Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure. -- J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Solvej got a nasty shock as she approached the island. The Magician stood on a jagged rocky outcropping, looking right at her. She stifled a yelp and shot to the side, expecting a spell to come flying in her direction at any moment. Nothing happened. She hovered over the choppy water, not daring to move closer or further away until she knew what the Magician planned to do.

He was barely visible as a patch of black against a dark sky. The parasite was another black patch landing beside him. The wind carried their voices to Solvej.

"I thought I saw something," the Magician was saying. "Something white."

"The waves breaking on a rock," the parasite suggested.

If the Magician replied, Solvej couldn't hear it.

"You're certain no one followed you?" was the next thing she heard.

"Of course I'm certain." The parasite sounded offended. "You think I'd have come here if I wasn't?"

"Yes, you would have," the Magician said. "I ordered you to come here."

Solvej's eyebrows shot up. He ordered it to come here? How? How had he been in contact with it? Was he spying on the palace?

She decided that enough time had passed for the Magician to forget his suspicions. She moved closer to the island, staying about a foot over the waves. Beneath her the ocean heaved and tossed. Spray flew into the rain like a constant drizzle of rain.

Wearing a cloak that magically turned someone into a swan was only a poor substitute for actually being a swan. Solvej was soaked through. Strands of her hair had worked their way out of her braid and plastered themselves against her face. Her dress clung to her in most uncomfortable ways. A trickle of water had found its way down the back of her dress.

The parasite was saying something, but the crash of waves breaking on the island drowned out her words. Solvej flew slowly round the island until she found a spot where she could hear clearly.

"...So what should I think of this time?" was the next bit of the conversation that reached her ears.

The Magician growled so loudly that she could hear him distinctly over the noise of the wind and waves. He really sounded startlingly like an angry dog when he did that. She would have to remember to tell him that, at their inevitable next meeting.

"Think of a glove," he snapped, "or a hair-pin, or -- No. No more thinking of clothes. That would be too easy for him to guess. Think of a coffin. He'll never guess that."

Solvej grinned to herself. Dear, dear. The Magician was far too overconfident. How she wished she had seen the look on his face when he heard they had correctly answered the first riddle! And how she wished she could see the look on his face when they correctly answered this one, as well!

~~~~

"It's a coffin," Solvej said at breakfast the next morning.

Hjalmar looked at the table, which looked like a perfectly normal table, and the chairs, which looked like perfectly normal chairs, and the toast and porridge set out on the table, which looked a great deal like toast and porridge and nothing at all like coffins. After looking around the room, he came to the conclusion that Solvej was thinking about something else when she made that remark. It was a simple leap from that conclusion to deciding she must be referring to the second challenge.

"The answer is a coffin?" he asked, just to be sure.

She nodded.

Hjalmar took a spoonful of porridge as he tried to figure out what to say. "How... morbid."

Solvej shrugged. "It's the Magician. Did you expect him to think of butterflies or fluffy bunnies?"

Now there was an odd mental image. Hjalmar tried to picture butterflies fluttering around the Magician. It was much easier to imagine him pinning butterflies onto a board.

"Well, at least we know the answer," he said, and went back to his breakfast.

~~~~

The week passed quietly. There was no sign of the parasite. If Solvej continued turning the stairs into a slide, she did it where Hjalmar couldn't see, and he was perfectly content with not enquiring further.

The only problem was the Grand Duchess. She was, if nothing else, persistent. And that was why Solvej found Hjalmar hiding in the attic one day.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

Hjalmar yelped and dived behind a battered dressmaker's dummy. The ghost sighed as she waited for him to realise that nothing was about to attack him.

"Oh," he said, peeping round the dummy. "It's only you."

"Why are you up here?" she asked again. "And why did you try to hide?"

Hjalmar shuddered. "The Grand Duchess, that's why. She's started teaching me Latin!"

Solvej blinked. "That doesn't sound so terrible."

"She keeps demanding to know whether a word is imperfect or pluperfect. I didn't know words could be imperfect, unless they're misspelled, and what under heaven is a pluperfect?"

Solvej racked her brains to remember her grammar lessons. She had never learnt Latin, but surely Vardiholmish grammar included a pluperfect or something similar? "Is it an extra-perfect word? Or what you get if you add two perfect words together?"

Hjalmar shrugged. "I don't know. She didn't bother to explain it. So I ran away, and this is the place she's least likely to look for me. Why are you here?"

