The next morning they found the old man, dead. In his hand he clutched a small amulet. Since no relatives had appeared to claim the amulet, the nurse had simply put it in her purse.
CHAPTER 3
Peter Jacobs
Peter Jacobs and his father had never seen eye to eye on Peter's future and when he had refused an offer to join his father in the construction business, that was the end of their tenuous relationship. His father wouldn't talk to him and refused any financial assistance to support Peter's studies at the college. He and Gloria had always planned on marrying and when she suggested that they marry early and she could support him while he continued his studies, he had accepted.
They were married after his first term at Corrigan College. Gloria often worked evenings at the local market which left Peter free to study. She would make supper, put it in plastic wrap and place it in the microwave with instructions that he simply push the button when he was hungry. He was grateful and said it often. "One day," he would say periodically, "I'll make it up to you. I promise. One day, when I'm a successful attorney, you won't have to work. I never intended this. I always expected to be a big success, buy a house, have a huge bank account, then marry you." She would never let him finish, explaining that she was delighted to contribute to their future together.
Then Peter's father died. His father had left nothing but the business and without any other source of income his mother was at a loss as to what to do. He had little choice. Peter Jacobs dropped out of college and took over. He was twenty-two. He was completely ignorant of the mechanism by which buildings arose from the heap of materials delivered to the building site. The workers had been accustomed to his father who would show up with dirty overalls and heavy boots and pitch right in, giving directions, operating the machinery, delivering lumber and making last minute decisions on structural design. Peter couldn't hammer a nail straight and the workmen knew it. He was the subject of jokes and obvious looks of disdain. He soon learned that working alongside the carpenters and bricklayers and electricians was not the way to go, so he hired a foreman and spent his time making contacts, signing contracts and learning the mysteries of architectural design.
He changed the thrust of the business from large buildings, factories and apartments, to private homes. Gloria had jumped right in to help. She was eager to be a part of the business. They would spend hours in the evening discussing what people wanted in a home: young couples, business executives and senior citizens. Then Peter would design a home to suit the needs of the prospective buyer and Gloria looked over his shoulder, providing much of the input. Within five years the Jacobs House was well known in the area. It was a matter of pride to say that you owned one, and business boomed. When he and Gloria visited the site of a new home, which was nearly every day, the workmen would stop and wave and invite them for a coffee from their lunch pail. They now respected and admired Peter and were in awe of his wife. Gloria had a visual image of what the home should be like, every home different, and would speak to the tradesmen at length before Peter could drag her away from the site. It was a good life and they were in it together. That made it special. Had he become a lawyer as planned, then maybe, just maybe, they would not have grown so close.
When Gordon Chaplain first approached Peter to build a house for a bachelor, Gloria admitted her ignorance of a bachelor's needs and it was Gordon himself who supplied the rough plans: a single large room with components for cooking, eating, living, reading and sleeping. She thought it was ridiculous to sleep in the same room as you ate. Guests would sit at the dinner table and stare at the bed covers. Ridiculous. However Peter regarded it as a challenge and secretly envied Gordon his freedom to build an environment independent of the rest of the world, without regard for resale value and without having to please anyone but himself. When the project was completed even Gloria was pleasantly surprised when she and Peter were invited for dinner. Gordon was a terrible cook and the meal was awful but the ambience created by the various components was exciting. Although Gloria did gaze for some time at the bedroom area the lighting was subdued so it wasn't intrusive as she had expected. Indeed the lighting was subdued in every area except where you cooked, or ate, or slept, or read ... and there was an air of spaciousness without losing intimacy.
The three had grown so close that terminating their friendship seemed out of the question so when Gordon suggested that they devise some mechanism for getting together periodically both Peter and Gloria enthusiastically agreed. A weekly poker game, however, was not what Gloria had in mind.
*****
The phone rang and Peter Jacobs answered. It was Thomas Barclay.
"Pete, this is Tommy. You'll never guess where I've been -"
"Don't tell me ... you've been to see the old man from another world."
