“I don’t know why you bothered, Harry,” Bob sniffed.  There’s nothing here but the pretentious scribblings of derivative hacks.”

Harry looked up from his piles of books, the smell of dust and mildew still thick in his throat.  “Thanks for the penetrating literary insight, Bob. That’s really helpful,” he said.  Turning back to the collection of leather-bound volumes the estate sale had refused to sell individually, Harry had to admit that Bob was probably right.  So far, two books that looked like they might prove useful sat in lonely splendour on the other chair, while works by raving loons sat in stacks covering more than half the table.

“I don’t see how you can keep them anyway, unless you were thinking of building new shelves,” Bob opined smugly.

Harry’s retort was cut off by a loud knocking at the storefront door.  “Just a second!” he called, glancing meaningfully at Bob, who was already ghosting back into his skull.  The knocking grew louder as he hurried down the hallway. 

“All right, I’m coming,” he muttered.  “You don’t have to –” He opened the door to find Morgan scowling at him.  “Since when do you knock?”

“It’s a special occasion,” Morgan said dryly.  “Are you alone?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, eyeing the warden warily.  “Well, except for Bob.”

“May we come in?” asked a calm voice, the faintest trace of an accent lilting the words. 

Harry looked over Morgan’s shoulder to see a tall figure dressed entirely in black, his face hidden by a heavy cowl.  Years of awe and respect banished the ringwraith comparisons the second they flashed into Harry’s brain. Well, most of them anyway. The guy was still damn scary. “Gatekeeper,” he said, trying not to stumble over his words.  “Please, come in.”

He shut the door behind them and wiped his hands on his jeans. “To, ah, to what do I owe the honour?”

“I would speak with Hrothbert of Bainbridge, if I may,” the Gatekeeper said, his tone polite but firm.

Avoiding the impulse to ask why, Harry settled for blurting, “Sure,” and standing there inanely until it occurred to him to keep speaking.  “He’s just in the kitchen.  I can take you through.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Gatekeeper said, holding up a gloved hand.  “What I have to say is for his ears alone.  Warden Morgan, perhaps you might accompany Wizard Dresden to the café we passed on the corner?” Harry got the impression it wasn’t actually a question.

“Fine by me,” Morgan said, though it was clear from the look in his eyes that it pained him to do it.  Harry had to admit he wasn’t wild about the idea either.

“What do you want with Bob?” he demanded, prior experience trumping etiquette.

“Wizard Dresden,” the Gatekeeper said without the slightest trace of offence. “No harm will come to him while you are gone, and you will find his skull where you left it when you return. This I swear on my power.”

Harry felt the oath ripple through the air and looked at the Gatekeeper, impressed.  Swearing on one’s power was the most serious oath a wizard could make.  The way the past few months had gone, Harry wouldn’t have left Bob in someone else’s care for anything less.  He approached the hooded wizard until he had to tilt his head to look up at his shadowed face.  “I’ll hold you to that,” he said.  The cowl shifted, and Harry could only assume he was nodding.

“All right, Morgan,” he said, feigning a brightness that he knew would have the Warden wincing, “let’s go get us some coffee.”

Hearing the door jingle shut, Bob emerged from his skull and returned to his perusal of the stacks of dusty books.  A few of the volumes did have a tantalizing paragraph or two, but he was hardly going to let Harry know that while there was further heckling to be done.  He heard muffled footsteps in the hallway, lighter than Harry’s usual tread, and quickly hid himself in the kitchen wall.

Submerged in brick and plaster, Bob frowned.  He could count on one hand the number of people who referred to Harry as ‘Wizard Dresden’, and none of them were particularly pleasant to speak with.  Harry was going to owe him for this. 

He stepped into the kitchen and blinked a few times at the black-shrouded figure before him.  “You,” he finally said.

The Gatekeeper’s face was hidden within his cowl, but his voice betrayed his amusement.  “Is that any way to greet an old friend?” 

Bob forced an expression of bland pleasantness.  “It’s the only way at my disposal, I’m afraid.  I’d offer you some refreshment, but, well…”  He reached for the refrigerator door and his hand disappeared into the enamel.

“I require nothing, I assure you,” the Gatekeeper said, his voice light.

Bob fought down half a dozen retorts and instead dipped his head in the far too familiar gesture of acquiescence.  “So what brings you out this way?”

Raising gloved hands, the Gatekeeper slowly pushed his hood back far enough to reveal weathered bronze skin.

