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Authors: Brian Lumley

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Gill couldn’t be consoled, placated. “But there have been deaths—murders! A man called Haggie floats miles deep under a frozen sea on an alien planet, and another named Denholm—”
“I know these things,” said the Grand Thone. “And … murders, yes, of which you are not aware, because you were specific in your investigations. These things are inexcusable, and Sith will not be excused. But alas, they are beyond reparation. Even I cannot undo what is done so completely.”
“But you can ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
And after a long moment: “Perhaps. Obviously the safeguards must be made … safer.”
“I would ask you for your word that they will be!” said Gill.
There were shocked stirrings from the Thone Councillors, but the Grand Thone brought them to order. “You have my word,” he said. “But you should know, Spencer Gill, that we are not alone in our expansion through the universe. And there are some who are not governed by our ethics. Oh, I know it could be argued that even our ethics are not all they could or should be, but by comparison …”
“The Ggyddn!”
the Thone Councillors whispered.
“Ggyddn?” said Gill, feeling their mental shudders. But they hid what was in their minds.
“Let us hope you never come across the Ggyddn,” said the Grand Thone, “and that they never find you. Space is a big place. But now, Spencer Gill, we must go. You are a man of honour, and this world is yours, not ours. May I take it for granted that you will deenergize the synthesizer?”
“Yes,” said Gill. “But …” and he paused.
“Yes?”
“There’s just one thing that still puzzles me. You Thone have the science, the power to synthesise whole planets. Why then do you seek to colonise the worlds of other races? Why not simply inhabit synthesised worlds?”
“It takes energy,” the Grand Thone answered. “The very presence of the synthesizer here in your world will have drained away thousands of years of the planet’s life span.” A mental shrug. “Nothing compared with the billions it has left. But you see my point. Uncontrolled, such waste would speed the devolution of the universe. Also, there is always the chance of power failure. To live permanently on a synthesised world would be too risky.”
Gill’s thoughts were sour now. “And you don’t like taking too many risks, do you, you Thone?”
For a while the Grand Thone was silent, but then he said, “At least you, personally, have not lost by your experiences here in this House of Doors. That much may be said, at least.”
“Not lost?” Gill was astonished. “I’ve been through hell! All of us went through hell!”
“But you were also terminally diseased,” said the Grand Thone. “You were going to die, before your time.”
“You
WERE
terminally diseased,”
the message slowly sank in.
“You
WERE
going to …
?”
“We abhor illness,” said the Grand Thone as he and his councillors prepared to take their departure. “Here in the synthesizer, where at all possible, all such malfunctions are automatically corrected.”
Then they had gone, leaving Gill and Angela staggering together as their will over their limbs at once returned … .
 
Gill found Barney where he knew he would find him: in a world of rolling plains, great forests and six-legged rabbits. He found the synthesised remains of Clayborne and Varre, too, where Sith had stored them, and recovered Anderson’s clone from the world of the great crystal. Not that this was necessary, for their minds were now part of the synthesizer; only their bodies—their synthesized bodies—had died. As for “Smart” Alec Haggie and Rod Denholm: there was nothing he could do for them.
Then he sent Angela outside onto the slopes of Ben Lawers to bring Turnbull back in, and finally he instructed the synthesizer to return all of their minds to the sleepers and then to deenergize—in a fashion.
Gill had seen to it that Anderson kept all of his memory, for that would be needed for corroboration; Varre and Clayborne remembered only that they had gone to see the Castle, and then that it had vanished before their eyes. Nothing more. Both of them had failed the Thone tests and their minds had caved in. To retain their memories intact could easily have driven them mad all over again.
But Angela and Turnbull: they kept everything, and because of it and with Gill they were made that much stronger.
So there they stood, six people and a dog, on the slopes of Ben Lawers, and the Castle fading like a mist until it disappeared and the mountain was itself again. But as Barney rushed off, barking wildly, on his way home to the master he’d missed for far too long, and as the Castle’s staff of technicians, military men and scientists came running, Gill stooped, picked something up and put it in the pocket of his good clothes.
He had promised to deenergize the synthesizer and that was all. And the thing in his pocket was a tiny miniature Castle. To anyone seeing it, it would seem an incredibly detailed model, exquisitely carved in granite. But only Gill would know that it was bigger on the inside than on the outside. A lot bigger.
And for the moment and for quite some little time to come, he would say nothing at all about it.
Nor about the Ggyddn …
 
I
n Shantung Province, Ki-no Sung yawned as he rolled up his reed bed and took down from the bamboo walls two great bundles of nets. He carried the first armful out into the dawn light flooding from the east across Hwang-Hai, the Yellow Sea, and looked down upon the narrow strip of beach separating the jungle from the ocean. His boat sat there as at the rim of a millpond, calm in the gathering light, with never a ripple to rock it. Except for when the storms came, it was always like this, a scene that never changed.
Ki-no Sung went back inside, put on his wide-brimmed hat, took up the second bundle of nets and carried it outside—and dropped it!
Down the beach his boat had disappeared, been swallowed up. Ki-no Sung saw a splendid pagoda, half in, half out of the water, rearing a hundred feet high! Impossible! He rubbed at his slanted, sleep-filled eyes and looked again. And it was still there! It was real! A mighty, wondrous pagoda. But—
It had no windows. And no doors …
 
BRIAN LUMLEY’S VAMPIRE WORLD
Blood Brothers
The Last Aerie
Bloodwars
 
THE PSYCHOMECH TRILOGY
Psychomech
Psychosphere
Psychamok!
 
THE NECROSCOPE SERIES
Necroscope
Necroscope II. Vamphyri!
Necroscope III.- The Source
Necroscope IV: Deadspeak
Necroscope V: Deadspawn .
Necroscope: The Lost Years
Necroscope: Resurgence
Necroscope: Invaders
 
OTHER NOVELS
The House of Doors
Demogorgon
The Maze of Worlds
Titus Crow Volume I: The Burrowers Beneath/The Transition
of Titus Crow
Titus Crow Volume II: The Clock of Dreams/Spawn of the
Winds
Titus Crow Volume III: In the Moons of Borea/Elysia
 
SHORT STORY COLLECTION
Fruiting Bodies and Other Fungi
“Thoroughly enjoyable. It’s like those rare ‘great’ B movies—a fast, fun time.”

OtherRealms
on
Necroscope
 
Door number 666 slid swiftly, silently out of sight—and hell itself became visible behind it, red and orange flames rumbling and roaring. A great shaft of fire belched out like a thick, dripping tongue and licked Clayborne for long seconds, head to heels. He disappeared, screaming, in liquid light and heat.
Then the tongue of fire was retracted and the door hissed shut to contain it, and the thing that had been Clayborne screamed again as it fell in a smoking, steaming heap upon the scorched earth.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
 
 
THE HOUSE OF DOORS
Copyright © 1990 by Brian Lumley
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
 
 
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
 
 
Cover art by J. Thiesen
 
 
eISBN 9781466818668
First eBook Edition : April 2012
 
 
ISBN: 0-812-50832-7
First edition: March 1990
BOOK: The House of Doors - 01
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