“What? Oh, yes,” was the answer, then, “Did you see a ghoul lurking in the shadows as you came up the road?”

“We noticed it this morning and drove it off with braghounds and torches,” said the invigilant.

“Indeed?” said Grolion. He edged closer to the door, used the backs of one hand’s fingers to brush it further ajar, craned his neck to regard the road outside from different angles. I saw a surmise take possession of his mobile features.

“Now,” said the invigilant, “let us discuss terms—”

Grolion had turned his head toward the speaker as if intent on hearing his proposal. But as the official began to speak, the traveler threw the door wide, then himself through it. To his evident surprise, the doorway caught him and threw him back into the foyer. He sat on the floor, dazed, then moaned and put his hands to his head as his face showed that his skull had suddenly become home to thunderous pain.

“Phandaal’s Discriminating Boundary,” said the resident. “Besides keeping out what must be kept out, it keeps in what must be kept in.”

“Unspeak the spell,” Grolion said, pain distorting his voice. “The ghoul is gone.”

“He cannot,” said the invigilant. “It can only be removed by he who laid it.”

“The previous occupant?”

“Just so.”

“Then I am trapped here?”

The resident spoke. “As am I, until the work is done. The flux of interplanar energies that will then be released will undo all magics.”

Grolion indicated the invigilant. “He comes and goes.”

“The spell discriminates. Hence the name.”

“Come,” said the invigilant, nudging Grolion with the heel of his staff, “I cannot stand here while you prattle. Rise and pay attention.”