The Valley of the Lost

Gently, they opened the bedroom door once more. The Guardian had not moved, but now the monsters were sprawled all over him. Hearing intruders, all of them raised their heads and snarled threateningly.

“This is impossible!” breathed Barda. “They will not let us near him. How can we find out about them from here?”

“Perhaps we can call them by name,” Jasmine suggested. “Each in turn.”

“Well, do not call Greed first, that is all I ask,” murmured Lief.

“Why?” Jasmine asked.

Lief grew very still. He had spoken without thinking. He had blurted out the half-joking request because of something he had not realized he knew.

“Because,” he said, his heart starting to pound, “because, when we first came to the palace the Guardian told us that the envious monster and the proud one are both afraid of Greed. So Greed cannot be the envious one, or the proud one, itself. And we also know that Greed is not greedy, for none of the monsters has the fault after which it has been named. So — that means Greed must be the most dangerous one of all, the one full of hatred.”

He could tell that his friends were thinking of other things the Guardian had said. Things that at the time they had not guessed were important. But which, now, suddenly seemed very important indeed.

Without a word, they backed out of the door for a second time, and closed it behind them.

“He gave us the clues, and we did not realize!” hissed Jasmine. “What else did he say?”

“He said that Envy once nearly killed the greedy one, fighting over scraps from the table,” said Barda firmly.

“If Envy tried to kill the greedy one, then it is not greedy itself,” said Lief. “And it is not envious, we know that …”

“And it is not full of hatred!” exclaimed Jasmine. “For we have already decided that Greed is that. So Envy … must be the one who is proud!”

They were walking away from the door, through to another room. By now they were sure that they had no need to face the monsters. They already knew enough to work the puzzle out for themselves.

“What else did the Guardian tell us?” hissed Lief, racking his brains. “He said …”

“He said that Hate is not envious!” said Jasmine triumphantly. “He said it when we first saw the beasts.”

“Yes!” Lief remembered. “And Hate is not full of hatred. And it is not proud, for Envy is the proud one. So — Hate must be greedy!”

“And that leaves only one fault for Pride,” said Barda slowly. “Pride is envious.”

Without a word, Lief wrote E on the first dash on his paper.

And now there was only one letter left to find, for the rhyme had said that the second and last letters of the name were the same. Barda repeated the clue:

My second and my last begin

The sum of errors in the twin …

“I have not the smallest idea what this could mean,” Jasmine confessed. “I feel I am stupid, but —”

“If you are stupid, then so am I,” growled Barda. “It has been a mystery to me from the start.”

And Lief could not think what the strange lines could possibly mean, either. All he knew was that somewhere in this glass-walled maze was the last clue, and they had to find it.

Filled with desperate energy, they hurried from room to gleaming room, searching everywhere for some sign that would help them solve the riddle. But they found nothing. Nothing but magnificent emptiness.

Finally they turned a corner and Jasmine groaned. “But we have been here before!” she exclaimed. “We have already searched this room.”

Lief and Barda looked around them and realized that Jasmine was right.

“There is nowhere left to look!” Barda’s face was lined with weariness, heavy with despair.

Outside the windows, heavy mist rolled in darkness, shadowy figures drifted, fingers trailed across glass, haunted eyes stared. How much time had passed? Lief found he did not know. He clutched at the Belt under his shirt as he felt panic rising within him once more.

“The clue is here somewhere. We know it,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady, the amethyst cool under his fingers. “We will simply begin the search again.”

They moved on, and on, rechecking every space, till they reached the curtained study where they had begun.

“We searched this room from top to bottom,” Barda muttered. “Surely there is no point …”

But they had to enter the study. None of them could resist the urge to look at the candle, to know how much time they had left.

Lief had braced himself for what he might see, but even he could not keep back a gasp of horror as he saw how low the flame now burned. The candle was just a stub, almost smothered by a thick mass of hardened drips. It could not last much longer.

“We cannot go on with this,” Jasmine said urgently. “We must smash the glass door, take the diamond, and run, Lief, whatever you say. We must do it now!”

“She is right, Lief, I fear,” said Barda, his eyes on the flame.

