The Tangle Box

"I need a map that will show us a way out of the Labyrinth.”


The counterman smiled. “So does everyone else here. Trouble is, no one can find it. Some—like that old fellow— been trying for years. He can’t get out, though. None of us can. We try, but we always end up coming back here.”

The Knight stared at him in stunned silence.

“It’s all right, really,” the other continued quickly, worried by the look that appeared on the Knight’s face. “You get used to it. We don’t have too many worries. Just the ...” He shook his head.

“The what? What are you talking about?” the Lady demanded.

The counterman took a slow breath. When he spoke again, the words were barely a whisper. “The Haze.”

The Knight glanced quickly at his companions. Neither spoke. He turned back to the counterman. “We don’t know what that is.”

The counterman was suddenly sweating, as if the temperature in the room had just risen to a midday heat. “Best if you never do!” he hissed. “There’s stories. It lives in the woods. It comes out when you least expect it and devours everything! Eats it right up, and when it’s done there’s nothing left!” His mouth tightened. “I’ve never seen it myself. No one here has. But we hear it sometimes. More so recently, like maybe it’s looking us over. They say a monster always precedes its coming—a thing out of myth and legend, a beast out of the old world.”

He shook his head. “I’ve said enough. It’s bad luck to even talk about it. It doesn’t come often. But when it does ...”

He shook his head again, then wheeled about and walked hurriedly away. The Knight stared after him, then turned back to his companions. “Do you know of this?” he asked quietly.

“I have heard rumors,” the Gargoyle offered, his voice a disembodied growl from within the shadows of his hooded cloak. “An ancient legend, thousands of years old. Men see the Haze as divine retribution for their sins.”

“What rubbish!” the Lady sneered. “Would you give credence to the superstitions of these common people? Is this how you would identify with them?”

The Gargoyle said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed on the Knight. The Knight drank his ale and tried to think. No one knew of a way out of the Labyrinth. Whatever direction you went, they claimed, you ended up back at this nameless town. Was this belief commonly accepted by these people or was there at least one among them who knew differently? The Knight had not spoken with anyone beyond the counterman and the oldster. Perhaps he should try.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

He rose, glass in hand, and walked to the counter. He was aware for the first time of the notice being taken of his weapons and light armor, for none of the townsfolk wore either. He began asking questions of those men gathered at the bar. Had any of them ever been outside the Labyrinth? Did any of them know of a way out? Was there anyone who might know? The men shook their heads and looked away.

“River Gypsies might,” one said. “They been everywhere there is to be. ’Course, you got to find them first.”

There was a burst of shared laughter, a private joke. The Knight glanced back at the table where he had left the Lady and the Gargoyle and froze. Two men had moved over and were taking seats, one on either side of the Lady. She had pulled her cloak tight around her body and was staring straight ahead while they talked and smiled at her. The Gargoyle was shrinking farther back into the shadows.

The Knight moved away from the counter and began to cross the room. He was too slow. One of the men touched the Lady, and she wheeled on him, nails raking at his face. He surged to his feet with a yowl and stumbled back into the Gargoyle. The concealing cloak fell away, revealing the Gargoyle, and the other man lurched to his feet screaming. Instantly, the room was bedlam. Men and women shrieked in terror and loathing as the Gargoyle tried to cover himself. Weapons flashed into view, long-handled hunting knives and daggers of varying shapes. Fighting to keep his balance in the surging melee, the Knight bulled his way past those separating him from his charges. Mugs crashed to the floor and lamps went out. Men rushed for the doors.

“Look what you’ve done!” the counterman shouted wildly, pointing at the Knight. “You’ve brought a monster into our town! You’ve doomed us! Damn you forever!”