A-N: A shorter chapter than usual below, because I divided a really long one. The end spurt is here! Thanks to all readers... (smile) oOo

13. The Riddle

"Jerky?"

What looked like a dried-out piece of shriveled human skin in stick form was thrust in Hanna's face. It smelled muffy. She wrinkled her nose and waved it away.

"No, thank you."

"You?" The stick hovered in front of Maltesi's bruised but healing face.

"Get that sh...thing out of my face. Please."

"Suit yerself."

They were well out of Pseudopolis and in the foothills of the Carrack Mountains, a tiny caravan made up of Hanna, Maltesi, the guide Mountain Man Griz and the Amazing Goat Lucy, who carried the food on her back. She was an accommodating goat.

Mountain Man Griz looked the part. He had the wild shock of gray-white beard down his chest, the inordinately long eyebrows, leather chaps and various useful utensils hanging from his belt. He clinked like a carillon when he walked.

Two hours earlier, he'd looked at the complete treasure map in order to plot the best way to get where the treasure was. He had a lot to say about it, most of it to Lucy. He seemed to have a close relationship with the goat.

"Well, looky, looky there, Lucy!" he'd cried. "Looks like the folks want to go through the pass 'tween the two worst mountains in them thar...mountains."

Lucy was a mountain goat. Sure-footed, true, proud. She was a white mountain goat and even-tempered for her kind. But then, she had trouble remembering what kind she was.

"Bah," said Lucy.

"I thought sheep went bah," said Maltesi.

"Lucy is multilingual," explained Mountain Man Griz. "Most intelligent goat on the Disc. Ain't ye, girl?"

Lucy seemed to think for a moment. "Woof."

Mountain Man Griz grinned proudly. "See?"

And so he'd explained partly to Hanna and Maltesi but mostly to Lucy that it would be several hours before they got through the pass between the mountains dominated on the one side by the Vicious Unibrow Hamsters and the other by the Vicious Carrack Goats, where the map implied the treasure could be found. There was a lot about a swamp and what looked like dead bodies but Mountain Man Griz didn't sound too worried about these.

"Standard on treasure maps," he said. "And with me, you need have no fear! I'm a man of the mountains. I know the rocks and the trees and the wind and the..."

So they walked along the brown grass, the path left behind an hour before. There were boulders scattered in the meadow, patches of pine trees, but nothing much else. Nobody lived that far out.

Mountain Man Griz kept up a running monologue with Lucy, who periodically inserted a "meow."

Hanna tramped along in her warm breeches and boots, a pack slung on her back. She didn't really know what she'd need if they did find the chocolate so she'd packed everything. A spade, a pick, a chisel. She glanced behind her. Maltesi wasn't limping but he still looked like a man who'd been tenderized a couple days ago. The bruises on his face had a purplish-yellow tint. He stomped along without complaining.

The merry group meandered through the foothills until the determined vertical thrust of rocks got so high that it was obvious even to city girl Hanna that they were in the pass between the two mountains on the map.

Mountain Man Griz pointed.

"There it is, Lucy. Home of the Vicious Carrack Goats. Ye think they'll welcome ye?"

"Neigh," said Lucy.

Hanna and Maltesi stared at the craggy mountain looming up beside them. According to the map, the entrance to whatever cave the treasure was in was on the hubward side. It looked like it would take awhile to get round back.

Here and there, malevolent, dark eyes peered out at them from scrub bushes and clefts.

oOo

Madam Meserole's study was transformed into something of a central command. She sat behind her desk and held court over a series of informants who she used at times to dig up information or run errands for her.

To keep Hanna's motivation tuned to the appropriate pitch, Madam had stayed in bed feigning weakness until the young woman had gone off on her...mission. It warmed the heart to see her dressed for the mountains, a pack on her back, looking rugged and hearty and determined. She'd kissed Madam on the forehead before she left.

Two runners panted in front of the desk. They'd run several miles each as the end of a long chain of boys and girls stationed at points all the way out to the Carracks.

One of the runners appeared to have a cold.

"Wipe your nose, Gilbert," said Madam.

The boy Gilbert dragged his sleeve across his nose. This didn't help. He offered Madam a hollow tube.

She accepted it fastidiously, unscrewed the end and glanced at the paper inside. A painful few moments of writing on the back, and she gave everything back to him.

"Sarah?"

The girl curtseyed before handing over her message tube.

"No reply," said Madam.

Another curtsey and both children were gone.

Madam leaned back in her chair and waited. Timing was everything. It had been the real key all along.

oOo

The Vicious Goats of the Carrack Mountains allowed Mountain Man Griz and company to get about twenty feet up the hubward side before sending down a group of red-eyed, bad tempered fellow goats to block the exits. They were rams. They had big horns that they sharpened now and then on bits of granite.

The humans clustered for safety.

"Um...what do we do now, Mr. Griz?" asked Hanna.

"Have no fear! I'm a man of the mountains. I know the rocks and the trees and the wind and the..."

"Goats? Do you know goats?" asked Maltesi. He had a spade in his hands, ready to swing.

"I know Lucy."

"Bah," said Lucy.

"Lucy doesn't even speak goat! What the hell use is she going to be?"

Mountain Man Griz grinned. "Just you wait. Lucy, you ready? Take it away!"

She bounded up on a flat granite shelf. Her hoofs clattered as she turned her back on the watching rams and wriggled her little puffy tail.

There were snorts.

Lucy looked at them over her shoulder. She blinked, her long lashes brushing her upper cheek.

Several of the rams clopped their hoofs. They were getting excited. It was a male goat kind of mountain. Girl goats didn't go for the vicious mountain goat environment. They wanted a nice meadow, the occasional bit of trash to nibble on. It was a long time since many of the Carrack goats had seen a female.

