The Serpentwar Saga. Raymond E. Feist

the difficulty of feeding and caring for the slaves, decided that accepting a bonus from Miranda would prove the better solution.

      The second encounter had been with another band of mercenaries, who seemed inclined to give Blood and his employer a wide berth, but who, Miranda was certain, would have acted entirely differently had she been alone.

      While they walked, she learned.

      ‘So if you know the locations of the common doors, the journey through the Hall can be shortened?’

      ‘Certainly,’ said Blood. ‘It depends on the world, how many doorways exist, and where they are relative to one another in the Hall. Thanderospace, for example’ – he waved at a door they passed – ‘has but one door, which unfortunately opens into the hall of sacrifice in the most sacred temple of a cult of cannibalistic humanoids, who are less fussy about defining cannibalism than they are devoted to eating anyone who stumbles into their most holy of holies. This is a world seldom visited.

      ‘Merleen, on the other hand’ – he waved at another door a short distance ahead – ‘is a commerce world that is served by no less than six doors, which makes it a hub of trade, both among its resident nations and for other Hall worlds.

      ‘The world from which you appear to hail, Midkemia, has at least three doors I’m aware of. Which did you use to enter?’

      ‘Under a bar in LaMut.’

      ‘Ah, yes, Tabert’s. Good food, decent ale, and bad women. My sort of place.’ He seemed somehow to be grinning behind the mask. How Miranda could tell she didn’t know. Perhaps it was some subtlety in the mercenary’s body language, or a note in his voice.

      ‘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