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Space distorted grotesquely, and for an instant the room looked stretched out of all proportion, fish-eyed, as if a bulbous blister had formed on the surface of reality itself Plum was scared of ould happen if it burst

Quentin shouted, in pain or triumph or despair, Plum couldn’t tell which:

“Nothung!”

He spun the staff and banged the silver-shod end against the floor with a sound like a gunshot She felt the shock through the soles of her feet The wires in the ceiling and walls went red hot, and the letters on the floor burned white like nesium

Then they faded again, and bit by bit it all stopped The floor stabilized The air was still again; a couple of candles hadn’t blown out, and their flahtened up Quentin collapsed forward onto the table The rooh it could have been her ears ringing

The world outside thehad becoain, even that odd littlein the corner Quentin raised his head and straightened up He peered around, up at the ceiling, into the dark corners of the room, curiously He looked over at Plum

She pointed behind him

A red door had appeared in the wall It was painted wood banded with black iron that had been worked into elaborate curves and fairy spirals Quentin dropped the staff, and it clattered to the floor

CHAPTER 21

Plu steps toward the door and then stop again, as the dust settled and the ringing died away Pluone for a run on an empty stomach, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the red door

“We did it,” Quentin said solemnly “It really worked We made a new land”

It had one brass knob, placed in the center Quentin touched it and then put his hand on it, hesitantly, as if he expected an electric shock, or as if he thought his hand h it But it was solid He turned the knob and pushed—wrong—then pulled the door toward him It opened easily

A cold wind breathed into the room It cooled Plu deeper inside her

“Quentin,” she said

He didn’t move, and she stepped forward to stand beside him on the threshold

“Are you going in?”

Like he aking from a dream Quentin looked over at her

“In ato have a scar there from Mayakovsky’s coin Like in Raiders It felt like it was burning But there’s nothing”

Plu about, but she didn’t say anything It didn’t seem like the moment

The land didn’t look like the Hundred Acre Wood It wasn’t even an orchard It wasn’t even outside Looking through the door was like looking in that mirror back at Brakebills, after Darcy’s reflection had vanished: it was exactly like the roo in, except for the fact that they weren’t standing in it And it was all reversed

“Through the looking glass,” Quentin said

This wasn’t what she’d expected Quentin picked up a long-handled spoon froh the doorway It clanged and slid along the floor in the other rooh

“What is this?” she said

“I think it’s our land”

“But why does it look like that? Is that what it’s supposed to look like?”

“I don’t know”

“Was this what you were expecting? I thought you were going to do an orchard Is this what you were trying to do?”

“No”

“Why would you make a land that looks exactly the same as the one you’re already in?”

“That’s a good question”

Quentin walked through the door and into the other room She watched him look around She had to hand it to hi out the scene

“Classic,” he said “It’s cootta like the respect for tradition”

He spread out his arms

“Come on in if you want to, I think it’s safe”

Plu It was like the house had acquired a Sia with a sense of anticlimax

“It sort of worked,” Pluht?”

Quentin nodded

“Or a house anyway Let’s be careful, Plum, this feels a little off”

It was a very, very quiet house The original house was ically soundproofed, so it was quiet too, but this was different This place was sonically dead—it was as if the walls were covered in that egg-carton foam they used to line the walls in music studios

And there was so else The place had a claustrophobic feel She couldn’t put her finger on it till it was literally staring her in the face

“Look at the s,” she said “All the s They’re not s, they’re mirrors”

It was like the eyes of the house had gone blind

“Huh I wonder what the mirrors are”

Yeah Good question There was one in the little half bath out on the landing She steeled herself for some horror-movie shocker and then poked her head in

Curiouser and curiouser The mirror was still there, and it was still a —blowing snow, bordering on a real blizzard It was starting to drift on the floor, the towel racks, the rim of the sink It settled on her hair and her eyelashes But only in the mirror: reflexively she touched her hair, but it was dry The snoasn’t real Quentin appeared behind her

“Eek,” he said

Clearly this was affecting them in different ways

They strolled through the house, lord and lady of their uncanny new do was there, more or less, except when it wasn’t The furniture, the drapes, the silverware, the glassware The doors were ordinary doors But there were no coes were blank No toiletries in the bathroom, no clothes in the closets Nobody lived here Water careed over whether one of the oriental rugs was left-right inverted—Quentin was sure it was—but Pluoing back and checking the original

Fatigue and disappointe

“It’s like a giant closet,” Plum said “We could store stuff in here We’d have more closet space than anybody in New York City”

“We’re not going to store stuff in here”

“Put a couple of flat-screens in here, Xbox, easy chair: man-cave!”