Part 4 (1/2)
”All I can tell you is that the answer to the first riddle is To get to the other side To get to the other side. After that, you're on your own. Oh, and I guess I should mention that any wrong answers will result in immediate death.”
”Any other obstacles we should know about?” Randall asked.
Scar began tapping her finger against various spots on the map. ”Here ... here ... definitely this one ... here ... oooh, that one's nasty ... here ... here ... and here.”
”Thank you,” said Randall.
”Oh, and here,” Scar added.
”Let us go, squire,” said Sir William. ”You carry the princess, I'll follow the map.”
FIFTEEN MINUTES later they were completely lost.
”Is this map to scale?” Sir William wondered. ”I don't think it's to scale. I think she just put these markers any lousy place she felt like.”
”Mind if we rest for a while?” Randall asked, leaning against a tree. ”Princess Janice is getting heavy.”
”See, according to this worthless map we should be near a death trap right now, and there's nothing around.”
”The death trap's that way,” said a short man, stepping out from behind a tree and pointing behind them. ”Vicious one. They have to hose it down every couple weeks.”
”Who are you?” Sir William demanded.
”My name is Lawrence. I'm a traveling salesman.” He extended his hand and Sir William shook it. Lawrence had a thin mustache, slicked-back hair, and was carrying a large black pouch. ”Pleased to meet you.”
”I'm Sir William. Are you familiar with this forest?”
”Yep. In the short time it's been around, I've acquainted myself with every square inch of this place. I'm a remarkably good person to have around if you were to, say, become lost.”
”May I ask a stupid question?” Randall inquired.
”There are no stupid questions,” said Lawrence. ”Only stupid people.”
”How can you make a living as a traveling salesman hanging around a forest like this?”
”I find people such as yourselves, of course. You have money, right?”
”A little,” Sir William said. ”But we're not interested in buying anything.”
”Oh, I think you'll change your mind,” said Lawrence, reaching into his pouch. ”Listen to me, William-may I call you William?-this here is the best offer since mankind came up with the concept of offering.”
”Listen, idiot-may I call you idiot?-I said I'm not interested in buying anything.”
”But look!” Lawrence pulled out the contents of the pouch: a wooden leg. ”I'm going to sell you this leg!”
”You can't be serious,” said Sir William. ”I'm not going to buy that.”
”Ah, but this isn't just any leg. This is the Smith Model KL7-RA Prosthetic Locomotion a.s.sistance Device.”
”It looks like a cheap wooden leg.”
”Will you buy it?”
”Of course not. I've got two real ones of my own!”
”At the moment, maybe, but a wise knight such as yourself knows the importance of planning ahead. Suppose you're off defending the kingdom and one of your legs were to become severed. Instead of losing hours of valuable work time lying around whimpering, you could merely strap on the Smith Leg and return to being a productive warrior.”
”I'd bleed to death!”
”Ah, but you wouldn't. The Smith Leg comes equipped with its very own tourniquet.”
”But it's only a right leg,” Sir William pointed out. ”What if I lost my left one? I'd be walking in circles for the rest of my life!”
”Buy two.”
”I don't need two. If I only lost one leg, I'd look pretty stupid walking around carrying a second fake one.”
”Listen,” Lawrence explained, ”I obviously can't guarantee that you'll lose both legs in the accident. But there's still a fifty-fifty chance that it will be your right leg, making this a low-risk purchase.”
”Is it durable?”
”Oh, yes indeed. Keep it out of direct light and it'll last you for months.”
”There's a big crack in it!”
”That's supposed to be there. It's for ventilation.”
”I'm not buying a cracked leg.”
”Will you forget about the leg?” screamed Randall, having listened to exactly three more syllables of this conversation than his brain could handle. ”Lawrence, we need your help. Do you know how to get to the lair of the witch Grysh?”
”Why, have you got a terminal disease?”
”No. Can she cure them?”
Lawrence shook his head. ”I just figured you wanted to commit suicide.”
”Answer the question,” said Sir William. ”Can you direct us there?”
”Sure I can.”
”Thank you.”
”If you buy the leg.”