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“Riddles With a Raven” by Casimir Laski
In the upheaval of early-Renaissance-era Europe, Reynard the Fox finds himself questioning his purpose as a trickster, and engages in a riddle competition with a fellow spirit in order to prove himself worthy of her advice.
Today’s story is “Riddles With a Raven” by Casimir Laski, whose debut novel, Winter Without End, a post-apocalyptic survival story told from the perspective of a dog, is now available from Fenris Publishing. He also operates the YouTube channel Cardinal West, primarily devoted to discussion of literary xenofiction and western animation.
Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.
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https://thevoice.dog/episode/riddles-with-a-raven-by-casimir-laski
Transcript
You’re listening to The Voice of
Speaker:Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,
Speaker:and Today’s story is “Riddles With a Raven”
Speaker:by Casimir Laski,
Speaker:whose debut novel, Winter Without End,
Speaker:a post-apocalyptic survival story told from the perspective of a dog,
Speaker:is now available from Fenris Publishing.
Speaker:He also operates the YouTube channel Cardinal West,
Speaker:primarily devoted to discussion of literary xenofiction
Speaker:and western animation.
Speaker:Please enjoy “Riddles With a Raven”
Speaker:by Casimir Laski
Speaker:Reynard the Fox was in a bit of a bind.
Speaker:Of this he was quite certain; the only trouble
Speaker:was determining the particulars. He
Speaker:sat on a gnarled stump,
Speaker:watching the languid summer evening melt into dusk over the Breton shoreline,
Speaker:listening to the vulgar speech of the jackdaws in the pines above.
Speaker:The fire in their blood would soon subside with the passing of their mating season,
Speaker:and the thought of cycles beyond the reach of man’s iron grip brought with it a tinge of peculiar solace.
Speaker:He flicked his black furred ears,
Speaker:testing the cool air to
Speaker:check once more for any sign of unwanted passersby.
Speaker:The tangled growth around him hummed with the easy contentment of nature undisturbed.
Speaker:Reynard was glad to know
Speaker:that for all he had changed, the wilds still welcomed him as one of their own.
Speaker:And yet, he had changed.
Speaker:“Vanity, vanity,” he mused aloud,
Speaker:“and the earth remains forever.”
Speaker:When the setting sun narrowed his pupils to slits,
Speaker:Reynard shifted the brim of his hat
Speaker:to catch its fire.
Speaker:Fingering the worn, faded medallion of Saint Christopher
Speaker:—canine-headed patron of travelers, storms, and bachelors
Speaker:—that hung around his neck,
Speaker:he forced his scattered thoughts through the foggy lens
Speaker:of his current predicament. He
Speaker:was a fox in a man’s world, and for
Speaker:as long as he had known the fact, Reynard had loved it.
Speaker:With a tongue sharper than tempered steel and a wit quicker than a jackrabbit on fire,
Speaker:he tugged at strings from the shadows with gleeful guile.
Speaker:For years beyond count he had left his mark across Europe under more names that he cared to recall,
Speaker:from the shores of the sparkling Aegean to the storied halls of Aachen Palace,
Speaker:and from the battlefields of the borders of Christendom to the heart of Rome itself.
Speaker:He had bested beast and man,
Speaker:had made mock of kings and beggars of bankers.
Speaker:Townsfolk delighted in his debauchery as they damned his misdeeds,
Speaker:and warned their children against his example while lauding his cunning;
Speaker:peasants clothed him in the extravagant attire of bishops,
Speaker:and bishops cloaked him in the bedraggled rags of their unruly flocks. For
Speaker:more than a millennium he had
Speaker:played the antagonist, and gladly.
Speaker:After all, virtue was the consort of wisdom,
Speaker:and whoever gained in the latter profited in sorrow:
Speaker:naturally, anyone with an ounce of wisdom would know to avoid gaining it.
Speaker:Besides, for someone so fleet of foot,
Speaker:it was always better to let the Devil take the hindmost, anyway. And
Speaker:yet, of late, a grander sort of change had come over the land the fox had long called home,
Speaker:borne aloft in the smoke of embers long smoldering across the continent,
Speaker:only recently loosed to open flame.
Speaker:On the rare occasions when Reynard still dared to don a human guise,
Speaker:he could even catch jagged shards of it in half-heard whispers
Speaker:from dim-lit pub corners.
