that loomed on either side of the door. There was a curious atmosphere of menace
about them. They cast huge shadows over the place where she waited, completely
blocking the sun. But she wasn’t frightened. She embraced Savankala in her heart
and felt safe.
The second time she knocked the door eased open.
There was no one to greet her, so she stepped inside. Eerily, the door closed,
leaving her in a foyer lit by soft lamps. “Enas Yorl?” she called. The words
echoed hollowly before fading. Chewing her lip, she wandered deeper into the
house. Everything looked so old, covered with the dust of centuries. Brilliant
pieces of art and sculpture were half-hidden by cobwebs. The air smelled of must
and mold. She wrinkled her nose and went through an interior door.
Halfway across that chamber she stopped. A shiver crept up her spine. It was the
same room she had just left behind.
“Enas Yorl!” she shouted angrily. “Don’t play your wizard’s games with me. I
want to talk.” She hesitated, waited for some kind of answer. “I thought you had
a servant,” she continued impatiently. “Send him to guide me to you, or come
yourself. I’ll wait here.” She crossed her arms stubbornly, but on the far side
of the room another door opened. She thought about it, then sighed. “Oh, all
right. Whatever amuses you.”
Once again she passed through the door, and once again found herself in the same
room. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Enas Yori,” she muttered, “but not that you
were boring.”
Again the far door opened. To her relief it was a different room. The smell of