The First Scholar turned to the sphinx and waved his stick at him. “And you, you are not supposed to be here. More, you have come here unprepared. Bartran provides the first building block to one’s understanding of existence, but he, by design, shows you the mere tip of the iceberg, just enough to demonstrate that the enormous underwater mountain is there and to prompt you to dive into the frigid waters to seek your own understanding. You have decades of study ahead of you before venturing forth again. Answer the question of my dear human friend and then return humbly to your teacher, who is, without a doubt, deeply disappointed in your conduct.”

Sometimes when Olasard persisted in his feline entitlement, I gently booped him on the nose with my finger. The gray Maine Coon always looked stunned, as if I had committed an outrage so great, he simply couldn’t come to terms with it. The sphinx looked just like that.

The First Scholar banged the butt of his stick on the ground. The tassel danced. “Answer!”

“Where did the portal lead?” Sean asked.

“To Karron,” the sphinx said.

Wilmos was doomed.

5

Foolish sphinx. He was no match for First Scholar Thek, Recipient of the Starlight Quill, Sage of the Great Tree, the most erudite of philosopher space chickens!

But what is it about Karron that dooms Wilmos so? Read on to find out.

We were in the War Room, a round chamber where a root of the inn emerged in a round platform, allowing for a tighter connection to Gertrude Hunt. Innkeepers and our inns existed in symbiosis, always aware of each other but distinct and separate. Linking with the root merged us into one.

Screens lined the walls, some physical, some holographic projections. The one to my left was wrapped in thin tendrils of wood. They pulsed with pale light at regular intervals as the inn untangled the feed from Wilmos’ shop, crunching through the encryption. I asked Sean if Wilmos usually encrypted his surveillance footage, and he said yes. Apparently, the old werewolf was touchy about random people knowing his business. It was taking so long that I formed a couple of chairs for us. I sat in mine, but Sean stalked around the room, his steps measured, his face unreadable.

In front of us, on a huge screen, Karron hung like the ominous orb of some cosmic magician.

A large planet, almost twice the size of Earth, Karron floated in an envelope of green atmosphere. It wasn’t a cheerful grass green that hinted at plant growth or the blueish green of shallow oceans and life-giving water. No, it was a deep, sickly shade of green, the kind of color one could find associated with undeath in a video game. Beneath the green, the outlines of rust-colored continents curved around the planet interrupted at the poles by vast placid seas.

“Tell me again,” Sean asked.