Joneb dreamed of a hallway that had no end.
The walls were made of dark stone, polished until they reflected a dim blue light. Tall windows lined one side, but beyond them there was no sky. Only a vast darkness scattered with distant points of gold. At the far end stood a wooden door with the same open-eye symbol carved into its center.
He walked toward it. Each step produced a sound that traveled ahead of him and returned from somewhere far below. A voice spoke from behind the door.
“You are late.” Joneb stopped.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who has been waiting.”
“Where am I?”
“On the side you were taught not to see.”
He reached for the handle. Before his fingers touched it, the door opened inward.
Beyond it lay a city unlike anything he had known. Towers rose above a wide river. Bridges connected buildings of pale stone. Banners moved in a wind he could not feel. In the distance stood a palace surrounded by walls that shimmered like glass.
People crowded the streets below. Some wore robes, others uniforms that reminded him of the clothes worn by officials in his own world. Above the city, a ring of light hung in the sky like a second moon.
“Welcome to Educatia,” the voice said.
Joneb turned. A woman stood behind him. She looked to be in her forties, with silver threaded through her dark hair. Her clothing was simple, but a small emblem rested at her collar: the open eye.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“A keeper of records.”
“I don't understand.”
“You understand records better than most. You know that what is written can shape what people believe. You also know that what is omitted can be more dangerous than what is recorded.” Joneb looked again at the city.
“Is this real?”
The woman did not answer directly. “What do you remember about the paper?”
“It appeared in my office.”
“And what did you do?”
“I tried to find out where it came from.”
“Good. What did you do when someone asked you to accept a figure that did not match the evidence?”
“I asked for clarification.”
“And what did it cost you?” Joneb thought of the anonymous message. “I don't know yet.”
The woman nodded. “That is how the first price is paid. The amount is not always known at the beginning.”
A bell rang somewhere in the city. The people below stopped moving. One by one, they turned toward the palace. The woman's expression changed.
“They have noticed you.”
“Who?”
“Those who prefer the records to remain incomplete.”
A dark shape moved across the palace wall. The ring of light in the sky flickered.
“I want to go home,” Joneb said.
“You will. But home is no longer as far away as you think.” The woman pressed a small object into his palm. It was a brass key, warm despite the cold air.
“When the door appears again, do not open it for the first voice you hear.”
“Why?”
“Because not everyone who knows your name is calling you to safety.”
The hallway returned around him. The door slammed shut. The sound became a sharp knock. Joneb woke with a start.
Someone was knocking on the bedroom door.
“Papa?” Jaycee's sleepy voice came from the other side.
“I had a bad dream.” Joneb sat up, his heart still racing. He opened the door and lifted his youngest son into his arms.
“It's all right,” he whispered.
“It was only a dream.” But when he returned to bed, he felt something hard beneath his pillow.
A brass key lay there.
He stared at it until the first light of morning reached the window.
The dream had left something behind.