Page 61 of Wondrous

I wasn’t sure that Maria’s politeness had any bearing on the situation. The mock dragon seemed filled with suppressed eagerness to hear her answer. His black eyes glittered as he leaned toward her, and his fanlike tail seemed to be wagging.

Maria flicked her finger against a cup, which made a muffled ping. “They both have walls of clay.”

“Mmm,” the mock dragon said thoughtfully. “That’s a bit of an improvement. Closer, but still not the answer.”

Before he opened his mouth again, I said, “What is the answer? Perhaps we can move on to another riddle.”

“I don’t know,” he said. He gave one of his short phlegmy laughs, as if it were a silly question.

We all stared at him, apart from Alicia, who still sat frozen in terror, her right elbow nearly brushing the massive beast’s side.

“You don’t know the answer to your own riddle,” I repeated in disbelief.

“Why would I?” he said. “What’s the point in asking someone a riddle if you already know the answer? How dull!”

To my surprise, I felt a twinge of hope. The mock dragon loved riddles, particularly ones with no answer, which was a perfectly ridiculous hobby for Wonderland. If we could keep him talking long enough, perhaps his flame would go out.

Jack surreptitiously poured the mock dragon a cup of tea, which he pushed toward the beast alongside a plate of cinnamon swirls.

“Thank you,” the mock dragon said, inclining his head. “But I won’t be staying. And I doubt I’ll have an appetite after I’ve eaten the five of you.”

I felt Jack go still beside me—a telltale sign that he was about to change again. I braced myself to dive sideways—would the table protect me from dragon fire, if I ducked beneath it? But before the scene could erupt into violence again, Alex spoke.

“I have an answer. Neither remains the same.”

The mock dragon leaned toward Alex, who stiffened as the long beak stopped only a foot from her face. A droplet of drool splashed into her teacup. “What do you mean?” he rasped. “Go on, go on.”

“Well,” Alex said, swallowing, “a river is constantly flowing, meaning that it’s a different river every day, and every moment. In the same way, every cup of tea is different from the one before it. Even if you use the same leaves, draw the water from the same well, no two cups are identical.”

The mock dragon snorted. “How clever! I like that.”

Maria beamed at Alex. “Then that’s the answer?”

The mock dragon tilted his head, drumming his talons on the table. His hands—or whatever they were—looked exactly like a raven’s feet. Somehow, I’d never appreciated how disturbing bird feet were until I saw them magnified.

“No,” the mock dragon said.

“No?” Maria cried. “But you said it was clever!”

“Yes,” the mock dragon said thoughtfully. “A bit too clever. The simplest answers are the best, I’ve always thought—”

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I blurted.

The mock dragon blinked at me. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.” I wondered if it was the mock dragon’s appearance that made me think of the old riddle—either way, we needed to keep him talking. “Why is a raven like a writing desk? I’ve never been able to come up with a good answer.”

The mock dragon’s tail began to thump again. Absentmindedly, he picked up his teacup and took a sip. “Raven,” he muttered. “Writing desk. Ah, I know!”

He pointed to his throat, where flame gleamed dimly like a candle through a shade. “We’re both flammable.”

I gave the mock dragon a disapproving look. “Now that’s dreadful.”

“It was only a little joke,” he said in a pouting voice. “You had three guesses at mine. That means I get two more.”

“Oh, all right,” I said, feigning irritation. It wasn’t easy with excitement rising inside me. I exchanged looks with Jack and saw my hopes confirmed in his expression.

The mock dragon’s flame was beginning to flicker.