"The Mad King?" Uundah asked incredulously. "The Oblivion wielding, Wyvern taming, father of dragons Mad King?"

Murphy watched the Sapahn swirl as he idly twisted his cup. He and Uundah sat on the mezzanine of the Silver Tip. The O'jin had been sitting with him for a full ten minutes, but still stumbled through understanding what the Warlock had been telling him.

"The very same," he responded, only half paying attention.

"How do you know it's true?" Uundah questioned, sitting back in his seat to take it in.

"I don't, to be sure. Though I can't see why he'd lie about it."

In his other hand, he gripped the corner of a hand written note tightly. Before shuffling him out the door and back into the Tavern, Surdin scribbled down a set of directions to follow in order to make their next meeting. The old king had called it a map, but the writing on the paper hardly eluded to that fact. Murphy went over it again, hoping for a strike of inspiration to aid in his decoding. The note read;

'Silver Tip top bar door,

3385,

75383,

?

42e,

7 left turns,

?

6667b,

Cinnamon,

4th door down the stairs,

890'

"I just feel like it's awfully convenient," Uundah pondered.

"Convenient for who?" Murphy scoffed, breaking free of his attempted musings.

Uundah took a big gulp of his ale, and scratched his chin with two of his hands. "It's just that," he said, gesturing vaguely at his Warlock while he tried to find the words. "Doesn't it make you wonder why you're only learning this now?"

"Not really," Murphy replied cautiously. "Not until right now anyway."

"It all seems very convenient that at every turn you make, somebody is there to show you the next way forward," the O'jin said carefully.

"It's not so strange," Murphy defended. "I think maybe wizards just stick together."

"Maybe," Uundah said, sounding as unsure as he looked. "But the wizards you meet aren't exactly the average mage, are they?"

"Meeting one great wizard hardly counts," the Warlock dismissed.

"Perhaps, if you only met him in passing. If you're to be his student, that changes things. Besides, it's not just the Mad King. You have an original journal from Qu Fletcher, and your master is Callus. There's more going on than you're willing to see Murphy."

Murphy slumped into his seat. It was a question that had been haunting him for some time, but the lack of answers had him trying not to think about it. "Callus is a good wizard, I'll give you that. I don't know if I'd call him one of the greats though."

"That's because you're thick," Margo interjected, causing Murphy to jump.

"I thought you left already," he gasped, looking her up and down.

"No, you're just ignorant," she said, waving a hand.

"I didn't see her there either," Uundah thought to him quietly.

"More questions then," Murphy thought back, before speaking again to Margo. "Maybe you have the answers," he accused. "You and all your secret Tavern nonsense."

"Maybe I do," she replied with a smirk. "Maybe I can't tell you either."

"Oh, whatever," he huffed. "You can't even tell me where Taymon is anymore. Your information is as useful as a cock on a cow."

Uundah snorted into his drink, and tried to play it off as a cough, encouraging a displeased stare from the liaison to sweep the table. "Taymon has stopped checking into Taverns. Probably because I was trying to find him for you." She stood, and looked down at both of them. "I was going to help you with your map, but since you clearly don't need me."

"Well I never said that, did I?" Murphy blurted out, standing to address her properly.

She smiled sweetly at him. "That's what I thought."

A small metal card appeared in her hand in a subtle flash, and she held it out to him. He took it, and studied the pigeon engraved into the thin metal. When he turned it in his hand, it glistened with a titanium rainbow of colour, but nothing on the card stood out to describe its purpose.

"It's the same picture as the door in the tower," he said out loud to nobody in particular.

"I'd hope so, otherwise you'd be stuck here," she responded cryptically.

"So what's that for then?" Uundah asked, crawling onto the table to be at eye height with the both of them.

"That is the question, isn't it," she said through a twisted smirk.

"You’re not going to tell us, are you?" Murphy asked, squinting at her.

"I'd love to, but I don't like to waste my breath on cow cock," she said, turning to leave. "Besides, it's more fun for me to watch you sweat. Good luck with the Mad King."

"Hold on a minute," he called to her, but her stride never faltered. In the next moment, she was disappearing behind another door.

Uundah stared at his Warlock with cold giant eyes. "You just had to be clever," he groaned. "Now you're going to try and get me or the old man to figure it out, aren't you?"

Murphy smiled at his friend. "You see, at every turn, I usually have someone ready to show me the next way forward," he declared.

"I could have been bonded to any other Warlock," Uundah complained. "I just had to get stuck with an idiot."

"I resent that," Murphy said, putting his hand on his chest. "I even leave some of the professors behind at the university."

Uundah rolled his eyes, and finished his drink. "Ratter Callister," he said, standing again to leave.

"What about him?" The Warlock questioned, following quickly behind.

"You said Callus isn't one of the greats. His name before now was Ratter Callister. I believe you've read a few of his tomes."

