Rick Shelley: Son of the Hero

I only needed ten minutes to find the glasses, but finding them at all was a fluke. I happened to glance up at the ceiling at the right place. The glasses were stuck in the thatch over the front door. The halogen beam of my flashlight glinted off a lens. The glasses were absolutely cruddy and the left lens was badly starred. I cleaned them as well as I could, then handed them to Uncle Parthet.

"How in the world did they get up there?" he asked as he slipped the wires over his ears.

"Somebody had to put them there, and I doubt it was your packrat."

"Much better." He looked at me-still squinting.

"How much difference do those glasses really make?" I asked.

"Oh, worlds, worlds. I still couldn't read anything but very large letters, but oh, this is so much better." He came right over to me. "You look more and more like your mother, lad-the jaw line, the nose, the-"

"When do we leave?" I asked, cutting off the comparisons.

"First thing in the morning. No good starting out this time of the day."

I nodded. That made sense. Anyway, I was ready for sleep. I took the thermal blanket from my pack and looked for an area light on the cobwebs to spread it.

"Just one more question for now," I said. "Where's the john?" That beer was screaming to get out.

I curled up in the back corner, next to the fireplace, and wrapped my blanket around me. I hoped that Uncle Parker's packrat wouldn't get too chummy. It had been a long day full of more shocks and surprises than any day has had a right to. Still, I got to sleep without much trouble, and that's rare enough for me even when things are normal. It might be dramatic to say that I had a bunch of weird or frightening dreams, but if I did, I slept right through them and didn't recall a one. What did wake me was a nasty cramp in my left leg. I woke with a painful jerk as the muscles knotted up, then sat up and massaged the leg. It was three in the morning by my watch, but that was Louisville time. Judging from the difference in sunsets, it was probably midnight or one in the morning in Varay, wherever Varay was.

Sitting in the dark rubbing my leg gave me time to do some thinking without getting sidetracked. My parents were missing and maybe in great danger. My Uncle Parker-actually my mother's Uncle Parthet-claimed to have been wearing, or at least needing, glasses for more than six centuries. He also claimed to be a half-baked wizard. What was worse, I was starting to accept the whole damn fairy tale: those doors in our cellar, the lizards, this place that wasn't Kentucky. Having survived a crazy childhood and adolescence helped, I guess. All the survival rigmarole Dad insisted on made sense if he was leading up toward making me assistant Hero-or whatever he planned to spring on me for my twenty-first birthday. And it did fit in with a lot of the things I had always written off as testaments to Dad's general nuttiness.

The difficulty with accepting the major premise was that I also had to accept the minor premise, the likelihood that my parents were in mortal danger, or worse. It took forever to get back to sleep. I still didn't dream, but I woke several times before I heard Parthet stirring in the other room. When he came out and lit the Coleman lantern, I was up and folding my blanket.

"Ah, good lad, you're an early riser." He peered at me more or less through his glasses.

"Not when I can help it," I said. "When I can get away with it, I like to sleep till a more civilized hour, like noon."

Parthet clucked over that. "Still, you're up early today, and that's what matters. We can get an early start."

"We are going to wait for sunup, aren't we?" I rubbed at my leg again. It was still a little tender.

"Hmmm. I guess that would simplify matters."

"Do we have time for a little breakfast?" It had been a long time since those peanut butter sandwiches.

"We don't want to spoil our appetites, do we, lad? We'll have a fine meal when we get to Pregel's castle, as much as you can possibly eat."

"I thought we were going to this border castle, the one that was captured by the whoozis."

"By the Etevar of Dorthin." Parthet nodded. "Of course we're going there. First, however, we must drop by the palace to see if they have any news. And for a good meal." It sounded as though the meal was the more important reason. "I take most of my meals there."

"So how far is it from here to the king's place?"

"How far?" He stopped bustling around and stared at me. "Why, I think it's about twenty miles. I've never paid much attention. Why?"

Twenty miles before breakfast? I stifled my groan. "I was just wondering how far we had to hike on empty stomachs."

Parthet's mouth dropped open. "Hike? You mean as in walk?" A dazed sound. "Who said anything about walking?" He seemed to gather his thoughts then. "Oh." He blinked several times. "I forgot. You're new to this. We won't walk at all. We'll just pop straight through. The doorway there." He pointed at his bedroom door.

I felt foolish, and then I felt even more foolish for feeling foolish. I wasn't used to thinking in terms of magic doors to anywhere. I wasn't used to not having the faintest idea what was going on. I'm not stupid, but I certainly felt that way then.

"There'll be a grand meal awaiting when we get there," Parthet said. "Always a fine table in the hall of Pregel. He sets great store by it." So, obviously, did Parthet.

A good meal close at hand made me feel better. I looked at the doorway. The silver tracing was almost as tarnished as on the doorway in the cave. Then I checked the front door and saw tracing there too.

"Where does this one lead?" I asked.

"To Basil," Parthet said.

"Who's Basil?"

"Not who, what. Or where. Basil is our market town, just below Pregel's castle, which is also called Basil. That door"-the bedroom door-"goes to the castle, the other to the town."

"Does everybody use magic doors here?"

"Oh, no, lad. Only a few people have the key. Most folks don't even know they exist. A family affair." Yeah, I forgot.

I started to ask what "most folks" thought when people popped in and out, but the lantern sputtered out of fuel just then. Parthet said, "Thunderation!" quite loudly, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Did you do that?" I asked, jumping.

"Do what?" Parthet looked at me, then at the front door. "Oh. I don't know. Perhaps." He shook his head, then went outside. I followed. Parthet looked at the sky, but it wasn't light enough for him to see much, not with his eyes.

"I don't see any clouds," I said. Dawn wasn't far off. There was just enough light to silhouette the upper reaches of the trees.

"Good, good," Parthet said. "Then we won't have to worry about rain." Maybe he forgot what we had been talking about.

I had a lot of questions left over from the previous evening, but there were so many that I couldn't think of a good place to start. Besides, I didn't want to clutter my mind with a lot of stuff that wouldn't help in the immediate crisis. With luck, there would be plenty of time after we pulled my folks out of whatever mess they were in.

Parthet went back inside. Not having a light didn't seem to bother him. If he had been functioning without glasses for a month or two, it might not. I stayed outside awhile longer, watching the sky lighten.

"You ready to go, lad?" Parthet called finally.

"I guess." I went in, strapped on my pack and weapon belt, and hung my bow over my shoulder. "You don't think anyone'll say anything if I show up for breakfast armed, do you?"

"Why should they?" He shook his head when I put on my Cubs cap. "But we've really got to get you a decent hat, something properly jaunty." Jaunty? He was dressed like a contender for King of the Hobos-threadbare green work pants, red-and-black-plaid flannel shirt with the elbows out, and a greasy leather vest held closed by an old shoelace. He didn't seem to be taking anything in the way of supplies either, just a metal-tipped walking stick-too long to be a cane, too short to be a proper staff.