"Riddle me this?" for the Short Affair Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #1 - Rust

-Prompt Colour – Crimson

Author: mrua7

Title: Riddle me this?

Word Count: Approx. 1000

Stone walls surrounding the property were buried in thorny climbing roses, some of them dead, leaving bare razor like tendrils clinging to the masonry. A layer of flaking rust covered the gated entrance of the old Hathaway place.

Napoleon pushed against it, finally opening it with some effort as it creaked into submission.

He turned to his partner, wondering if he were thinking the same thing; if they were meeting their contact here, how did he get inside without opening the gate?

The thing looked as though it hadn’t been touched in years, and there was no way anyone in their right might would have tried to scale those walls. That was a first class ticket to being sliced to shreds and ending up with a broken neck for sure.

Nothing looked disturbed at all as they stepped inside; no footprints in the dirt path leading up to the house, nor on the steps that would take them to the front door. Leaves and layers of sand and other bits of detrius covered everything, seemingly undisturbed.

“Are you sure this is the right address Illya?” Napoleon whispered.

Kuryakin pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, showing it to his partner.

“No mistake then,” the American concluded.

They stepped in front of the once crimson door. Solo reached up to a darkened brass door knocker, fashioned in the likeness of a horned gargoyle with its tongue lolling out from its mouth.

“Boom boom boom.”

They waited.

Nothing.

“Try again,” Illya suggested.

“Boom boom boom.”

A sudden whistling wind whirled the leaves around their feet.

Still nothing.

“I say we leave,”Napoleon said; the place was giving him the willies.

The door slowly opened with a painful moan from its hinges.

“Hello?” Napoleon called out as he poked his head inside. Neither man had to say a word as they drew their weapons before proceeding.

“And who arranged this meeting?” Napoleon asked.

“You know very well that I did.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better spot?”

“It was not my choice, it was the contact’s.”

“Who we don’t even know,” Napoleon said.

They suddenly smelled something burning, though it was a pleasant odor, drawing them into a large room off the cobweb filled foyer.

There was a welcoming fire burning in the hearth, and the room  was clean, furnished with high back chairs, a velvet sofa, small tables along with lots of ferns and palm trees. What looked like a rich Persian carpet covered the polished darkwood floors. The walls were lined with shelves containing hundreds of books, and from the looks of them they were well cared for.

“Look,” Napoleon pointed to the mantle.

Atop it was a white envelope addressed to U.N.C.L.E.

Kuryakin raised an eyebrow. This was most peculiar considering the contact insisted they meet him here.

Solo picked it up, tore open the end and pulled out a small note card.

“All shining and silver, with a beautiful face. You look into me, and find this place."

Kuryakin moaned.” I hate riddles.”

“Wait, don’t you just love to solve puzzles?” Solo asked.

“I do but this is so simplistic that a child could figure it out. All shining and silver with a beautiful face...it is a reflection in a mirror.”

“What about the other half of the riddle?”

“Let us find the mirror first.”

There was nothing on the first floor and together they climbed the stairs that moaned under their weight.

One by one they searched the dust and cobwebbed filled rooms; the furnishings and moth eaten drapes falling apart from age.  Finally in the last room they found a large gilt framed mirror that had obviously been cleaned.

They searched the frame and behind it but found nothing.

Finally Napoleon stood in front of it, looking at his reflection.

“What do you see?”

“I need a shave,” he quipped. “Wait a second?”

Napoleon looked over his shoulder in the reflection seeing a painting on the wall behind him. Somehow the height lined up just right with what the figure in the portrait, that of an older woman, was holding in her hand; making it look like it was sitting on his own shoulder.

“What’s that in her hand?” He asked.

Kuryakin walked to the painting. “There is nothing in her hand?” He did a double take, looking between the reflection and the painting.  He walked calmly back to his partner.

”Do not move.”

He leaned towards the mirror, looking closely at the optical illusion reflected from the mysterious painting before he groaned. “It is another bloody riddle.”

“I can’t read it from my angle, what doe sit say tovarisch?”

“A pile of words, Jackets of hordes. Take a quick look In the place of the book.”

