The Puzzle Box By Scott Patri "Solve the puzzle of the box, and you will become my next apprentice." Mal looked at the cube on the centre of the table between him and the sorcerer. It was jet black with gold embroider. And on the side he could see a picture of a knight fighting a dragon. Glancing back up into the lined face of the sorcerer, he asked, "Might I pick it up?" "You may," the sorcerer answered, with a small smile on his lips. It was not humour, but the sage wisdom of his years seeing this young man make his first decision. Mal reached over and picked up the box, and the shakiness of his hand vanished when he discovered how slight its weight was. It was large�the sides of it were wider than his outstretched fingers�yet was no heavier than a slice of toast. Slowly turning it to see its other faces, he saw a man and a woman being married, a town being destroyed by fire, and a dragon carrying away a woman in its claws. These images were on the sides in this order, and in a spiral on the top there was a series of designs, writings, and symbols that were meaningless to him. There was nothing on the bottom, save what was reflected in its shiny surface. "What does it contain?" Mal asked, uncertain of what could be in a box so light, if anything. "The power to become a sorcerer," the sorcerer responded, with the same slight smile of acknowledgement. The excitement in Mal heightened, higher then what he�d felt when he was chosen to be the sorcerer�s new apprentice. For the past fifty years, during the spring, one young man or woman was chosen from only one of the many villages that were within the domain of the sorcerer's mountain. Life in the villages was hard, and being chosen was considered the greatest of blessings among the young. The old had a different idea, for they spun tales in darkened taverns of how those chosen were fed to pet dragons or were consumed in experiments of alchemy, since none had ever returned home or had ever been heard from. Yet when one was chosen, one went, and the muttering of resentment from the old were quieted, for no one dared to incur the wrath of the sorcerer. Mal had no resentment, for had he not been chosen, his life would have given him a bent back from the fields. He feverishly went to work deciphering how the box opened, checking for hinges, cracks and seams, hidden levers and possible keyholes. He tried stroking the images hoping they might move, or if they would magically open the box with the right brush of a finger. Then he shook the box to see what would happen, and finally calmly exerted his will on it to see if that was the key to use. The box was just a box, impossibly light, yet maddeningly solid. Mal looked again at the sorcerer and asked, "May I break it open?" "You may," he responded, with the same unchanged smile. Mal nearly did, holding it high above the table to smash it, then forcibly restrained his self. It was not because of his reluctance of destroying the beautiful images on it. "What would happen to the power inside it?" He asked cautiously. "The power would enter you," the sorcerer answered. He had a moment of thought, then a moment of indecision, and then he asked another question. "How much power is in this box?" "The power to become a sorcerer.". Mal noticed that the sorcerer answered his questions with the same expression, and had yet declined to answer. If breaking the box was the answer to the puzzle... It was just too simple an answer for Mal. "Would I be able to control this power?" "Can you?" The sorcerer asked, and while his expression remained the same, his tone was slightly different. It was almost like a challenge. That tone sent shivers down Mal's back, and his attention returned to the box, excising all thoughts of breaking it from his mind. It was then that he noticed one of the pictures on the sides was different. The town was no longer on fire. Mal wondered if it was the box he should be examining. "Is there a way to open it without breaking it?" He asked suspiciously. "Of course." "Will you tell me how?" Mal asked excitedly, with only a bit of slyness. "I will tell you the why, but you will have to discover the how by yourself." "I don't understand," Mal said, confused. "That is not your fault, but it is the reason why you cannot open the box...without breaking it." Mal focused on the box again, since figuring it out seemed less troublesome than understanding the sorcerer. Another picture had changed--that of the man and woman. They were now looking away from each other. The sorcerer said that Mal couldn't open the box because he couldn't understand. But what didn't he understand. The sorcerer? The box? Himself? The picture of the man and woman changed in front of his eyes, and they were again looking at each other. Mal checked the other pictures, and while the town had changed, the others remained the same. The town had altered when he decided not to break the box, thinking the power inside of it would destroy him. The town now looked prosperous. The couple being married had changed when he became confused. Then changed back when he thought of understanding. Were they being married? The look in their eyes didn't seem to be love, but...understanding! The picture changed again, and the look of understanding between the two became more pronounced. "How do I open the box without breaking it?" "By understanding it," the sorcerer replied. Mal ceased trying to open it, and carefully studied its images. Two had changed, while the other three had not. One represented understanding, one was prosperity, but what were the other three? The dragon and knight seemed to be conflict, but the town had first been destruction. Could the dragon and knight actually represent the opposite of conflict? The dragon and the woman--were it captivity, or would it eventually become freedom? The top still had the cryptic symbols, unchanged and undecipherable. Yet, if Mal understood what they meant, could they tell him how to open the box? He tried to turn the box back to the picture of understanding, but fumbled it and found the bottom instead. He wondered if that was a picture also, being one of nothing, but would eventually become-- What would it be, if he knew how to open the box? The bottom had a reflection of his face as he was. Young, somewhat undernourished, and with the hasty and bad haircut his mother had given him before leaving. Then it changed, and he was suddenly older, healthier, looking wise and wearing robes similar to the sorcerer's. Then it was gone--replaced by his original youthful reflection. After a time, Mal put the box back on the centre of the table, and the sorcerer asked, "Have you solved the puzzle of the box?" "I cannot open it without breaking it." "Then why not break it?" Again, there was the challenging tone. "Could I control the power within it without it destroying me?" Mal asked, just as challenging. "Can you?" "No." "Then the power would destroy you." Mal saw the same expression he had always seen, and nothing else. No hint of anticipation or withdrawal, just the acknowledgement of what Mal had done. "Will you teach me how to control the power?" He asked hopefully. For the first time, the sorcerer truly smiled. "You have solved the puzzle," he said as he stood up, then gestured and added, "Come. I will show you to your room...apprentice." Mal stood excitedly and followed, but on the way asked demurely, "Sorcerer, what happened to your previous apprentices?" This was a question that had suddenly come to him, for if it was this easy to become the sorcerer's apprentice, then where were all the others that had come before him? Forty-nine in the past forty-nine years, with no account of their lives. Did they travel to far distant lands to ply their trade as new sorcerers, or were they still here in the mountain, studying under the sorcerer's tutelage? "They broke the box," the sorcerer said gravely.
