“All you must do,” she cries, “is solve a riddle!”

You’re like, cool, I can do that, no sweat. Immediately the gloom lifts, the cacaphonic storm subsides. Again the scene has shifted; you are come to be sitting in a tent, or perhaps you’ve been here some time and so merely remain in the tent, but now the light is warm again, and the sounds of pleasant humanity gather outside. It is a calm day, bucolic. The fortune teller has changed once more: her hair shines, and ornate curls have been twisted into it, her dress, a soft blue, shimmers. Her smile is patient, and it spreads warmly across her face, even through her two brown eyes.

“The riddle,” she says, “is this:

“Twin brothers are fighting to rule the kingdom. One is kind and generous and always tells the truth; the other is selfish and cruel and always lies. But no one can tell which is which, as the evil twin takes every opportunity to fool everyone into thinking he is the kinder brother. In this confusion the twins have warred for years, and the kingdom has suffered. One day, a group of warrior monks decide to stop the madness: they set a trap in the woods, at a magnificent palace, and there they capture both brothers. The monks bring the brothers to you.

“To determine their true identities, you may ask them one question only. Whoever answers right will be free to go. He who is wrong will be put to death by the monks.”

“So tell me,” she says, “what question will it be?”

If you know the answer….         

If you’re not sure, omg, you’ve learned nothing! Your mission has failed. The President has been captured (and after his embarrassing confession to you, too.) The Captain has delivered the goods. La bomba esta en la biblioteca. The girl in the street is dead—your dog is dead—your homework is late—you didn’t save it, you didn’t save anyone. Bad job, all around.

Go on, get out of here. (Though…if you think you have it in you to try a little harder, which we certainly encourage, feel free to give it another shot.)