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(I ommitted the spoilery part even though it was more ominous…)

 

The oak chair creaked as the burly man leaned back, making the front legs lift off of the floor. He played with a quill at the corner of his mouth, and tapped his fingers on the desk. He needed room to think, and he wasn’t going to get it in here.

The man stood and walked around his desk. He wanted some fresh air; the Palace Hybern was stuffy. He opened the door to his quarters, and jerked in surprise. Instead of a black, dank corridor, he beheld a large, open, circular room.

Light streamed in from tall windows placed at intervals between doors — dozens of doors. The round room was bare except for a dancing white marble fountain in the middle. The floor was of white tiles, and if you looked up you could see far above a circular sky-light in the ceiling.

The man blinked, and closed the door. He leaned against it. He took several deep breaths, and composed himself. Whatever had happened must have a reasonable explanation. He slowly cracked open the door again and looked out. The fountain gurgled as if to taunt him.

The man banged the door shut and growled. How wonderful. He didn’t know how long it would last, but it meant a delay in his plans. Things would happen while he wasn’t in Auboron, and he had no way of knowing. The man threw his fists on the door, and it rattled.

But whatever had just occured, no matter how bizare, he needed to go out. He couldn’t stay in this room. Speaking of this room…. It had several doors leading to other rooms in his quarters. The man strode to the opposite wall and jerked it open. The fountain splashed and beamed. How?

He tried the third door. Gurgle splash! He slammed it. The man stormed over to his desk and started folding his papers and documents. He then crossed the room and pried open a floor board near the fire-place. He stuffed the articles into it, and then stomped the board back into place.

I’m not going to have anyone coming in and rumaging about my stuff.

He buckled on the sword belt that held his scabberd and iron ball. He clipped on his cape, and was about to exit the room when he remembered his wife. Right. What if she somehow came into the room and didn’t know what had happened, to him or the rest of the Palace? But ah, nevermind. Jezebel could take care of herself. He swung open the door and thudded out into the bright round room.

“SHOW YOURSELF!” He roared, without the least musical hint. His nostrils flared and his eyes were on fire. Whoever had done whatever he had done was going to pay. And he would pay it with his measly life — after he had gotten Ahab out of this mess, that is.

Ahab’s muscles flexed. He could take on a herd of charging elephants, and he knew he could. He turned around, surveying the treatorous room, and oh! How was his anger kindled. All the doors looked the same. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

Because all the doors had been different colors before. Ahab snarled. He walked to the nearest one and grasped the knob. But it wouldn’t turn. Oh well. He didn’t need it. He reared his leg back and kicked. The sound ehoed in the room, and after two more, it cracked in half and Ahab strode into—

A library.

And lying on a couch on the far side was a limp, lounging figure. Ahab raised his sword, and evil glinted in his eye.