Chaos and Amber

by John Gregory Betancourt

  Who is it?"

  "Not exactly a who," he said. "More of a what . But she is a good and loyal friend."

  "A woman? Will she join us here?"

  "I hope so." He swung down from his saddle, stretching. "We must wait until she comes."

  A woman…

  "What is her name?" I asked.

  He didn't answer. Instead, he walked to the edge of the clearing and gazed off into the trees, lost in thought.

  Sighing, I tethered both horses and began unloading their saddles and packs. Every time I looked up, my father had wandered a few steps farther, and now he was staring up at the cliffs as if trying to place them on some mental map.

  "She has no name," he said. "At least, none that I know."

  "Is she… human?" I asked.

  "More so that most." He chuckled a bit to himself, as though at some private joke. Then he bent down and began gathering up handfuls of grass.

  I had a feeling I wasn't going to get any more from him tonight, so I quit asking. He'd already told me more in the last five minutes than I'd learned from him since I'd found out he was my father.

  I looked up at the cliff and thought I glimpsed a faint movement among the trees, a lighter shadow flitting past. Could that be his mysterious woman?

  We spent an hour weaving grass into rope, like we'd done when I was a boy, and we used the rope to set snares along game trails running through the grass. While we waited for rabbits or quail or whatever the local equivalent might be, I went down to the stream and threw a couple of dozen rocks up onto the bank, then lugged them back to the clearing and set them in a circle.

  Dworkin, meanwhile, had wandered off to the side by himself. I caught him gazing up at the cliff several times when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Whatever was up there, he'd seen it, too.

  Hopefully it was his mysterious woman.

  I gathered wood and set a fire, lighting it with flint and steel that Bayle's daughter had kindly packed for us. Then, as the fire snapped and cracked, I spread out our blankets and sprawled on top of mine. Lying on my back with my fingers laced behind my head, staring up at unfamiliar constellations, I felt a deep contentment. This was the life I liked-roaming far from home, exploring unknown lands, getting to know myself and my father.

  I had often gone camping like this with my "Uncle Dworkin" when I was a child. Side by side, we lay out under the stars, a crackling campfire at our feet. He would talk to me like a son and tell me stories of heroes long gone, of voyages and adventures, of treasures lost and found. Those had been the happiest days of my life. Once, even, we had come to a place much like this…

  I sighed. Where had the time gone?

  "Wine?" he asked me, holding out the skin.

  "Thanks."

  I sat up and took it from him, then took a long sip and passed it back.

  "You brought me here before, when I was young," I said.

  "You remember!" He seemed surprised.

  "Of course."

  I opened the basket Bayle's daughters had packed for us, discovering cheese, bread, and dried beef that looked more like army provisions than a picnic meal. It would keep. I wanted something fresh.

  "I'll check the snares," I said, and I went and did so.

  The first two had been broken by whatever they had caught, the third was empty, and the fourth and fifth both held something like a rabbit, but with short pointed ears and broad padded feet. The last two were empty.

  I skinned the rabbits, spitted them, and brought them back. The fire had begun to die down to embers, so I laid the rabbits across the coals to cook. Then once more I sprawled back on my elbows to wait.

  Dworkin was looking up at the cliff again, lost in thought.

  "Is she up there again?" I asked.

  "Eh? What?"

  "This mysterious woman we're meeting. I saw movement up there before. Has she come back?"

  "Oh… no, no women up there." He chuckled. "No women at all."

  After we ate the rabbit with bread and cheese, washed down by more of Bayle's excellent wine, I felt tired and full. My thoughts turned to the rest of our family, and I wondered where they were and what they were doing right now.

  "Should we call Freda and tell her where we are?" I asked.

  "No," he said. "Time runs differently here. I doubt if it's been more than a few hours for her since we left the Beyond. We will be done and back before we have been missed."

  "Good."

  I lay back and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of the night. Night-birds sang, insects chirped and buzzed in the grass, and the occasional bat or owl flitted past overhead.

  As I drifted toward sleep, I heard my father shift and stand. That brought me back fully awake.

  What was he up to?

  Slowly I opened one eye to a slit, watching him. Our fire had al-most died out, but by its dull red glow I saw him creep off toward the trees.

  I'd never find out anything if I waited for him to tell me. As soon as he vanished from sight, I rose and followed. Somehow, I knew he was heading for the top of the cliff and the mysterious visitor I'd glimpsed before.

  THIRTY-ONE

  I angled branches poked at my eyes; leaves rustled underfoot. Quiet though I tried to be, I felt as though I made enough noise to wake the dead. Ahead of me, whenever I paused, I heard even louder crunching and snapping, so I knew I had headed in the right direction.

  Finally I stumbled onto a game trail that led in the correct direction. I followed it faster now, bent almost double, watching the pale shape twenty yards to the side. It had to be my father.

  The trail wound slightly, taking me first away, then closer, then away again. Always I tried to keep an eye on that pale blur. It seemed to be getting larger, but not closer, and then I heard a snort like a horse. Galloping hoofs thundered, and then it was on the trail ahead of me, not a man but something else, something animal. Tall, proud, with a billowing mane and tail.

  For a second it paused, and I halted too, my heart beating in my throat. Not a horse, I saw now, but a unicorn-a single long horn rose from the center of its forehead.

