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“Stop being cryptic. Just tell me what’s going on.”

He turns to face me. “Would you believe me if I did?”

The question catches me off guard.Would I?Couldanyexplanation for this situation make any sense?

“Try me.”

“Very well.” He puts the book back and returns to his desk. “What do you know of doors?”

“What?” The question throws me. That wasn’t what I expected him to say.

“Doors. Their purpose. Their function.”

“They … let people in and out of places. What kind of question is that?”

“A fundamental one.” He sits down. “Doors connect spaces. They allow passage between separate domains.”

“I know what doors do.”

“Do you? What if I told you that some doors connect more than rooms or buildings? What if some connect entirely different worlds?”

“That’s …” I was about to say impossible, but the look on his face stops me.

“Impossible? I’m beginning to think that's your favorite word.” The black of his eyes changes slightly, lightens, gleams. Is helaughingat me? “Yet here you stand, in a tower you entered through a door that shouldn’t exist, in a land you’ve never heard of.”

When he puts it like that …

“Are you saying …” I struggle to form the thought. “That I’ve somehow … crossed into anotherworld?”

“I’m saying it’s the only explanation that best fits your circumstances. You were in a place called Chicago. Now you’re here. The geography you know doesn’t exist in this realm. The simplest conclusion is that you have crossed between worlds.”

The words should sound insane. They should be the ravings of a madman. But something inside me recognizes them as true. Itexplains the inexplicable—how I could step from a rainy Chicago street into a desert in an instant.

“How?” My voice is barely more than a whisper. “How can that happen?”

“Thatis a far more interesting question.” He flips open the book on his desk. “And one I don’t have an answer to yet.”

I don’t believe him. “You’re keeping something back.”

He shrugs. “Perhaps. But would further explanation help your situation?”

“Yes!” I take a step toward him. “If I knew how I got here, maybe I could figure out how to get back.”

“Or you’d simply be burdened with knowledge you can’t use. For now, accepting your circumstances might be more productive than questioning them.”

“Accept that I’m trapped in another world? That I might never see my home again?” My voice rises. “How is any of that productive?”

“It allows you to focus on what can be changed rather than what cannot.”

“And what exactlycanbe changed?” I deliver the words through gritted teeth.

He studies me for a long moment. “That remains to be seen.”

I turn away, unable to look at his impassive face any longer. He could be carved from stone for all the response he gives. His calm in the face of my panic is maddening. Heknowssomething, I’m certain of it, but he’s clearly not planning to share it.

I pace the chamber, trying to think. If I really have traveledbetween worlds, there must be a way to reverse the journey. The doorway appeared once. It could appear again. But when? And how?

“The door.” I turn back to him. “The one I came through. You said it won’t return for some time. How long?”