Games Untold (The Inheritance Games #5)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A n internet search using the terms Prague and war quickly revealed that most of the search results focused on the same war—World War II. The Prague uprising. The liberation of Prague.

Different versions of the same historical account came up over and over again. The dates didn’t match the one given in my clue—not the month, not the day, not the year. But I’d played enough Hawthorne games to know that the “date” in my riddle might not be a date. It could very well be a numerical code. And while the Prague uprising hadn’t happened in 1561, it had coincided with the end of a war.

Now, sir, a war is won.

I looked back down at the clue. If my initial instincts were correct, if I’d zeroed in on the part of the clue meant to start me off, then the meaning of the other lines of the poem might only become clear later, once I was close to the answer.

Physically close.

Jameson had said the city had practically laid out his game for him. I wasn’t meant to spend the day in this hotel room. What I was looking for was out there.

The City of a Hundred Spires. The Golden City. Prague. My mind whirring, I refined the search terms on my phone to be specific to World War II, then added two more words: monument and memorial .

It didn’t take me long to find exactly what I was looking for: Six locations marked on a map.

“And now,” Jameson murmured, satisfaction clear in his voice, “she’s off and running.”

I found nothing at the first three locations, but at the fourth, an elderly woman wearing a burnt-red scarf over her hair struck up a conversation with me. I told her that I was exploring World War II monuments in the city, looking for one in particular—I just wasn’t sure which one.

The old woman assessed me, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was doing so. After a long moment, she almost smiled, then parted with a single piece of information. “You might be looking for one of the plaques.”

“The plaques?” I queried.

“To mark the fallen heroes.” The woman fixed her gaze on the horizon. “Some known. Some unknown. They’re everywhere in this city, if only you know to look.”

Everywhere? I was already two hours into my search, and though I was falling in love with Prague, block by block and mile by mile, I’d gotten nowhere.

“How many plaques are there?” I asked.

The old woman swiveled her gaze back toward me. “A thousand,” she told me. “Or more.”

The old woman had been right: Once I knew to look for the plaques, they really were everywhere. Most were small and made of bronze or stone. Some bore specific names. Some were dedicated to unknown fighters. One thing was crystal clear: I was going to get exactly nowhere unless I could narrow it down.

I turned my attention back to the exact wording of the clue:

Borrow or rob?

Don’t nod.

Now, sir, a war is won.

Nine minutes ’til seven

On the second of January, 1561.

This time, I zeroed in on the number, the only one in the clue written as a numeral. If 1561 wasn’t a year, it could be an address. But was that too obvious?

I went back to the beginning of the clue again.

Borrow or rob?

I looked up from the page. The streets were crowded now, bustling. I made my way to a street vendor selling pastries, bought one, then tried my luck at asking a local for information once more.

“Is there, by any chance, a street around here whose name in Czech has something to do with robbers?” I asked. “I’m trying to solve a puzzle.”

Borrow or rob… It was worth a shot.

“Robbers?” Luckily for me, the vendor spoke English. “As in thieves?” The man handed me my pastry.

“Yes,” I told him. “Exactly.”

He didn’t ask what kind of puzzle I was trying to solve. Instead, he turned to the next customer.

Just when I was on the verge of giving up, the vendor turned back to me.

“If this puzzle of yours involves thieves, you are not looking for a street,” he said brusquely, then he nodded toward a spire in the distance. “You are looking for the arm.”