Chaos and Amber

by John Gregory Betancourt

  Something different from the Logrus… I thought of the Pattern within me and swallowed hard.

  Suddenly, it all began to make sense.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  "If King Uthor is behind the attacks on our family, we must flee into Shadow!" Aber said. "I'm going now, before we're arrested next!"

  Freda gave him a withering stare. "Nothing has been proved about Father," she said. "He is merely suspected. We are not-because we have done nothing wrong. We may fall under scrutiny, but we have nothing to hide. If you run, they will assume you are guilty and take action accordingly."

  "Someone else knows about Dad," I said, frowning. Rising, I paced the room. "That's why we have all been targets. Someone other than King Uthor is trying to kill us for what Dad did."

  "Then you're saying it's true-" Aber began.

  "Yes! I… feel it." I swallowed, the image of the Pattern rising in my mind. Whatever deal our father had made with this thing , this power that was not the Logrus, I saw now that it involved me.

  Somehow, it had to do with the Pattern within me. If anyone else realized what I knew, what I could draw upon, I would be marked for death.

  Aber sat heavily. "I… hoped it was all a mistake," he said. "Someone pursuing a blood feud against Dad. But if he has betrayed us… betrayed King Uthor and the Logrus…"

  "Do not talk that way!" Freda said. "We do not know what he has or has not done."

  Aber raised his head. "You know. So does Oberon." I swallowed. But I could not reply. Neither could Freda. Finally I said, "We will talk more about this later."

  "We cannot leave Aunt Lanara waiting," Freda said, gathering her skirts and rising. "Say nothing.

  I will see what else can be discovered."

  The rest of the evening passed relatively uneventfully. We moved from the social hour to a huge dining hall. My uncle sat at the head of the table, with my aunt to his right and me to his left, opposite her.

  Aber and Freda sat at the middle of the table. A large section sat empty… I assumed Ulyanash and his followers would have been seated there. They had left early, taking his body with them.

  Two seats down from me sat my bride-to-be, Braxara.

  I had seldom seen a more unappealing woman. From her bald, three-horned head to her fanged mouth, from her pallid skin to her deathlike stare, every element repulsed me. Although I had fully intended to go through with the marriage to keep my word-it could be a marriage in name only, after all-upon catching sight of the bride-to-be I knew I had to find a way out.

  Still, a year was a very long time, and many things could happen…

  "A toast!" cried my Uncle Leito, standing. He raised his goblet. "To Oberon and Braxara!"

  "To Oberon and Braxara!" everyone cried, raising their own goblets.

  Glancing at my bride-to-be, I found her coolly studying me. I forced a smile. She did the same.

  Somehow, I got the feeling she disliked me nearly as much as I disliked her.

  It was late by the time the party began to wind down. I had seen little of Freda and Aber all evening-they had been busy gathering news and gossip-and I missed them. Aunt Lanara and Uncle Leito kept close guard on me after the feast, introducing me to such a steady stream of dukes, duchesses, barons, lords, and ladies that I couldn't keep the names straight or tell one from another after the first dozen.

  Finally, though, they saw fit to give Braxara and me a few moments together in the gardens just outside the ballroom. Here, strolling through the odd plants and small moving rocks, under the curious glow of three moons, we had a moment to talk.

  "You are not what I expected," she told me.

  "Nor you," I replied.

  "Why did you accept this marriage?"

  "I needed something from Lanara. This was her price. I'm sorry… it was not for love."

  She laughed, and the moonlight glinted off her horns. "When has love ever had much to do with marriage?"

  I shrugged. "I had hoped…"

  "You have much to learn."

  We walked together in an uncomfortable silence. We had not said another word by the time we returned to the ballroom. I hadn't known what to say to her; she hadn't offered anything more.

  She made her departure not long after that, and the other guests took that as their cue to leave.

  When we bade farewell to the last of the guests, only my aunt, uncle, Freda, Aber, and a small army of servants remained. The servants busied themselves cleaning up.

  "The evening has been a great success," Aunt Lanara proclaimed, "marred only by that unfortunate incident with Lord Ulyanash."