Lief shook his head despairingly. He knew, knew, that this would be a terrible mistake. Yet what choice had they? There was plainly no time to waste. No time to search the palace again. No time to think …

Jasmine had begun darting around the room, looking for something heavy that she could use to shatter the glass. Finding nothing better, she swept the books off the low table and began dragging it determinedly towards the door.

“No!” shouted Lief. “You must not!”

Jasmine swung around furiously. “I must! Do you not understand, Lief? What is the matter with you? It is too late now to worry about a warning in some old book! We cannot win the diamond. The Guardian’s rhyme, with its riddling talk of twins that do not exist, has defeated us. This is the only way!”

She turned again and went on heaving at the table. After a brief hesitation, Barda went to join her. Pushing her aside, he lifted the table clear of the rug and carried it to the glass door.

Lief sprang at him, pulling urgently at his arm. But he had no chance against Barda’s strength. The big man shook him off ruthlessly, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Stand back,” Barda said grimly. “The glass will shatter. Cover your eyes.”

Lief crawled to his knees, his head spinning. Barda was already swinging the table back, steadying himself, preparing to strike. Lief ducked his head. The rug, with its flowers, fruit, and birds, was soft under his hands. The two hermits stared solemnly up at him. Two pairs of eyes. Two beards. Two long, plain robes, tied at the waist …

Lief stared. The blood rushed to his face. “Twins!” he shouted, staggering to his feet. “Barda, stop! The twins! I have found them!”

He pointed desperately at the rug as Barda slowly lowered the table and Jasmine stamped with frustration and anger.

“They were here all the time!” Lief babbled. “We hardly noticed them because they were under the table, and under our feet. But now you can see clearly. The hermits seem exactly alike. They look like twins! But they are not exactly alike at all!”

By this time, Jasmine and Barda were by his side, staring at the rug. Lief snatched out the paper he had stuffed in his pocket.

“The sum of errors in the twin,” he read. “That must mean the number of differences between one hermit and the other.”

“Are there differences?” demanded Jasmine, glancing worriedly over her shoulder at the weak candle flame. “Where?”

“Look at the cord around the waist,” Lief urged. “In one picture it is knotted on the left side, in the other it is knotted on the right.”

“And the bird!” Barda exclaimed. “In one picture it has a crest, in the other it does not.”

“There are more bees coming from the hive in one than in the other,” Jasmine added, drawn into the search in spite of herself. “And look — one tree has berries, the other has flowers.”

“The toadstools on one side are spotted, the others are plain,” Barda pointed out.

“That makes five differences,” said Lief. “And there is another. One tree has a branch of leaves on the top left-hand corner, the other does not. Six differences.”

“The hermit is holding three stems in one picture, and only two in the other! Seven!” whispered Jasmine.

They looked carefully, but could see nothing more.

“The number is seven,” muttered Barda, his voice harsh with relief. “The letter we are looking for is S.”

“No!” Jasmine was pointing again at the rug. “Wait, I see something else! The sack beside him. One sack has a tie. The other does not.”

“You are right!” Lief exclaimed. “Eight! So the letter we are looking for, the second letter of the Guardian’s name, and the last, is not S, but E.”

“We have already had an E,” hissed Jasmine.

“Ah, he is cunning,” growled Barda. “He thought we would be tricked by that. And we nearly were!”

Lief scribbled on his diagram, then showed them.

“Eedoe. His name is Eedoe.” Jasmine collapsed on the couch behind her. “Oh, we have done it!”

In the relieved silence that followed, Lief suddenly became aware that the soft music that had filled the air the night before had begun again. No doubt that meant that the Guardian had woken.

He glanced at the candle. The wick was flickering uncertainly, swimming in a pool of melted wax. The flame was about to go out. But that did not matter now.

The hermits on the rug looked up at him with sad eyes. No reason for sadness now, my friends, he thought. We have nearly …

And then he saw it.

One hermit’s arm, the arm on which the bird sat, was held above the tie of his robe. The other was not.

Lief stared stupidly at the paper in his hand. His chest grew tight. He was finding it hard to breathe.

“Lief, what is the matter?” hissed Jasmine. But Lief could not answer. He walked stiffly to the glass door.

“Say it!” Barda urged. “Say, ‘Eedoe’!”

Lief wet his lips. “The name is not Eedoe,” he said huskily. “There are nine differences, not eight. The missing letter was N. The name — the Guardian’s secret name — is — Endon.”