"Yeah, how'd you know? Well, let me tell you. You'll never guess what his name is."
"Don't tell me ... it's Barclay, old man Barclay."
"Jesus, that's close. It's Woller. Can you believe that?"
"Woller, like Dan Woller?"
"Yeah, just like Danny."
"Any relation?"
"No ... uh, I don't think so. When I asked about Danny the old man said he was a Prince or something, I mean, Dan was a Prince. Can you believe that?"
"That's hilarious. Dan, a Prince? Have you told Gordon?"
"No. Couldn't get a hold of him. Must be out of town or something. Anyway, just thought you would be interested. I'm going to talk to the old man again tomorrow. What do you think I should ask him?"
"Find more about this Woller business. That's really funny. Maybe all the Wollers talk that weird language. A sort-of Woller dialect. Did the old guy say anything about that gorbo phrase?"
"Yes, I asked him what it meant and he said ... uh, he said, Jesus, I've forgotten. Anyway, whatever he said, it didn't make much sense to me, that I guarantee."
"Well, I'm looking forward to Thursday to hear the next chapter in this mystery. It's at Dan's place isn't it? Hmm, Dan won't like that at all. He'll insist that -"
"No, no, it's at my place. Thomas Thursday , don't you remember? I make the house rules and that'll be the first rule: all conversation must be on the topic of Wollers and other worlds and the gorbo stuff."
Tom began to laugh so loudly that Peter held the phone away from his ear. Gloria could hear the laughter from the kitchen and smiled. Tom was a lovable panda.
*****
When Peter Jacobs arrived at Tom's house, Gordon Chaplain was already sipping his first drink and Tom, as expected, was shoving sandwiches into his mouth. Tom's wife, Sharon, had gone to visit her mother. She didn't look forward to these weekly events, especially when they occurred at her house, so she always arranged to visit her mother at Victoria Retirement Lodge. Dan Woller hadn't arrived so the others sat at the poker table and waited. Although Tom was bursting with information he wanted to share, it was Peter who first brought up the subject of old man Woller.
"So, did Tom tell you about his visit to the hospital to see that old man?" Peter was careful not to say too much, knowing that Tom wanted to break the news to Gordon. Gordon shook his head and looked at Tom.
"He's dead," was all that Tom could say. "I don't understand it. I saw him one day then, the very next day, he just dropped dead, I guarantee."
Gordon nodded his head and said, "Yes, I visited him too. His name is Woller. Did you know that?"
Peter looked at Tom who was clearly disappointed that he had not been the one to break that news.
"Yeah, I know that," said Tom, a clear note of dejection in his voice. "He called Dan a Prince. He said that the world is in danger. Some army is going to invade. We should all watch out." Tom tried to remember all that he wanted to say.
"The Prince of Woller," said Gordon, staring at Tom. Then, realizing that Tom wanted to tell the story he stopped talking and waited but Tom could think of nothing else to say so Gordon put the words into Tom's mouth, along with the l
ast of a chocolate chip cookie.
"Didn't the old man talk about Mountains of something?"
"Yeah, mountains on the moon, I remember," said Tom enthusiastically.
"And Drago-something?"
"Yeah, Drago-something. I remember that too."
"Dragomir. And something about an abyss."
"Hey, that's right, a Black Abyss."
"And a door, the Door of something?"
"Yeah, yeah, the Door of Something."
"The Door of Monash. And Dan is the Prince of whatever."
Tom leaned back and smiled. "The Prince of Woller. That's what he said, the Prince of Woller."
"Well Tom, you sure got quite a bit of information from that old guy. Now, what do you make of it?"
There was a minute of silence with Tom screwing up his face to think of something to contribute. Finally he said:
"Another world. That's what it is, another world called Woller. Dan is the Prince of this other world. There's a place called Drago-something and the Black Abyss and there's some mountains on the moon, I guarantee. You get from there to here through this door, the Mono-door ... or something like that."
