The Doormaster's Apprentice

  * * * * *

  Early afternoon on the third day, they reached Fairgrove. People strolled through the streets calling greetings to one another and pausing to talk to shopkeepers about their wares.

  This is more like it Liam thought. Maybe this time they could explore the town.

  “Let’s get a room at the inn,” Liam said. “The door has been installed and who would want to steal this cart. It’s not much more than a pile of slivers.”

  Mica laughed. “True. Brushing against this cart is like petting a hedgehog. A soft bed would be a nice change at that.”

  “Hooray!” Shouted Liam throwing his hands into the air. The noise spooked Lit’ Smoky and she shied sideways dragging the cart.

  “Whoa, there. Easy girl.” Mica steered the cart back to the middle of the road. With a frown he turned to Liam. “That was a fool thing to do. We bust up this cart and the only way home is a long walk.”

  “Sorry,” Liam said. He felt like a child. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Mica turned his attention back to the road. “Okay, let's see what the innkeeper has to offer.”

  Liam almost shouted again. A stern look from Mica stopped him short, but he didn’t try to hide his huge grin.

  The old one-eyed innkeeper remembered them. He met them with a scowl, but that soon changed when he saw their coin. He was smiling as he led the way to a small, reasonably clean room in the back. It suited the boys just fine. Soon they were washed and ready to see what Fairgrove had to offer.

  They walked down the street peering into shops. The little leather pouch of coins the Doormaster had given him bumped at his side. It was lighter after splitting the cost of the room with Mica but it still held a few coins.

  Before they had gone very far Liam discovered Fairgrove was not as large as he thought, just a village really. The shops were clustered loosely together with other buildings mixed in. What at first glance appeared to be a large market area was a sleepy little village square. Most of the places were just houses or storage buildings and the shops held little to interest him.

  “Not as much to see as I thought,” said Liam. “Our own dale has more to offer.”

  “Were you expecting silks and jewels?” said a voice behind them.

  Liam jumped, and spun awkwardly around, stumbling into Mica.

  With a shove Mica pushed him away. “Oy! You’ve two good feet. There's no need to be walking on mine.”

  A fit of laughter turned both their heads. Willow lazed in a shop doorway, one shoulder against the frame. “Well, again we meet.” A stunning smile lit her face as she pushed away from the doorway to join them. “What grand occasion brings you two well dressed heroes to Fairgrove?”

  Liam felt his cheeks redden as he remembered what he had been wearing the first time they met. He shot a glance at Mica. If the comment bothered him, he was hiding it well. His face was split in a wide grin. “Willow, a pleasure it is to see you. Liam is trying to spend his last few coins. Care to join us?”

  Willow cocked her head. Her eyes twinkled as she looked at Liam. “People living here in the shadow of the Great Northern Wood tend to be strong willed and practical. These proud woodsmen take their living from the great forest itself.”

  “I was hoping that the shops here would offer something different than at home,” Liam said.

  Willow shrugged. “The village is often lashed by winter storms for days, leaving everything buried beneath layers of snow. At times things much worse than storms are blown out of the woods. The stores here stock their shelves with sturdy, well made items. Goods made to last, not simply to catch one’s eye.”

  Frustration flowed though Liam, and his shoulders slumped. His chance to find something pretty for Belinda was slipping away. He wanted to surprise her next time they met.

  Willow’s voice softened. “Take heart. If you are up for the quest perhaps you will still find something to catch your eye and lighten your purse.”

  Slipping a hand under the arm of each boy she said, “Come, I’ll be your guide.” And with that she led them down the street.

  They had not gone far when the smells of warm bread tickled Liam’s nose. It reminded him of his mother and home in the vineyard.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in. Memories rushed over him of lying snug in his bed on chilly mornings and listening as his mother moved about in the kitchen humming softly to herself as she baked the morning bread.

  He felt a gentle tug on his arm.

  “Hey, will you be coming with us?” asked Willow.

  Liam’s eyes popped open. “Ah, sure…sure,” he said. He looked around trying to tell where the smell was coming from.

  “Mica looked back at him with a grin, “If it’s a nap you're needing we could prop you against some handy wall. Maybe swing past to pick you up on the way back?”