Speaker:The seeds sown by Hus and Wycliffe
Speaker:had finally borne bloody fruit in Wittenberg,
Speaker:and now all across Europe,
Speaker:house moved against house and nation against nation;
Speaker:peasant toppled prince
Speaker:as baron slew burgher,
Speaker:and men of God squabbled in the mud
Speaker:for the right to damn the other properly,
Speaker:so that all might be saved as the good Lord Jesus Christ intended. The
Speaker:old order had been shaken to its core, which should have delighted Reynard,
Speaker:for after all, he had lived his entire life in defiance of authority, decency, and all other forms of tyranny
Speaker:—other than his own, naturally.
Speaker:All he asked was that the crooks of the world be as honest as he wasn’t.
Speaker:If there was one thing others could count on him for,
Speaker:it was that they could never count on him
Speaker:—but now, even that ignoble status was no longer his exclusive domain. To
Speaker:put it more succinctly,
Speaker:in a world where dissent itself had become commonplace,
Speaker:where the fires of doubt and disorder now found ready tinder in even the lowliest of hearts,
Speaker:what higher purpose did a trickster hold?
Speaker:And beyond that lay a deeper problem,
Speaker:a lurking poison that this sudden upheaval had forced him to confront:
Speaker:the world was slowly closing
Speaker:to him and his kin.
Speaker:The steady march of progress, with legions of friars and scholars at its van and
Speaker:an ever-growing populace filling in the ranks,
Speaker:had left ever-dwindling room for myth
Speaker:and magic. Where he reveled in the mysteries of the unknown, mankind had never failed to balk at its challenge
Speaker:—and as of late they had grown rather effective in dredging creation for its secrets.
Speaker:Change, the one constant he had always counted upon,
Speaker:was finally turning her terrible power against him. At
Speaker:that, the fox allowed himself a rueful smirk.
Speaker:He always did appreciate a good trick. When
Speaker:he raised his eyes to catch the final glimmer of daylight dancing on the distant wave crests,
Speaker:he found that one of the randy jackdaws had settled down on a nearby branch.
Speaker:The bird—too large for a jackdaw, he now realized
Speaker:—watched him with unblinking eyes. “Hello,
Speaker:little raven,”
Speaker:Reynard crooned, clasping a hand to his heart.
Speaker:“Come to whisper secret news from far-off lands?”
Speaker:The bird merely blinked.
Speaker:“Or perhaps just to listen to a fool ramble in the woods like a bloody anchorite,”
Speaker:the fox grumbled. The
Speaker:raven took a short, tentative hop along the spindly tree limb,
Speaker:then a second bolder one when Reynard remained still.
Speaker:Its beady eyes flitted over his form, from the crown of russet fur supporting his wide-brimmed hat
Speaker:to the white-tipped brush
Speaker:hanging limply behind his worn tunic.
Speaker:“Tek,” the raven croaked softly. Reynard
Speaker:slouched forward,
Speaker:resting his muzzle on his clasped forepaws. “Tek,”
Speaker:said the raven, more insistently. “Pleasure
Speaker:to meet you, Tek,” Reynard murmured.
Speaker:“Now be off with you—can’t you see I’m trying to suffer in peace?”
Speaker:He waved a dismissive hand. The
Speaker:raven studied his face,
Speaker:then lunged for his throat.
Speaker:By reflex the fox swiped a claw at the flurry of wings, catching only a pair of feathers black as midnight,
Speaker:but the scheming bird had already retreated to the other side of the clearing,
Speaker:clutching a silver treasure in its beak. Reynard’s hand raced to his throat to find his medallion missing.
Speaker:Burning with malice, his yellow eyes fixed upon the thief,
Speaker:which strutted back and forth upon the ground,
Speaker:flapping its wings in triumph. “Tek, Tek,” said Tek. Reynard leapt to his feet with a snarl. “Give that
Speaker:back!” The bird froze,
Speaker:watching him with beady black eyes.
Speaker:The fox thought carefully on his next move, then let
Speaker:some of the tension pass from his limbs.
Speaker:“Please,” he said more softly, trying his best to sound defeated. To his
Speaker:surprise, the bird simply hopped over and deposited the trinket at his feet,
Speaker:then cocked its head inquisitively.
Speaker:“Hmm,” Reynard muttered. “Thank you.”
Speaker:He snatched the medallion from the
Speaker:earth, tenderly wiped the dirt from it,
Speaker:and found, to his surprise, that the chain had not been broken.
