I swear, when I get my hands on that Alastor Vane I’m going to hang him up by meat hooks and tan his hide in front of him. I’m tired of these bloody games, and I’m tired of being late.
For those of you who weren’t paying attention, the second riddle was referring to the Great Fire of 1824, which started at Kirkwood’s Engravery, above Old Assembly Close, where I found not a trace of my possessions, but another God damned note instead.
Here is what it said.
“You’re getting faster now my friend,
Have you enlisted help?
Your third and final chance has come,
Hope you’ve a taste for kelp!
The rules of our game have changed,
This time there’s no deadline.
You may still want to hurry though,
Unless you’re fond of brine.
Now I suppose that you want clues,
But where shall I begin?
The thing is very big you seek,
That all your things are in.
I’m sure you’ve picked it up by now,
My love of poetry.
So let me say poetically,
That Leagues will be the key.
I’ve no doubt you’ll guess the number
When you are setting Forth
Just make your start at Macbiehill,
And walk directly North.”
There you have it. The third and final note. I'm at my wits end, but I’m sure one of you will come through.
Now, I know he said there’s no deadline this time, but I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that tells me I’m not going to be happy when I find out where he’s left my things. So hurry. Please. I fear that every second we waste is another nail in my coffin. Regardless of the outcome, a Boon to whoever it is that figures it out.
You have my thanks.
R. Greyburne