Murphy paused, and thought about it for a moment. "No way," he eventually decided, scurrying to catch up with his O'jin. "Those books were too well written. They didn't insult me once."

~~

They walked into the tower just in time to nearly be knocked over by a rushing donkey, and the atmosphere quickly became alive with the unmistakable ranting of a cranky old Merlin.

"And then I'll turn your hoofs into glue so I can stick all the inbred little pieces together!" Callus was finishing, making Murphy shiver at whatever the threat might have been.

"Now Mr Callus, did you have to be so harsh to the lad?" Oats asked, not looking up from the vegetables he was chopping by the hearth.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Shut up," Callus snapped at him. "You’re a cook, not a shrink."

"Nobody knows what that is, old man," Murphy interrupted, taking a seat at the table.

"Who the hell asked you?" The old man turned his scorn to his apprentice. "Where the hell have you been anyway? I got another letter from the university. You're pissing everyone off there too. You need to tell them you got a new master, I'm tired of hearing about it."

"You’re bunched up this afternoon. Did Sausage steal your wine again?" Murphy chuckled.

"Among other things," Callus huffed, dropping heavily into his chair. "This is my tower. It used to be quiet and nice. Now it's full of pests and I can't find my favourite scarf," he whined.

"Sausage ain't no pest, Mr Callus," Oats said, placing a plate of freshly baked bread in front of them. "He's just a little simple is all. Not his fault he's still a donkey."

"I wasn't only talking about him," the old man growled, snatching a piece of bread from the plate. He took a big bite, and was about to say something through his food when something made him pause. He chewed for a moment, then looked curiously at Oats. "What did you put in this bread?" He asked, spitting little chunks while he spoke.

Oats smiled, knowing the Merlin liked it. "It's garlic and salt, mostly. The other part is my own secret though," he slung a small towel over his shoulder and went back to preparing dinner.

"Sometimes even a pest can be useful, I suppose," Callus groaned.

"Do you feel better now?" Murphy asked with his least irritating smile.

"A little," the old man admitted. "You didn't answer my question. Where were you today?"

Murphy squinted at him. Callus never cared about his day to day life, unless it involved him missing another lesson. Their next lesson wasn't until the end of the week, and he knew better than to skip on the old kook's tutorials.

"Why do you care?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm your master. I should know when you're avoiding your education. You should have been at the university."

"It's not as if I have a schedule there," Murphy defended. "I can come and go as I like. That was the agreement with the board."

"I know that, moron. I drafted the agreement," he responded, leaning in. He squinted at his apprentice, and tapped the table with his fingers. "I'll get it out of you one way or another. Just tell me where you were."

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Straight to the point then. You never let me have any fun," he complained. "If you must know, I was meeting with a new teacher. He's going to be helping me with my powers, since it seems to be such a mystery to all of us."

Callus grunted, then nodded. "So he finally reached out," he mumbled absently. He fixed his apprentice with a serious stare. "And what has that crazy bastard told you to do?"

"I knew it!" Murphy shouted, slamming his hand on the table. "You know all about whatever is happening to me. Why don't you just tell me so I can get back to being a wizard."

"Shut up," the old man snapped. "You'll never be a wizard again if you keep asking those questions. Why can't you just trust I know best?"

"Trust?" Murphy laughed. "How can I trust whatever you're up to if I don't even know what it is? You're as predictable as a fart after Oats' mushroom stew. I swear, you make the Mad King look sane compared."

Callus shook his head decisively. "No, I'm intolerant, not mad. There's a difference, you'll figure that out some day. That old bastard is dangerous. Now I'll ask you again, what does he want you to do?"

"Damned if I know," Murphy sighed, pulling the card and note from his bag. "It has something to do with the door we use to get to Son-Gonkiruun I think."

Callus grabbed the note, leaving Murphy with the card, then looked it over for a brief moment. "You’re close with your guess, I'll give you that."

He crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it back to the Warlock. "It's a pigeon map," he declared with confidence.

"Oh, that explains everything," Murphy said with a sarcastic cadence. "I don't know how I didn't realise before."

"The only funny thing about you is that face you insist on wearing," the old man groaned. "I'm not surprised you don't know what it is. You only walk through the place every day."

"Let's just pretend I actually followed your advice, and didn't go searching for trouble on the other side of that door. What could you tell me that would help?" Murphy asked, summoning the most condescending tone he could manage.

"I'd be honestly surprised," Callus said without a hint of deception. "If I did believe that, I'd tell you that the map will guide you through the pigeon doors. I couldn't tell you where you'll end up though. I don't know that map, and it's not even complete."

Murphy unravelled the map, and looked it over thoughtfully. "Do these doors go around the world like the ones in the tower?"

"Of course they do, don't be so thick," Callus reprimanded.

"How was I supposed to just know that? You said yourself there's no more magic doors," the Warlock complained.

"I said I can't make any more," Callus snapped, flicking a piece of bread at his student. "And that wasn't entirely true anyway. I can make them, but I'd rather save what I've got for something more worthwhile."

