“Thanks, but I fight my own battles!”
“A lot of good it does us if you end up dead!”
I shook my head stubbornly. “Then we'll just have to be careful. I'm not hiding behind you, Blaise. Don't ask me to.”
She frowned, but didn't press the point. Which was fine with me, since I had no intention of giving in. Besides, I had a feeling I'd be back to normal soon… my Chaos-legs were definitely returning.
Dad navigated a twisting course through hallway after hallway. The passages seemed to curve back on themselves like serpents devouring their own tails. Hadn't we come in a full circle? Were we back where we had started? I couldn't tell. Still we passed door after identical door—the count must have run into the dozens by now. Several times I had the impression of descending on a slight incline, though the floor always appeared level. More tricks of Chaos…
Dad stopped in front of a door like so many others we had passed. It had no markings or numbers to identify it.
“Prepare yourselves,” he said. “This is the one.”
“I'm ready.” Swallowing hard, I tightened my grip on my sword. Nothing to do now but storm in, letting heads fall where they may.
“Wait, Dad,” Blaise said. “Are you sure?”
“I know Freda's voice,” he said, eyes distant. “She is calling from inside. I am certain of it.”
“I don't hear anything,” I said.
Dad made a dismissive gesture. “You are deaf to the Logrus, my boy. Her spirit is crying out in agony. You are not attuned to it, so you cannot hear it. Blaise and I can.”
I glanced at Blaise, who nodded. “Yes. I hear her, too.” Then, to our father, she added: “I know Freda is in pain. I feel it. But I'm not certain she's inside this room.”
“I am.”
“If you make a mistake…”
He nodded. “I know. But the only way to find out—is so!”
Before Blaise or I could stop him, Dad rapped sharply on the carved wooden face on the door, right in the center of its forehead.
The face twitched. Its eyelids flew open, and it glared at us with blood-red eyes.
“How dare you touch me!” it snarled.
I gulped. If this guardian was anything like the doors in Dad's home in the Beyond, it would take the magical equivalent of a battering ram to get through now that Dad had pissed it off.
“I am your master,” Dad said.
It blinked. “You are not Lord Thellops!”
“No,” Dad agreed.
“Who are you,” it said in haughty tones, “and what do you want? Speak fast, or I shall summon guards and have you executed for this outrage!”
Dad said, “You know who I am.”
“You…” The face stared blankly at him. “Are you the one? The maker?”
“Your name!” Dad commanded. “Obey me!”
“I am Oberon,” said the face.
I gaped. “Did you say Oberon?” Maybe I hadn't heard correctly. Chaos might still be playing tricks on my senses.
“Yes,” said the door, looking at me, “I did say Oberon. What of it?”
“Uh… I wasn't sure I heard you correctly.” I shot a puzzled glance at Dad. “That's my name, too. Funny coincidence.”
“You are Oberon?” Dad said to the door, ignoring me. “Yes, I thought so. Do you remember me?”
“I think… I think I know you,” it said, staring at his face.
I stared at Dad unbelievingly. How was he doing it? Hypnotism?
Calmly, Dad nodded. “I am Lord Dworkin. I made you for Thellops many years ago. I carved you with these two hands. I painted the light into your eyes and into your heart. Do you remember me now?”
“Yes… Lord… Dworkin… yes. You are the one. I will obey… master.”
Ah, so Dad had made Thellops's doors! Sometimes it paid to be an inventor. His confidence about getting through to Freda suddenly made sense.
Now, though, I had a question or two of my own. Had he named me after a door, or named the door after me? After we rescued Freda, I intended to find out.
Dad smiled kindly, like a proud father at his son. “I have returned, as promised. Now open for me.”
The face blinked several times. “None may enter, by Lord Thellops's command.”
“I may enter,” Dad said firmly. “I made you. Your first instructions came from me. Recall them.”
“You… you may pass through me at any time, day or night, without question. I must obey you in all things.”
Dad leaned forward. “What else?”
“Now and forever… you are my one true master.”
“Good. Now, let us pass.”
“Yes… master.”
The lock clicked several times. The door swung open.
Dad drew himself up, sword ready. I looked at him with new respect. He must have made these doors for Thellops many years ago… and made sure they would always open for him. The crafty devil. Had he planned a career as a burglar?
“Faster!” Dad commanded. “Be quick and be silent!”