  Liam smiled at Mica. “I think I can hold out a little longer.” He motioned with his head. “Let’s see what’s down this street.” Following his nose he led the others down a twisting little side lane. The wonderful baking smells were coming from a shop with a large round window. A sign in the shape of a pie, engraved with the king’s mark, hung over a bright red door.

  He stopped and leaned forward to peer into the window. His stomach growled at the abundant display. Tarts decorated with fancy frostings sat next to round loaves of white and brown bread. Some were topped with glazed nuts, others with toasted seeds. Delicate little cakes sat cooling on tin sheets, brightly colored icing dripping down to form little pools of sweetness.

  Willow read the sign, “DRINDLE’S - Purveyor to the KING. Your friend has fancy tastes,” she said to Mica. “This man sells his bread to the king.”

  “Drindle. That’s a name I’ve heard before. The king’s own baker you say? Well then, perhaps he might be good enough for us. What say you Liam? Shall we sample his wares or would you prefer to just leave a few nose prints on his window for him to remember you by?”

  Liam jumped back from the window feeling like some rustic who had never seen a baker’s shop before. “Just looking,” he said defensively. Then smiled and said. “It smells so good, let’s go inside.” Not waiting for a reply he pulled on the large brass handle to open the door. “Come on,” he said. Together they entered the shop.

  The wonderful smells engulfed Liam. He drifted from one display to another, unable to decide which delicacy he liked best.

  Mica walked past the tempting pastries, and made his way to the back of the shop where a tall gangly man towered over the counter. His floppy white hat all but covered his short gray hair. The long sleeves of his red and white striped shirt were rolled up high, revealing matchstick arms and pointy elbows sticking out from his sides. A smudged apron circled his narrow waist. He watched Mica approach.

  “Your pardon sir,” said Mica. “I wonder if I could have a word with the owner.”

  “That would be me son. R. J. Drindle, Baker to the King.” A wide grin broke across his face at Mica’s look of surprise. “I know, I know, bakers should be shorter and fatter than I. Especially the good ones,” he said and gave a short laugh. “But if you can believe your eyes, here before you stands a skinny baker, and a good one at that, if you listen to my customers.”

  Liam started to snicker. Mica quickly recovered his composure and shot a dirty look at Liam. “My mistake sir, I intended no slight.”

  “None taken. You are not the first. He rubbed his hand on his apron adding another smudge of flour before reaching across the counter. “Drindle is how I am known.”

  Mica clasped Drindle’s dry thin hand. “A pleasure. These are my friends, Willow and Liam.”

  Drindle touched the tip of two fingers to his hat and nodded first to Willow, then to Liam. “I haven’t seen you folks around before. Where are you from?”

  “Three Oaks Dale,” replied Mica.

  “Well now,” said the baker. “Being you are from the Dale would you by chance know a man named Ogden? He is a door maker by trade.”

  T
he question surprised both the boys, but Liam was first to answer. “We do indeed,” he said with pride. “I am his apprentice.”

  Liam heard a small gasp of surprise from Willow, but Drindle’s critical gaze commanded his attention.

  “Ogden’s apprentice huh?” He placed his hands on the counter and leaned over. His long spindly arms stuck up at an angle as he peered down.

  Liam felt like a frog about to be swallowed by a stork. He swallowed hard and nodded.

  With bright, appraising eyes Drindle looked him over from head to toe. Then he rose to his full height, apparently satisfied. Casting his gaze over the rest of the group he said, “So, three young friends about on the town. How may I serve you?”

  With his guidance, they made their selections. Liam’s pastry was unlike anything he had seen before. He wished he could share it with Belinda. Willow reached for her pouch but Mica stepped forward to gently brush in front of her. “Allow me.” He smiled at Willow and placed a few coins on the counter.

  Liam thought he saw Willow blush slightly as a smile dimpled her cheek. “Why, thank you,” she said.

  Drindle scooped up the coins and dropped them into his apron pocket. “Will there be anything else,” he asked?

  “Perhaps there is,” said Mica. “On the road we met a traveling merchant named Miraz. Would you know of him?”

  “Drindle’s face broke into a grin. “Short little man with a foul pipe? Travels with a flock of geese?”