“The library?” They both blurted out.

“Dammit we were just there,” Solo swore.

They dashed downstairs to the front room, and stopped; staring at the number of books.

“I’ll take the left side of the room.”

“I will take the right I suppose,” Illya stated, just to be a smart ass.

They picked up each book, thumbing through them, carefully replacing them on the shelves. After a half hour of looking Napoleon yelled.

“Jacket of hordes...a book on the Mongols!’ There he found an envelope.

“Better not be another riddle.” Kuryakin mumbled.

Solo opened it as he had the last one, but the note card was blank.

“Aw come on!”

Illya took it, examining it closely. ”Invisible ink perhaps?”

He used his handkerchief and dipped it in a conveniently placed pitcher of water, dampening the surface of the note card. He took it to the nearest lamp, and after removing the shade he turned it on. Placing the note against the hot bulb, a message appeared.

“How’d you know?” Napoleon asked.

“Since the riddles are so childish, I figured this childlike method of using lemon juice to create a hidden message seemed apropos.”

“No more riddles, no more fun, your job it now is nearly done. What you seek is on the door. Hope it works and is no chore.”

They returned to the faded red door and opening it, they found a small piece of paper rolled up and tucked into the gargoyle’s mouth.

Illya quickly opened it, and found the information they needed.

“At last!” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I think we will leave all this riddle nonsense out when we report to Mr. Waverly.”

“Fine, but next time I’ll make the arrangements with the courier,” Napoleon snickered.

“But I had nothing…”

“Tut,” Solo raised his hand.

“But…”

“Tut tut tut,” Napoleon waggled his finger this time. "I’ll drive.”

Illya followed him to the car, getting into the passenger seat, not saying a word. It was pointless arguing with his partner for now...

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Bravo for their patience, as well as their solving the riddles. It's certainly a fun episode for the reader, though I bet Illya had a few words for the informant next conversation.

Very nice word painting at the opening, too.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wow ultimate compliments! Thank you. I'm happy you liked the story! Maybe I'll eventually expand on this one, but not right now. 2 WIP's at the same time are enough for me. lol!

Will start posting the Weather or Not chapters again, starting Wednesday.

[rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com]

Ooh, this was a very fun piece. I love stories where characters have to solve riddles.

I also loved the touch with the gargoyle door knocker; very Halloween-esque!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! For some reason the last few things I've written are pulling me towards a Halloween-ish frame of mind. One of my favorite holidays.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Wonderful. I loved the childish riddles and can understand why they annoyed IK.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! You sort of inspired this.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

I did?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Yes it was indirectly, actually. It was something you said about liking hidden messages in regards your Impromptu Challenge story...I think it was about Hamlet. Anyway that got me thinking about 'messages' for this, and well, you saw what happened.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

You've drawn the reader into the story. Love the riddles!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Sorry nothing's happening next as this isn't a wip. Too many WIP's going on. This will have to be added to my very long list of stories to expand. Basically if short fic gets a good response from readers, then it goes to the TBC file.

Glad you liked it and thanks!

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

I didn't mention anything about a wip. Perhaps someone else did?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

No but you did say you 'can't wait to see what's happening next' BEFORE you edited your comment so I'd responded to that as ...'see what's happening next' alludes to more to come, and i.e. a wip.

That's why I answered the way I did...

Now since you changed your comment, I'll just say thanks and glad you liked the riddles. :D

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Well, that's weird because I can't edit a comment once it's been commented on, and your comment didn't show up until hours after I made my first comment and corrected it. Wonky LJ! X}

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I receive email notifications of comments and I read them there in my email, so that's what I was responding to. That was posted at 1:42 am. I go through my earlier email notices first.

The notice for your edited comment was at 1:47 but since I'd already responded, I didn't pay attention to the fact that it was edited. I get a lot of notices for edited comments, but nothing has changed other than a comma or a spelling correction. So I didn't see your comment was different.

Has nothing doing with LJ being wonky. I was simply responding to your earlier unedited comment.

The text remains the same in my email notice. It only changes in the post itself after you edit. So I have 2 email notices from you for your first comment and your edited comment.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

OK