Майкл Салливан - Deep Magic. Fourth Collection

Tura was always telling Suri she needed to conquer that fear, and the young mystic did try. Her curiosity helped. Exploring the caves and crevices along the Bern River was a positive first step. Going inside the dark, wet caverns was scary, but in a good heart-pounding way. Doing so was made easier because Suri always had Minna with her. Being brave was easy with a sister at your side, especially when that sibling was a big and wise wolf.

“Last chance,” Suri said. When the wolf didn’t even look over, Suri tossed off her tattered wool cape and carefully untied her belt of bear teeth. She coiled it inside the wrap for safekeeping. Then she waded into the deep pool.

It was springtime, and the water was cold. Not bite-your-tongue-and-curse-your-mother cold like when ice covered the lake, but it took quite some effort for Suri not to cry out. Looking back at Minna, she forced a grin. “Water’s great.”

Suri swam fast, aiming for the separation in the curtain where the surface of the little lake wasn’t dancing from the falling water. She passed through and found a slippery ledge. Hoisting herself up, she got to her feet on a convenient stone shelf, which was a good two feet behind the falling water.

How has this escaped my notice for so long?

Under the falls, the crash of water was deafening, made louder by echoes coming from the cave behind it. Peeking in, Suri couldn’t see much except that it was tall and narrow—too narrow.

“Can’t spend yer whole life being terrorized of entrapment,” Tura had said. “Fear, for the most part, is yer friend. It keeps you alive, and stops you from doing stupid stuff like trying to fly or jumping in a fire. But when yer scared of sumptin’ you ought not to be, well then, there’s just nothing for it but to grit yer teeth, spit in its eye, and challenge your dread to an arm wrestle. That’s the best way ta get past it. Just got ta get in there and take charge of things. Let yer fear know yer not gonna stand for its silliness.”

Suri peered into the dark cleft in the stone, shaking. While she wanted to believe she shivered because of the cold pool or the chilly mist drummed up by the colliding water, she knew better. She was scared, and even more so because she was—

Minna came into view, her head bobbing across the surface of the pool. Her tall ears twitched, tossing off droplets. Claws raked the stone as the wolf joined Suri on the rock shelf beneath the falls, and she gave a massive shake, throwing water in all directions.

The fear that had clutched Suri’s heart a moment before was also shaken off.

“I knew you’d come.” Suri grinned.

Together, they entered the crack that narrowed further as it descended into the cliff.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light that filtered through the falling water, Suri noticed the unmistakable outline of a door. Almost anyone else would have seen nothing but an oddly straight irregularity in the stone, a queerly symmetrical bevel, but Suri knew it was an opening. She understood the truth of the matter in the same way she perceived most things of this sort—something told her.

She didn’t hear an actual voice. No one whispered in her ear, Psst! Door here! Suri understood it as a notion that had popped into her head, but the feeling wasn’t her own. This happened to her fairly often, and the understanding that the ideas came from somewhere else was obvious in cases where the thoughts opposed her natural inclinations. Once, when she saw a beehive for the first time, she thought it was a fruit and planned to hit it with a stick to knock it down. As she picked up a stout switch, a thought had popped into her mind suggesting that hitting it wasn’t a good idea. So odd was this cautionary thought—as no one who knew her would ever accuse Suri of being prudent—that it caused her to laugh. After striking the hive several times, Suri stopped laughing.

Tura explained such intuitions easily enough. “How is it you think the squirrels know to gather nuts for winter? How do spiders know the pattern for a web? How do birds learn how to build nests? It’s the same thing. You’re hearing Elan, the world, speaking to you.”

Being stubborn and not remotely careful, Suri originally struggled to heed the alerts, but after enough painful lessons, she learned to pay better attention. Once she’d started to take note, Suri became aware of more than mere warnings. She began hearing the same announcements that other things in the forest did—like the one that went out every autumn to tell the birds who didn’t like snow to take flight. She knew when bad weather was coming even while the sky was still blue. She could tell when the murderous bear, Grin the Brown, was in the area. In this same way, she knew that the vaguely rectangular outline in the stone wall at the back of the crevice was a door. The only question remaining, then, was how to open it. The door to their little cottage was opened merely by pushing on it, while a string tied to a bunch of stones closed the door with their weight.

Suri pushed on the stone.

Nothing happened.

She turned to the wolf with a grin. “We have ourselves a challenge, Minna.”

Puzzles were always fun and took a plethora of forms. The most obvious were the various incarnations of the string game. Tura had introduced her to the amusement that could be obtained by taking a loop of string and weaving patterns between her fingers. The old mystic only showed Suri one design, then left her apprentice to build on it. “Listen to Elan. If a spider can hear how to weave, so can you.”

Another great puzzle, equally challenging and infinitely more exciting, was how to climb a tree. Each one was a complex maze of branches. Finding the right route to the top was difficult and risky—often dangerous, sometimes life threatening. Climbing trees, more than any other activity, honed Suri’s skill at hearing and listening to the voice of Elan. In the high branches, tests were pass–fail, and often, failure was not an option.

Suri loved puzzles, and this stone door showed every indication of being a marvelous one. Not only was it a unique challenge, but opening it came with the added reward of discovery.

What is behind such an incredible door?

She went on to try every manner of shoving, sliding, hammering, and kicking. None of it worked. She was glad because such a solution would be too easy. Standing back, Suri rhythmically tapped the tips of her fingers together pondering the situation.

The door, or an outline of such, wasn’t terribly big; it was shorter and stouter than the one they had at home. This made her suspect the entrance was indeed to Nog, as crimbals were known to be little creatures. In a wood as big as the Crescent Forest, the magical folk were reputed to have hundreds, or even thousands, of doors leading into their realm. Tura had told her countless tales of people accidentally falling through such portals as mushroom rings, hollow trees, and still ponds. Suri couldn’t recall a single story with a stone door, much less one that couldn’t be opened, but that did nothing to dissuade her. After all, keeping outsiders from entering the crimbals’ world was usually the point of the stories. As a result, the legends were no help.

Suri began to pace up and down the length of the narrow crevice, her wet feet slapping the stone. It didn’t help her think, but she did feel a bit warmer. Minna opted for sitting down, but she had a thick fur coat.

“What do you think?” Suri finally asked when pacing in the small space made her dizzy.

Minna began once more to lick the fur on her foreleg—the other one this time.

“Oh, don’t start that again. We have a puzzle to solve! Honestly, Minna, your head just isn’t in the game today.” Suri stopped, folded her arms, and stared at the door. “What do we know? The door is short and wide. It’s made of stone, and it refuses to open through any normal means. Hmm. That would suggest the maker did not want people entering. It’s also not easy to see, which supports the same idea. So, all we have to do is consider: What would a person do to prevent us from getting in?”