By the time Chris reached the narrow gate, it was almost dark. The gate was smaller than he had expected, with a lamp hanging beside it. He looked up and suddenly felt sad. So this was where the little light he had seen outside the city came from. In his search for an easier way, he had nearly lost it.
Words on the gate said: Knock, and the door will be opened for you. He reached out, then drew his hand back. There was dried mud on his sleeves, and his fingers were black with dirt. What if there was a tidy room inside? What if someone disliked his muddy footprints on the floor?
A sharp cry sounded in the distance. Then something flew over his head. Chris hurried to knock, striking the gate several times. It had barely opened a crack when a hand pulled him inside before he could speak. An arrow hit the door with a loud crack.
“Get inside first.” The gatekeeper shut the door firmly. “The people in the castle nearby shoot arrows at those who come to knock.”
Chris stood close to the wall. The gatekeeper did not hurry him. Only when Chris’s breathing had settled did he ask, “What is your name?”
“Chris. I’m from the City of Destruction.”
“My name is Goodwill. What have you come to find?”
Chris told him about his family. His eyes grew a little red when he spoke of his sister. He had meant to tell only that part, but then he told Goodwill about picking the pear and taking the wrong road as well. “I haven’t gone the right way all the time,” he said.
After listening, Goodwill brought him a chair. “If you are willing to knock, we will welcome you.”
“But I took someone else’s fruit. And I nearly told a lie.”
“Have you come to ask for help, or to pretend you have never done anything wrong?”
Chris looked at him and slowly sat down. “To ask for help.”
“Then come in as you really are.” Goodwill poured a cup of warm water and set it before him. Chris held the cup. His hands were not trembling so badly now.
When Chris had rested, Goodwill showed him the road beyond the gate. It ran straight ahead, but many smaller paths branched away on either side. Some were covered in fine sand, others in thick grass. “The right road is not always the prettiest,” Goodwill said. “Keep going, and you will come to the Interpreter’s house. He can help you understand some things more clearly.”
Chris asked whether he could take off the bundle first. Goodwill examined the knot and shook his head. “This is not the place where it comes undone. But you will not have to carry it forever.”
Before leaving, Chris looked back. “If I find a way, can I bring my family here too?”
“Of course. Grown-ups may knock, and children may knock as well.”
Goodwill opened a little window beside the gate so that the lamplight fell across the road. Standing in the light, Chris held on to the thought that anyone could knock. When he saw his sister again, he would tell her that first.