Speaker:“How did you…” he trailed off,
Speaker:studying the little corvid more thoroughly.
Speaker:As far as he could tell,
Speaker:apart from its smaller stature,
Speaker:it looked no different from any other raven. “There’s
Speaker:more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there, Tek?”
Speaker:Reynard chuckled to himself,
Speaker:glancing up at the starscape blooming overhead.
Speaker:Against a backdrop so black it could have held a thousand of the raven’s kin, the stars blazed with faint white fire. When he
Speaker:looked back at the dirt,
Speaker:the bird was gone. Reynard
Speaker:twisted, his eye catching a flash of black riding the wind.
Speaker:Tek sailed up into the looming shadow of a hawthorn, lighted
Speaker:on one of its branches,
Speaker:and cawed. When the fox did not move,
Speaker:Tek grew more insistent. “What
Speaker:is it?” he asked, rising to stand.
Speaker:As he did so, the bird took off once more,
Speaker:circling back when he did not give pursuit. “You
Speaker:want me to follow you?”
Speaker:he asked. “Tek,” said Tek,
Speaker:leaping into the air a third time. Reynard
Speaker:hurried after the eager little raven,
Speaker:trusting his vulpine eyes to see him safely through
Speaker:the tangle of brush and roots.
Speaker:He resolved to remain alert for signs of a trap,
Speaker:but when his ears first caught the melody,
Speaker:any semblance of reserve left him. The
Speaker:woman’s voice carried through the forest like it was her own private cathedral,
Speaker:the notes soft and cold, like snowfall on a long winter night.
Speaker:Reynard could not make out the words,
Speaker:but neither did he feel the need to.
Speaker:He slowed to a gentle walk as the song grew louder,
Speaker:and, quite by accident, stumbled into a moonlit clearing.
Speaker:There, only a few paces before him,
Speaker:stood a pale-skinned woman cloaked in glistening white,
Speaker:her hair black as the raven that had led him here. Every
Speaker:woman the fox met was attractive—except for the homely ones, of course—and yet Reynard could not help but be captivated by her beauty,
Speaker:which drew him in almost like the scent of a bleeding hare would a normal fox. Or himself, in the right circumstances.
Speaker:Taking care not to disturb the trancelike performance,
Speaker:Reynard slunk up to the mysterious figure, feeling his
Speaker:blood rise step by step. Letting
Speaker:the last notes of her song fade into the night air,
Speaker:the woman concluded with her back to him,
Speaker:remaining still as a statue
Speaker:even when he finally moved to break the silence. “I
Speaker:don’t believe we’ve met, my lady.” “Oh,
Speaker:I know you well enough, Reynard the Fox,”
Speaker:the woman replied with the grace of a queen
Speaker:admonishing a well-meaning yet clumsy handmaiden.
Speaker:She turned to face him, meeting his gaze in a way few men had ever dared. “Not
Speaker:nearly so well as I should like,”
Speaker:the fox said with a grin, flashing his fangs. “I’m
Speaker:sure you’ve had no dearth of dalliances with dashing maidens.
Speaker:maidens.” Reynard’s smirk widened.
Speaker:“Oh, darling, you don’t know the half of it.” To his
Speaker:surprise, the woman turned her back and began striding away.
Speaker:Without thinking, he trotted after her.
Speaker:“My lady, you know my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours. I would—” “Reynard,
Speaker:Reynard,” she said, almost like a vixen cooing to a disobedient pup,
Speaker:“you always need to have the upper hand, don’t you?”
Speaker:She glanced to his right,
Speaker:and when Reynard followed the woman’s gaze,
Speaker:he found Tek sitting patiently on a branch.
Speaker:“It appears you’ve attracted the interest of one of my children, Fox.” Reynard
Speaker:glanced from the raven to the woman and back,
Speaker:but before he could speak, the former erupted in a flurry of black feathers.
Speaker:In the time it took the fox to blink in surprise,
Speaker:she stood before him
Speaker:not as a pale-skinned human
Speaker:but as a great Raven,
Speaker:looming over his slender form with the moon crowning her head like some corvid Madonna. Reynard,
Speaker:however, was no stranger to the strange.
Speaker:“I seem to be in a bit of trouble,”
Speaker:he admitted ruefully. “What
Speaker:kind of trouble?”
