“Beroald, will you accept me as a member here?”
Beroald smiled. “As I said, the Society of the Red Door is not a club. None of us may give or deny admittance. We are each here simply because we found a path to the Door, and can find it again whenever we desire.”
King’s hopes leapt. “Then I can return?”
Beroald’s smile disappeared. “I fear not.”
King felt a surge of fear and anger. “Why not? I found a path.”
Beroald waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Ah, but could you find it again? The Song led you tonight. But the Song plays for one soul and one soul only—the Dancer.”
“Yet it played for me,” King argued.
Beroald frowned. “No doubt your unprecedented exposure to our lady today fooled the Song into accepting you tonight. Indeed, you still reek of her.” Beroald wrinkled his nose,