  “The very one,” said Mica. “He gave me a book and said if I found anything pictured in it to look up a baker in Fairgrove named Drindle.”

  “So have you been lucky enough to find anything that Miraz is interested in yet?” asked Drindle.

  “Maybe,” said Mica “I have some plants and herbs I've been collecting. They are back at the inn.”

  “When did you have time to find anything for Miraz?” asked Liam in surprise.

  “I had to find something to do while you talked to Belinda every night,” Mica said.

  Liam was shocked and speechless. He thought he had been so discreet.

  “Who is Belinda?” Willow wanted to know.

  “If you want to come with me to pick up my pack,” said Mica, “I’ll explain on the way. That is if Mr. Drindle is interested in seeing what I found.”

  “That would be fine,” said Drindle. “Why don’t you two go pick up what you have collected? Perhaps Liam will stay and tell me more about Ogden.”

  “Great!” said Mica and he grabbed Willow’s hand and dashed for the door. “We’ll be right back.”

  Before Liam could protest, the door slammed leaving him alone with Drindle. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. He tried to think of an excuse to leave, but nothing came to mind.

  Drindle smiled, and with a couple of sweeping strides crossed to the door and latched it. “Now we won’t be disturbed,” he said. The same long strides took him behind the counter to the back wall. With one long boned hand he beckoned to Liam. “Come around here son. I would like to show you something.” He pulled aside a curtain.

  Liam glanced at the locked door.

  “Coming?” asked Drindle. He pulled the curtain a little wider.

  Liam’s stomach gave a twitch. He hesitated, gathering his courage. Drindle was a friend of Miraz, and the king’s baker he told himself. If there was something wrong he should find out. He stepped around the counter. Behind the curtain was a dimly lit passageway. “What about my friends he asked?”

  “We won’t be long,” Drindle said. He placed a boney hand on Liam’s shoulder and gave him a slight shove. “Your friends will be fine.”

  Them! Liam thought. What about me? He stumbled forward, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. On his left a thin slice of dim light peeked from under a badly fitted door. Long fingers tightened on his shoulder and he choked back a scream.

  “Hold a minute, don’t stumble on the stairs.”

  Liam heard a slight rustle as Drindle pulled something out of his pocket and the room brightened. Ahead of him wooden stairs descended into darkness.

  “Here take this,” Drindle said. He passed Liam a small fire globe no bigger than a duck’s egg. “It’s just down the stairs and to the right.”

  The light made Liam feel a little braver and he led the way. At the bottom he turned right and stopped. There, tucked beneath the stairs, was an ancient battered door with an arched top. He instantly recognized the short little door with the wide frame. It was built to the same proportions as the door in his master’s spell room. He spun around to face Drindle, but the baker spoke first.

  “I see you recognize the door. Do you know where it leads?”

  “I have seen one very much like it that leads to a potion room.”

  Drindle laughed. “Yes, a potion room. For one who links doors that would make sense. Being a baker I think of it as a pantry, but I’m sure we speak of the same place. Behind this door is a storehouse of ingredients all jumbled together that seems to have no end.”

  Liam nodded. “It sounds like the same room, but I didn’t know there were other doors that led there.”

  “Oh, at one time I think there may have been many, many doors that led there.” He reached out and brushed his long fingers lightly across the door. “Who can say how many still exist? It was your master who discovered the clues that lead to this one. We found it buried deep in a mountain cavern, quite the adventure really. We spent days poking around the roots of that mountain before we found it.”

  “Sir? My master?” Liam tried to picture the Doormaster poking around in a dark cave in his fine robes. “For days…?”

  A hardy laugh exploded from Drindle. “He was just Ogden then. Believe it or not we two had our share of adventures. Squeaked through some tight spots in our time and saw some far lands we did. But that was long ago, before we settled down and made names for ourselves.”

  Drindle had a far away look as if he had forgotten Liam was there.

  “Please sir, tell me about how you found the door,” Liam said.

  Drindle smiled down at him. “The telling will have to wait for another day. It is too good a tale to rush, and it would be rude to keep your friends waiting. Besides I still need your help with the door.”