Bob gasped, his gaze fixed on the empty eye socket and mangled flesh that was the left side of the wizard’s face.  “What happened, Rashid?”

The Gatekeeper raised his shoulders in an eloquent shrug.  “Time. Life.  You’ve weathered these centuries better than I, old friend.”

Bob aimed the full force of his sardonic look at the Gatekeeper’s good eye.  “Well, that’s certainly a novel perspective.”  The Gatekeeper’s smile was indulgent, which only annoyed Bob even more.  “I wonder, when you convinced the others to impose the sentence, did you really have any idea what for all eternity actually means?”

“I had my suspicions.”  The smile faded.  “But tell me, Hrothbert, do you really feel your fate unjustified?”

Bob folded his arms across his chest and shifted his feet.  “Not at present, no,” he admitted. 

The Gatekeeper picked up a book on the corner of the table, examined the spine and exchanged it with a book on the chair. “Your protégé does you credit. And you him.”

Bob opened his mouth, found he had nothing to say, and shut it again.

“I am here to ask a favour,” the Gatekeeper continued.   “A task which you are uniquely suited to perform.”

“Ah,” Bob said.  He tugged down the cuffs of his jacket and brushed imaginary lint off his velvet sleeve.  “And were I to undertake this task…?” He let an eloquent hand gesture finish the sentence for him.

The Gatekeeper’s manner was nonchalant, but there was a hard edge to his voice.  “The world as we know it does not end.  Life goes on.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Do you find that vague apocalyptic twaddle actually works in the majority of these cases?”

“There is no majority of these cases,” the Gatekeeper pointed out.  He pulled the cowl back up, concealing his face in shadow once more.  “The spiral has spun too wide.  It is time to turn back towards the center, lest all balance be lost.  Will you help?”

Bob’s eyes snapped up to the Gatekeeper’s face.  “What happens to Harry?”

“Wizard Dresden will walk his path, no matter what you choose.”

Bob spent a moment looking around the apartment, then took a breath and faced the Gatekeeper.  “Then, yes,” he said, his voice curiously rough.  “I’ll help.”

***************************************************************************

Harry followed about a foot behind Morgan and was surprised when the Warden led them into the coffee shop on the corner.  He paused just inside the door, taking in the aroma, and hurried to join Morgan in line.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the Starbucks type,” he said, eyeing the menu boards and mentally calculating how far the five dollars in his pocket would go.

Morgan reached the front of the line and ordered a large black coffee, scowling at the barista until she complied.  The transaction completed, she glared at Morgan’s back then smiled at Harry. 

“Uh… I’ll have what he had,” Harry said, smiling sheepishly.  With a theatrical sigh, the barista poured his coffee and forced a smile when Harry told her to keep the change.

“I like to put in a little face time every now and then,” Morgan said, settling in at a table near the window.  “It keeps them on their toes.”  He took a sip, frowning as it scalded his tongue.  “Big Coffee always seems to think it can get creative.”

“A warden’s work is never done,” Harry murmured.  Morgan chose to ignore him, staring out the window instead.

They sat in a distinctly uncompanionable silence for ten minutes before Morgan pushed his cup away.  “Mai’s dead,” he said, his voice flat.

Harry nearly choked on his coffee.  “What?  When?”

“Two days ago.  Amber found her body.”  Morgan stared past Harry out the window, and Harry finally registered how tired the man looked.

Harry pushed his coffee away.  “I’m sorry, Morgan.  I mean, she scared the hell out of me, but she was…” He twisted his hand, trying to find the words.

“Yes, she was,” Morgan said quietly.

“Was it another drake?” Harry asked.

“We don’t know.”  Morgan said through gritted teeth.

Harry could see the admission didn’t come easily.  “Well, at least you seem to have ruled me out for a change,” he said.

“I’d be happy to rule you back in,” Morgan offered.

Harry met Morgan’s sneer with one of his own then leaned his elbow on the table. “So, what does the Gatekeeper want with Bob?” he asked.

Something in Morgan’s expression hardened.  “He didn’t say.”

“But he’s usually so chatty,” Harry quipped. 

Morgan returned his attention to his coffee.  Harry watched the traffic outside the window.  Ancient Mai was dead, and the people passing by had no idea that the world had changed.  He just couldn’t quite figure out whether it was a safer or more dangerous place now that she was gone.

Morgan sighed and checked his watch.  “We should be getting back.”

Harry was only too happy to follow him out the door.