The Way Through Doors Read Online Free PDF

the time that they were apart they thought only of each other, and it was a terror in the hearts of both that the other should ever come to harm.
    One day it came to pass that Loren was returning from a city, his horse and mule heavily laden with his winnings. The day was hot, and the road was a yellow line through the dust. The sun obscured vision and glanced off all it encountered, searing the very ground.
    Through it Loren stumbled, leading his horse and mule. Some hours he had been upon the road, and what water he had had been given his mule and horse, for they were bearing a far heavier load then he. Yet he was sore, thirsty, and tired of the sun. Perhaps its weight was even telling upon his mind, for when he saw up ahead a broad tree and shade beneath, he dropped his horse’s reins and ran ahead to the shelter of the tree.
    As he drew closer Loren saw that a man was there. He looked like some kind of merchant. He was dressed in green, in heavy cloth, even at this hour and heat. The man’s horse was behind the tree, grazing in a patch of grass. The man sat, drinking water from a large skin.
    Loren approached. Behind him his horse and mule caught up and passed around the tree to take up with the other horse, and with the green grass there afforded.
    —Good day, said Loren.
    —Sir, said the man, with a slight tinge of a smile. It is a hot day.
    —It is that, said Loren, his words spilling out in haste. Could I have some of that water? I gave the last of what I had to my horse and mule, and I have no more. Certainly I can pay you. Gold even.
    The man’s smile broadened. His features were odd, grand and haughty even as they were drawn and pursed.
    —I have no need for gold.
    The man had knucklebones in one hand. He was casting them out upon a flat stone, then scooping them up and casting them again.
    —A wager, then? asked Loren. I would wager anything against you for that skin of water. My horse? My mule?
    —I have a horse, said the man. And mules in a stable.
    The man unstoppered the wineskin and took another draught of water. This was almost too much for Loren, whose face betrayed his desperation.
    —Have you nothing else to wager? asked the man.
    And then Loren thought of the one thing that was of worth in his life, the one thing that nothing matched.
    —Have you not a wife? asked the merchant.
    —I have a wife, said Loren.
    Now, never before had he ever considered wagering Ilsa. She was more important to him even than the good fortune that had hitherto sheltered him. But it was true that he had never lost a wager in his life.
    —Then let us say, said the merchant, this skin of water set against your wife. Ilsa, her name is, no?
    Loren drew back. How did the man know her name?
    —She is a noted beauty in these parts, the merchant said, answering Loren’s unspoken question.
    Loren drew in a deep breath. He could win this with a single throw, get the water, take the horse and mule, and be home by nightfall. It would be over in a moment. He would be hazarding her only for a moment.
    The man lifted the skin to his lips again. Soon the water would be gone.
    Loren reached out his hand.
    —Let’s have it. Come now.
    The merchant took from beneath his green coat a tattered leather cup. Into it he dropped the bones and handed them to Loren. Loren felt in himself a great unease. He looked into the merchant’s face and was terrified by what he saw there. He knew then that he should stop. He felt a horror in himself and in the world.
    He threw the bones down onto the flat rock.
    They skipped out and landed in that series known as “bird’s teeth.” It was the second-best throw. Never before had Loren failed to get the best throw. But “bird’s teeth” was a good throw.
    The merchant’s hands moved almost faster than Loren could see, scooping up the bones, dropping them into the cup, and passing them over the rock once, twice, three times. On the third pass he let them slide out and drop, one two three four