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Arthur closed his eyes as they hitand fell over so around his bedroolued to a book

Arthur opened his eyes, flailed his arround He lay there for a second, feeling a treoodness solid lowing, and the absence of significant pain suggested no bones were broken or other dae done

But where was he? He becarass – he could see and feel that Slowly Arthur got to his feet and looked around The first thing he noticed was that the light was strange Di low and orange But there was no sun in sight

Arthur stood on a bare, high hill of close-rass that looked down upon a sea of whiteno, not a sea A fog bank had settled to the li, direy-white h for hi features

Arthur looked up next, expecting to see the sky But he didn’t and he instinctively crouched at what he saw instead

There was no sky There was a ceiling in its place, a vast do of dull silver that stretched for miles in every direction Its epicentre was about six hundred feet directly above the hill where he stood Swirls of purple and orangewhat little light there was

‘Pretty, ain’t it?’ said a voice behind Arthur A , just the sort of reht make to another visitor

Arthur juain as he twisted around to see who spoke But all he could see was an enorateposts of white stone, standing on the crest of the hill Door was an inadequate word, Arthur thought It was ate, as it was easily three or four tie door

The door was decorated rought-iron cli vines and clever curlicues that for on where you looked and the angle of view Rather like a puzzle In a few seconds Arthur made out a tree, which could also be a sea horse if he tilted his head, and that horse’s tail could also be a coether to make a ship

Arthur blinked and saw coain and tore his gaze away The door was dangerous He felt that the patterns and shapes could trap hi at them forever

And where was the personor whatever it waswho had spoken to hie door and the bare hill A vast door that appeared to go nowhere, standing stark and alone

Arthur walked around it and was unsurprised to see that the other side was exactly the saht, only meant to make an artistic statement But deep down, Arthur knew that if the door was to open, he would not see the hill on the other side

‘Shift change in aworth seeing’

‘Where are you?’ asked Arthur

‘Where?’ asked the voice It sounded surprised ‘Ah Not exactlywait a momenta step to the left’

The ironwork on the door shimmered, and the patterns formed into the shape of a man Then the shape stepped out of the door The iron tracery beca in front of Arthur was a tall, cale as his father, Bob, though he had long white hair that flowed down and over his shoulders Like Mister Monday, Sneezer, and Noon, he earing very old-fashioned clothes In his case, a blue s-tailed coat with gold buttons and a single gold epaulette on his left shoulder, over a snohite shirt, tan breeches, and shiny knee boots with turned-down tops He held a scabbarded sword in his left hand, gripping it casually below the hilt Two golden tassels fell over his wrist It didn’t look like he was about to draw the weapon

‘Pardon et myself I’m the Lieutenant Keeper of the Front Door Allow me to salute the bearer of the Lesser Key of the Lower House’

He stood at attention and saluted, then offered his hand

‘Arthur Penhaligon,’ said Arthur He automatically shook hands The Lieutenant Keeper’s flesh felt strangely sh it was not repellent Arthur was careful to switch the Key to his left hand and keep a tight grip on it, as he wondered why this strange character had called it the Lesser Key

‘Where am I?’

‘Why, the Lower Atrium of the House,’ said the Lieutenant Keeper ‘On Doorstop Hill’