The Face in the wall

A few hours later, Tester followed an upward sloping passage that contracted so much that he had to stoop to walk, then crawl, then suddenly he was in a small round chamber, illuminated by a very faint glow from above. Tester stood and looked around. The center of the chamber had a circle of smooth stone set into the floor, two shades lighter than the stone around it. Tendrils of root dangled from the ceiling. The walls were bare dirt and rock. The only exit he could see was the small tunnel through which he had entered.

“Another dead end,” Tester said, trying to remain calm. “They lied.”

On the wall ahead of him, at about chest height, the rocks began to shift and swirl. A nose grew out of the wall, dirt shifted to become eyes and a mouth, rock morphed into scalp where a receding hairline might be. The round face of a middle-aged man formed into existence and beamed at Tester. Tester experienced a moment of panic, wondering if he’d somehow eaten too many of the mushrooms again. Then the wall-face spoke.

“OH! Good! People!” the man exclaimed, straining to look up at Tester without a neck to crane. “I’ve been so lonely! I came up with a lovely story about a boy who loses his way in a forest and has a lovely adventure. Would you like to hear it?”

Tester eyed the ceiling where the green streak of light vanished into the wall behind the face, his claustrophobia mounting. “Actually, I’m a bit lost,” he said. “I’m looking for a way out and I thought, well, someone told me that –”

“Oh yes!” interjected the face. “You’ve come to the right place! This IS an exit!” He made a self-important face. “I’m something of a guard over it. Hmm hmm,” he said gleefully.

“Ah, great!” Tester looked around the room. “So… how do we get out then?” The space was beginning to feel terribly small and cramped as he began to feel how close he was to finally escaping these deep, dark recesses.

“But don’t you want to hear my story first?” the face asked, crestfallen.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a very nice story and all, but I’ve been trapped down here for a long time, you see, and –”

“You want to know how long I’ve been trapped down here?” the face cut in with a forced joviality, heavily emphasizing the “I” to imply that Tester didn’t have a thing in the world to complain about. “No. Of course not. I’m sure it doesn’t matter in the slightest, does it?” he finished sharply, his tone edging toward manic.

“Look, could you please just tell me how to get out of here?” Tester asked, trying not think too hard about how much he wanted to see daylight.

“Fine, you don’t want to talk. Not a problem. No problem at all,” the face said with false cheeriness, then mumbled to himself, “Probably not much of one I’d want to talk to anyway given the look of you.” The man sniffed derisively, reviewing Tester’s general… everything.

“How about a game,” the wall-face continued. “If you want to pass, you’ll have to answer my riddle. You get three guesses. If you don’t get it right, you have to wait three days before you can try again.” He smiled contentedly. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, you know; it’s not going to be easy. Actually, I’ve met some very interesting riddlers in my time, some really interesting stories there if you’d have interest in hearing them. Shall I tell you a few?”

“Three days?” Tester balked. He could practically feel the light somewhere beyond the face, he was itching for it. “Alright, what’s the riddle?”

The man stared at Tester, speechless, looking exceedingly put out. “The riddle? Oh, oh, a riddle. Yes, um, alright. A toughy it is. Let’s see, a riddle. Ah! Got it. You’ll never get this. Are you ready?”

Tester nodded.

“Fine.” The face pouted, resigning himself to the task at hand. “What is brown and sticky?” He raised an eyebrow, daring Tester to answer.

Tester stared at him, mouth agape. “Squirm, do you think he’s joking? He’s talking about poop, right?”

“What?” Squirm said, exasperated. “Oyya, that’s the oldest one in the book. It’s a stick!”

“Oh… Ooooh! right!” Tester nodded. “Brown and sticky.” He chuckled, returning his attention to the wall. “A stick. Can we go through now?”

“Wait, wait!” the face said, appalled. “That’s cheating! You never said there were two of you! If I’d known that I would have said two riddles. I insist upon another.”

“But you said if I guessed correctly, you’d let me through.”

“Ya, but you had help.”

Tester opened his mouth to argue but the face cut him off with the next riddle. “A rooster sits on top of a barn…”

“Roosters don’t lay eggs,” Tester cut in; Stan had loved that one.

“Egh!” The man’s eye twitched. “At least let me finish! That one doesn’t count since I didn’t get to finish. A new one, and this one is a riddle in three parts so you better not cut me off!”

Tester rolled his eyes as the face asked, “What do babies drink?”

“Milk?”

“And what do kittens drink?”

