Against The World

Evelyn had been very sensible about her parents leaving.

She had checked the road reports.

Asked Beatrice to prepare food for the journey.

Made certain the repaired harness on the second wagon had been inspected.

Then she had stood beside the window in our rooms for several minutes without saying anything.

I approached quietly and slipped my arms around her.

She leaned back against me.

“They will visit,” I said.

“I know.”

“And we will visit them.”

“I know that too.”

Below us, the Valewood guards checked their horses.

Garrick stood beside the carriage, speaking to his captain. Helena was examining a basket that had apparently been packed incorrectly.

Something was being removed.

Something else was being added.

The basket looked no different afterward.

Evelyn watched her.

“She always takes over when she is trying not to be upset.”

“That explains the wedding.”

“A little.”

I kissed the side of her head.

“We could ask them to stay another day.”

She smiled faintly.

“Then I would have this conversation tomorrow.”

“That is the weakness in my plan.”

She turned in my arms.

“I am happy here, Uriah.”

“I know.”

“I do not want you thinking—”

“I do not.”

Her shoulders eased.

I brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“You can miss your parents and want to stay with me. There is room for both.”

She looked at me for a moment.

Then she kissed me.

We might have remained there considerably longer if someone had not knocked.

Mary’s voice came through the door.

“I am sorry.”

That was rarely a promising beginning.

“What happened?”

“The Castellan has completed the first part of the accession review.”

“Can it wait?”

A pause.

Then the wall beside the window glowed.

“Updated transit destinations include Valewood House.”

Evelyn went completely still.

I looked at the golden eye.

“What?”

“Updated transit destinations include Valewood House.”

“My parents’ home?” Evelyn asked.

“Current designation consistent with the former Eastern Steward’s Residence.”

She stepped out of my arms.

“There is a transit gate at Valewood?”

“Correct.”

I glanced through the window at the waiting carriage.

Then back at the wall.

“You might have led with that yesterday.”

“Destination verification completed fourteen seconds ago.”

That was difficult to argue with.

Evelyn was already opening the door.

Garrick did not believe us.

He expressed this by staring at me as though I had proposed that his carriage could fly.

“There is no gate beneath my house.”

“The Castellan says there is.”

“I know my house.”

Helena folded her arms.

“There are several rooms in the old foundations we have never entered.”

“Because they are foundations.”

“Rooms generally suggest more than foundations.”

Evelyn caught her mother’s hands.

“It says the gate can be reached from here.”

Helena’s expression changed.

“How quickly?”

“Seconds,” I said. “Once the passage is open.”

She looked toward the carriage.

Then at Evelyn.

“Garrick.”

“No,” he said immediately.

“You have not heard what I was going to say.”

“I know that tone.”

“If there is a gate under our house that allows me to visit our daughter without spending two days in a carriage, we are finding it.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then looked at his captain.

“Delay departure.”

The man nodded.

“How long, my lord?”

Garrick looked at me.

I looked at Evelyn.

She smiled for the first time that morning without any sadness behind it.

“Let us find out.”

The transit chamber had changed overnight.

Not dramatically.

The doors remained where they had always been. The stone floor still bore the old Crown.

But a circle of small symbols now shone around the arch.

Mary stood beneath them with her notebook open.

Alistair had joined her.

So had Eliza, who appeared to have heard the words “gate beneath Valewood” and immediately begun imagining soldiers coming through it.

Melody stood near the wall.

“This is excellent.”

“You do not know where any of these go,” Mary said.

“That is what makes it excellent.”

The Castellan’s eye appeared across the doors.

“Permanent sovereign authority permits access to the regional destination registry.”

A map formed in light above the floor.

Greykeep glowed at its center.

A line connected it to Westmere.

Another extended east.

Several more ended at dimmer symbols.

“Valewood House,” the Castellan said.

The eastern point brightened.

“Stoneford Exchange. Willowbrook Wayhouse. Northwatch Citadel. Highfell Mining Station. Orselle Crown Quay.”

Mary’s pen stopped.

“The coastal quay?”

“Former Crown transit installation. Current ownership and receiving authority unverified.”

Garrick leaned forward.

“Some of those sites lie within other kingdoms.”

“Yes,” I said. “We are not opening their doors without speaking to them.”

Eliza nodded.

The Castellan continued.

