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The Serpentwar Saga: The Complete 4-Book Collection
The Serpentwar Saga: The Complete 4-Book Collection
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The Serpentwar Saga: The Complete 4-Book Collection


‘How does one learn of these doors? Is there a map?’

‘Well, there’s one,’ said Boldar, ‘at Honest John’s. It’s on a wall in the public room. There you can see the known limits of the Hall. The last time I looked, there were something like thirty-six thousand-odd doors identified and catalogued.

‘There are occasionally messages forwarded to the Inn from those who encounter new doors, either in the Hall or upon any world where a new passage is discovered. There’s even one legendary lunatic whose name I forget who is exploring the far reaches and sending back messages, some which take decades to reach John’s. He’s getting so far from the Inn he’s becoming a myth.’

Miranda thought. ‘How long has this been going on?’

Boldar shrugged. ‘I suspect the Hall has existed since the dawn of time. Men and other creatures have lived here for ages. It requires a certain talent to survive for long within the Hall, so it has its appeal for those who seek a … higher-stakes sort of living.’

‘What of you?’ asked Miranda. ‘You could live well on most worlds with the fee you charge me.’

The mercenary shrugged. ‘I do this less for the bounty than for the excitement. I must confess that I do grow easily bored. There are worlds where I could rule as king, but that has little appeal for me. In truth, I find myself happiest in circumstances that would drive most sane men mad. War, murder, assassination, intrigue – these are my stock-in-trade, and there are few who match me in skill. I say this not to brag, for I have your commission already, but to tell you simply, once you grow used to living in the Hall, there is no other life.’

Miranda nodded. The scope of the place was staggering; it was literally the sum of all known and quite a few unknown worlds.

Boldar said, ‘As much as I am enjoying your company, Miranda, and as much as I enjoy the wealth you promise, I grow tired; while time has no meaning here, fatigue and hunger are real in all dimensions – at least the ones I’ve visited. And you still haven’t told me where you go.’

Miranda said, ‘That’s because I really don’t know where I’m going. I’m looking for someone.’

‘May I enquire whom?’

‘A worker of magic, by name Pug of Stardock.’

Boldar shrugged. ‘Never heard of him. But if there is one place where both our present needs can likely be met, it is the Inn.’

Miranda was uncertain, and wondered at her own reluctance to embrace the obvious. If there was a communal center to the Hall, then should Pug have come through the Hall, that was the most likely place to inquire. But she feared others might also be interested in his passing and thought it likely he would have avoided letting others know of his whereabouts. Still, it was better than wandering aimlessly.

‘Are we far from the Inn?’

‘No, actually,’ said Boldar. ‘We’ve passed two other entrances since we met, and there is another a short distance away.’

He motioned for her to follow, and after progressing past another two doors, he pointed to the void. ‘This is very difficult the first time.’ He pointed to the door opposite the void. ‘Note that mark?’

She nodded.

‘It’s Halliali, a nice place if you enjoy mountains. One of the entrances to Honest John’s lies across from it. Now, you simply step off and expect to meet a step a foot or so beyond the edge of the void.’ So saying, he stepped into the grey and vanished.

Miranda took a breath, then, as she started to duplicate his move, thought, Step up or down?

Miranda fell forward: the step was down and she had guessed up. Strong arms caught her, and she opened her eyes wide at the sight of white fur on them.

She tried remaining calm as she disengaged herself from her helper, a nine-foot-tall creature covered in that same white fur from head to foot. Black spots broke up the otherwise snowy surface, and two immense blue eyes and a mouth were the only visible features on a shaggy head. A plaintive grunt was followed by Boldar saying, ‘If you have any weapons, now is the time to surrender them.’

She saw he was efficiently divesting himself of his arsenal, including several rather innocuous-looking items that had been secreted about his person. Miranda carried only two daggers, one in her waistband, and another strapped to the inside of her right calf, and she quickly surrendered them.

Boldar said, ‘The proprietor learned ages ago that his establishment thrives so long as it is neutral ground for everyone. Kwad ensures that no one who starts trouble remains inside the saloon any longer than necessary.’

‘Kwad?’

‘Our large hirsute friend here,’ answered Boldar. As they left the doorway, he continued. ‘Kwad’s a Coropaban; stronger by the pound than any creature known, almost completely resistant to any magic; and the most toxic poisons take a week or so to kill one. They make incredible bodyguards, if you can get one to leave their homeworld.’

