For a moment, you wonder why you’re being asked four questions for one answer. Well, at least all of them are relatively easy.

“Wednesday paid the bill, the fourth child is Mary, ‘tomorrow,’ and you can add ‘er’ to ‘short' and make it ‘shorter,’” you answer.

Sunrise blinks sadly, then slowly nods. “The key,” he mumbles, his eyes focusing on the rusty key dangling from the lanyard clasped in your hoof. “The key is for the mines.”

The mines. You think back to that gaping mouth of the cave that you had found, the way in barred by the rusty gate.

“You have to go into the mines. You have to find Idea Spark,” Sunrise says, curling up into a ball. “It’s the only way.”

“What about the Court?” you ask.

Sunrise closes his eyes. “You don’t find the Court,” he says, his voice heavy with surrender and resignation. “It finds you.”

“Sunrise,” you ask, crouching beside him. “What did they do to you?”

Sunrise does not respond, save for a very small shake of the head. “Sunrise?” you ask, laying a hoof on his shoulder. He does not respond at all; he simply sits there, eyes closed, slowly rocking back and forth.

You reluctantly pull away and walk back inside the hotel, slowly tucking the key back into your pocket. You turn over what you have learned in your mind.

Whatever is happening in this village, it needs to stop. Maybe you should call back to Chicoltgo and get some help, possibly the City Guard?

You shake the idea out of your head. You don’t have any real proof, other than the word of a homeless and obviously disturbed pony. You need to find something more solid as evidence.

The mines. Whatever is hiding in there, it may be the clue you need to discover what happened to Idea. But you don’t dare to go back up there at night; you’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning.

“Dear, I’m going to give you another room for the night,” Turtledove says, floating a key for room number two to you.

“Thank you,” you nod, taking the key.

Turtledove nervously shifts from hoof to hoof, licking her lips. “Are you sure you want to stay? Don’t you think it’d be better for you to leave?”

“I’m staying,” you reply, hardly believing your own daring as the words fly from your tongue. “I have to find out what happened to Idea Spark.”

“Are you sure?” Turtledove asks softly.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “I’m sure.”

The next morning comes all too soon; you feel as though you barely slept at all. Upon your descending into the lobby of the Sparrow’s Nest, you find Turtledove sitting in one of the chairs, nibbling on the stem of her pipe.

“Oh, there you are,” she cries at your entry, standing up. “I’ve asked Sheriff Hawkdive to accompany you for the day. You’ll be safe as long as you’re with him.”

You feel your heart sinking and start to protest, but you already see Hawkdive waiting outside. He leans against his ATV, striking a match with his right hoof and using it to light a cigarette in his mouth.

“You’d best not keep him waiting,” Turtledove insists, knocking ashes from her pipe into a bowl. “He’s a busy stallion.”

You sigh and exit the Nest. Sheriff Hawkdive grins broadly when he sees you approaching. “Morning, detective! Sleep well?”

“Not really,” you grumble, stifling a yawn. If he doesn’t already know about the brick, you don’t really see the point of telling him.

“Ah, I’m sorry ‘bout that,” Hawkdive says, tossing his cigarette aside. “How about we go down to the Waxwing for breakfast, and then we can get back to work trying to find Idea?”

You nod. “I think we should check the mines.”

“The mines?” Hawkdive raises an eyebrow. “Why would you want to go in there? We already searched there, and besides, they’re dangerous. You’d go nuttier than a squirrel within a couple hours in there.” He shakes his head. “No, detective, you’d best stay out of the mines.”

You scowl. “But I think—”

“Think what? That you’re following a breadcrumb trail that somepony with a sick sense of humor has been leaving behind to make you think that there’s some secret society in town?” Hawkdive’s lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes show no humor. “You’ve been reading too many pulp fiction novels, detective. Now, c’mon. It’s time we did some real detective work.” He swings himself up onto his ATV and sits atop it, waiting for you to follow.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling the weight of the rusty key thumping against your chest, hidden beneath your coat. If you weren’t already certain that the sheriff wasn’t really working with you, this just confirms it. Red herrings or no, these riddles are the only clue you’ve got.

You have to get into the mines. But you’re not going to be able to do that with Hawkdive watching you like...well, like a hawk. You’re going to have to think of something quick.

The growling of your stomach interrupts your thinking. Maybe you’ll have to come up with a plan over breakfast. You swing yourself onto your bike and reluctantly follow Hawkdive to the Diner.

The Waxwing is mostly empty this time of year, with only a few customers sitting at separate tables and Honey Roll greeting you at the door. Hawkdive orders coffee, Prench toast and hay bacon slice for you both, which she brings to your table within minutes. While you eat, Hawkdive launches into a lecture about his time as Raven Hollow’s sheriff.

