The dots and dashes upon the note can only mean one thing. You dash back to the shelves and return to the table a few minutes later with a book of cryptography, open to the section on Morse code. Whipping out a notebook, you set to work at decoding the encryption.

“Tomorrow at MNNM.”

“Tonight at JRTC.”

“SDHTP.”

“Two days at MDS.”

Initially, you are thrown by the seeming gibberish that the code translated into, but then you remember the second part of the clue hidden behind the wall tile: Letters backwards + 1. You rewrite each of the words backwards, then replace each of the letters with the one following.

“Tomorrow at NOON.”

“Tonight at DUSK.”

“QUIET.”

“Two days at TEN.”

With the code broken, you turn your attention to the other parts of the message. “Towards the unmoving star” must refer to Polaris, the north star. “Towards the mallard’s retreat…” Mallards are birds, and birds fly south in the winter.

“Towards Celestia’s rest…” Celestia rests at night, when the sun goes down in the west. And “towards tomorrow” must refer to the sun rising in the east. Each of the messages refers to a cardinal direction.

But what are you going to do with this? Your mind wanders, and your eyes drift up to the embossed raven at the top of the card, then to the open book detailing the story of Blackfeather Quill and the alleged secret society. Idea Spark must have wanted you to see this for a reason…

Suddenly, you recall the stone raven in the city square. It was facing south when you passed it earlier...but it was facing west when you arrived!

“The Court of Ravens,” you mutter, your hoof tracing the words on the page. Somepony is still sending their messages.

And now you know what you have to do. You approach the librarian, who is now squinting at an edition of The Odyssey. You clear your throat to get her attention. She looks up and fixes you with a glare not unlike a mother hawk protecting their nest.

“Do you have a map of the area, especially around the mines?” you ask, whispering without knowing quite why.

Her eyes widen. Without a word, she reaches behind the desk and pulls out a map, which she unfolds on the table. The map details the woods and mountains around Raven Hollow, spreading outwards from the village. She taps a pencil on a small clearing towards the north and hands the map to you.

“Thank you,” you say, folding the map up and tucking it into your trenchcoat pocket. You turn and exit the library, feeling the pressure of the librarian’s gaze every step of the way. It is a great relief when you finally close the door behind you and you are back out in the cool, autumnal afternoon air.

You look up and see that the sun is nearing its apex. It will be dusk in a few hours.

Whatever remains of the Court of Ravens, and whatever their purpose is, they had something to do with Idea Spark’s disappearance. The answers are waiting at the lodge.

The sky darkens as night approaches. The sun, now a burnt orange hue, is dipping lower and lower towards the western horizon.

Sitting astride your motorcycle, you scan the map one last time. The path leading up to the clearing that the librarian pointed out to you heads up into the northern woods, weaving up the mountain where the sirenium mines were located. It’ll be a long trip; you just hope that the lodge is still there.

You fold the map back up and snap your goggles down over your eyes, tightening the strap around your helmet. With a kick, the engine grumbles to life beneath you, the headlights snapping on to fire a powerful beam of light through the encroaching darkness. For a moment, you think you see a flicker of movement at the mouth of a nearby alleyway that is suddenly cast in your light, but it disappears in an instant.

Opening up the throttle, you begin the drive up north. The sound of your rumbling engine echoes off the houses of the village as you navigate through the streets, before finally breaking free. A worn dirt path leads you into the woods. Here, the trees are so thick that the light is all but muted: you drive carefully down the winding, steepening pathway, past enormous oaks and maples and over an old bridge that spans a babbling stream.

The raspy caw of a raven sounds over your head, and you glance up to see a pair of midnight black wings passing just a few feet over your head. The information from the book you read begins to swirl around in your mind. Secret societies, sirenium, codes and riddles…

A thought suddenly occurs to you. What if Idea Spark isn’t the one sending you these clues? What if whoever is laying this breadcrumb trail is sending you on a wild goose chase...or worse?

But right now, this is your only clue. And you made a promise to Wind Walker that you would do your best to find out what happened to her husband.

You look up to see that you are approaching a crossroads, two equally beaten paths branching off in two different directions around a great boulder. You pause for a moment, considering both pathways. If memory serves, you should be at the aptly-named Boulder Pass, and to get to the lodge...