Miranda stopped and gaped. The saloon was immense, easily two hundred yards across, and twice that deep. Along the right wall, nearly the entire way, ran a single bar, with a dozen barmen rushing to meet their customers’ demands. A pair of galleries, one above the other, overhung the other three sides of the hall, thick with tables and chairs, providing vantage points from which those drinking and dining could gaze down upon the main floor.

There every game of chance conceivable was being played, from several variations of dice to a knife duel in a small sandpit. Creatures of every imaginable conformation moved easily through the press, greeting one another as they chanced upon old acquaintances.

Creatures carried trays covered with a variety of pots, platters, cups, buckets, and bowls. Some were put before creatures that defied Miranda’s sense of order. At least a dozen clearly reptilian creatures were dining in the hall, the mere fact of which caused her to be very uncomfortable. The majority of the clientele was humanoid, though an occasional insectlike being or something that looked like a walking dog could be seen.

‘Welcome to Honest John’s,’ said Boldar.

‘Where’s John?’ she asked.

‘He is over there.’ He pointed to the long bar. At the near end stood a man wearing a strange suit of shining cloth. It consisted of trousers that broke without cuffs at the top of shiny black boots with oddly pointed toes. The jacket was open in front, revealing a white shirt with ruffles, closed by pearl studs and sporting a pointed collar, set off with a cravat of bright yellow. Upon his head he wore a wide-brimmed white hat with a shimmering red silk hatband. He spoke closely with a creature that looked like a man with an extra set of eyes in his forehead.

Boldar waved as they approached and the man identified as John said something to the four-eyed man, who nodded once and departed.

With a wide smile, John said, ‘Boldar! It’s been, what, a year?’

‘Not quite, John. But close enough.’

‘How do you tell time in the Hall?’ asked Miranda.

John glanced at Boldar, who said, ‘My current employer, Miranda.’

With a theatrical gesture, John doffed his hat and swept it across his chest, bowing at the waist as he reached out with his other and took one of hers lightly in it. He then made a gesture of kissing it, though his lips never touched skin.

She withdrew it quickly, feeling somewhat awkward at the contact. John said, ‘Welcome to my humble establishment.’

Suddenly Miranda’s eyes widened. ‘What language are you – are we …’

John said, ‘Your first visit, I see. I thought it unlikely we should host as lovely a guest as yourself before without my notice.’ He waved them to a table located near the bar, and pulled out a chair. She blinked at it a moment before she realized he was waiting for her to sit. She was unused to this odd behavior, but considering the range of human custom, she chose not to offend and let him seat her.

‘One of the few magic spells allowed. It is not only useful, it is necessary. It’s not foolproof, I fear, for we do occasionally have the odd visitor whose personal frame of reference is so alien to the majority of sentient life that only the most basic communication is possible, if any, and we also do get the occasional fool.’

Boldar chuckled and said, ‘That we do.’

John waved his hand. ‘Now, as to your first question, measuring time is simple. Outside the Hall, time passes as it does everywhere else in the universe, as far as I know. But to answer what you meant to ask, we measure it as we did on my homeworld. It’s a vanity, but as I am the owner of the establishment, it’s my right to make the rules. What world do you hail from, if I might know?’

‘Midkemia.’

‘Ah, then, it’s very close to what you’re used to. Mere hours different per year; enough to trouble scribes and philosophers, but in the course of a normal lifetime, you’d only be off by a few days on your birthday between the two calendars.’

Miranda said, ‘When I first learned of the Hall, I thought it a magic gate through which I might seek other worlds. I had no idea …’

John nodded. ‘Few do. But humans, for that is what I judge you to be, are like most other intelligent creatures – they adapt. And they find things that are useful and continue to do them. Likewise, those of us who are privileged to walk the Hall, well, we adapt, too. There are too many reasons to stay within the Hall, too many benefits, once one finds one’s way into it, to ignore, so most of us become citizens of the Hall, abandoning our former ties or at least neglecting them shamefully.’

‘Benefits?’

John and Boldar exchanged looks. ‘So I don’t bore you, my dear, why don’t you tell me what you know about the Hall?’ suggested John.