Speaker:the Raven asked, staring with a gaze that could pierce stone. “That’s
Speaker:just the problem:
Speaker:I haven’t a clue.” Her
Speaker:corvid eyes softened.
Speaker:“Well I can’t exactly help you if I don’t know what I’m helping with,
Speaker:but if you do puzzle it out, I may be of assistance.” “But
Speaker:if I knew what the problem was, I wouldn’t need your help solving it.” “Of
Speaker:course—and then I would be happy to give it to you.” Reynard
Speaker:furrowed his brow.
Speaker:“That doesn’t help me.” “If
Speaker:it did, you wouldn’t need me.”
Speaker:Mischief danced in the great bird’s eyes.
Speaker:“But are you quite sure that you are indeed in trouble to begin with?” “Naturally,”
Speaker:the fox replied.
Speaker:“I’ve always had a nose for trouble. Never could keep myself out of it—the only problem being that this trouble isn’t trouble I’ve sought. And that, I suppose, is the trouble.” The Raven fluffed her feathers,
Speaker:then stood up straighter. “Hmm.
Speaker:I have a proposition for you:
Speaker:Since you are so fond of wordplay, I will help you…
Speaker:if you are able to answer a few riddles of my own.” Reynard cocked his head. “…Riddles? …Really?” The Raven stared at him with unblinking eyes.
Speaker:“Please, humor me. It can
Speaker:get so dreadfully dull around here.
Speaker:here.” “I suppose I have no alternative,”
Speaker:the fox replied. “If I answer your riddles, you shall give me—” “If
Speaker:you answer my riddles
Speaker:correctly,” the Raven interjected. Reynard
Speaker:raised his hands. “Of course, of course: If I answer your riddles—correctly
Speaker:—then you shall in turn give me the advice I seek.” “And
Speaker:if you cannot solve them…”
Speaker:the Raven rumbled,
Speaker:leaning in until her ebony beak rested only inches from his muzzle,
Speaker:poised like a dagger ready to be plunged into his skull.
Speaker:She cocked her head slightly,
Speaker:a sly gleam sparking in her great midnight eyes.
Speaker:“…Your life will be forfeit.” The
Speaker:fox’s blood ran cold;
Speaker:for a moment, he knew the fear of one of his four-legged namesakes at the burst of the hunter’s horn.
Speaker:Taking a sizable step back, he stammered,
Speaker:“That’s—that’s hardly a fair deal.” The Raven simply stared at him a moment longer before breaking into a fit of raucous cawing laughter.
Speaker:The fear in the fox’s veins quickly trickled into tepid annoyance. “Reynard
Speaker:the Fox preaching to me about fairness!
Speaker:Perhaps tomorrow the old Wolf will arrive to announce he’s off to join a cloister
Speaker:and admonish me for my savagery!”
Speaker:The great bird composed herself,
Speaker:letting out a final chuckle.
Speaker:“I was merely jesting, fox
Speaker:—I thought you of all people would be keen enough to catch sarcasm.
Speaker:If I win,” she went on,
Speaker:“you must hand over that shiny little trinket of yours.”
Speaker:She stretched out a massive wing,
Speaker:brushing the tips of her feathers over the canine features of Saint Christopher. “But…”
Speaker:Reynard clutched at the medallion.
Speaker:“…Fine. But you have to answer three of my riddles as well.” “I
Speaker:was hoping you would suggest that.”
Speaker:Her voice was rich with satisfaction. “And
Speaker:I get three guesses. Three for each
Speaker:riddle. We both do.” “Fair enough.
Speaker:As my guest,
Speaker:you may begin.” “Oh, all right,” Reynard said, lifting his hat to scratch at the russet fur underneath.
Speaker:“Let me think… ah, here.”
Speaker:“As small as a mouse,
Speaker:As fleet as a hawk,
Speaker:I see with my ears Whenever I talk.” Reynard folded his
Speaker:hands.
Speaker:“I’d like to see you—” “A bat,”
Speaker:the Raven cut in. The
Speaker:fox splayed his ears, tail drooping.
Speaker:“Well, let’s hear your first one, then.”
Speaker:Clasping his hands behind his back, he swallowed his unease. The
Speaker:Raven’s eyes slid shut as she lifted her head, and,
Speaker:in a voice that carried a hint of melody, recited:
Speaker:“The fox cannot outsmart me, The deer can never flee.