“Now, the biggest case I ever had before this one was a flood of counterfeit bits,” Hawkdive said through a mouthful of Prench toast. “They were coming in from another village not far from here, but until I found that out, I was running around in circles for weeks. I was not happy with the counterfeiter when I finally found her, let me tell you!”

“More coffee?” Honey Roll offers, appearing suddenly at your ear.

You look down at your mug; it’s barely half empty. “I—”

“Here,” Honey offers, leaning in close and pouring more coffee into your mug. Her breath brushes against your ear. “I’ll distract him,” she whispers.

She pulls away and turns to Hawkdive. “Sheriff, could you give me a hoof in the kitchen? I’ve...uh, the oven’s acting up again and I’d like you to take a look at it.”

“Why, certainly!” Hawkdive smiles, standing up and following Honey Roll to the back. The waitress glances back at you while the sheriff’s back is turned and quickly tilts her head towards the door. Nodding, you finish off your coffee and sneak out the diner door. You quickly walk your bike a safe distance away before climbing on and kicking the engine to life. The motorcycle responds eagerly and you hit the throttle, pulling away from the diner.

A grin crosses your face as you consider the trick you just pulled off. What you wouldn’t give to see the look on Hawkdive’s face when he realizes you’ve vanished! And the best part is, you left him with the bill!

You drive up north, exiting the village and entering the woods of the mountains. The forest seems remarkably different during the day; the clear air seems to have been refreshed by the sunlight, and the singing of the birds is a more welcoming chorus. You bike your way up the path, considering your mission.

You reach Boulder Pass and turn right once more. The motorcycle groans under the strain of the uphill climb, but you press it onwards, weaving through the trees that reach out towards you with their branches.

Finally, you reach your destination. The entrance to the mines stands before you, still as intimidating as before: a great black hole in the world, with an old rusty gate protecting outsiders from whatever lies within. The same wooden sign stands next to the entrance, still trying to warn you away with its threat: “MINE CLOSED. DANGER: KEEP OUT.”

You hesitate for a moment, the deterrent effect of the area giving you pause. The mines were closed for a reason. The excerpt from the book flashes across your mind: “close proximity to sirenium for extended periods of time could cause insanity…”

But a promise is a promise. Turning your bike off, you drop the kickstand and approach the gate. Extracting the key from around your neck, you unlock the door and push it open. The gate creaks as it slowly swings open, the hinges obviously having not been used in a long time. Clicking on your flashlight, you descend into the inky darkness.

The stone is cold beneath your hooves, and the air tastes of dust. Somewhere deep below you comes an incessant drip...drip...drip...of water. Your flashlight reveals a pale, off-white mineral deposited into the walls, faintly glowing with energy. You slowly walk further down into the tunnel, your hoofsteps echoing off of the close walls.

Suddenly, you hear it again: a faint, indistinct whispering sound that seems to be coming from somewhere ahead, just out of your sight. “Who’s there?” you call down, casting your light around. But there is nopony in sight, the dim glow from your torch failing to penetrate the deepest shadows before you. Just as abruptly as they started, the whispers cease, leaving behind a faint buzzing in your ears. Your head spins slowly and you lean against the wall to hold yourself up.

CLANG.

Your heart stops as you recognize the sound. Turning around, you race back up to the mine entrance, and your eyes confirm the horrible truth. The gate is closed tight. You reach through the bars for the lock, but to your horror, a brand-new padlock is clasped tight around the latch, securing the door shut. You look about, but there is nopony in sight of the entrance; just your bike sitting sentinel. You try to push and kick the doors open, but they refuse to budge, trapping you inside.

“HELP!” you scream, shaking and rattling the doors desperately. “SOMEPONY! GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

But the only answer is your own voice echoing off the tunnel walls and faint birdsong in the distance. Panic, pure and unadulterated, seizes you in its terrible embrace, seeming to smother you with fear.

You are alone. You are trapped. You are lost.

You fight to keep your mind clear. This tunnel can’t be the only way out; the first thing the miners would’ve done would be to dig a secondary shaft back to the surface in case of cave-ins. You turn back into the cold darkness behind you. With a nervous gulp, you start to descend.

The journey deeper into the tunnels seems to take hours. Your glow of your flashlight feebly attempts to penetrate the blackness; the air grows colder and heavier as you descend, and you have to force it down your throat and in and out of your lungs. The only sound beside your hoofsteps and heavy breathing is the occasional echoes of dripping water and faint scuttling of unseen critters. In an attempt to give yourself courage, you start singing quietly, but your tiny voice just reminds you of how small you are compared to the enormity of the mountain threatening to crush you like an ant.

Eventually, you come to a split in the tunnels. Two pathways open up before you, both equally as small and dark and cold and uninviting.