Tom was pleased with himself. He had it just about right. They could all see that. He seemed less concerned about what it meant so long as he could put it all together. Peter Jacobs grinned at the panda.
"I think you have it, Tom. Now, do we believe any of it? Is there an invading army we should worry about?"
Tom's smile turned to a frown.
"Invading army? That's crazy. The old man is crazy." He looked at Gordon. "Isn't he?"
After a time Peter looked at Gordon who was clearly the most inventive of the group. He would almost certainly have a theory.
"Where's Dan?" was all that Gordon said. He looked around the room as though to emphasize Dan's absence. "I'd like to ask him about the name Woller." He stroked his chin. "Tom, how long have you known Dan?"
"Uh ... two years, I think."
"Peter? How long have you -"
"Last year, when we started this poker night. How about you, Gord?"
"Five years ago Daniel Woller joined the math department at Corrigan College. I was on the appointments committee and saw his curriculum vita. He had a distinguished career, mostly in Europe, had written numerous mathematical papers and came highly recommended. Three years ago he was appointed, elected, I should say, head of the department. But now that I think of it ... strange."
Gordon stopped talking and stared at Peter, deep in thought. No one spoke. It was clear that Gordon would continue, so they waited.
"We wrote to various people about Dan, people who could comment on his mathematical research. We sent along several of Dan's research papers and the response was enthusiastic. They agreed, to a man, that Dan was a first rate mathematician and his mathematical results were novel and exciting and broke new ground. But, now that I think of it, the responses were strange: they had never heard of this guy before. I remember going through the library trying to find the journals which had published his papers. Corrigan College is pretty small as colleges go and the library didn't subscribe to any of the journals. No one in the department had heard of the journals either, but that's not too surprising. Dan's area of research was pretty abstruse. There were perhaps a dozen people in the country who worked in the area, no more. And not too many journals carried research papers in that area."
Peter Jacobs frowned. "Where is Dan?" he asked. "He should have been here half an hour ago. Tom? Can you give him a call?"
Tom heaved himself out of his chair and left the room, stopping by the kitchen for a sandwich on his way to the phone.
"So, what do you make of all this?" said Peter.
"Here are the facts," said Gordon, as though he were giving a lecture. "Dan spoke the words Borgo-nom achewan. No-nopawno agerwan. His wife, Kathy, she knows the words too, but tries to cover up with some story of an invented language, based upon Arabic. Then there's an old man who also knows those words. Tom and I both speak to the old guy. He has the same last name as Dan and seems to recognize Dan as Daniel of the Dark Lord, Prince of Woller. The old guy speaks of a World of Sharlain within which there lies a place called Woller, and places called Wilo-ard, the Mountains of the Moon, the Kingdom of Dragomir and the Black Abyss. The old man says that he and Daniel of the Dark Lord are both from Woller, beyond the Door of Monash, and that the Lord of Darkness will soon invade our world with his armies, through this door. Then, suddenly, the old guy dies."
"Jesus! Is that what I got from the old man?"
Tom was standing, filling the door to the kitchen, holding a tray of sandwiches, his mouth open.
"You bet," said Peter, grinning at the panda. "That's what you got from old man Woller." Then Peter turned to Gordon, his voice becoming more serious. "Gord was about to give us his theory, based on the information you got from the old man. Have a seat, Tom. Gord? Keep going."
"There's not much more to say. I believe that there really is this World of Sharlain and that the old man somehow got out, through the Door of Monash, to warn us of the imminent invasion of our world by the Dark Lord."
"But," complained Tom, "I thought Danny was the Dark Lord. Didn't you say ... uh, didn't I say Daniel the Dark Lord?"
"No, you said Daniel of the Dark Lord," replied Gordon. "I think that Daniel is a Prince who serves the Lord of Darkness." Tom was about to say something but he saw that Gordon was thinking, so he waited. Gordon finally said, "Dan won't show up tonight. In fact, I believe, I am certain that Dan is no longer in this world."