Speaker:My approach the rabbit cannot hear Nor can the eagle see.
Speaker:The master of all living things, Routine obedience I demand,
Speaker:And even man, with all his tricks, Cannot for long escape my hand.” She
Speaker:waited a few seconds, then opened her eyes.
Speaker:“Make your guess.” “I wanted to be sure you’d finished,”
Speaker:Reynard muttered, scratching at his ear. The
Speaker:Raven narrowed her eyes. “All
Speaker:right, let’s see…”
Speaker:The fox began pacing slowly,
Speaker:thinking aloud as he cut a circuit through the clearing,
Speaker:gesticulating into the night air.
Speaker:“Something that cannot be outsmarted
Speaker:or outrun, invisible and silent. Master of all living things, requiring routine obedience,
Speaker:something that even man cannot avoid for long.”
Speaker:His first thought was death, to which all living beings inevitably succumbed
Speaker:—but death could be outrun in some forms, and even outsmarted, come to think of it.
Speaker:And it was hardly always unseen and unheard.
Speaker:He paused midstride,
Speaker:glancing at his company, who was watching him with eyes that revealed nothing. “Time?
Speaker:As in aging?” “That’s…
Speaker:technically two answers,”
Speaker:the Raven replied coolly,
Speaker:“both of which are incorrect—though
Speaker:for the sake of continuing our little game, I’ll count them as one guess.”
Speaker:Reynard curled his outstretched paw into a fist
Speaker:and huffed out a breath,
Speaker:nostrils flaring.
Speaker:“Routine obedience I demand,”
Speaker:the Raven added.
Speaker:“Something that must be obeyed regularly—” “I
Speaker:know what routine obedience means,”
Speaker:the fox snapped. “Your answers did not suggest that.” He
Speaker:turned his back to the great bird,
Speaker:only to find her lesser kin staring up at him.
Speaker:When he caught Tek’s eye,
Speaker:the little raven returned to pecking for seeds among the grass.
Speaker:“…Hunger,” Reynard whispered to himself,
Speaker:then began checking off the hints on his claws. Satisfied, he whirled to face his challenger once more, straightened his back, and held his tail high.
Speaker:“Hunger,” he said boldly. The
Speaker:Raven’s beak cracked into a semblance of a smile.
Speaker:“Very good.” She bowed her head slightly, inviting his next riddle. The
Speaker:fox searched his mind for something trickier, something vaguer,
Speaker:which, it seemed to him, was the key to the whole art of riddle-making.
Speaker:“Aha!” He cleared his throat:
Speaker:“Earthen vessel, crown of stone. A port of call for lands unknown. A silent shrine,
Speaker:a lasting home.” The Raven sat motionless for a moment,
Speaker:then blinked slowly.
Speaker:Reynard felt a grin creep across his muzzle. “Quite
Speaker:good,” the Raven muttered.
Speaker:Reynard could barely conceal his glee. “If
Speaker:only I could… unearth the answer.” The
Speaker:fox froze. “I’m sure some would find it rather
Speaker:morbid…” His claws dug into the pads of his paws. “…Because
Speaker:the answer is ‘a grave.
Speaker:grave.’” “Damnit!” The fox wiped a paw across his face, dragging it over his muzzle.
Speaker:Closing his eyes, he forced out a deep breath.
Speaker:“Yes, that… is the answer…” “For
Speaker:what it’s worth, I quite enjoyed it,”
Speaker:the Raven said. “Tek,”
Speaker:said Tek. The little bird leapt into the air, circling the clearing before lighting on Reynard’s shoulder. “Let’s get on with it,” the fox growled. The
Speaker:Raven once more composed herself,
Speaker:inclining her ebony beak towards the silver moon blazing beyond the darkened tree tops:
Speaker:“A ravenous wolf, it comes and goes. From danger flees, in peace it grows.
Speaker:It gnaws the mind, this formless fiend,
Speaker:And fills the spaces in between.” Reynard
Speaker:stood motionless, staring blankly into the shadows. Tek shuffled softly on his shoulder,
Speaker:head bobbing to a rhythm the fox couldn’t hear. “Something
Speaker:that avoids danger and feeds on peace…”
Speaker:he mumbled, eyes straining,
Speaker:as if he could will the answer to appear in the darkness before him.
Speaker:“…Afflicts the mind,
Speaker:and fills in empty spaces.”