"So there's been other magic doors close by this whole time?" Murphy probed.

"Obviously, you dullard. You never asked me about that, did you?" The old man teased.

"Would those doors have been able to take me to Creeden?"

"Without a doubt."

"Do you know a way there?" Murphy asked suspiciously.

"Of course I do. I know a way to all of the major holds," Callus said, waving his hand.

"Then why in the hell did I have to walk through the gods damned woods?" Murphy barked, standing to stare his master down.

"Because I said so!" The old man shouted back. "I told you to stop asking those questions boy."

While he chastised the Warlock, the flames of the hearth burst upwards, causing Oats to make a quick retreat from his pan.

"Mr Callus," Oats groaned. "If you want to get all cranky, you'll be having burned pork for supper."

"Just shut up and cook, kitchen bitch," Callus grumbled, allowing the flames to settle. He turned his attention back to his now smirking apprentice. "Stop trying to piss me off."

"I would, but according to you, it's all I'm good for," Murphy laughed. He sat back down, and fiddled with the card in his hand. "How do I get to these doors then?"

"Getting to them is the easy part. Finding your way through is where it gets tricky," Callus replied, entering lecture mode seamlessly. "The doors number in the infinite, I'm sure your arithmetic professor has mentioned that concept enough by now."

"You mean there's an endless amount of them?" Murphy asked, excited.

"Good job. You've wrapped your head around mathematics most simple higher concept," Callus continued, waving a hand to indicate for him to be quiet. "Most people that know about them don't even bother trying. Finding a path through the doors is valuable, so most people keep their maps to themselves. It's also incredibly dangerous. Every door in the Hollows can be used to reach the pigeon, but not every pigeon door will go to the Hollows. Most of the doors just go somewhere else in the halls."

"Did you just say they go to the pigeon?" Murphy interrupted. "An actual pigeon?"

"That's what the hotel is called. The Pigeon Nutt. It's a stupid name I know, but the owner isn't known for his coherence. The name isn't the point, anyway. Every door in our world has a corresponding door in the pigeon, so unless that door is completely destroyed, it can be a checkpoint or a destination on a pigeon path."

"That seems pretty convenient," Murphy offered, studying the map again.

"It's convenient if you know a path, sure," Callus said dismissively. "Finding a path is like trying to find a living brain cell in that thick skull of yours. There are path seekers that will sell you maps for an extreme price, but most of those fools end up lost in the halls until their final days. Spending too much time in those corridors is just as dangerous an idea. Things lurk around those corners, things even you would know better than to fuck with."

"That's ominous," Uundah said, snatching the map from his Warlock. "How much did you say these maps are worth?"

Callus barked a loud laugh. "Fancy yourself a path seeker then? Don't be so stupid, you only just learned about them."

"It's just a thought," Uundah mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

"So what about this then?" Murphy asked, holding up the card.

"It's a key," Callus said simply. "A key card to be more accurate. That little piece of metal will establish the connection between doors. It's also worth more than your entire home town, so don't lose it."

"I feel like this is something you should have told me about already," Murphy offered.

"Why? So you could run into the halls in your witless vigour and be lost to the cleaners? If you knew about this already, I wouldn't have anyone around to do my chores," the old man said, shoving another piece of bread into his mouth.

"Why are you telling me now then?" The Warlock asked curiously.

Callus waved his hand again. "Because your story is moving forward now," he said around the bread. "It's out of my hands."

Murphy was about to ask what he meant by that, but the old man predicted his question, and held a finger up to silence him. "Don't ask questions you know I won't answer," he ordered. "How long did he give you to find the place? I know the ronta likes his deadlines."

"Two weeks," Murphy responded. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"You’re dumb, and it makes me want to hit you," Callus groaned. "I expect you to still attend the university in that time, so you're going to be busy."

"I think I can afford to miss two weeks, old man," the Warlock scoffed.

"Maybe, but I'm telling you otherwise," Callus ordered. "You’re still my apprentice, I don't care who your teachers are."

"If you don't care, why are you making me go to class," Murphy argued.

"Don't be facetious," the old man barked. "You know what I mean. It's important you go to those classes."

"Can I ask why, or are you just going to get all scary again?" He was pushing the issue, but he couldn't help himself.

"Don't test me Murphy. I'm deadly serious on this. You will get your answers in time boy. For now, focus on your magic."

Callus made his demands in a deep and sure tone, so the Warlock decided to put the fight aside for another day.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll start looking after class tomorrow."

"Excellent," Oats said, stepping up to the table with a plate in either hand. "If everyone's happy then, we can eat."

He put the plates down in front of them, and the sound of porcelain on wood was all that was left in the room. Callus opened a book, and started to read while he chewed. For his part, Murphy sat in silence, and stared at the key card. His face stayed blank, but his heart raced with the excitement of a new adventure.