Mountain Man Griz whispered, "I'm gonna git the beat on for Lucy. You slide on out thataway..." He pointed toward a rocky ledge, "...when the goats're distracted. Got it?"

Maltesi and Hanna nodded.

Griz gave Lucy a thumbs up. Then he started clapping. Short, rhythmic claps at just the right speed to be catchy. Echoes of applause bounced off the mountains. The goats looked around, but settled back on Lucy because she got the beat. A hoof stomped on the granite. Her head swung.

Hanna took Maltesi's hand and they crept out of the circle of goats. They were ignored. Lucy had turned around again and was swinging her tail to the beat.

The treasure map showed a crevice in the mountain that was shaped like a big lightning bolt, the kind little kids always draw. They found it after a good deal of stumbling around on the rocks.

It was a dark, cold split in the rock. The wind made ghostly sounds when it blew through. At least, Hanna hoped it was only the wind.

"Are ghosts guarding this place?" she asked.

The wind careened around them.

"Yes, actually."

The voice wasn't Maltesi's.

"Bloody hell."

That was Maltesi. He held onto Hanna with one hand and a shovel with the other. The shovel wasn't going to be very useful against the creature that materialized in front of them. It was see-through in a milky cataract eye ball sort of way and it wore the ghostly version of a full pirate captain get up, complete with ghost parrot. The ghost wobbled. That is, bits of it kept disappearing and re-appearing in different places on the body, as if somewhere in there, the ghost had forgot how he was supposed to be put together.

At the moment, his left hand was sticking out of his right temple. It waved at Hanna and Maltesi.

"Hello. I'm so glad to see you. Nobody visits me anymore. It's so sad. Do you think it's because I'm scary?"

The ghost looked at them hopefully.

"Um...your hand is on your head," said Hanna.

"Is that scary?"

"Not really."

"Oh."

The hand disappeared and re-appeared in the proper place. The ghost parrot on his shoulder appeared to be sleeping. It was lying sideways but still managed to stay attached to the ghost's doublet.

Maltesi took his spade off guard.

"I suppose there's some sort of bleeding curse on the treasure, right? It's just my luck. This'll make my decade, you know? I was just thinking there wasn't enough stress in my life, what with getting blackmailed, trapped in a tunnel, almost killed by dwarf thieves, beaten up by the Patrician's lackeys and just when we got past the vicious mountain goats and were about to get our hands on the stuff that's banned everywhere and will probably get my ships confiscated...." He took a breath so he could finish, "...there's a ghost. Beautiful."

"That kind of attitude isn't going to help us, Anthony," said Hanna.

The ghost was now standing on his left leg. His right leg was where his nose used to be.

"Baybe he'll feel better whed he's heard the riddle."

"Ahhhhhh!" Maltesi threw the spade on the ground. "A riddle! Wonderful! And if we answer wrong, do you get to feed on our souls for all eternity? I was really hoping for a happy ending to all this."

"Anthony!"

"It's better than waiting around for an Assassin to slit my throat. And if a ghost is feeding on our souls for all eternity, at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that Vetinari doesn't get you either."

The ghost raised his eyebrows at Hanna.

"Who's Vetidari?"

"This is not the time to discuss that!" cried Hanna. "All right? If you bring him up again, Anthony, then get out. I can do this myself. And you--" She pointed at the ghost. "Get your bloody leg back in the right place. It's not scary at all."

The ghost looked crestfallen. His leg materialized next to his other one.

"What's the damn riddle?" said Maltesi.

"It's a fun one. I think you'll like it. Oh, and yes, I'm afraid I'll have to feed on your souls for eternity if you get it wrong." The ghost looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Right." Maltesi sighed. "Get on with it."

The ghost rubbed his hands. Or tried to. They went through each other.

"Good. So. This is a great one. I made it up myself." He cleared his throat.

I have no eyes and no brain and I often don't have a heart.

The longer I live, the more patient I become.

I am always sought and am found only when no one is looking.

Who am I?

oOo

The Patrician was pacing. He reached a wall of the Oblong Office, spun around and paced to the other.

Clacks messages were spread out on the desk. Hanna and Maltesi seen leaving the city for the Carrack Mountains. Things were obviously entering the end phase.

That was fine by Lord Vetinari. He was looking forward to the entire matter being settled at last.

The problem, he could see now, was lag time. He had as much information as he could get out of Pseudopolis, but a good deal was muddled purposefully, and by someone who did it better than he did.

He stopped at a wall, turned and marched back.

She'd timed everything so perfectly, hadn't she? He imagined what she'd told Hanna at the start, the words that got the seamstress primed for Madam's little extra game. How he'd first noticed her, the gifts, the file and yes, she'd probably read some of his letters that he knew she never destroyed. They were all true – he wasn't foolish enough to lie to Madam – but it was nothing Hanna needed to know. He assumed there had been intimate conversations of the sort referred to as woman-to-woman, and then, conveniently, at just the right moment, the letters to Margolotta were revealed. And Hanna was primed.

Then it was his turn. Vetinari's agents delivered news of Hanna's antics on the treasure hunt, and almost on cue, Madam greased the wheels with her private observations of her behavior. It was a masterful use of timing that obscured cause and effect. The effect usually came first so he would get...irritated, concerned, angry. Then the cause was hinted at, and he drew the proper conclusions.

Which were muddled by that most unreasonable of forces: emotion.

He paused at the window.

He was more disturbed by his own blindness the past weeks than by Madam's little side game. He really couldn't afford to stop thinking properly. Not for a second.

Hanna couldn't either. He assumed she still didn't know all of what was at stake, but she was practical. She would do what was expected of her.

He imagined the road to Pseudopolis somewhere on the other side of the forest of clacks towers outside his windows.

"Lamb, use your head."