"I'm playing hide-and-seek with the children. I thought this is where they'd never think of looking. What is it about attics that make people think they'd be good hiding places?"

~~~~

The week passed. As the last day approached, a flock of butterflies took up residence in Hjalmar's chest. That was what it felt like, anyway. He said nothing about it, but he couldn't get rid of that awful fluttering, cartwheeling sensation in his chest.

It was a relief when the last day rolled around.

Once again, the parasite appeared at breakfast. This time she wasn't laughing or gloating. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were narrowed. She wasted no time in getting straight to the point.

"Do you have the answer?" she demanded.

Solvej wasted even less time in answering. "Yes." She looked over at Hjalmar. "Will you tell it, or will I?"

At least I have a choice this time, Hjalmar thought. Aloud, he said, "It's a coffin. The answer is a coffin."

The parasite staggered as if her world had tilted on its axis. She clutched the back of a chair for support. Her eyes almost stood out on stalks. She spun round to glare at Solvej.

"You're cheating!" she shouted.

Solvej shrugged. "Maybe we are, maybe we aren't. It depends on how you define 'cheating'. And, I suppose, on whether cheating is still cheating when faced with a hopeless task."

The parasite started towards her, as if she intended to physically attack her. Hjalmar jumped up. He didn't know what he could do if they started using magic, but he couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

Solvej regarded the parasite coolly. "Do you really think you stand a chance against me in a fight? I know a dozen exorcism spells that could make life very unpleasant for you."

The parasite looked at her sceptically. Hjalmar got the impression that she didn't quite believe this, but was afraid of what would happen if it turned out to be true.

Whether Solvej was lying or not, they never learnt. The parasite glared at her again, then turned on her heel and marched out the door.

"She didn't tell us how long we have to answer the next challenge," Hjalmar said after a moment's silence. "She didn't even say what it would be."

Solvej took a sip of her coffee, winced, and promptly added a spoonful of sugar to it. "The same challenge as before, I expect. The Magician's creations are rarely imaginative."

~~~~

This time the King didn't dance a jig upon hearing the news. Instead he beamed like Christmas had come early and shook Hjalmar's hand so vigourously that it felt like he would shake it off.

"Perhaps we have a chance after all!" he crowed, finally letting go of Hjalmar's hand. "Once was good, but twice...!"

Hjalmar rubbed his shoulder and suppressed a few pointed remarks about overly-enthusiastic handshakes. "It's all Solvej's doing. She's the one who learns the answers."

The King turned to Solvej as if he intended to shake her hand just as enthusiastically. She took a step back.

Serves her right for laughing at me a minute ago, Hjalmar thought unsympathetically.

"Sit down, everyone," the Queen said, taking a seat on the horsehair armchair beside the window.

The King sank into the armchair opposite her. Since there were no other chairs left, Hjalmar and Solvej took seats on the settee facing the window and waited to hear what the Queen would say.

"Have you heard anything about the final challenge yet?"

Solvej shook her head. "Haven't even seen the parasite since this morning. It's probably sulking somewhere."

The Queen hummed thoughtfully. "She wouldn't have gone to the Magician?"

An uncomfortable silence fell. Hjalmar could see it all: the parasite waiting until they were safely out of her way, all of them thinking she was still in the palace. The parasite leaving, and none of them being any the wiser until the Magician came barging in.

He shook his head. I'm being silly, he told himself sternly.

They had dealt with the Magician before. They could do so again if he did appear. A treacherous part of his mind reminded him that the Magician had killed Solvej once, and so putting his hopes on her defeating him might not be the wisest thing to do.

No one noticed the new arrival in the room until the door closed with a click.

"So!" the parasite said with a wide, fake smile pasted on her face. "Here you all are!"

All four of them suddenly acquired a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights stare. The King recovered first.

"What are you doing here?" he roared, springing to his feet like a jack-in-the-box.

The parasite shook her head in mock disappointment. "Surely you know? I'm here to give you the final challenge."

"Let me guess," Solvej said, rolling her eyes. "We have to tell you what you're thinking."

The parasite grinned from ear to ear. "Not at all. I want you to find a field in the middle of the ocean and plant a tree there."

An even more uncomfortable silence fell. Compared to this silence, the previous one had been cheerful and companionable. Solvej was the only person who didn't look fazed.

"That's easy," she said calmly. "How long do we have? I warn you, it will be most unfair if you give us less than a month, and I will take severe action."

The parasite looked at her doubtfully. So did the King and Queen. Hjalmar felt like adding his own doubtful look, but decided against it. Solvej had enough to deal with at the minute.

"I'll give you two weeks," the parasite said.

Solvej shook her head. "A month. No less."

The parasite hesitated. Her eyes darted from the ghost to the other occupants of the room. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip. "Three weeks?"

Solvej narrowed her eyes and raised her hand. Flames sprang into existence, dancing over her skin and weaving in-between her fingers. Even though he knew it was only an illusion, Hjalmar had to suppress the urge to shout a warning. Burning hands would never be normal, illusion or not. He was surprised that the King and Queen weren't saying something.

Magical flames were good at unsettling parasites, apparently. The parasite recoiled as Solvej held out her hand.

"A month, then," she said, backing towards the door. "But no longer!"

She fled, slamming the door behind her. Solvej lowered her hand. The flames melted away.

Everyone stayed perfectly still for a long moment. Then someone began shouting swear words.

That someone, Hjalmar was shocked to realise, was Solvej.