“The blood of pipsies,” Squirm muttered snickeringly into Tester’s ear.

“Milk,” Tester repeated confidently, ignoring the worm.

“What do cows drink?”

“Water,” Tester said, flatly. “Is this for real? What kind of riddle wall are you?” The portly face huffed, glaring at Tester. Tester shrugged at him. “Well, are you going to let us through now?”

“No.”

“But you said if we got it –”

“Ya, but I didn’t expect you to get it so quick, right? It’s not fair,” the man said with a scowl.

“Not fair?” Tester threw his arms up, frustrated. “But you’re the one who said it!”

The face sighed. “Listen, I’ll just tell you one quick story, then I’ll send you on your way. Just listen to one story!”

“You said if I got the riddle –”

“You cheated and you’ve got to wait!” the face burst out, then vanished.

Tester stared dumbly at the wall. “Hey!” he shouted. “Hey! Come back!” He banged on the wall, feeling exceptionally claustrophobic. “Please!” No response. He continued to slam on the smooth rock face until his hands began to ache.

It took Tester a long while to calm himself enough to think. According to the face, he had to spend three more days here before he would have another chance at escaping. He found a small stream, ate some slime, and returned to the room, sitting in the middle of the floor where he could see the face if it reappeared. He chatted with Squirm, trying desperately not to lose hope as he mentally prepared for the wait ahead.

“Alright! Alright!” the face said, popping back into existence shortly after Tester got settled. “Fine! I’m going to do another riddle! If you get it then I’ll let you through. All or nothing! You get one guess.”

Tester rolled his eyes and huffed, “Sure. Do one more.”

“Alright, something a bit harder then, since clearly those were too easy for you.”

“Ya, sure,” Tester said, not trusting the face.

“What does Gilgamorph drink?”

Tester stared at him dumbstruck. He’d never heard of a gilgamorph before.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Tester said as he turned his back to the face in the wall.

“Squirm,” he hissed nervously, “I have no idea what that is…”

“Me either,” Squirm said thoughtfully. “I think either there is some sort of actual riddle to that that we need to solve, or more likely, he’s trying to have us on. This wall seems a bit rocked in the brain if you ask me.”

“You know I can hear you,” the face said stonily.

Tester turned to him, thinking hard. All of his riddles have involved word play, or attention to detail, he reflected. Most, if not all, creatures drink water, but since I got water last time he expects me to assume it’s something else and overthink it. “Water,” Tester said, confidently.

“Nope,” the wall said, in an obnoxiously smug tone. “Too bad. Looks like you’ll just have to stay here a few days and keep me company before you can try again. I can tell when the suns are up, nice and warm on my back. I’ll let you know when three days have passed.”

“Hang on!” Tester said, flustered. “We answered three riddles correctly, and I don’t even know if that last one counts as a riddle. What even is a gilgamorph?”

“I made it up. You would have known all about it if you’d listened to my story. It drinks the sap of trees and makes sounds like a mating kangaroo after each time it speaks. Kind of like this.” He demonstrated the sound.

“That’s cheating!” Tester accused, pointing at the face. “You can’t just make something up and then ask a question about it as a riddle. That’s not a riddle at all!”

“As the one guarding the secret door, I think I’ve got a better grasp of what constitutes a riddle or not. Don’t you?” asked the guard, wriggling his eyebrows provocatively.

Tester briefly considered punching the face right in its stupid, smug nose.

“Fine, fine!” said the face, seeing that Tester was getting truly angry. “You want one more chance?”

“No. I don’t want another ‘chance,’” Tester said. “We answered three riddles. All the stories have three riddles, not four or five. Three. You’re way off the mark now. You have to let us through! I’m sure you’re breaking some rule by not. Isn’t there some sort of code you have to follow?”

The face gave him a blank stare. “I’ve been here a very, very long time, child. I’ve been here so long I don’t even remember how I got here. No one comes through to check I’m doing my ‘job,’ I function under no compulsion except what I feel. And you know what I feel? Lonely. But you’ve got those fancy legs, places to go, things to do, so what does it matter how others feel, right?” the face retorted. “But fine! If it’s really all that important to go right this instant I’ll let you through.”

“Really?” Tester said, scared to hope.

“Yes, really. I give up. You can go through.” The face looked defeated. That made Tester suspicious.

“Alright. How?”

“You see that circle on the floor there?”

“Ya,” Tester said, his suspicion growing.