Speaker:He turned his head to see Tek still perched on his shoulder,
Speaker:watching him with what could have been sympathy, amusement, or even consternation. “Melancholy?”
Speaker:The fox asked. The
Speaker:Raven replied with a hesitant,
Speaker:“…No.” “So I was close, then?”
Speaker:As soon as the question left his muzzle he whirled to face her, raising his voice.
Speaker:“No, that—that doesn’t count as a guess!” “Reynard, are you laboring under the misconception that I’m some sort of devil
Speaker:out to bind you unjustly to the letter of an infernal deal?
Speaker:I’m doing this for the love of the craft
Speaker:—a little good-natured clash of wits, that’s all.” “When
Speaker:you’ve lived the lives I have, it doesn’t exactly foster a trusting nature.” The
Speaker:Raven chuckled quietly, eyes softening.
Speaker:“Goodness, you truly need to broaden your social horizons.” Reynard
Speaker:raised a hand to forestall any further sermonizing.
Speaker:“If it’s not melancholy, then perhaps—”
Speaker:he squinted, tapping a clawed finger to his
Speaker:chin—“…love?” He looked cautiously at the Raven. “You
Speaker:were closer the first time.”
Speaker:Her voice carried a tinge of disappointment. Reynard
Speaker:pondered her words carefully: if it was closer to melancholy than love, that surely ruled out lust and rage
Speaker:—but if it wasn’t any of those, then what could it be?
Speaker:What emotion would fill emptiness more than sorrow? “Boredom!”
Speaker:he shouted,
Speaker:then shrank back, studying the Raven from the corner of his eye. Once
Speaker:again, she smiled.
Speaker:“Correct.” Reynard breathed out deeply. Tek launched from his shoulder, circling the two and squawking out a string of corvid cries. Reynard rifled through the most difficult riddles he could recall,
Speaker:discarding each almost as soon as his mind clutched at it,
Speaker:knowing that anything he could remember would surely be known to the Raven.
Speaker:It would have to be another of his own devising.
Speaker:He thought of possible subjects,
Speaker:then worked backwards to construct their hints,
Speaker:forcing them into stanzas
Speaker:and ensuring that only one answer could be reasonably inferred.
Speaker:To her credit, the Raven waited patiently,
Speaker:until the first hints of dawn were just beginning to smolder in the eastern sky. “I
Speaker:suppose this will have to do,”
Speaker:Reynard whispered to himself.
Speaker:Tek fluttered down to land atop his wide-brimmed hat. “Tek,”
Speaker:the bird said. “Certainly,”
Speaker:the fox replied, then raised his voice.
Speaker:“Here is my final riddle.”
Speaker:“As countless lines are daily writ,
Speaker:This archivist must ponder well,
Speaker:And deem the greater share unfit For long within his tomes to dwell.” His
Speaker:voice hung in the air,
Speaker:melding into the rustle of leaves.
Speaker:Somewhere in the tracts of predawn darkness, a thrush began to sing.
Speaker:The Raven sat silent for some time as Reynard waited,
Speaker:hardly daring to breathe. “…Knowledge?”
Speaker:she finally asked. The
Speaker:fox’s heart soared.
Speaker:“No...” “Oh—memory!” Reynard let loose a drawn-out sigh, shoulders slumping. “…Yes.” He paused. “You know, you could have at least given a second wrong answer before guessing correctly. Where’s your sense of drama?” “If
Speaker:it’s any consolation, I found that one quite charming.” “It…
Speaker:really isn’t,” the fox hissed through clenched teeth.
Speaker:“But never mind that—let’s have your last one.” “Very
Speaker:well.” The great bird began preening.
Speaker:Tek fluttered from the fox’s hat to the forest floor
Speaker:and resumed searching for seeds.
Speaker:Reynard cleared his throat. “You’re
Speaker:not very patient,”
Speaker:the Raven observed dryly. The fox clasped his forepaws.
Speaker:“Patience has… never been one of my strong suits,”
Speaker:he admitted ruefully.
Speaker:“And I am rather used to holding all of the cards.” “I
Speaker:can see that.” Dragging her beak through the feathers of her wing a final time,
Speaker:the Raven spoke: “From this font is the greatest power derived:
Speaker:By it mighty ambitions must wither or thrive.
Speaker:Without it a monarch’s crown means naught,
Speaker:Nor with money could goods be sold or bought.
