He considered the situation. He could tear the place apart looking for another door, perhaps through the kitchens. Then he remembered the other door, the small one on the wall. He rushed toward it, winding around the strangely glowing bar, thankful for his height as he reached up to it, hand closing on the knob, and then pulled.

Nothing. It was locked. Or at least sealed somehow, for there was no keyhole to be found. He tried again with the same result. Frustration burned through him, so he pulled harder, planting his heels against the base of the wall for leverage and straining the whole of his body weight to the task. A groan of effort escaped his lips and then—

The door flew open, sending him careening back into the bar, which was as sturdy as it looked, cracking into his back below his shoulder blades. He absorbed the pain the way he always did, eye wide open as he stared at what was revealed by the open door—a swirling, colorful miasma of distant stars. It was mesmerizing to the point where he refused to blink, his eyes dry and burning. The movement of the stars seemed to be changing, several of the sparkling gems coming together, coalescing. More and more joined the several, until no individual star remained separate from the rest, an unbroken expanse of glittering beauty that had formed an image.

An image of an old woman, though her features were blurred and lacking details. She spoke with a voice like distant thunder. I am Ereniel. And these…

Her visage split apart, each segment molding itself into another shining figure painted in the heavens.

…are my daughters.

Her voice echoed in Ludo’s head, and he felt himself reaching for that space behind the door, wanting nothing more than to touch it, commune with it. But then, with the same vigor in which it had burst open, the door slammed shut.

Setting his teeth against the pain throbbing in his back, Ludo returned to the door, only to find it sealed shut once more. This time, he offered no curse. In fact, he started laughing. He couldn’t help it—the entire situation was absurd. He’d come to Slough for rest, and instead he’d been trapped inside the world’s best, worst tavern named after a swine that had even less sight than he did. A tavern with magically refilling plates and glasses and a mysterious door with messages about the Daughters of Ereniel. It was laughable, and so he laughed. And then, with nothing else to do, he headed upstairs. At the least, he could get a good night’s sleep for his troubles.

He stopped at the top of the staircase, lips parting slightly. Like any self-respecting inn, a hallway stretched out before him, doors set on either side. Based on the structure he’d entered from outside, he expected the inn to have at least six or eight rooms, maybe even as many as a dozen if they were on the smaller side. And yet the corridor ahead of him was so long he couldn’t see its end.