Page 100 of Prince of the Sun

“Just listen,” Daerios whispers.

The four of us stand in an uneven line, looking up at the wall. Daerios leaves his hands on my shoulders. The voice disappeared, but the Gate’s particles have begun to shift. Some change color, forming long, dark lines that loop and curve along the wall.

“What did the Gate say?” Cara whispers.

“Hear my tale,” I whisper back. “It’s Lukkarin.”

“It’s going to be a riddle.” Berendir rubs his hands together. “Fabulous. I love riddles.”

“VEDUI-NA NIN PENNAS,”the Trial Gate says again. As it does, the swirling dark lines coalesce, and I realize that they aren’t lines at all; they’re letters. “NIN EMEL NA-VOR.”

As the Gate recites the riddle, the letter begin to form words, as if an invisible quill were scrawling them onto its surface.

NIN EMEL NA-VOR.

NIN FAE COL-NAUR.

DÚATH NIN LAMAN-A

LUITHIA-LI FAUL.

NIN GREST-MINUI

NA MÍTHA EGOR-RHACH.

When the Gate finishes speaking, we translate it for Cara.

My heart is black.

My soul on fire.

The night cannot tame me, nor

quench my thirst.

My only salvation

is a kiss or a curse.

“The hell?” Berendir scrunches his nose. “The night cannot tame me, nor quench my thirst? That makes no sense.”

Daerios snorts. “This from the guy who loves riddles.”

“How does this work?” Cara asks. “Do we just shout the answer at the wall, or what?”

“Probably,” Berendir says. “If thereisan answer. This is the worst riddle I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, let’s think it through.” I watch as my best friend transforms into Computer Science Cara, who likes to lay out a puzzle and work through it piece by piece. “Riddles are never what they seem. We can’t take the lines literally.”

“Right.” Berendir nods. “So we go abstract.”

“Exactly.” Cara taps her chin. “Maybe it’s like Sleeping Beauty. Her salvation was a kiss. Trysleep.”

“Dûl!” I yell at the Gate.

“Dûlorra,” Berendir tries, which meansdream.

Neither works. The Gate remains stubbornly closed.