Black Alice’s Door

“Oh the door been misbehaving again has it? Aye it does that occasionally. Got a will o it’s own that door.”

BlackJack Macafetty greeted them from behind his bar, polishing one of his many mugs, the motion completely ingrained and on autopilot from years of repetition. He appeared almost exactly as they had left him, three months ago when the Lady Jezebel had sailed from the great metropolis of Haven Town and into the wilds of the Northern Reach.

“So you lot aren’t actually back in Haven Towne at all then?”

“No?” Dakhir replied bemusedly. “We’re at least a thousand leagues away in a town called Puerto Lejos. Or at least I think we are?”.

BlackJack looked blank at the name of the town. “Not familiar with Puerto Lejos, so must be quite a ways away.”

“Far into the Northern Reach. We were just walking down the Main Street and we saw the door to this Inn. How is that possible?” Dakhir asked.

BlackJack shrugged. 

“Magic. Black Alice’s magic. Or at least my da said it all started back in her day. See, from time to time Black Alice , during her travels, worked up a thirst and if there weren’t no easy place to slake it, she’d just call the Door o’ this Inn to her, so she could have a pint o’ the Black. She always had a mighty thirst Black Alice and she reckoned it was easier to bring the Inn to her then herself to the Inn. Or some such.

My grandda said that when the door swung open to let her in, he could sometimes catch a glimpse o’ where she was coming from. Once he say a smoking’ mountain behind her, once a field o’ snow and ice and once ‘‘twas nothing but stars and blackness

Now she ain’t been seen for many a year, but Granddad says he reckoned the Door got to like the traveling , which I guess ain’t no surprise given doors don’t normally get out much, and it must get wearisome just standing in the same place year after year. 

So once that door got the hang o’ it, well it just started galivanting around on it’s own without asking anyone's nevermind, not even Black Alice. 

One thing is certain, we do occasional get us some strange visitors here in the Brew, often mighty confused about where they are and how they got there. We serve them up regardless o where they hail from though, and they generally leave pleased enough, if a trifle bewildered.

Another thing my grand da told me was it don’t do no good chasing after ‘em. Whenever they leave, they go back ta where they come from, but no matter how fast ye are, for us Haveners, that door only will open to Port Street in Haven Town.”