Speaker:Congregations and armies are held in sway
Speaker:By its binding as fear is washed away
Speaker:And while men and nations alike may die,
Speaker:To this need no such check apply.
Speaker:apply.” Reynard listened carefully,
Speaker:sorting through possibilities almost as fast as he excluded them:
Speaker:God, wealth, strength, nature, time, rage,
Speaker:fear… but none of them fit.
Speaker:Passion, perhaps? But passion alone would not secure a kingdom or placate
Speaker:a crowd. “Wit?” he asked. “Wit has a tendency to die much in the same manner as men and nations,”
Speaker:the Raven said, “and I don’t recall it having much to do with currency holding value.
Speaker:Though you do appear to be on the proper path.” “Currency,”
Speaker:Reynard muttered, narrowing his
Speaker:eyes. Lifting his hat, he dragged a clawed hand through the loose fur atop his head,
Speaker:pondering the Raven’s words.
Speaker:It gave power to generals and priests, kings and merchants;
Speaker:could banish fear
Speaker:and elude the reach of
Speaker:death. That last thought gave him an idea. “…Myself?”
Speaker:he asked hesitantly.
Speaker:The Raven stared at him a moment, then broke into a fit of raucous laughter.
Speaker:“I mean us, in general,”
Speaker:the fox explained,
Speaker:“whatever it is we are:
Speaker:fey, spirits, daemons, devils, gods, et cetera.” “In
Speaker:a strange, roundabout,
Speaker:and yet still incorrect way,”
Speaker:the Raven mused, chuckling again as Reynard’s countenance fell,
Speaker:“you are almost right.
Speaker:Almost. More so in your case than mine.” “What
Speaker:do you—” Reynard bit off his question with a snarl.
Speaker:A source of power that even he drew upon,
Speaker:related to wit but more than mere keenness of mind.
Speaker:Here the fox’s thoughts trailed off hopelessly. He wasn’t one for prayer, but desperation drove his paw to the medallion of the dog-headed saint,
Speaker:as if, owing to their common beastly nature,
Speaker:Christopher might intercede on his behalf this once.
Speaker:As his pads cradled the cool silver, savoring its soft sting, a thought flickered to life amid the void of despair. “…Belief,”
Speaker:the fox murmured softly to himself.
Speaker:He reviewed the riddle line by line:
Speaker:a font of great power,
Speaker:tinder to the flame of ambition, source of authority for those of myriad stations,
Speaker:the very essence that gave currency its value.
Speaker:An antidote to fear,
Speaker:able to rally armies and form faiths…
Speaker:dwelling in the hearts of men,
Speaker:and yet able to live far beyond any individual. “Belief,”
Speaker:he said firmly. The
Speaker:Raven bowed her head.
Speaker:“It appears your reputation does not entirely fail to do you justice, Reynard the Fox.”
Speaker:Tek let loose a string of mocking caws, dancing around his feet.
Speaker:Or perhaps they were triumphant, this time
Speaker:—Reynard couldn’t be sure whose side the little bird was on.
Speaker:Nonetheless, he grinned.
Speaker:“If my entire reputation was built on lies, would that not be rather fitting?” He touched the brim of his hat, giving the faintest hint of a bow.
Speaker:“Now, I’ve solved your riddles, Raven—it’s time you upheld your end of our bargain.” “As
Speaker:it happens, I’ve already given you the advice you were seeking.
Speaker:seeking.” Reynard whirled to face her.
Speaker:“What do you—” But here the fox paused, mouth hanging open.
Speaker:“The riddles,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Indeed.” Reynard ticked them off on his claws. “Hunger, Boredom, Belief.
Speaker:I fail to see their relevance to my own predicament.” “What
Speaker:are you?” the Raven asked abruptly. Reynard
Speaker:eyed her slyly.
Speaker:“More riddles?” “Humor me, fox.
Speaker:What are you?” He drew himself up.
Speaker:“Why, I am the turning of the leaves and the changing—” “No,
Speaker:no, no,” the Raven croaked, waving one of her great wings.
Speaker:“I did not ask for more riddles, nor inquire as to who you are
Speaker:—I asked what you are.” “I…” Reynard stared up at the great bird, his thoughts scattering like magpies
Speaker:at the crack of a cannon.
Speaker:He held up a forefinger,
Speaker:then let it drop, his shoulders slouching,
Speaker:tail drooping to the dirt.
