Simon Green - Property of a Lady Faire

Molly didn’t seem too bothered by any of it, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the Doormouse’s back as he scurried ahead of us. So I just stared straight ahead too, and made myself concentrate on keeping up. Until finally the Doormouse came to a sudden halt, standing before one particular Door.

“There!” he said, gesturing grandly with one furry paw. “You see what I mean?”

I had to admit that I did. The Door before us was covered from top to bottom with a thick layer of ice, shining blue-white under the Storeroom’s bright lights. The encased Door was only just visible, deep inside the ice. It radiated a bitter cold, so fierce I had to brace myself to take a step closer. I didn’t try to touch the ice; I just knew I’d draw back a handful of frostbite. I walked around the Door, taking my time, looking it over, and there wasn’t a crack or a flaw to be seen anywhere in the thick ice. Just a solid block, formed around a Door that had tried to go somewhere it was never meant to.

“I created this Door just like any other,” said the Doormouse, his voice respectfully low. “It should have worked. The mathematics were sound, the science unchallenged. I had no reason to believe there would be . . . problems. But within moments after I finished this Door, and set the coordinates for Ultima Thule, the whole thing just froze over. Solid ice, from the coldest place in the world. Some places just don’t want to be visited.”

Molly sniffed loudly, conjured up a handful of hellfire, and threw it at the frozen Door. The blazing flames splashed harmlessly against the ice, fell away, and disappeared. Not a single drop of melted water ran down the ice covering the Door. Instead, the Storeroom’s sprinklers opened up, directly over the Door. I jumped back to avoid being soaked, dragging Molly with me. The Doormouse had backed away the moment Molly conjured up her fires. He barked a command at the sprinklers, and they turned themselves off. The Doormouse looked pityingly at Molly.

“Like I hadn’t already tried that . . .”

“Bet you didn’t try this,” I said.

I subvocalised my activating Words, and armoured up. The Doormouse made a high chittering noise and backed away several steps. Drood armour always makes a strong first impression. I stepped up to the Door, and was surprised to find I could still feel primordial cold radiating from the block of ice, even through my armour. It was protecting me, but I could still feel it. I hit the block of ice with my armoured fist, and it just glanced away, without doing the slightest damage. I could punch a hole through a mountain with my armour on, but I hadn’t even cracked this ice. I hit the block again and again, all my armour’s strength behind every blow, and my golden fist just jarred harmlessly against the thick ice.

I threw my arms around the frozen block and wrestled with it, and for the first time, the ice cracked. Thick shards fell away, to shatter on the floor. The Doormouse made a loud, shocked sound. Molly cheered me on. I threw everything I had against the ice, and it cracked again, a long, jagged line from top to bottom. But still it wouldn’t break.

A thick layer of hoarfrost formed on the front of my armour, and I could feel the terrible cold creeping in. Forcing its way past my armour’s defences. I struggled with the ice block, throwing all my armour’s power against it, and the ice defied me. The awful cold sank deep into my flesh, into my bones. I was shaking and shuddering inside my armour, gritting my teeth to keep them from chattering, and to keep myself from crying out in pain and shock. Until finally I had no choice but to let go, and stagger backwards, before the cold penetrated my heart, and perhaps my soul.

I stood there, glaring at the great block of ice, breathing hard. The ice covering the Door had already repaired and restored itself, looking thicker and even more impenetrable than before. I had been defeated by the cold, by the winter of the world, Ultima Thule. I looked at the Doormouse, and he nodded slowly.

“So,” he said. “Drood armour does have its limitations. Interesting to know . . .”

I armoured down, shaking and shuddering convulsively. Molly threw her arms around me and held me tightly to her, using the warmth of her body to drive the cold out of mine. I held her close, and the cold quickly fell away. The Doormouse stood off to one side, tactfully staring into the distance. I finally patted Molly on the back, to let her know I was all right again, and we let go and stepped back from each other. We shared a smile. The Doormouse cleared his throat loudly.

“Only a Drood would try to wrestle winter itself. Still, you actually cracked the ice of Ultima Thule! I am impressed, young Drood! Really!”

“That . . . was serious cold,” I said, looking at the ice-covered Door with respect.

“Well, yes,” said the Doormouse. “I mean, the clue is in the name. Ultima Thule , the ultimate cold. The unending winter of the world. And you’re telling me you want to go there?”

“I don’t want to brag,” said Molly, “though I’m going to . . . I have been to the Antarctic, without any special clothes or equipment. I can handle cold.”

“That’s natural cold,” the Doormouse said severely. “There is nothing natural about Ultima Thule. It’s a pocket dimension, a created reality, a world within a world, with its own rules. I’ve always believed it was made to store something . . . I don’t know what, and I don’t want to. But I’d hate to think what might happen if it ever thaws . . . and gets out.”

Molly looked at me. “We are going to need more than long thermal underwear . . .”

“I’ve got my armour,” I said, “and you’ve got your magics. We can survive long enough to reach the Winter Palace.” I looked at the Doormouse. “All right, we can’t go direct. Is there an . . . indirect way of getting there?”

“Of course!” said the Doormouse. “If logic and reason aren’t enough to scare you off, then I feel I have done all that can reasonably be required of me. I may ask you to sign something to that effect before you go. I can provide you with a Door that will drop you off on the Trans-Siberian Express! One of the last surviving steam trains still running in the world today, from Eastern Europe to Siberia, all the way across Russia, and beyond. Somewhere along the way, you will pass by a naturally occurring dimensional Door that opens onto Ultima Thule. I think it’s a crack in the world, or perhaps even a mistake in the original calculations. Or maybe a back door into Ultima Thule left by the dimension’s original designer. Very few people know it even exists. It isn’t always there and it won’t stay open for long, but it should be there for the next thirty-six hours.”

“Should?” I said.

“Best I can do,” said the Doormouse.

“We’ll take it,” said Molly.

• • •

The Doormouse bustled back through the long lines of Doors, and Molly and I went with him. I took the opportunity to ask him what he knew about the Merlin Glass, on the grounds that anyone as interested as in Doors as he is should have at least heard of it. The Doormouse was immediately so excited that nothing would do but that I get the hand mirror out and show it to him. He preferred not to hold the Glass himself, so I had to hold the mirror as he leaned forward, bent so far over that the tip of his muzzle almost touched the Glass. He kept his arms behind his back, so he could be sure he wouldn’t accidentally touch the mirror. His eyes gleamed brightly, and his long whiskers went into full twitch mode. After a while, he backed carefully away and looked at me thoughtfully.

“Now that is interesting . . . Come with me, dear boy, and we’ll take a closer look, in my laboratory.”