The door sighed, eyes distant, remembering. “He was a good tenant. The sixth generation of your family that I have guarded, in fact, since my installation here... By the way, is there a seventh generation yet? Someone who might, as it were, inhabit these rooms?”
“Not yet,” Aber said. “At least, not that I'm aware of.”
The door finally seemed to notice me. “And who is this? Do I notice a family resemblance?”
Aber motioned me closer, so I took a step forward. The face squinted at me. I examined him just as closely. Large nose, broad lips, high cheekbones—almost a caricature of a man's face. But it had been kindly drawn and had a sympathetic if somewhat sad expression.
Aber said, “This is Oberon, my brother.”
“Oberon… Oberon…” The carved forehead wrinkled. “He has never been through me before.”
“That's right. This will be his room now.”
“So fast they go, so fast…” It actually seemed about to cry. That was something I didn't want to see.
Taking a deep breath, I asked, “Do you have a name?”
“I am but a door. I do not need a name. But if you must call me something, Lord Mattus calls… called me… Port.”
“Port,” I said. It fit admirably well. “Fine. I'll call you that, too.” I turned to Aber. “Anything I should be aware of? Warnings? Special instructions? Useful advice?”
My brother shrugged. “He's just a door. He'll guard your rooms, let you know if anyone wants in, and lock himself—or unlock himself—as instructed.”
“Then, Port, please open up. I'd like to see inside.”
“Sorry, good sir, but I cannot.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because,” said the door, a trifle archly, “I have only your word that Lord Mattus is dead. I was not carved yesterday, you know. Lord Mattus warned me not to trust anyone here under any circumstance. After all—and I mean no disrespect, good sirs!—some person or persons might come along, falsely claim that Lord Mattus is dead, state that they are the new tenants, and ask for entrance. You must see the unfortunate situation in which I now find myself placed.”
I scratched my head. “A good point,” I said slowly, looking at my brother. “I don't have an answer.”
“Then,” said the door, “Move along. I don't approve of loitering in the hallway.”
I drew my sword. It had been a long day; my patience was at an end.
“Open up,” I said, “or I'll carve a new entrance through your heart!”
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
“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
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
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