  "It could not be avoided," I said. "I take some small consolation from the fact that he won't ruin any future parties."

  She gave me an odd look. "He was well regarded, you know."

  "Despite his family."

  "True…" She sighed. "Still, what is done cannot be undone. We must concentrate on the triumphs of the evening. You and Braxara made a handsome couple."

  Freda said, "I have never seen a finer gathering, Aunt Lanara."

  "Thank you, my dear!" she positively beamed.

  "We ought to be getting home," Aber said. "It's late, and I already sent our carriage on ahead."

  "Thank you for everything, Aunt Lanara." I kissed her cheek. "Uncle Leito." I shook his hand.

  He gave me a hug, and whispered in my ear: "Guard yourself, boy. I am hearing many rumors of your father, and his name is linked to treason."

  I gave a quick nod. "Thank you."

  Aber produced a Trump, and the three of us returned home directly.

  We were all tired, but took a moment to linger in Aber's bedroom, where his Trump had brought us. I looked around at the clutter. Half-painted Trumps lay out on the desk, several dozen full-sized paintings, including several portraits of Freda, leaned up against the walls, and stacks of brushes and jars of paint and pigment lay everywhere. Even the carpets underfoot were dotted with spots and spills of paint. It had a very comfortable, lived-in feeling.

  Aber cleared paintings off two chairs for Freda and me while he perched on the edge of the bed.

  When we all had our seats, Freda was the first to speak.

  "The situation does not look good for Father," she said. "His flight has only served to convince one and all of his guilt."

  "I imagine so," I said. "Do they have any idea where he went?"

  "None," Freda said with a sigh. "He can apparently mask his trail. I also received a warning. If Father returns, we must notify King Uthor's counselors immediately. If we do not, we will be judged accomplices and dealt with accordingly."

  Aber swallowed audibly. "Then it's settled," he said. "It's going to be Dad or us. We have to choose."

  "No we don't," I said. "At least… not yet. He hasn't come home yet. And if he never returns…"

  "Then all we have to worry about is whoever is trying to kill the rest of us," Aber said. "Great."

  "Perhaps the death of Ulyanash will end the attacks," Freda said. "If he planned them -"

  "He was involved," I said, thinking back to the tower of skulls, "but he was not the one in charge.

  Our main enemy is still out there."

  Later, in my room, as I was preparing for bed, I felt a strange presence. Someone was trying to contact me via Trump. I figured it had to be Aber, so I opened my mind.

  "What is it?" I asked. The image before me flickered, but did not come clear, as though something interfered with our connection. "Who's there?"

  A low, unpleasant, and somehow familiar chuckle followed. "Don't you recognize your brother?

  You left me behind in Juniper."

  "Locke?" I guessed.

  "Very good." His voice had a mocking quality. I shivered; it sounded exactly as I remembered it.

  "Locke is dead," I said, wary now. "Who are you?"

  The mists between us parted a little, and I saw my dead brother standing there.

  TWENTY-SIX

  My eyes narrowed. It certainly looked like my half
-brother, from the arrogant turn of the lips to the swaggering stride. He took two steps forward, staring at me in turn.

  "Locke is dead," I said. "I saw him die. We burned his body on a funeral pyre."

  "And your head is made of thicker stone than I'd thought. If anyone else there had a shred of sense, I'd be talking to them now. But you're the one who can help. Do you want to find out who's killing off our family, or not?"

  I bit back an angry reply. This person certainly sounded like Locke. When we first met in Juniper, I had wanted to pound him into the ground with my fists. He had been rude, arrogant, and dismissive of me-a typical Lord of Chaos, apparently.

  "Of course I do," I said. "But I need proof you're who you say you are."

  "Ask Freda. She will tell you."

  I shrugged. "She is convinced. I am not. I was with Locke when he died."

  "That wasn't me."

  I paused. "Then who was it?"

  "I don't know. I was drugged, taken from Juniper, and held prisoner. Those who took me… well, to make a long story short, I escaped and most of them are dead. I've been preparing to act. I'm going to need help, though-your help, Freda's, everyone's. The time is almost right."

