He chuckled and gave me an I-told-you-so look.
“'Not now,'“ he repeated. “Is more helpful than you realize. At least we know he's alive.”
“True,” I said.
“Did you hear any screaming while you talked to him?”
“No. Why?”
“The dungeons under the palace are filled with prisoners. If he were locked up inside, I'm sure you'd hear screaming.”
I chuckled. “You don't have to sound so hopeful. No, he isn't being tortured, nor is anyone around him. It's like you said—he's in the middle of something and doesn't want to be disturbed, no matter how important it might be. Arrogant, conceited little—”
He held up a hand for silence, so I ended my tirade before it had really begun.
“What if,” he said, “he's being watched too closely to talk to us right now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. If someone is holding a knife to his throat, he won't be in any position to communicate.”
“True,” I said, conceding his point. “But does he have to be so rude, arrogant, and conceited about it?”
“You're getting a taste of what I went through. And he likes you!”
“I'll count myself lucky to have learned anything,” I said. “Dad's still alive. That's more than we knew before.”
“I suppose,” he said.
Actually, it created more questions than in answered. What had he been doing? Why couldn't he talk? And why hadn't he come back here after his audience with King Uthor?
Sighing, I picked up the deck of Trumps and flipped through them quickly, not letting my attention rest on any single card longer than necessary. Freda… Blaise… Davin… Pella… all my half-brothers and half-sisters were there, plus several other people I didn't recognize. For a second I toyed with the idea of contacting Freda to tell her what had happened and get her advice, but then I decided against it. She had orders not to talk to anyone via Trump to protect her location. I didn't want to endanger her. Considering how many relatives we had already lost, and how determined our enemies seemed to be, leaving her alone seemed like the safest plan for now. For all I knew, that serpent-creature might be spying on us again.
“Is this an extra set of Trumps?” I asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“I'd like to keep it for a few days, if that's all right.”
He shrugged. “Fine.”
We stayed in the library for a few hours longer, talking more like two old friends catching up with each other than brothers. It felt good to sit and take a moment to catch my thoughts.
“How did you come to know so much about magic and Shadows?” I asked him at one point. “Dad doesn't seem to be the best teacher…”
Aber gave a derisive snort. “The only thing I learned from him was how to make Trumps—and I mostly taught myself after watching him make one. I used trial-and-error until I got it to work. It was my Aunt Lanara who taught me the most, though. A true Lady of Chaos. Very strong, though she didn't approve of Shadow worlds, or of Dad. Still doesn't, I suppose.”
“I thought only Locke's mother came from Chaos—”
“That sounds like Locke, all right,” he said sarcastically. “He thought that only his mother was good enough. She is a first cousin to King Uthor, you know. It broke her heart when Locke sided with Dad and ran off to have adventures in Shadow.”
“And your mother?” I asked. “What about her?”
“Not nearly so grand or well connected as Locke's. But she loved Dad, though he tossed her aside and vanished into Shadow shortly after I was born. She's dead now, and I don't remember much of her.”
“What happened?”
“She tried to follow Dad into Shadow, and she couldn't handle it…” His voice broke a little. “They found her dead. Strangled. For a while everyone thought Dad did it, but it turned out to be a cult of volcano-worshippers. They made her a sacrifice.”
“I'm sorry,” I said, nodding sympathetically. Her end must not have been a pretty one. I remembered how, on my first trip to Juniper, Dad had laid traps—ranging from tornadoes to giant carnivorous bats—for anyone following us. If Aber's mother had run into one of those, I didn't wonder that she had lost her life.
He sighed philosophically. “It was a long time ago. Shadows were new back then. People weren't as experienced with them as they are now, nor as wary.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “Shadows were new? What are you talking about?”
He looked at me oddly. “Just what I said.”
“How can they be new?”
“Well… they just suddenly appeared one day. All these Shadow worlds… Juniper, your Ilerium, all the others… they haven't existed long. One day, they simply sprang into existence. I thought everyone knew that.”
“Not me,” I said. Once more I found myself rearranging my mental view of the universe. “I assumed they always existed. Everyone kept calling them Shadows… I thought they were shadows cast by the Courts of Chaos. At least, that's what Freda told me, I think…”
“It's one theory,” he said with a shrug. “Chaos does cast Shadows. We're in one now—the Beyond. It's the closest shadow to the Courts, and it's always been here, as far as I know. It's so close it's considered part of the Courts of Chaos. But the other Shadows… the nice ones, where Dad and everyone else likes to roam… they didn't exist when my mother was young.”
“When did they appear?”
He thought for a minute. “I don't quite know. Maybe fifty years ago, as Chaos counts time. Maybe a little more.”
“And they just suddenly appeared?”
“Well… it wasn't quite that simple, or so I'm told. I wasn't there, after all. According to my grandmother, a huge storm descended on the Courts of Chaos. No one had ever seen anything like it before. The sky went black and quiet. The stars disappeared. Then the ground began to shake and split apart, and whole cities were destroyed. Thousands died. Only afterward did things begin to return to normal… though—at least according to my grandmother—nothing was ever quite as good as it had been before.”