Speaker:“I don’t know. To be honest, I’ve never really given it much thought.
Speaker:thought.” “Well, you are most certainly not a man… and neither are you a fox, though you name yourself one, and wear distinctly vulpine skin.
Speaker:Why is that?” “Because…
Speaker:I’m a trickster. It’s in my nature. It just…
Speaker:makes sense.” He let his gaze drift away,
Speaker:voice dropping to a whisper.
Speaker:“Doesn’t it?” “Are my own children not possessed of wit?
Speaker:Do you forget the cunning of the wolf, or the serpent, or the hare who outfoxes your own kin?
Speaker:But you are not Reynard the Raven,
Speaker:or Reynard the Rabbit
Speaker:—to say nothing of man, who, I should think, has proven to be quite a talented trickster in his own right.
Speaker:And yet, you feel, to the deepest core of your being, that you are a fox at heart.” “Since
Speaker:you seem so keen on lording your knowledge over the lowly,
Speaker:feel free to enlighten me.” “It
Speaker:is because you were born in the minds of men, Reynard.
Speaker:A fox is not necessarily the craftiest of creatures, but it is
Speaker:crafty, and suave,
and adaptable:a little bushel of fire wild enough to resist the yoke of civilization
and adaptable:and yet tame enough to dwell in its shadow,
and adaptable:strong enough to challenge man and yet weak enough to avoid inviting the destruction
and adaptable:suffered by its fiercer cousins.”
and adaptable:She stepped nearer,
and adaptable:blurring in a flurry of feathers until a pale, dark-haired woman
and adaptable:stood before him once more.
and adaptable:She touched a comforting hand to his cheek,
and adaptable:gently ruffling his fur. “You
and adaptable:are an ember born of their flame, forever bound to them.
and adaptable:What do you remember of your youth, if it could be called such?” Reynard
and adaptable:thought back to his earliest days:
and adaptable:halcyon memories of the rugged Anatolian highlands,
and adaptable:delighting in simple tricks to sustain himself
and adaptable:on the labor of his two-legged neighbors.
and adaptable:He recalled a hound whose nose he could not shake,
and adaptable:and heard once more the roar of the Aegean
and adaptable:dashing itself wave by wave against the Cadmean coastline. “At
and adaptable:first,” he said slowly, still working over the memories, “my tricks
and adaptable:served merely to keep me alive
and adaptable:—felling prey and evading foes.
and adaptable:But eventually I grew bored with such mundane pursuits,
and adaptable:and turned to grander tricks to amuse myself.
and adaptable:And now…” He trailed off,
and adaptable:looking up to meet the woman’s gaze,
and adaptable:his own eyes slowly widening. “And
and adaptable:now you tire of this as well,
and adaptable:longing for greater fulfillment.” “Yes,”
and adaptable:he whispered. “You
and adaptable:are a story given flesh, Reynard
and adaptable:—and you of all people should know that stories
and adaptable:have a tendency to take on lives of their own.”
and adaptable:She smiled coyly,
and adaptable:then turned, cloaking herself once more in the form of a great bird.
and adaptable:Looming over him, she obscured the waning moon,
and adaptable:itself growing dim with the coming of day.
and adaptable:“Use that.” The Raven launched herself into the air, sailing up into the sea of fading stars,
and adaptable:melting into the last traces of the night.
and adaptable:Reynard stared until he could no longer make out her shadowy form,
and adaptable:whereupon he glanced east.
and adaptable:A new dawn was breaking over the distant mountaintops, spilling its fire into the world,
and adaptable:a world he knew to be full of ready tinder for a mind as crafty as his.
and adaptable:A world that was changing faster than ever before
and adaptable:—but change did not necessarily entail death.
and adaptable:Especially not for a fox. For
and adaptable:ages he had played his part in sparking chaos,
and adaptable:but the time for vacuous amusement was behind him.
and adaptable:And if he could leave such a mark merely for mirth,
and adaptable:what might he accomplish
and adaptable:with grander designs? Reynard’s
and adaptable:face broke into a grin.
and adaptable:“I think I have just the idea
and adaptable:of where to start.”
and adaptable:This was “Riddles With a Raven” by Casimir Laski,
and adaptable:read for you by Khaki,
and adaptable:your faithful fireside companion.
and adaptable:You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
and adaptable:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
and adaptable:Thank you for listening to The Voice of Dog.