  “The door sir?” asked Liam. “If it isn’t working I’m not sure I’ll be able to help. The magic is very old...”

  “Oh, the door works fine,” said Drindle. “In fact it is because I have the door, and access to the finest ingredients the world has to offer, that my bake goods are second to none.” He held out his hand. “The fire globe please.” Taking the globe he placed it in a niche by the door. “Do you have any other non-shielded magical items?”

  Liam shook his head.

  “Good, then let’s go.” Bending almost double he led the way through the door.

  His doubts forgotten, Liam followed.

  Drindle stopped just inside. “Does this look familiar?”

  They were standing in a narrow aisle. Tall shelves stacked with jars and packages pressed in on either side. Behind him the short door he had just stepped through stood ajar, blue paint peeling from its weathered face. Strange smells assaulted Liam’s nose, and he pressed a finger across his top lip to suppress a sneeze. “Yes, this must be the potion room, but I don’t think I’ve ever been down this aisle.”

  “I’m not surprised. Ogden’s door is some distance away.” Drindle waved a hand vaguely to the right. “I believe it lies in that direction. Once I could find my way, but it has been too long. Things in here shift around. Landmarks change, new passageways appear, and old ones vanish. I was hoping if we came down here together you would recognize something. If we could find a common landmark, perhaps you could draw me a map. It would be pleasant to visit Ogden again without traveling the long road to Three Oaks Dale.”

  Liam nodded. Taking the lead he started down the passageway, pausing at each intersection to peer down the cross aisles. If he found a familiar path, he would first talk to
the Doormaster before leading Drindle to his master’s door.

  The baker followed behind, making notations on a hand drawn map. At the first intersection they passed a large wooden barrel that smelled of smoke. Fire had charred the outside and the lid was missing. Stacked inside the barrel, point down, stood dozens of cutlass blades. All were missing their hilts and guards. Drindle made notes on his map.

  Liam recognized nothing at the intersection. On a whim he decided on the right hand passage.

  They moved deeper into the room, stopping often to allow Drindle to make notes. The looming shelves with their eerie contents played on Liam’s nerves, but Drindle seemed to be immune to these fears.

  The entwining rows snaked back and forth between the shelves. Liam lost all sense of direction and was relying heavily on Drindle’s map to lead them back. Around the next twist a side passage opened on their right. It was wider than the rest and framed with stone.

  Liam stopped and pointed to the stone passageway. “Is this on your map?”

  Drindle looked up. Stepping closer he examined the hand hewn blocks making up the arch. “Certainly not,” he said, reaching out to brush the age blackened stone with his fingertips. “This is the first time I’ve seen stone work in here.” Leaning forward he called to Liam. “Look at this. There are faces carved into the blocks.”

  Liam moved up beside Drindle to stand beneath the arch. He peered closely at the old blocks. Stone faces stared back at him, sending a shiver up his spine. “Let’s try a different passage,” he said.

  “Let’s not be too hasty,” said Drindle as he moved a little deeper into the passage. “Don’t you want to know why the builders picked stone for this section?”

  “Maybe they ran short of wood,” Liam said under his breath.

  Drindle was too preoccupied to hear. He moved farther into the passage, now and again stopping to examine things on the shelves.

  Liam looked over his shoulder and then down the forbidding passage. He couldn’t go back without a map. The familiar fear of the potion room settled over him and he hurried to catch up.

  “There you are,” said Drindle as he looked up from the shelf. “This is a very strange section. Look at these bottles.”

  Liam thought this whole room was strange, but he turned to look where Drindle was pointing. The stone shelf was filled with row upon row of tall thin bottles. They were all made from the same emerald green glass. Each one had a stopper of shinning red glass held in place by a twist of wire. There were hundreds of them. Liam was confused. He turned back to Drindle to ask what was so strange about a bunch of bottles.

  “Read the labels,” said Drindle and he pointed to the shelf again.

  Liam leaned closer to make out the labels. The word STINGERS was written in red across the top, but when he looked closer they were all different. Each one had a picture of an insect with the name beneath.

  There were dozens of types of bees: Sand Bees, Red Throated Bees, Bumble Bees, and others he had never heard of.

