N ikolai lay down to sleep, certain the next morning he would wake to find his mind clouded. It would be the perfect excuse for Medea to keep him here. She would shake her head and tell him that he couldn’t possibly go out in such a state, but don’t worry, rest, she could teach him how to use the gateways another day. Perhaps that was why he woke so early.
He had no way of telling the time, but the lab and library were empty, and it was dark when he peeked outside. Nikolai dressed quickly and summoned breakfast, eating hastily in the common room. A quick tug on the gateway door revealed it was still locked. He hadn’t really expected it to be open but felt compelled to check.
Reluctant to leave the common area, he perused the bookshelves. Mundane works, mostly fiction published within the last several years. He snorted at Animal Farm . No need to read that shit—he’d lived it. Amusing that capitalist countries believed their politicians didn’t use the same tactics. He grabbed a random book and sat down to read, though his mind was too occupied to concentrate on the words.
Would Medea really let him go? Unlikely. But what to do then? He’d have to figure out a way to get past her wards. There had to be something in the library, but it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Did the wards respond to touch or presence? If it was the latter, he could maneuver Medea to stand near the door one day, tricking it into thinking she was the person to open it. Maybe the door itself could be blasted open. The damage would be obvious, but at least he’d be through.
The sound of a door opening drew his attention. Medea emerged on the landing above. “It takes a day off to get you up this early?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get a bit of reading in.” He raised the book in his lap.
“How is it?”
“You mean there’s a book in this place you haven’t read?”
That earned him a chuckle. “Those are my to-read shelves. I read fast, but not fast enough.”
She descended the spiral staircase. He replaced the book and joined her at the warded door. It opened to reveal a circular room. A round table with an ornate box sat in the center, but otherwise it was devoid of furniture. On the opposite wall, blue runes framed a doorway.
Nikolai entered and turned in place. The walls were covered floor-to-ceiling with maps spanning the globe. There was no consistent size or style to any of them. It took him a moment to realize the room itself was one large map of the world constructed of dozens of smaller maps. A decorative border of tiles circled the wall above the maps, just below the ceiling.
Tiny lights twinkled on the maps in green, red, white, and flashing yellow. Sometimes they marked cities, other times they marked locations of no obvious significance. A trail of lights followed the Silk Road from the Mediterranean Sea all the way to China.
Europe was overwhelmingly represented and contained the most lights. Its maps were disproportionately larger and more detailed. In the East, lights were mostly restricted to large inland or coastal cities, probably following some long-ago trade route. The United States had the second-most dense collection of lights, with a higher concentration on the East Coast. Except for Antarctica, each continent had at least one light.
“Every light you see is a gateway I’ve made. Teleportation, though possible, is rife with problems. Gateways are a far more effective means of transportation.”
He approached the map of Russia. It contained few lights, many of which were red. Closer examination of the lights revealed them to be small, luminescent holes.
“What do the colors mean?”
“Red is hazardous. Unfortunately, the world changes over time. I tried to make my gateways where they might last, but it’s difficult to predict how the world around them will change.”
“Like the Hanged Man going bankrupt?” He grinned. No wonder she’d bought the place and insisted they keep her room clear of other guests.
“Yes, like that. At least there I could do something. It would have been awkward if they’d demolished the place.”
“Would that destroy the gateway? Or could you move it by prying off the doorframe?”
“Most people tie the spell to a particular object like that. I don’t. The last thing I need is someone stealing a gateway. Mine are tied to a specific relative location. Trickier to accomplish because if you don’t get it right, the gateway will open up into space as soon as the planet rotates.”
Now there was a thought. “Is that purely theoretical or has it actually happened to someone?”
“Oh it’s happened, though I’m not sure people understood what they were seeing. I found old accounts of apprentices watching their masters walk into what they thought was some sort of ethereal paradise, only to fly off into oblivion, never to be seen again.
“My gateways are anchored to their location in relation to Earth, so no matter how the world moves, the gateway moves with it. Some of my older portals have shifted by a few inches or so, but nothing severe.”
“So if the Hanged Man was torn down, the gateway would just float in the air where the inn used to be?”
