Because Oram’s not clever enough to think of “William the Honkeror”
Six doorknobs. Six. Oram glared at them resentfully. It didn’t help that the light was dim, and colored. Willing himself to calm down, letting the calming influence of the continuing music dampen his irritation, the trapper focused on the array of knobs, attempting to work out a pattern.
The argument between the rest of the party and the disembodied voice appeared to have abated, but the tranquility didn’t last long. Even as that died down, the honking chorus heard earlier grew rapidly louder, as if in response to Kalortah’s call, and soon the corridor around them filled with fluttering, gaggling, cackling geese. The geese gave no indication of being soothed by the music. Oram frowned and made a frustrated noise. So much for being able to puzzle out the door in peace. One goose -Oram mentally dubbed it Gandersauce- seemed particularly interested in personally tormenting him, pecking at his leg whenever he tried to focus on the door.
The avriel seemed to have found his ideal, adoring audience in these birds; he sang to them, he spoke to them, he…listened to them? And, to his credit, Kalortah shared what he understood. Assuming, that is, that he told it true, though there wasn’t any obvious reason why or how he was lying. One thing the hunter knew for sure: Kalortah wasn’t trying to escape the quest before him, especially not with an appreciative chorus of admirers watching. He might, as in Sweetwine, try to hijack the enterprise to his own benefit, though, so the hunter would continue to keep a mistrustful eye upon the Delrothian.
Nudging Gandersauce aside he turned away from the door and back towards Kalortah and the others. ”So, does this mean we’re going in now, rather than trying to escape?” he asked, looking back and forth between Arlo and Zana. ”It sounds like there’s a good chance that whatever has these geese so worked up overlaps the errand our May-or-may-not-be-Cassion wants us to run.” Oram really hoped that Arlo agreed, because the last thing he wanted was to be stuck alone with Kalortah.
The Sojourn cast one more irritated look at the puzzle door. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled out a small golden compass. ”The real Cassion definitely gave me this,” he muttered. ”And as long as we make our way without getting ourselves teleported again, we should be able to find our way back with it, regardless of how many ways the tunnels split.” After that, the traveler would look expectantly at the rest of the party, awaiting their opinions on how to proceed.