  "Right for what?"

  "An attack. I know who our enemy is. It's King Uthor."

  I hesitated. That mostly matched my own theory. If Locke was telling the truth-if this really was Locke-then a lot of changes were coming. And I wasn't sure they'd be for the better.

  "Where are you?" I said.

  "I'm in a distant Shadow. Time moves faster here… much faster. I've had six months to raise an army. We can help each other, Oberon. I'm going to conquer the Chaos and make myself king."

  "Is Davin with you?" I asked suddenly.

  He hesitated. "No. He's in the field with our troops. Why?"

  "We lost him in battle… his body was never recovered."

  "He helped me escape."

  "And Fenn and Isadora? They left to get help in Juniper, but never made it to the Courts of Chaos-"

  "I don't know where they are."

  A chill suddenly went through me. I knew he had contacted Fenn. Therefore, he was lying. This couldn't be my brother. If he knew personal details about Freda, then Locke must have shared them with someone… perhaps Taine or Mattus. The information could have been gotten from either of them through torture. Which meant he was in league with the serpent in the tower of skulls.

  "Very well," I said without a bit of hesitation. I couldn't let him know I suspected anything.

  "Where shall we meet? Here?"

  "No. Your house is being watched." He frowned, forehead wrinkling. "I have to go to the Courts of Chaos tonight. Maybe you can meet me then. I have allies who are going to help me seize power when the time is right."

  I nodded. "That's right, you're a full-blooded Lord of Chaos, aren't you? So you can make a legitimate claim on the throne?"

  "Yes."

  I nodded. "Where?"

  "Tsagoth Square. Do you know it?"

  "No, but I'll find it."

  "Here." His hand jerked, and something white flew threw the air at me. Instinctively I caught it-a Trump, showing an unfamiliar courtyard, surrounded by dark and foreboding buildings.

  "Tsagoth Square," he said. "Come alone in one hour."

  Alone… so I would be an easy target. I forced a smile and nodded. And then contact was gone.

  I brooded on what to do and finally decided to do nothing for the moment. The fake Locke said our house was being watched. That couldn't be true, or he would have known about Fenn being here.

  Aber's protection spells must be working.

  I would go, and I would have answers-or kill him trying to get them.

  Then a question occurred to me. He had contacted my by Trump. Where had he obtained it? I frowned. As far as I knew, Aber had only made two, one for Freda and one for his own use. Though if Dad and Aber could make Trumps, perhaps others in our family could, too… I would have to ask Aber about it later.

  Taking out the set of Trumps my brother had loaned me, I pulled out our father's. Slowly I focused on it. I felt a distant stirring, and then contact… a voice, but no image came to life.

  "What is it?" he said.

  "It's Oberon. I need to talk to you."

  "This is not a good time."

  "I may be about to walk into an ambush. I need your advice."

  "Wait -"

  And then there was nothing. I couldn't tell if he had deliberately severed our connection, or if something else had interrupted it.

  After trying twice more to contact him without success, I went downstairs, got a small crossbow from the guards' armory on the ground floor, loaded it with a bolt, and returned to my room. I stayed long enough to write a note explaining what had happened and where I was going. If Dad showed up, he'd be able to follow me; if Aber and Freda found it, they would know what had happened… and that the man who was almost certainly impersonating Locke had probably betrayed and killed me. Then I buckled on the enchanted sword that Aber had swiped for me from our father's rooms.

  "I'm going out," I said to Port. "The next time Freda or Aber come past, let them in. Tell them I left a note for them on my desk."

  "Very good, sir!"

  I took two Trumps, Dad's and the one of my bedroom that Aber had made, and put them into a pouch at my belt. Then I used the Trump that fake-Locke had sent and went through to Tsagoth Square half an hour early.

  As the picture had indicated, Tsagoth Square was a small paved courtyard with huge flagstones underfoot. Dark buildings rose on all sides. Four moons moved through the heavens in different directions overhead, and stars swirled like fireflies. I looked around by the half-light they provided and spotted a few statues of hideously deformed men holding swords at the far end. They offered the only cover, so I hid behind them, where I could see the center of the square, but not be seen.