  After the bees, the shelves held bottles of Wasp Stingers and later Hornet Stingers and even bottles of Scorpion Stings.

  “Why would anyone want a bottle of stingers?” Liam asked. “And look at the size of these bottles. It would take thousands of stingers to fill just one.”

  Drindle shrugged, “I don’t have any idea but it’s not just stingers. Look here where the bottles start to get bigger.”

  The farther down the aisle they went, the bigger the bottles and the stranger the contents. Soon they were seeing bottles of spines from sea urchins, platypus spurs and even stingray tails. As the bottles grew bigger the shelves grew larger squeezing into the aisle and shutting out more of the light.

  The stone shelves closed in tighter and the passageway seemed like a cave. The bottles were filled with fangs and claws. Liam didn’t like looking at the pictures anymore. He wanted to beg Drindle to stop, but the passage was so narrow now that they had to walk single file. All he could see was his back. Liam reached out a hand to tug on Drindle’s apron just as the passage made a sharp turn and widened out.

  Drindle stopped suddenly and Liam stumbled into him with a bump. The passage had ended in a small circular alcove lined with green bottles of every size. Drindle still hadn’t moved. Liam peeked around him to see why.

  In the center of the alcove was an enormous bottle made from the same emerald green glass with the same shinning red stopper. The label was on the other side of the bottle, and all Liam could see of the picture was part of a curling tendril. The air was heavy and he found it hard to breathe. The endless bottles filled with sharp poisonous points made his skin prickle. Drindle started moving across the room, his hand stretched out towards the bottle.

  Musical tinkling like tiny glass bells made Liam look up. A wisp of vapor curled out from around the shinning red stopper and the tinkling became louder and more dreadful. The twist of wire that should have held the stopper in place was missing. Drindle was almost touching the bottle.

  “Wait!” cried Liam as he pointed to the stopper. “The seal is broken.”

  “What..?” said Drindle. He was standing so close to the bottle he had to crane his neck to see the top.

  A tremor passed beneath their feet. An inky breath belched from the bottle. The stopper clanged like an anvil being struck. The reverberation leaped around the room in a wave, ricocheting off the bottles lining the walls. Tinkling glass stoppers chimed back in a harsh staccato echo.

  Liam cast a frightened glance around the room, remembering what was in those bottles. The echo wasn’t dying - it continued to swell. He gaped at the bottles. A shiver ran up his spine. None of the bottles in this alcove had wire twists.

  Liam grabbed Drindle by the arm. “Our presence here seems to have set them off somehow,” he said waving at the bottles lining the wall. “I don’t know what will happen if those stoppers come out, but do you want to be here if they do?”

  A look of shocked astonishment passed across Drindle’s face. “Right you are… lead the way.” He pushed Liam back the way they had come. “Stretch your legs now boy, no time to dawdle.”

  Liam set a fast pace, not slowing down until they were well clear of the stone passageway and the angry green bottles. After passing several cross aisles Liam stopped and tried to slow his breathing. He didn’t want to admit to Drindle how scared he was.

  “What do you think that passage was?” asked Liam between breaths. “And what was in that enormous bottle?”

  Drindle‘s longer legs had served him well, and even though he was older he didn’t seem to be out of breath. “I’m not at all sure. I’ve seen a lot of strange things in this room but nothing has ever threatened me with physical harm. Maybe there is more magic here than we see. It's possible that the stone arch we passed through was linked to some other-where. I need to speak with some of my associates. Maybe they would know more. But for now I don’t think I’ll be going back soon.”

  “Speaking of going back, Willow and Mica will be worried if we are not there when they return from the inn,” said Liam.

  “Right you are. Let me have a look at my map.” Holding it up he turned in a slow circle, his head bobbing like a sandpiper at low tide. He peered up and down the passageway squinting at the map. With purpose he started down the passageway, long legs swinging. But his steps soon slowed and became hesitant. Muttering he returned, passing by Liam and stopping at the intersection.

  Liam followed, his concern growing. He had been disoriented long before they passed through the stone arch. Now his head felt muddled. He was well and truly lost. His only hope of getting out was Drindle’s map.

