"So, think about what it would be like if adults could go to Narnia."
The look on my face must have betrayed my disbelief, because he immediately backpedalled.
"Ok, right, obviously not actually Narnia. But, you know. Fauns, talking animals, magic, all that stuff. For real."
I sipped at my coffee to buy time and, at a loss, gave up. "Look. If you wanted a consultation, my office hours..."
"No." He was suddenly emphatic, and very serious. "I know you probably have this conversation with crazy people all the time, but that's not what this is about. I need to know you're really listening to me, Carol."
I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped. There was something about his earnest expression that gave me pause. I considered him for a long time, then changed tack.
"All right. So, you say there's another world that people from Earth can get to. That could make sense if we buy into the many worlds interpretation, and I don't have any solid evidence against, so sure. It would be unscientific to dismiss the idea out of hand."
Mel sank back into his seat, letting out a tense breath he had been holding.
"Still," I went on, "if a bunch of people can go there, why hasn't everyone heard about it? How do you get there, anyway?"
"Well, it's not a magic wardrobe," he said wryly. "At least, not for most people."
Before I could stop myself, my eyebrows shot up in a look that clearly said, “Are you kidding me?” So much for my professional composure.
He sighed, and went on. "It's different for everyone. Some people die and end up in Ariath, and can't ever come back here. Others walk down a random alley or road one day, and find themselves between trees in the Trackless Wood. I know one guy who gets in through cemeteries; I don't envy him that one." He sipped at his own coffee and smiled self-deprecatingly. "I get in through Starbucks. On a good day, anyway."
I looked around us in surprise at the busy cafe. "Here? Seriously?"
"Well, it's never happened in another coffee shop, but I guess it could."
I mulled that one over a bit. "You realize how this sounds, right?"
"Yeah. And that's what makes this hard." He put his cup down and started sketching on a napkin as he talked, not looking at his work. "This is the fourth time I've had to have this conversation with you."
That startled me. "What?"
"I know. You don't remember meeting me before I called yesterday. And honestly it's getting kinda old. See, the problem is, you get there through dreams, and you almost never remember when you wake up."
I started to speak again, but he talked right over me. "Yeah, and you don't dream. You always say that." He pushed the napkin over to me. "Does this mean anything to you?"
Taken aback, I looked down. There it was, the heraldry with the gryphon and star. Rough, badly drawn, but just like I'd seen it...
I'd seen it.
I looked back up at Mel, eyes wide. Suddenly, everything was different.
"Toradan has locked Amara in the Widows' Tower."
Part of me wanted to scream that this didn't mean anything to me, but it was too late for that now. I know denial when I see it. Mostly. "Why?” I asked him.
"An assassin tried for her. She took him out, but after what happened to his last wife..." he trailed off, staring at his cup.
It felt like my throat was closing up. "After his last wife was killed, he doesn't feel like he can take any chances."
"Yeah. I mean, he's a good guy, but when he gets like this," Mel spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "You're the only one he'll really listen to."
Not again. Not again. A sinking feeling was forming in the pit of my stomach. But nonetheless, I said, "I'll talk to him." As I always did.
"Good. Thanks, Carol. Get to bed early tonight." He rose from the table, and got in his customary last word over his shoulder as he headed for the restroom hallway. "No pills either, ok?"
I knew he'd never reach the restroom.