“How old is our father?” I asked, feeling a strange prickling sense of foreboding.
He shrugged. “I'm not sure anymore. Time runs differently in Shadows. He's been out there a long time. But his oldest child—as Chaos reckons time—must be thirty-five or forty now.”
“Then he's old enough to have lived through that storm—the one that came before these new Shadows appeared?”
“Sure. I know he is. Why?”
“Oh… no reason. Just curious.”
I did not voice my sudden suspicion. He was old enough. He was interested in science and experiments. What if our father not only enjoyed these new Shadows… but had actually done something to create them?
No, that was impossible—how could one man create thousands upon thousands of worlds? No single person could possibly wield so much power. He would be like a god. And if our father did have godlike powers, he certainly hadn't shown them. He had allowed us all to be trapped in Juniper. He had let his children die at the hands of unknown enemies. No, it was a crazy idea, and I pushed it to the back of my mind.
And yet, some distant part of me noted, such power would make him a man to be feared. It would explain why someone was trying to kill him… and the rest of us too… wouldn't it?
Chapter 16
Several hours later, the storm still raged outside, and it seemed to be growing worse. I heard wind constantly now, howling like a wild animal. This time at least I knew it was real, not something imagined or hallucinated. Thunder growled constantly, too, a low, steady rumble.
Twice Aber and I walked back to the courtyard door and looked out, and the last time we saw three distant tornadoes over the wall, their funnels black as night as they twisted and turned. And yet they did not seem to be gliding across the land, the way tornadoes did in Ilerium… these seemed rooted in place, swaying back and forth like the pendulums of some enormous clock.
> “Have you ever seen tornadoes here before?” I asked Aber.
“No,” he said, “and I don't think it's a good sign.”
“Can you do anything about them?”
He gave me a funny look. “I think you have an exaggerated idea of my magical abilities.”
At that, I laughed. “It seems I've always underestimated people. About time I started overestimating them!”
He laughed too, but uncertainly.
After a long break, when it seemed they wouldn't be able to go back outside because of the storms, the guards asked for permission to resume their exercises in the front entry hall.
“Go ahead,” I told Captain Neole, looking at Aber for guidance. As I expected, he gave a subtle half nod. “Just don't break anything.”
They made room by moving the lamps, braziers, and odd bits of furniture to one side. I had to admit the chamber was big enough, and as long as they watched out for the rows of tall stone columns running down the center, they seemed in no immediate danger.
They worked through a series of exercises, then began pairing up to practice swordplay. I found myself watching from the library door, a bit enviously. Part of me longed to join them, to forget myself for at least the next few hours in grueling physical exertion, but I didn't feel up to it. Tired and sore, with a headache that threatened to split my skull, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for the next few days.
“That's it,” I told Aber. “I'm going to bed.”
He seemed surprised. “Already?”
“I've had it,” I said. “Between visions and lightning bolts, my head feels like it's going to explode. Wake me if we're being attacked and slaughtered, or if Dad shows up. If it's anything else, solve the problem yourself!”
“Can you find your way back to your room?”
“Sure.” I felt certain I could, at least from the main staircase. I'd been up it often enough to get my bearings. “What about you? Your day has been just as hard.”
“True. But I have some work to do first,” he said.
“Oh?”
He laughed. “Nothing you'd find exciting or interesting. Just some letters to write.”
“To anyone I know?”
“Distant cousins, whom I'm hoping will prove sympathetic to our situation.”
“Good idea,” I said. For once, he was thinking like a soldier: find allies and bring them into the fight on your side. If I knew anyone here, I wouldn't have hesitated to summon their help.
He went to the desk and retrieved quills, a short-bladed knife for cutting down the point, and writing paper, all of which he arranged within easy reach.
I left him there bent over the table, pen in hand, and the scritch-scratch noises followed me out into the hall.
Safely back in my room, I undressed and gave my clothes to Horace, who made as if to leave with them. Then he paused.
“Sir?”
“What is it?”
“Do you need me to watch your sleep tonight?”
I thought about it, then shook my head.
“No need. I'll be fine. Go to bed and catch up on your own rest.”
“Yes, sir!” I didn't have to tell him twice—he hurried into his room and shut the door before I could change my mind.
Then I turned toward my bed. A subtle movement of the bedclothes warned me that they weren't empty. An assassin? Or was it another trick of this accursed place, where down was up and everything moved on its own?
I couldn't take any chances. Softly I crept over to the chair where I'd so carelessly hung my swordbelt moments before. Drawing the blade slowly and silently, I inched closer to the bed, reached out, and flipped back the covers.
A familiar and quite beautiful face peeked out at me.
“Rhalla!” I said with delight, relaxing.
“A sword?” She lowered her eyes, then smiled up at me. “Is this the way you welcome lovers to your bed, Lord Oberon?”
“Not usually.”
I returned my sword to its scabbard at the desk. Then I joined her in bed. We kissed, and made love frantically, as though it might be the last thing either one of us did.
Far too early the next morning—at least, I assumed it was morning—I awakened from a deep and dreamless sleep to Aber's annoyingly chipper voice.