  Drindle took several strides down the left hand passage and stopped. “This can’t be right,” he said tapping his long bony finger on the map.

  Liam stretched his neck and peeked around the skinny baker’s arm. A sense of dread soured his stomach as he caught a glimpse of the map. Drindle may be the land’s best baker, but it was clear he had no skill for drawing. Twist
ed lines without names or descriptions crisscrossed the paper. Crude drawings wedged between smudges and squiggles gave little hint of which way they had passed.

  Drindle scratched his chin as he studied what he had drawn. Then his eyes lit up and he jabbed his forehead with his finger. “Aha,” he cried and spun the map upside down. “We are heading the wrong way.”

  Whirling around he bumped Liam aside. “Oh, sorry boy,” he said with a sheepish grin. He reached down to give Liam a hand up. “It seems, you see, I was holding the map the wrong way about.” Without another word his long legs marched off down the passage pausing only briefly before disappearing down a side aisle.

  Liam stood in shock. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. How could Drindle tell anything from looking at that scribbling he called a map. He looked around confused.

  A head popped back around the corner. “Are you all right boy?” asked Drindle. Concern crossed his face. “You look a little addled. Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  The words snapped Liam back to the present. Closing his mouth he shook his head. “No, I’m not hurt.”

  “Well come along then,” said Drindle with a wave of his arm. “I thought you were in a hurry to get back to your friends.”

  Liam wasn’t sure if Drindle could find his way back or not, but he didn’t have any other options. So when the baker disappeared around the corner he jogged after him.

  To Liam’s amazement once Drindle had figured out which way was up on his map he seemed to have no trouble at all deciding which turns to take. Liam just hoped they were actually getting closer to the bakery door.

  A couple turns later Drindle stopped in an intersection, looked around, then folded up his map and placed it in an apron pocket.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Liam, fearing the worst.

  “Nothing is wrong, just the opposite in fact,” said Drindle a little smugly. “The map is no longer needed. Our door lies just down this aisle.”

  From where Liam stood, the aisle seemed much the same as the others. A little longer perhaps, but still much the same. “How can you tell?” he asked.

  “Come, I’ll show you.” Pointing down the left hand aisle he said, “See the tall red and yellow urn? That is where I draw the water for my bath. It is always full of hot steaming water.”

  Liam walked a short way down the aisle towards the urn. He could see that it sat on a three-legged stone stool. A steady hissing noise escaped from the top. He started to laugh. “Here is the landmark we have been searching for, sitting just outside your door. I have seen this urn before.”

  “Ha! Wonderful news,” said Drindle. “I had given up on finding one. You can draw me a map then, from the urn to Ogden’s door?”

  “I believe, I might,” answered Liam guardedly. “But only if I retrace my steps from my door.”

  Drindle gave Liam a warm smile. “It is well that you are wary of new acquaintances. Please, talk to Ogden about the map before you draw it for me. Now let’s get back to your friends before they have a chance to worry.”

  “Oh yes, let’s hurry,” said Liam with a nod.

  He had to trot to keep up with Drindle’s long strides as they passed the last two intersections. Drindle stopped before the weathered door. Its peeling blue paint was a welcome sight to Liam.

  Stooping low, Drindle opened the door. “In you go now,” he said. “Take the fire globe from the niche where we left it and head up the stairs. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Liam stepped through and took the fire globe. Not waiting to see if Drindle was following, he hurried up the stairs and into the shop.

  Through the window he could see Mica and Willow outside. They stood close together with their backs to the shop. With a flip of his wrist he shot back the latch and flung open the door.

  Mica jumped away from Willow, turning and dropping his hand to his side.

  Liam smiled. “Have you two been waiting long?” he asked innocently. His smile grew larger knowing they had been holding hands. “Drindle was showing me more of his shop. I hope you weren’t bored.”

  Mica looked a little sheepish. But with a sweet smile Willow brushed past Liam. “It didn’t seem long to me,” she said.

  Mica squared his shoulders, scooped up the pack at his feet, and strutted into the shop. He headed straight for the counter where Drindle was standing.

  Liam watched as Mica began to empty his pouch, arranging bundles of plants on the counter. They all looked boringly alike to Liam. He drifted across the room to where Willow was examining the display of cakes.