"Jesus!" cried Tom. "That's why there's no answer at his house. In fact ... in fact, the operator cut in. She said the phone has been disconnected! Jesus! Jesus! Danny has gone back to the World of Sharly-or-whatever. We gotta do something. This ain't no joke anymore. We're about to be invaded by ghosts and dwarfs and the dark guy with his bloody army!"
*****
"How was the game tonight dear?"
Gloria always asked even though she had no interest in the answer. It was her duty to look interested, to ask the right questions, to feign curiosity when none existed. Peter Jacobs did the same. Each realized when the question was a manifestation of this duty and each responded briefly when this was the case. As expected, Peter's response was brief.
"We didn't play poker."
Gloria's lack of interest vanished. She stopped knitting and waited, but Peter seemed reluctant to continue.
"Why?"
"Dan didn't show up."
"But it's past midnight. Why so late? If you didn't play -"
"We were talking about ... about, well, it's not important."
Gloria knew immediately that something was bothering him and pointed to his favorite chair. No words were necessary. Peter sat down, wearily, then looked at Gloria for a long time, in silence. She waited.
Peter was slight of build with sandy hair that always rose in curious spires from his head, just above the part at his left ear. He continually pushed them down, even when they weren't there. He was pushing his hair now as he told Gloria the story of the old man, the strange words, Dan's disappearance, Gordon's theory.
"But how do you know that Dan has really disappeared?" she said. "If his phone is disconnected, that could mean many things. Maybe he -"
"No. Dan is gone. We spent the last few hours trying to track him down. Thomas knows the bank manager at Dan's bank, asked him to check Dan's account. It was after hours and against bank policy to give such information, but you know Tom, he talked him into it. The manager complained a little but drove to the bank." Peter paused, pushing at his hair. "Dan withdrew all his money yesterday and closed down his account."
Gloria quickly responded. "There could be another explanation. Maybe -"
Peter continued without waiting for Gloria to finish. "We drove to Dan's house. It's locked up tight as a drum. Nobody is home. We talked to the neighbors. Well, Tom did most of the talking. They said th
at Dan and Kathy haven't been around for two days. Then Gordon phoned some of his colleagues. Nobody at the college has seen Dan for two days. In fact there was a meeting of all department chairmen yesterday. Dan didn't show up."
Gloria got out of her chair and walked to Peter who was obviously distraught. She stood behind his chair, put her hands over his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.
"There's something else isn't there?" she asked.
Peter's voice was shaky when he responded.
"Yes. Tomorrow, we look for the Door of Monash."
Second Interim
Now I will rest for some minutes, for you will understand that I am old and this story makes me weary; it makes me sad. Yet, you see that it was as I said: skepticism and disbelief. But can anyone really say that it could not be so? Stranger things have happened. I have witnessed stranger things. But, to search for a door, as though such a portal of wood or stone existed? Don't you see? It is a natural assumption by those who live in a world free of ghosts or dragons. And the old man who preached the end of the world. It is very strange, is it not? Who would believe in him? Truth cannot, by its nature, identify itself. I now think that, were he to have green hair, perhaps that uniqueness would have elicited increased interest, greater concern for his message.
But no, for when the dragon visited the world, was there a greater understanding?
Yet, I get ahead of my story.
CHAPTER 4
Assassination
"How do they expect us to keep our eyes on everybody in the crowd. There'll be over a fifty thousand people lining the square."
Clayton Chaplain was in charge of security and he didn't like it. If anything went wrong he would undoubtedly be charged with negligence. The governor would give his speech in Memorial Square, on a stand that was visible to everyone in the audience. The governor had insisted. Closed circuit TV was out. He refused to stand within a transparent dome. The world is at peace he had said. There is no reason to expect a threat on my life.
But there were nuts in the world who would assassinate the governor for no other reason than to see it described in the newspapers, or to emphasize their outrage at some increase in taxes or simply to massage their own ego: to show that it could easily be done by an individual with enough brains. Clayton threw up his arms.