“Eenie, meenie, miney, mo,” you mutter, clutching your trenchcoat to yourself as you try to decide. “Catch a griffon by the toe...I don’t know where the buck to go, so I’m gonna go...this way.” You decide on the left pathway. Gathering up some pebbles, you mark an arrow on the ground so you can trace your steps just in case and press on your way.

Suddenly, you hear it again: the whispering noises, coming from all angles around you. Multiple overlapping voices assault your ears, drilling directly into your brain. Panting, you collapse against the wall, your head spinning wildly.

“Stop...stop it!” you cry out, clutching your temples. The whispering ceases abruptly, leaving you alone once more.

How long does it take for the sirenium to take effect? you think with a chill. Hopefully, you don’t find out.

“If I ever get back,” you say to yourself, continuing forward. “I’m never going to complain again if I get stuck with philandering cases—”

With a crackling, the ground beneath your hooves crumbles away. You cry out as the ground peels away from your hooves, sending you tumbling down a steep slope. The stone scrapes against your body as you slide down uncontrollably, finally hitting the bottom and crashing facefirst into the ground; your nose breaks with a loud crack. Your entire body aches, you head feels like it’s been cracked open, and your nostrils are filling with blood.

With a low groan of mingled pain and frustration, you pick yourself off the ground and look around, quickly spotting the flickering light from your now cracked flashlight. “Great,” you sigh nasally, crawling over and scooping it up. “Now where am I—”

A face lunges at you from out of the darkness: a horrible, shrunken face with empty eye sockets and rotting green skin barely clinging to the bones. The zombie’s jaw hangs open, yellow, crooked teeth ready to bite and consume. Your shriek echoes off the walls as you leap away, cowering up into a ball and waiting for the end.

It takes you almost a minute to realize that nothing is munching on your brains and you slowly peek up. The body isn’t moving: it’s sitting slumped against the wall, still and silent. You slowly approach to examine the corpse. A ragged dark blue jacket clings to the skeleton. A piece of jewelry on the lapel catches your eye: a silver triangle with a spark in the center.

“Idea Spark,” you whisper, your heart slowly sinking. He’s been dead for quite a while from the looks of it.

“What happened to you?” you ask, but of course he doesn’t answer. With a quiet sigh, you take the Pinnacle Club pin off of the jacket and place it in your pocket. Wind Walker will want to know what happened. Taking your flashlight, you look about the cavern.

You seem to be inside some kind of rest area for the miners; you can see a short row of lockers on one wall and a box of some old, rusty tools. Old miner’s helmets and boots lay everywhere.

But then at the end of the cavern, you see something that makes your heart leap. A ladder that leads upwards, with a glow of light illuminating your escape route! You rush over, only to find your path blocked by a rusty gate, this one also locked with an old padlock.

“Of course. Because nothing in this town is ever easy!” you cry, throwing your hooves up into the air. You look around. Maybe the key is in one of those lockers.

You see two old crowbars lying on the ground. You walk over to one of the lockers and insert the end into the door. With a grunt, you push as hard as you can.

Two snaps echo through the cave and you fall flat on your face. Two things have happened: the locker door has broken open, revealing the empty contents. The crowbar has also snapped in half, rendering it useless.

You examine the other four lockers. You can faintly make out the names written on each of the doors: Gem, Geode, Carver, and Pick.

You also spot a letter laying on the floor, the typewritten message faded but still legible.

“Boss,

Things are getting weird down here. More and more of the miners are reporting hearing voices when they’re by themselves. Driller even reckons that he saw something down in one of the lower tunnels; he says it looked like a pony with a raven for a head. He even said he saw it following him home. Even I’ve been hearing things, and I’ve been having trouble sleeping; I've been having nightmares that are just getting worse and worse.

But that’s not the important thing right now. I can’t find the key to the emergency ladder. I think that one of my four colleagues took the key, but I can’t get a straight answer out of them. They’re all members of that Raven club or whatever it is. I heard that their latest gimmick is that whenever they give an answer to something, they always answer with one true statement and one lie.

Here’s what they told me:

Gem: I don’t have the key. Carver has it.

Geode: I don’t have the key. Either Gem has the key or none of us do.

Carver: I don’t have the key. If Geode doesn’t have the key, then Gem does.

Pick: I don’t have the key. Gem is lying when he says that Carver has it.

I can’t figure it out, though. Think you could make a separate key? Also, we could use more lamps down here; it’s getting kind of creepy down here with the voices.

Stalagmite.”

Well, at least they all agreed on one thing. You glance back at your one remaining crowbar. You only have one chance at this: have to get it right the first time.

Figure out who has the key.

Author's Note

You've found Idea Spark...but will you be able to get his secret out, or will you be trapped with him forever? Only you can decide that, friends.

Clue: you can eliminate two suspects right off the bat.

Congratulations to Everfree Pony, themouthofmush, The Villain in Glasses, and Magic Step for solving last week's riddles! Good luck with this puzzle!