  She looked up as he approached. “Are they not delightful?” she asked, nodding at the cakes. Her eyes sparkled with a childlike wonder. “My favorite is the one shaped like a cabin. Look, it even has clear sugar window panes. You can see right inside.”

  Liam didn’t see what all the fuss was about, but her joy was so contagious he bent forward to look. The cake was shaped like a humble little cabin in the woods. It had rough sawn logs for walls and a thatched roof made of chocolate shavings. A tiny little sugar man stood in the doorway waving hello with his bright red hat. Through the windows he could see a woman wearing a long white apron. She was setting plates on the table. Next to the fire a rocking chair held a fat yellow cat curled into a ball, his nose tucked under his tail.

  Everything looked so real Liam could almost smell what was cooking for dinner. He caught himself holding his breath, waiting for them to move. With a sigh he stood back up.

  “I had no idea,” said Liam. “Small wonder he is the king’s baker.”

  “The true wonder,” Willow said, “is that he is living here in Fairgrove of all places. We might be the only customers he’s had today.”

  Liam looked around the neat little shop. The white walls were clean as if freshly painted. The display cabinets were not new but they showed little wear. “His shop is in good shape and his cases are full. He must be selling his goods somewhere. I bet he has a door to the castle, or at least one in Hightown. Maybe near the castle gate.”

  Willow looked thoughtful. “You must be right,” she said. “The notion of crossing a kingdom as swiftly as passing through a door is foreign to me. The elves prefer to travel across the land, the journey being as important to them as the destination. The wonders you find along the way often eclipse those found at the end.”

  Liam thought of the beauty in the dryad grove. “The elves are wise; much is missed when traveling through magic doors.” Then his face broke into a wide grin. “But without them, Drindle’s bread would be stale long before it reached the king’s table.”

  Willow giggled. “True enough. I doubt the king sits at the head of his high table surrounded by lords and ladies eating stale bread. It would seem the doors do have their uses.”

  Her smile faded and her eyes darkened like a cloud passing in front of the sun. “Maybe cakes are not the only things passing through the magic doors. Could someone be using them to supply weapons to the goblins? I have been speaking to travelers and inn keepers and have heard no tales of magic weapons being shipped along the roads.”

  Liam thought for a moment. “It might be possible,” he said, “but they would have to be shielded with silver. Taking a magical weapon through a magical door would break the bond on the door or the weapon, or both.”

  “What happens then?” Willow asked. “The magic no longer works?”

  “Often much more than that,” explained Liam. “When a magic bond snaps, extraordinary things happen. Explosions, sometimes quite large, are common. If other magic is present the outcome can be truly bizarre. The results are so unpredictable that few have been willing to experiment.”

  “Shielded with silver you say?” asked Willow curiously. “Could a scabbard of silver shield a poison blade? Perhaps one like we took from the cart-stealing goblin?”

  “I believe so,” said Liam, “but I would want the Doormaster’s opinion before I tested it.”

  Willow’s voice took on a formal tone. ?
??Then would you mind greatly if I travel with you to meet your master?”

  “Travel with us you mean,” said Mica, as he walked up behind them grinning. With a wink he nodded at Liam. “Be assured, alone with him you might die of boredom.”

  “You do seem to be knocking on death’s own door,” said Liam as he aimed a half hearted punch at Mica’s ribs. Liam noticed Mica’s pack looked empty and his pouch a little fuller after his talk with Drindle. He turned to Willow. “I guess you will have to join us or my friend here will surly die of boredom long before we reach Three Oaks Dale.”

  Mica lolled his head to one side and rolled his eyes, trying his best to look ill.

  “Thank you for the offer. I accept,” said Willow trying hard not to grin. “Although I am sure our friend would survive. I have heard the addled-minded are long lived. From the looks of this one,” she said jabbing a thumb at Mica, “he should live to see one hundred and ten.”

  Liam laughed out loud. Mica grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

  With a quick goodbye from Drindle and a promise from Liam to remember the map, the three friends headed back to the inn.

  Everyone was eager to be on the road. After an early dinner they agreed to meet at sunrise. Willow bid the boys good night and retired to her room.