You turn right and continue up the pathway, which gets gradually steeper and rougher as you climb the mountain. The forest around you darkens as the sun dips lower and lower into the sky and the trees around you get thicker and thicker. The wind hisses and shivers through the trees; unseen birds flap over your head.

The bike’s engine groans as you force it up another crest. You pause at the top, staring in disbelief at the sight in front of you.

An enormous cave sits in front of you. The roughly-shaped mouth, supported by an old wooden framework, is just as gaping, dark and inviting as the mouth of a hydra. A rusty metal gate, sealed shut with a padlock, blocks your entry. Next to you, a wooden sign is posted in the ground. The moss covering it makes the words written on it almost illegible: “MINE CLOSED. DANGER: KEEP OUT.”

This must be the entrance to the sirenium mines. But you’re not supposed to be here! Unfolding the map, you examine it again with the aid of your flashlight as the engine idles beneath your seat.

“Let’s see...I went over the stream, passed that fallen log, and made it to Boulder Pass,” you mutter to yourself. “I should be at the lodge by now...but, for the sake of argument, let’s say I took the wrong turn at Boulder Pass. That means that I would be…”

You trace the path with your hoof, pause, then smack yourself on the forehead. “In front of the mines.” Grumbling, you stuff the map back into your pocket and begin to walk the bike backwards to turn around.

Suddenly, clear and distinct over the low engine, you hear an indistinct voice hissing from the darkness. “Who’s there?” you call, whirling around. But the voice disappears as suddenly as it had begun, and there is no reply to your call.

With an effort, you shake off the chills running down your spine and throttle away, quickly leaving the mines behind. It takes you a while to get back to Boulder Pass and go up the correct path, and even longer to make it through the dense, dark forest. All the time, the night comes on far, far too quickly as dark clouds smother out what little light the sun had remaining. Finally, you burst free from the surrounding trees and find yourself facing a sizeable clearing.

Sitting in the middle of the bare, grassy field is a small wooden lodge, looking completely unnatural in the midst of the forest, as though a giant had dropped it there. Every window is dark, and there is no sign of any movement nearby. The sky above it has turned into an inky dark blue, providing you with barely any light to survey the territory. And just to add to the feeling of foreboding, an owl hoots directly over your head, causing you to almost fall off the bike in surprise.

Pulling to the side of the path, you shut off the engine and swing yourself off, placing the helmet and goggles into one of the saddlebags. You turn up the collar of your trenchcoat in a futile attempt to keep out the frosty winds and walk up to the lodge.

There is no porch in front of the lodge, merely a plain-looking door with a golden knocker shaped like a raven’s head. The empty black holes where the eyes should be seem to stare judgingly at you as you approach. Forcing yourself to break eye contact with the figure, you turn to a window next to the door and attempt to peep through it. Unfortunately, the curtains are drawn, denying you a view into the interior, although you think you can catch a glimpse of lights and flickers of movement. You walk around the perimeter of the building, but all the other windows are also closed and shaded, and there is only one door.

Nothing for it, then. With a nervous swallow, you reach up and try the knocker, rapping it sharply against the wood three times.

“Two tomatoes for an apple!”

“Yaaah!” you shout, leaping backwards at the sudden voice, whirling around to identify the intruder. To your shock, you realize that the speaker is the knocker!

“Two tomatoes for an apple,” the enchanted raven head repeats in a raspy crow of a voice, it’s eyes now glowing faintly green. “Three tomatoes and an apple for two pears. Three pears, one tomato and two apples for 25 bits. How much for an apple?”

You stare at the raven head with a mixture of fright and frustration. Of course the Court of Ravens would require members to answer a riddle before entering!

Solve the raven’s riddle.

Author's Note

Right on schedule!

But secret socities, mines and forests, oh my! What is waiting for you inside the Court of Ravens' lodge?

Congratulations to Magic Step and the Villain in Glasses for solving last week's puzzle, and many, many apologies for the confusion caused by the initial version. I hope that you have better luck with this one!

Clue: you're going to have to do some algrebraic substitution for this one.