Suddenly, Snork slapped himself on the forehead. “Conundrum!” he shouted.

The younger gnome bowed. “Cousin Snork,” he answered.

“The last time we met, you were entering your guild back at Mount Nevermind. I see you made it.”

“I did,” Conundrum answered proudly. “I am now an important member of the Guild of PuzzlesRiddlesEngimasRebusLogogriphsMonogramsAnagramsAcrosticsCrosswordsMazesLabyrinthsParadoxesScrabbleFeminineLogicandPoliticians-otherwise known as P3 for short, though no one knows exactly why it is called P3 for short, unless it is that there are three words starting with P in it, in which case it might also be called L2, M2, or even A2 for short.”

“Hmm, what are you doing here?” Snork asked.

“Didn’t you receive my letter?” Conundrum asked.

“Letter? No, I don’t recall a letter. How did you send it?”

“By the automated post,” Conundrum said.

“Ah, of course, that would be the problem then. What did the letter say?”

“I asked if I could go with you,” Conundrum said. His eyes twitched for a moment, and that brief flicker conveyed such an overwhelming flood of desperation that Snork took a step back in surprise. Then he stepped closer and took Conundrum by the elbow, leading him into a narrow alcove between stacks of crates.

When they were alone, Snork leaned close to his cousin and whispered, “What’s the matter? Why do you want to go with me” on this dangerous mission? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

With each question, Conundrum twitched as though struck with a ruler across the knuckles. He pulled his hands up close to his bearded face, knitting his fingers in an endless weave of nervous energy.

“It’s my Life Quest,” Conundrum said, “given to me by the Guild-to solve an unsolvable puzzle, to create the world’s most unsolvable puzzle. It doesn’t matter what kind of puzzle. It could be a puzzle or a maze or a riddle or whatever, the only stipulation being that it must be a true puzzle and not just a question without an answer. And it must be a puzzle with an answer, one which no one could ever possibly find out.”

“But no one has invented the unsolvable puzzle yet!”

Snork exclaimed. “How are you supposed to solve it if it hasn’t been invented?”

“Yes, I know. You see my conundrum,” Conundrum answered.

Snork pondered this for a moment, then asked, “What does that have to do with the voyage of the Indestructible?”

“Nothing,” Conundrum said.

“Then, why?”

Conundrum’s gray eyes locked with those of his cousin. He breathed a sigh that seemed to come up from his shoes. “I have an office in the guild hall, an important office, with a secretary and an assistant. There aren’t any books in my office, no maps, no diagrams, not even any paper or a pencil or a protractor. I sit in my office and wait to invent an insolvent puzzle. And I wait. And wait. I need to get out and see and do things. No more waiting.”

Pity and understanding welled in Snork, and, without another word, he dashed away, dragging Conundrum behind him in pursuit of Commodore Brigg and the others.

Snork and Conundrum caught up with the commodore at the quays as Sir Grumdish’s armor was being hoisted aloft by the six-armed crane. Sir Grumdish stood beside his mighty steed, nervously stroking the beast’s knee while he watched his armor rise a hundred feet in the air and halt, dangling like a hanged man above the bay. His heart was in his throat, his face as gray as a sun-bleached board.

Commodore Brigg was just introducing everyone to Chief Engineer Portlost, the gnome directing the loading operation, and explaining the chiefs Life Quest-to record and detail the most extraordinary mishap the world has ever seen, whenever that might occur.

“I am confident of just such an opportunity on this voyage,” Chief Portlost was saying with a toothy grin as he shook hands with everyone. Like the commodore and the navigator, Chief Portlost wore the tarbrush-and-bilge-pump symbol of the Maritime Sciences Guild on his left breast pocket, but on his right breast pocket he wore the upside-down-burning-gnomeflinger emblem of the Mishaps Guild.

“Chief Portlost is our engineer and chief mishaps officer,” Snork added solemnly.

“Tell them to be careful with my armor, Mr. Mishaps,” Sir Grumdish croaked. “He’ll come apart with all that jerking and bouncing.”

“He will?” Chief Portlost exclaimed. “You mean there’s someone inside that armor? Why doesn’t anyone tell me these things?” He shouted into the beer mug-they called it a mugraphone-”Carefully, you lot of boot-scrapings! Gently, now! And someone alert the Mishaps Guild! Tell them to be ready!”

Commodore Brigg continued the introductions, “And this, Chief Portlost, is Professor Hap-Troggensbottle, our science officer.”

The professor shook the chiefs hand so vigorously that it made the zippers jingle on his white jumpsuit.

“Ah, Professor!” the chief greeted just as vigorously in return, rattling his fellow gnome’s teeth. “I’ve heard a great deal about you-only favorably of course. We are glad you’ll be coming along for this little jaunt.”

“Jaunt? It seemed rather more like a dangerous voyage of weighty consequence, to me,” the professor commented huffily.

“Dangerous? Who says so? This ship is sound enough to balance eggs on her deck in a high sea. Two kender and a trained gully dwarf could run her in their sleep-not that I’d let them! And no offense intended to our chief acquisitions officer,” he finished with a nod to the kender.

“None taken,” Razmous answered with a sly smile.

“Of course you know Navigator Snork and…” the commodore paused, looking Conundrum over with an appraising eye. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Conundrum,” Snork said quickly. “You haven’t met. Conundrum is my cousin, delegate from the Guild of PuzzlesRiddlesEnigmasEtcetera. "

“Come to see us off, eh?” the commodore said as he shook hands with Conundrum. “Should be quite a show.”

“Actually… that is… I, urn… the guild was wondering if he couldn’t sign on with us,” Snork said. “It fits in with his Life Quest, you see.”

“Really? You don’t say,” Commodore Brigg said excitedly. “Are you going to solve the riddle of the seven seas? I’ve been wondering about that appellation for years. I only count four-North Sirrion Sea, South Sirrion Sea, New Sea, and the Blood Sea of Istar.”

“What about Courrain?” Razmous interjected.

,"Courrain is an ocean, not a sea! Any idiot knows that,” the commodore muttered with a fierce glance at the kender. “Besides, that would make only five, wouldn’t it?”

“Actually, his Life Quest doesn’t really have anything to with the sea,” Snork interrupted tentatively.

“No?”

Clearing his throat, Conundrum glanced at those gathered around him-the grim-faced Sir Grumdish, the smiling Razmous, and his encouraging and nodding cousin Snork. Professor Hap-Troggensbottle removed a pair of concave/convex lenses from his breast pocket and perched them on the end of his long nose to scrutinize him, while Chief Engineer Portlost fingered his directing wrench as though preparing to tighten a nut at a moment’s notice-or else clout someone over the head.

“So, do tell-what experience have you aboard ships?

What exactly is it that you plan to do, my good gnome?” Commodore Brigg asked.

“I am very good at waiting,” Conundrum answered forthrightly.

“A waiter?” Razmous asked. “Oh, that will be convenient, having a waiter onboard, bringing us sandwiches and whatnot.”

“No, I wait,” Conundrum repeated, interrupting the kender with a dark look. “I wait until I am inspired,” and then, raising his voice slightly in what he hoped was an impressive tone, he added, “until it is time to do something.”