“Stand on it and I’ll send you through,” he said dully. “But brace yourself, it’s going to flip you. And don’t flail too much or you’ll lose one of those fancy arms or something. You’ll land on a patch of grass against a nice hillock, overlooking a pleasant field. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve never actually seen the other side. I am forced to stay here on the boring, dark, lonely side.”

“Should I say anything?” Tester asked.

“What do you mean, ‘Should I say anything?’” the man asked, irritably. “You mean like, ‘sorry’?”

“No, like, uh, open sesame or… I don’t know, blamo?”

“Blamo?” the face repeated, angry red dirt rising to his cheeks. Tester shrugged.

“No! Just stand in the stupid circle,” the wall-face snapped. “And I suppose, since we’re on the subject, it wouldn’t hurt if you were to say please and thank you.” He rolled his eyes, then muttered to himself, “Ungrateful, unempathetic nobodies these days. Everybody wants theirs.”

“Well then,” Tester said. “If that’s it.”

“That’s it,” the face said shortly. “Now would you hurry it up. Please. I don’t want to waste my whole day dealing with you.”

Tester started moving toward the circle, then hesitated. “Uhm… Thank you.”

The face snorted derisively.

“No, really. I mean it. Thanks,” Tester said, beginning to appreciate how unappreciative he was being.

“Oh, move on,” said the face.

“Seriously, Tester. Let’s get going,” Squirm agreed.

“Right. Sorry,” Tester said, moving toward the circle again.

As he was about to step onto it, he thought of the burro in Milltown. The Proprietor had told him it wasn’t an official Bounty House job but that Farmer Tam would surely appreciate it. And Tester had left without a second thought. He longed to become a hero but couldn’t even be bothered to help where he really could. It wouldn’t have been all that hard. It had been an opportunity to help someone else that wouldn’t have been any trouble to him at all, but he’d ignored it. He’d decided it wasn’t worth his time if it wasn’t a bountied job. He looked down at his egg tattoo.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” asked the face, irritably. “I’ve got a wall to stare at and you’re blocking it.”

Tester knew the pain of loneliness. In the time since Gran and Stan had died he’d barely talked to a soul, but he’d at least had his books. “You know, we really don’t have anywhere all that pressing to be,” he said, uncomfortably.

“Oooy, Speak for yourself!” Squirm exclaimed. “I’m trying to get to the Edge of the World!”

Tester chose to ignore the worm.  “And I do enjoy a good story. I used to have a lot, but they all burned up recently.” Saying it out loud hurt more than he expected it to. He missed his books.

The man’s eyes lit with hope. “Do you really mean it?” he asked, enthusiasm burbling into his voice.

“Here we go,” muttered Squirm.

“I do,” Tester said firmly.

“Fine indeed!” the face enthused. “Where should I begin?”

“I believe you were saying something about a boy lost in a forest,” Tester said, making himself comfortable on the ground.

“Right! The boy!” the face said brightly, and launched into his story.

Tester listened for a long and confusing time to a story about a boy on a quest to find the Gilgamorph, who ran into a variety of girls dressed up like the Gilgamorph until the boy was thoroughly convinced that the Gilgamorph was merely a legend, after which the whole group (the girls had joined him) promptly met the Gilgamorph and had tea with it – tea made from the sap of trees. The tea threw the whole group into another world where they met caterpillars, rabbits, and a couple of bandersnatches (one of whom happened to be the Gilgamorph’s cousin). They skipped for a short time toward a tower on a road of silver, got lost in a haystack with gold, or a stack of gold with nearby hay, and found a single penny… or a pin, or a pan, or a pencil. (Tester zoned out for a bit but didn’t want to break the enthusiastic rhythm of the story to ask which.) All the while Squirm whispered sarcastic commentary on what the worm referred to as the wall’s “mindless drivel” into Tester’s ear, claiming Tester had enlisted them for cruel and unnatural torture.

When the story was finally finished, the face in the wall gasped for several seconds, then continued brightly, “Well, I shouldn’t take your whole day. Stay here too long and I’ll talk your ear right off.” He chuckled warmly. “Time for you to be going then. Stand in the circle. Here it comes.”

Tester stood up and prepared himself. “Thank you,” he said.

“Thank you!” the wall-face answered, smiling at Tester. “I do hope you come on through again for a chat or another story.” They shared a friendly, quiet moment.

“Right then. Enjoy the tranquil field I’ve heard so much about. Off you go!”

Tester was launched at the wall. It vanished right as he braced to splat into it, tossing him into blinding light and the sounds of clashing weapons.