  I drew out my father's Trump and stared at it. I felt a faint distant stirring, but no direct contact.

  "I'm in Tsagoth Square," I said. "If you can hear me, I could really use your help now."

  Nothing happened. No reply, no sense of his presence, not a word. I sighed and put the Trump away. So much for parental loyalty. I should have known better.

  As I'd expected, I didn't have long to wait. Suddenly, the false Locke stepped into the square.

  He was alone. Drawing his sword, he stood ready to attack me when I tried to enter through the Trump he'd sent. Had I been on time, I would have been quickly killed.

  That settled it. I rose silently, aimed, and fired the crossbow at his back.

  He seemed to sense the bolt coming; whipping around, he batted it out of the air harmlessly.

  "So," he said, stalking toward me, "you know."

  "Yes." I drew my sword and bounded into the open. The blade fit my hand like it had been made for me. I advanced on him, too. "Fenn gave you away. You spoke to him. He's in our house now."

  He shook his head and sloughed off his face like a snake shedding its skin. I stopped and stared, bewildered and horrified. It wasn't Locke. I'd expected that. But the face underneath… Ulyanash?

  "You're dead," I said. "I killed you!"

  "You are as stupid as your father," Ulyanash sneered, wiping bits of skin away from the corners of his eyes. "You have no power here, unholy mongrel! You do not know our ways. You could not hope to stand against a Lord of Chaos who wants you dead."

  "I did it once."

  "That was my cousin Orole. I could not attend Lady Lanara's party and kill you myself, so I sent him in my place. We look much alike. Everyone is fooled whenever we switch places."

  "I killed him, and I can kill you." I shrugged. "I can't imagine you're a much better fighter than he was."

  "That shows how little you know." He raised his sword and advanced on me again.

  "Explain it to me," I said, trying to draw out information. I circled, keeping twenty feet between us. "Don't let me die in ignorance."

&n
bsp; "Born in ignorance. Raised in ignorance. What harm to die in ignorance?"

  Leaping forward, he closed quickly, then lunged. I parried, still backing away. Best to keep him talking. He seemed as slow-witted as Aber and Rèalla had claimed. Why else take time to brag in the middle of a fight?

  "I know more than you think," I said.

  "Tell me something, then." He slowed his advance. "Maybe you can buy your life, if you have the information I want or need."

  I chuckled. "Or maybe you can buy yours. How about we trade?"

  He shrugged. "You are going to die anyway. Why not? There are things I want to know."

  "I'll go first," I said. "Who is the serpent in the tower of skulls?"

  He looked surprised. "Lord Zon, for all the good it will do you. My turn now. Does Dworkin really have the Jewel of Judgment?"

  "I don't know," I said honestly.

  "Wrong answer."

  Without warning, he lunged. The silvered blade of his sword slid past my frantic parry, nicking my left shoulder. The wound was minor-little more than a scratch, really-but it stung, then turned cold. An icy feeling began to spread down my arm toward my fingers. His blade was poisoned, I realized with shock.

  "Want to change your answer?" he asked, drawing back a pace.

  "I cannot change the truth. I have never heard of the Jewel of Judgment. What is it?"

  "A ruby, a little smaller than a man's fist."

  "Ah." I nodded, knowing the one to which he referred. When we were in Juniper, my father had somehow taken me inside the gem. It had opened up my mind to the Pattern within me.

  "Then you do know the Jewel?"

  "Yes. I didn't know it had a name."

  "Where is it?"

  "My father has it. Why is it important?"

  I felt a strange warmth in my right hand. The sword's hilt… perhaps it was doing something to counteract the poison? I tightening my grew. The numbness no longer seemed to be spreading from my wound quite so quickly.

  "It is… a key to controlling the Logrus. My turn. Where is it now?"

  "I don't know. The last time I saw it, Dad had it in his workshop in Juniper. It may still be there."

  Ulyanash regarded me silently for a moment, then nodded. "I believe you," he said. "Fair enough."