Page 21 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

He’s good, I realize.

I’m not familiar with this one, and it’s rare that I need to contemplate such things, but the answer comes to me ere long. “Darkness.”

“I had the dark in mind, but I’ll accept your answer as correct,” the gruagach returns. “This is fun. I can’t wait to hear your next one.”

“Do I get to play?” Thea asks.

The gruagach responds before I do. “Certainly! Take a turn. We’ll both guess.”

“How far can you walk into the woods?”

I quirk a brow at her. That’s an unfair type of puzzle; it doesn’t have a set answer and is dependent on the size of forest. It seems the gruagach agrees with me as we make eye contact, and then he says, rather gently, “That’s not a proper riddle, is it? We need more information to provide a definitive answer.”

Then I nod, showing that I agree with the giant fae’s assessment.

“Wrong!” Thea says with a smile that makes me want to smile back. “The answer is, of course, halfway. Regardless how big the grove is, once you pass the halfway point, you’re not walking in anymore. You’re walking out.”

I stare at her, silently stunned. It feels like she’s just won the game, not with complex wit but with unassailable logic, and I don’t know why I’m surprised. Over the years, I’ve witnessed her brilliance. She navigates the court with the precise amount of respect required to keep her out of the dungeons, and she’s well aware how useful the Lord and Lady of Winter find her skills in keeping tensions manageable. Over the years, she has tested the bounds of their patience and tolerance, knowing where the lines are drawn.

I respect her so much for that.

The gruagach laughs, a deep and booming chuckle. “That’s rich! Never thought of that, but you’re entirely right.”

“One more round each?” I suggest.

“Grand,” the gruagach agrees. “I’ll have another turn. Too much of me can weary the heart, especially among those who fear my art. I’m precious to some, terrible to few, and occasionally wished for like a dream coming true. I’m fragile as glass and easy to fill. At riddle’s end, I’m lingering still. What am I?”

“Is it silence?” Thea asks, just before I say, “Silence?”

“You’re right! Both of you.” Rather than being upset, the gruagach seems so pleased that he bounces, creating more vibrations nearby.

Trees lining the path sway in response to his enthusiasm. With an inner jolt, I realize I’m nervous about my next offering. I’m well aware that Thea doesn’t like me, but I want her to regard my intellect highly. That makes very little sense and matters hardly at all in the larger scheme. Yet I cannot shake the inclination.

“I am a silent witness, keeper of years, and I am inevitable, despite all your fears. Inescapable, I cling to the world, dancing in sunbeams and lighting on banners unfurled. I gather everywhere as memories decay, yet with a touch, I vanish, as my presence dismays. What am I?” I cannot resist glancing at Thea to see what she makes of this one.

“I can think of a couple of things that make sense,” she says in a pensive tone.

“Is it a cobweb?” the gruagach asks.

“That’s a good guess. Not the answer I had in mind.”

“Then maybe…dust?” Thea tries.

Of course she got it.

I incline my head. “That’s it. Well done.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented me. Need to make a note or something. Let’s see. I’m doing a silly one, so don’t expect anything deep. What words are a one-letter difference between a delicious dish and abject begging?”

“I hate these types of riddles,” the gruagach says with a gusty sigh.

They’re not my favorites either. So many words, and it will take forever to run through all the possibilities. It feels like she’s cheating, but I can’t say that I mind. “I yield. Tell me the answer?”

“Peas and pleas,” she says promptly. “The L makes all the difference.”

“I don’t know if I’d call peas delicious,” the gruagach complains.

“You haven’t tried Da’s pea porridge! It’s so good. He’s promised me some for when we’re done with this adventure.”