“Yes. So be careful with red. It means the exit has been compromised. In that annoying war a few years ago, many of my gateways became obstructed with rubble, or the buildings housing them were destroyed.” Her tone was that of someone who’d planned a nice evening out, only to find their chosen venue closed.
He scanned the maps of Europe. Sure enough, cities that had been the target of Nazi bombings contained more red lights. The war that had shaped his childhood was no more than a minor inconvenience to her. It spoke to her ability that massive world events meant so little.
He shelved the thought. The faster he got through this lesson, the sooner he could get out of here.
“And the other colors?”
“White is functional, with no known threats. Green is gardens. Flashing yellow means the wards have caught an intruder.”
“How do you keep people from getting in? They get dumped on the beach?”
“The gateways are warded. They won’t open unless they recognize the person entering or hear the password.”
“And the password is . . . ?”
“None of your business.” She gave him a look. “If someone tries repeatedly to get through, or if they threaten the gateway itself, the wards will neutralize them.”
“Kill them?”
“No. They’re frozen in midair and paralyzed. That way I can ask why they’re trying to break into my home. Of course, sometimes I forget to check and they’re dead by the time I arrive.”
“Uh, wouldn’t a dead body attract attention?”
She crossed her arms. “I have been doing this for a while, you know. The wards detect death and dissolve the body. I am not an amateur.”
“Of course. I meant no offense. So how do I make a selection?”
Medea took out a small peg from the ornate box on the table and held it up. “With this.” She moved to the map of Ireland and stuck the peg in a white hole marked Haven , then moved to the runed door and placed a flat palm on the surface. “Make a habit of checking your surroundings before opening the door. Specto. ”
Oh sure, she got to use an incantation, but when he did it, it was wrong.
A rectangular area surrounding her palm became translucent. He approached and peered through. Beyond the gateway was the bedroom at the Hanged Man.
“Clear enough.” Medea opened the door and passed through. He didn’t follow. Would the gateway seal if he moved the peg? Could he lock her out? It hadn’t sounded like it. Probably best not to tempt fate until he understood more, but the idea was heartening.
“Now that you’ve been identified to the wards, you’ll be taken back to the Gateway Room when you cross the threshold. You may use the gateways at your leisure. Don’t let anyone see you pass through. If someone manages to cross with you, you’ll both be deposited onto the beach. If possible, leave them alive for questioning, unless of course you already know why you were being followed. In that case, just kill them.”
The offhand way she said this made his heart leap. A mentor that understood the necessity of killing! It was too bad she was withholding magic and making him sick.
“Did you want Haven, or someplace else?”
It was tempting to bolt before he lost his chance, but Haven was too small for all the things he needed to do. He needed a large city where he spoke the language. Turkey was a mess last he’d heard, and he had no desire to ever return to Russia. That left Dublin, Glasgow, and London. Dublin was familiar, but London was larger and had better clubs.
“London, please.”
Medea stepped through the gateway, closing the door behind her. Would it open again? She moved to place the peg.
“No, wait!” He was an idiot, trapped in the mind-set that he had to stay in Europe. The gateways could go anywhere.
“Can I go to New York?”
“You can go anywhere you see a gateway, but it’s the middle of the night there. If you’re unsure, check the sun strip.” She pointed to the row of tiles over the maps, where someone might normally stick clocks of varying time zones. Above the East Coast of America they were dark blue, almost black. As they crossed over the Atlantic they grew lighter, until at last they were yellow.
New York was tempting. The city probably had quite the night life, and he’d always wanted to see America. Unfortunately, he had things to do that required normal business hours.
“What’s wrong with you?” Medea gestured at him with the peg. “I’ve never seen you so indecisive. It’s not like you can’t go someplace else next week.”
“I didn’t expect to have so many choices.”
“You’re picking a destination, not naming your firstborn! Here.”
She slapped the peg against his abdomen, and he fumbled to grab it before it fell.
“When you’re ready to return, simply walk through the gateway. The wards will recognize you and do the rest.”
The door snapped closed behind her. Nikolai turned the peg in his hands. Being allowed to leave at all seemed wrong. What was she playing at?
Only one way to find out. He inserted the peg into London and opened the gateway door.