“Westmere Hold is active. Valewood House retains an intact receiving seal. Stoneford Exchange requires obstruction clearance. Willowbrook Wayhouse requires anchor repair. Remaining locations require inspection or contact authorization.”

“So the list is not a promise that we can safely walk into all of them,” Evelyn said.

“Correct.”

“And Valewood?” Helena asked.

“Receiving chamber structurally intact. Transit floor clear. Local access sealed from the residential side.”

Garrick frowned.

“Where?”

A second image appeared.

The outline of Valewood Manor rose above a set of older foundations.

One chamber glowed beneath the western wing.

Helena touched Garrick’s sleeve.

“The old wine cellar.”

“That wall is solid.”

“Apparently not entirely.”

He stared at the image.

“My father had that room measured.”

“Your father was looking for damp,” Helena said. “Not magical doors.”

I turned toward the Castellan.

“Can we return immediately if we go through?”

“Return passage will remain available throughout inspection.”

“No one else follows without permission.”

“Access restricted to named travelers.”

I named our group.

Eliza sent two guards with us and left the others at Greykeep.

Eleanor arrived before we opened the doors.

Someone had told her we intended to enter an old underground chamber.

She brought a hammer.

I decided not to ask whether she intended to use it on the stone or on whoever had forgotten to invite her.

The arch filled with light.

Beyond it stood darkness.

Then lamps kindled one after another.

A dry stone chamber waited on the other side.

Helena squeezed Evelyn’s hand.

We stepped through.

There was no sensation of travel.

One step beneath Greykeep.

The next beneath Valewood.

The air smelled faintly of oak and old stone.

A carving of the silver tree covered the far wall.

Garrick stood in the center of the chamber and turned slowly.

“I have lived above this for fifty years.”

Melody examined the carved tree.

“That must be embarrassing.”

Mary closed her eyes.

“Melody.”

“What? It would be.”

Helena was laughing.

Not politely.

Not quietly.

She walked to the far wall and placed her palm against the tree.

Nothing happened.

“Castellan?”

Its voice reached us through a small bronze plate beside the arch.

“Local household authority may be restored with sovereign confirmation and resident acceptance.”

I looked at Garrick and Helena.

“This is your home. You should control its door.”

Garrick’s expression became serious.

“No unrestricted arrivals.”

“Agreed.”

“Messages before passage. Someone here must accept.”

“Agreed.”

“And if we close it?”

“It stays closed.”

He nodded.

Helena placed her hand beside his against the carving.

We completed the authorization.

The tree glowed.

A narrow seam appeared in the wall.

Stone withdrew.

On the other side stood racks of wine.

And a steward holding a candle.

He stared at us.

Garrick stared back.

The steward looked at Helena.

Then Evelyn.

Then me.

His candle tilted.

Melody reached out and straightened it.

“You will want to keep that upright.”

“My lord?”

Garrick cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Pell.”

“You were expected tomorrow evening.”

“Yes.”

Pell looked behind us.

At the glowing doorway.

Then back at his lord.

“Shall I have your rooms prepared?”

For some reason, that made Helena laugh harder.

We went upstairs.

Mostly because Garrick wanted to confirm that we had actually arrived at his house.

He examined the cellar stairs.

The western corridor.

The courtyard.

At the window, he stopped and looked out over the orchard.

His own horses stood in the paddock.

His gardeners were cutting back an overgrown hedge.

Nothing had changed.

Except that his daughter stood beside him when she should have been two days away.

Evelyn slipped her arm through his.

“Well?”

He looked down at her.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then he placed his hand over hers.

“I suppose,” he said carefully, “we can visit more often.”

Helena gave him a look.

“We can visit for lunch.”

“Some of us have responsibilities.”

“So does our daughter. That is why lunch is convenient.”

Evelyn laughed.

Garrick’s mouth twitched.

Then, finally, he laughed too.

The sound filled the quiet corridor.

I stood a little apart and watched them.

The gate had not merely shortened a road.

It had removed something from the farewell waiting in the courtyard at Greykeep.

Evelyn looked back at me.

She held out her hand.

I took it.

“My mother will arrive constantly,” she warned.

“I heard.”

“My father will pretend he has business.”

“I heard that too.”

“You can still change your mind.”

“No,” Helena said.

We all turned.

She smiled.

“About lunch.”

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