonsense with us, you overgrown house cat."
Adom barely registered Bob's protective hostility.
He was too busy staring at the monocle. Of all the bizarre things he'd seen in this labyrinth - and there had been many - somehow a sphinx wearing a monocle felt like it should have been mentioned in at least one of the ancient texts.
The sphinx adjusted said monocle with one massive paw, the gesture so prim and proper it bordered on absurd. "Such hostility. And here I was, preparing my best riddles."
"Right then. We'll just be on our way," Bob said, backing up slowly and pulling Adom with him. "No need to bother a... distinguished creature such as yourself."
The sphinx clicked its tongue - an oddly human gesture from a decidedly inhuman mouth. Its chuckle echoed off the chamber walls. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."
"And why's that?" Bob's gears clinked a nervous rhythm.
"I am the guardian of this place." The sphinx said, examining them like particularly interesting insects. "Have been for..." It paused, considering. "Well, long enough that things get rather dull. So you'll have to play with me if you want to pass." Its tail swished against the stone floor. "Obviously."
"What kind of 'game' exactly?" Adom asked, eyeing the monocle that caught the light with each tilt of the sphinx's massive head.
"Oh, not just one." The sphinx said. "I've been terribly bored, you see. Three or four wouldn't be too much to ask for, would it?" It purred, a smile spreading across its feline features. "Or five... even six, why not?" It looked positively delighted at the prospect, tail curling in obvious pleasure.
Adom frowned. This casual "maybe this many, maybe more" approach felt wrong.
"What is it then?" Bob's gears clinked impatiently.
"My, aren't we hasty?" The sphinx stretched, claws scraping against stone. "I've had quite a lot of time to think about this. First would be a riddle-"
"Bloody hell, I knew it!" Bob spat, gears flying. "You're all the same, aren't you? Always with the sodding riddles-"
The sphinx pressed a paw to its chest in mock offense. "How terribly stereotypical of you. Next you'll accuse me of eating failed contestants."
"You don't?" Adom asked.
"Oh no, I absolutely do," the sphinx said, adjusting its monocle. "But one shouldn't judge a book by its number of teeth." It threw its head back and laughed at its own joke, the sound bouncing off the walls.
"What's the second?" Adom cut in.
The sphinx's gaze swept over him, slow and considering, like a butcher appraising meat. Adom fought the urge to step back. "For you two... a puzzle."
"What kind of puzzle?" Bob demanded.
"Hmm. Perhaps we should focus on passing the first challenge before discussing the others, no?"
Adom and Bob exchanged glances. The Leprechaun cleared his throat, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.
"Now then," the sphinx said, looking at them both. "Which of you was it that passed the test of courage?"
Before either could blink, the sphinx was there - right there - its massive head inches from Adom's face. The speed of the movement was impossible for something so large. The displacement of air knocked loose crystals from the walls.
"Bloody hell!" Bob cursed, stumbling backward.
Adom took one step back but held his ground, though his heart hammered against his ribs. The sphinx's breath was hot against his face, smelling of ancient stone and something metallic.
"Fascinating," it purred, studying him with eyes like molten gold. "I didn't expect a boy to be the one. They usually break so easily." Its tail swished with interest. "Tell me, little human - how do you feel? Any... changes you've noticed?"