“Wake up, Oberon. Too many hours in bed will make you weak!”
“Go away!”
“I'm hungry, and I see no reason to eat alone with you in the house. Time to get up.”
I groaned, then closed my eyes again.
“Port, throw him out!” I called.
“Sorry, Oberon,” my door replied. “I am not a bouncer. You will have to throw him out yourself.”
“Don't be a slug-a-bed!” he told me. I heard him open the ward-robe's doors and rummage around inside. “You've got plenty of clothes here. Pick something or I'll pick it for you.”
I sighed. So much for a quiet morning in bed. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. After making love to Rhalla half the night, exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me.
“Is Dad back yet?” I asked, eyes still closed.
“No.”
“How about the hell-creatures?”
“No sign of them, either.”
“Then what's the rush?”
“I'm hungry!”
I rolled over, opening one eye. Golden light bubbled up from the lamp by the door. He stood before me with arms folded, tapping one foot impatiently. He had gray silk pants and shirt tucked under his arm.
“Ready to get dressed?” he said. “Where's your valet?”
“Sleeping, like any sensible person!” I told him. “Now, go back to bed. I need my sleep. I'll have lunch with you later.”
“Afraid not. We have too much to do today. I'm expecting replies to my letters. And don't you want to try Dad's Trump again?”
I gave a huge sigh. Clearly he wasn't taking no for an answer. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, then pulled the sheet across my lap to cover my nakedness.
“All right, pest. Give me the clothes.”
“Here.” He held them out, and I took them.
Behind me, still buried in the covers, Rhalla stirred and murmured a sleepy question.
“It's just my brother Aber,” I told her. I rubbed her back through the quilt. “Go to sleep.”
“Who's that—” Aber began, leaning forward to see.
“Don't be nosy,” I told him. “I know you won't approve, but I couldn't help myself. She's beautiful and smart…”
Without warning, my brother sucked in a panicked breath and leaped back, looking desperately around the room. He motioned frantically for me to stay silent and get out of bed. Running to the desk, he began to fumble with my swordbelt.
“What is it?” I said impatiently, yawning.
“Oberon,” he said. Something in the quiet tone he used set my nerves on edge. “Get away from the bed. Don't argue. Do it quickly. You're in danger.”
My breath caught in my throat. Danger? What had he seen?
Suddenly wide awake, I stood and took two quick steps toward the door. Port's face appeared there, staring at us with concern.
“What is it?” I demanded.
Rhalla stirred again and rolled over, half opening her eyes.
“Oberon?” she asked.
“Don't move,” I told her. I scanned the covers, looking for anything dangerous—snakes, spiders, some Chaos-born monster—but saw nothing unusual or out of place.
Rhalla, head pillowed on her arm, blinked and looked up at me. She was even more beautiful by day—not that you could tell from the lack of windows.
Aber drew my sword and turned toward the bed, a grim expression on his face.
“Hey!” I told him. “What are you doing?”
“Get out of the way, Oberon.”
“What is it?” I demanded. “What do you see?”
“A succubus!”
In one swift motion, he leaped toward my lover.
&nb
sp; Chapter 17
“Wait!” I cried, leaping in front of him. “What do you think you're doing?”
Rhalla screamed. I knew Aber meant to kill her, and I couldn't allow that. What had she done to provoke him? Why this half crazed, half desperate response?
He skidded to a stop. Rhalla gave another ear-piercing shriek and threw herself behind the bed, trying to hide in the bedclothes.
“Stand aside!” Aber said. He tried to dance around me.
I blocked his way. With a feint, then a quick punch to his stomach, I took the air and the fight out of him. He doubled over, and I took the opportunity to pry my sword from his fingers.
“Have you gone you insane?” I demanded. Crossing to the desk, I returned my blade to its scabbard.
“She's“ he gasped.
“She's mine,” I said fiercely.
“She's—a—succubus!”
“A what?” I demanded.
“A female demon.” He glared at her. “They feed on the blood of their lovers. Look at yourself, Oberon!” His finger stabbed at my chest. “You're marked! She's been feeding on you!”
Involuntarily, my hand rose to touch my chest. The welt I'd discovered yesterday was still there, though smaller. But now I felt a second one next to it.
A chill swept through me. Rhalla had been drinking my blood? No wonder I had twice awakened to find her in my bed. No wonder she wanted to be with me. I could not believe what a fool I had been.
“Rhalla,” I said, voice very calm. I wouldn't let her see how unnerved I had become. “I don't believe you've met my brother. This is Aber.”
“No, Oberon,” she said, peeking out at us. “I have not had that pleasure.”
“Come here,” I told her.
Silently she rose and came around, covering herself with the sheet. I put my arm around her shoulders in a protective gesture.
“How can you keep that thing in your bed?” Aber demanded, staring from me to Rhalla and back again. “Kill it! Kill it and be done, before it kills you!”
“Rhalla is a good woman. I enjoy her company.” I turned and gazed down at her, allowing myself a wistful smile. That much at least was true. And she was startlingly beautiful, which didn't hurt.
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