Chapter 7

“I hate to be the voice of reason,” Aber said, “but that won't be necessary, Oberon.”

The door glared at me. “I should say not! There are spells laid upon me to prevent just that sort of trespass!”

“Not only that,” said Aber, “but I have the key.”

He turned over his hand. A large iron key sat there; he hadn't been carrying it a moment before, so he must have pulled it through the Logrus. “You don't need his help, dear brother. You can let yourself in.”

“Thanks!” I said.

“What would you do without me?”

He held out the key, and I accepted it gingerly. It was as long as my hand and as thick around as my index finger, and it was much heavier than it looked. A strong blow with it might well do serious damage to someone's head.

“You're sure it's for this door?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Where do I stick it?” I asked, turning to study Port's features. He didn't have any obvious keyholes. “In his mouth? Up his nose?”

“Certainly not!” Port said, glaring up at me. “Perhaps you ought to stick it in one of your own orifices to see how it feels!”

“I wasn't asking you,” I told him.

“No need to ask,” Aber said. “It's a magic key. Just holding it is enough. Tell him you want inside.”

“That's all?” I asked skeptically. I looked at the door. “Let me in, please.”

“Very good, sir!” Port said unhappily, and I heard a series of clicks as a hidden lock unlocked itself.

Very convenient! I liked the idea of coming home drunk late at night, telling the door to let me inside, and having it lock up after me. Magic definitely had its good points.

“How does it work?” I asked Aber.

“Simple. Whoever holds the key gets inside.”

“It's a rule,” Port added. “All doors have to follow rules, you know.”

“And there's a master key, too?” I asked, remembering what Aber had said. “To all the doors in the house?”

“Yes, but only one. It's Dad's. He keeps it stashed in his bedroom, in a box under his pillow.”

I shook my head. “That doesn't sound very safe.”

“The bed, the box, and the key are all invisible, unless you know how to look.”

“And you know the trick.”

“Yes.”

“Care to share it?”

“Another time.”

Somehow, I didn't think that time would ever come. Clearly he could lay hands on the master key when needed—as, indeed, he had done this afternoon, when he gave it to the hell-creatures so they could search our house.

“And,” Aber added with a chuckle, “if invisibility isn't enough, Dad has certain things keeping an eye on his rooms, too.”

From the way he said “things” I got the sensation they weren't necessarily human. Monsters? Familiars? Even Port could have done the job; I imagined him making gleeful reports on trespassers.

“Then,” I said, “I think I'll leave his rooms alone.”

“Good idea.”

“What now?” I cleared my throat and looked down at the key, which I still held. “Do I carry three pounds of iron with me for the rest of my life, or will Port accept me as his new master now?”

“I am right here,” Port said a bit stiffly. “You don't have to keep talking about me in the third person!”

Ignoring him, Aber said: “He would probably accept you—”

“I do!” said Port.

“—but there is a ritual to go through, just for form's sake. It should make certain.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Repeat these words: 'I am the holder of this key. I am the master of this room. You will harken and obey.'“

I did this thing.

“Okay,” Port said with a sigh. “Lord Mattus is dead. I formally accept it. Let all present bear witness: I am now Lord Oberon's door, and these are now Lord Oberon's rooms. I will guard him and obey him in all things. So let it be.”

“Thank you, Port,” I said.

His brow furrowed as he gazed up at me. “I am doing my job, Lord Oberon. It's a rule.”

To me, Aber said, “Return your key to Dad when he gets here. He keeps them all locked up in his study for situations like this. You have no idea what a pain it is when you lose a key and have to replace a magical door.”

I chuckled. “Stubborn, I bet, even in the face of reason and axes?”

“That about sums it up.”

“It's a rule,” Port said. “I must obey my master and protect his interests at all times.”

“All right,” I said. “I'll make sure I remember.”

I took a deep breath, and the walls began to wobble. Mattus's suite—my suite now—lay at hand. What would I find? A collection of fine weapons? A store of powerful magical items? Gold, silver, gems—an emperor's treasure trove?

I felt my pulse quicken with excitement. I knew next to nothing about my half-brother Mattus, except we had about the same height and build, and his taste in clothes mostly matched my own. What would his rooms say about him?

Reaching out, I gave the door a push. It swung open easily, revealing a good-sized chamber. The high-canopied bed looked invitingly soft. Two lamps, one by the door and one by the bed, bubbled their golden light toward the ceiling. A small, tidy desk had been pushed up against the wall to the right. To the left sat an intricately carved washstand with basin and pitcher, a full-height looking glass in a white-painted oval frame, and a large wardrobe made of red and black woods decorated in intricate geometric pyramid patterns. Two plain, non-magical doors, one large and one small, both closed, led to other rooms.

A twinge of disappointment went through me. Clean and neat, Mattus's bedroom struck me as singularly uninteresting. Nothing about the place spoke to my brother's likes and dislikes, nor to his own powers or personality. Anyone could have lived here, man or woman, child or doddering elder.

“Were these rooms searched by the hell-creatures… by the lai she'on?” I asked Port. If all of Mattus's furniture had been destroyed, this mismatched assortment could have been thrown together quickly as replacements.

“Yes, Lord Oberon,” Port said. “After their departure, I took the liberty of permitting the household staff to repair the damage. I did not think Mattus would object.”

“Was there much damage?”

“They cut open the bed and tore out both the mattress and pillow stuffing. That was all.”

I nodded; so much for my furniture theory. “The lai she'on were looking for something. Did they find it here?”

“I do not believe so, Lord Oberon. At least, they did not take anything from this room with them. I would not have permitted it.”

“Good for you. Stick up for your beliefs.”

“It is a rule.”

Feeling the floor glide underfoot, I wandered into the room. Everything looked tidy, from the carefully brushed carpets to the well scrubbed floorboards. Yet the furniture had that hand-me-down look of cast-off pieces hastily thrown together. Considering how Aber could pull pretty much anything he wanted from thin air using the Logrus, I was amazed. Mattus should have lived like a prince; apparently, he hadn't cared to do so.

I looked more closely at the desk. The inkwell, made of a clear cut glass, showed no signs of ever having held ink. The spotless blotter and stack of crisp new writing paper both looked as though they had never been touched. I held one sheet of paper up to the bubbling light and noticed an intricate watermark, a rampant lion.

Of course, I reasoned, hell-creatures could have destroyed the inkwell and ruined the paper; these could all be replacements brought in by servants when they cleaned and straightened. And yet I didn't think so. These items felt right, as though they belonged here.

To Port, I said, “Mattus did not spend much time in here, did he?”

“Alas, but no, Lord Oberon. Not since childhood. He spent most of his time off on adventures.”

I nodded, knowing he had gone off exploring the Shadow worlds. That's what I would have done in his place. This room was a place to sleep when he visited family and friends, nothing more. Home, for him, must have been some distant kingdom… just as Juniper had been our father's home and Ilerium had been mine.