  With a cry that set my nerves on edge, it plunged ahead, up the trail, climbing higher. It leaped rocks, faster than a man could run, scrambling up toward the top of the cliff.

  I couldn't help myself-I had to follow, had to see more. Giving up on following quietly, I ran as fast as I could. My shins banged on rocks. Branches whipped my face. Still I flew up the trail after it.

  I reached the top of the trail, where the pine trees stood overlooking the cliff. The white unicorn I had followed joined a second unicorn, and together they melted into the trees and were gone. Panting, yet hardly daring to breathe, I lingered, hoping to glimpse them again. I had never seen anything so wondrous.

  What had become of my father? Everyone in Chaos seemed to be a shape-shifter: could Dworkin himself be one of the unicorns? It was a lot to think about.

  Slowly and carefully, I backtracked through the underbrush to our camp site-and drew up short.

  It seemed we weren't quite so alone here after all. A man dressed in blue sat with his back to me, warming his hands at our campfire. How had he gotten here? I'd thought this world deserted. Had he somehow followed us, despite all those traps Dad had left behind?

  I thought about drawing my sword, but the sound of steel leaving my scabbard might alert him.

  No, I'd have to take the intruder by surprise and from behind.

  First, though, I had to make sure he'd come alone. Turning slowly, I stared into the shadowed woods surrounding our camp. I didn't see anyone else, but that didn't mean they weren't out there, lying in wait. That's what I would have done-sent one man forward to check things out, while covering him with a bow or crossbow.

  When the man turned and threw the remnants of the rabbit I'd been saving for breakfast into the bushes, I heaved a heavy sigh. It was my brother, Aber.

  "What are you doing here?" I demanded, standing and pushing my way out through t
he bushes.

  He leaped to his feet, startled.

  "I didn't hear you," he said.

  "That's the idea when you sneak up on someone." I glared at him. "You're supposed to be home keeping an eye on Freda, Fenn, and Taine. Not to mention the house. So? What are you doing here?"

  "I'm out for some fresh air?"

  My glare grew more intense. "I'm tired of games. Dad's been playing them all day with me. I want the truth, and I want it now !" My tone left no room for argument.

  He sighed. "All right. The lai she'on searched our house again, right after you went to bed, and this time they started torturing servants and guards, asking if any of them had seen the Jewel of Judgment."

  "And you thought you'd be next?" I asked.

  "Yes. Freda took Taine to visit Aunt Lanara. I… just left."

  "What about Fenn? You just abandoned him?"

  "He said he was going back to Juniper to help Isadora."

  "How did you find us?" I asked. "We've been traveling through Shadows all day, and Dad left a series of traps behind for anyone trying to follow."

  "So," Aber went on, "have you seen it? The Jewel of Judgment?"

  I shook my head. "Not since Juniper. Dad had it in his workshop. At least, I think it was the Jewel of Judgment. He hasn't been exactly forthcoming with information."

  "He never is." He swallowed. "Do you have any idea where it is now? If we can get it back to King Uthor safely, maybe-"

  He broke off when I shook my head.

  "No," I told him firmly. "It's impossible."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know where it is."

  "Oh." He pondered that for a moment.

  "For all we know, it's still in Juniper," I said. That was the truth. I didn't know with any certainty that it hung around Dad's neck on that silver chain.

  "It can't be there," Aber said, "or the king would have recovered it by now."

  "King Uthor's forces weren't the ones attacking us in Juniper."

  "I pretty much knew that already." He looked puzzled. "I don't suppose you know who it was, do you?"

  "Lord Zon. Have you heard of him?"

  "No. But there are so many Lords of Chaos, no one can possibly have heard of them all. We could probably look him up in the genealogy if we went back. Do you think it's important?"

  "I'm not sure. But I do think Lord Zon is a bigger threat to King Uthor than Dad ever could be.

  Ulyanash told me, before I killed him, that Lord Zon was planning to seize the throne. I think he's about to act… or would be, if I hadn't killed Ulyanash."

  He frowned. "That's not possible. I was with you when you killed him. He said no such thing."

  "It's a long story."

  "Tell me."

  I did so, leaving out only my suspicions about the Pattern and the Jewel of Judgment.

  "This is the first time I'm glad I'm not the king," Aber said.

  "What I don't understand," I said, "is why it's taken everyone this long to try to get this Jewel of Judgment back. Didn't someone notice it was missing years ago?"

  "Apparently King Uthor's been trying to get it back ever since it disappeared, but quietly.

  Searching, trying to find out who took it, and what caused the Shadows to appear."

  "If he's as powerful as you say, why can't he grab another one from a different Shadow? There must be plenty of rubies out there."

  "Sure, but not like this one. Apparently it's got magical properties. At least, that's what they said."

  "Oh?" That piqued my interest. Maybe I could find out more about it. "What does it do?"

  "I'm not sure. But if Dad has it, you can bet he's been experimenting with it. That's probably what attracted King Uthor's attention. The king is… part of the Logrus, in ways I don't really understand.

  They're connected… a part of each other. And if the Jewel is connected to the Logrus too, then Dad's playing with it may have brought him under the King Uthor's scrutiny."

  I nodded. It sounded like a plausible explanation.

  "And how did you find us?" I asked.

  "You're not hard to track. If one knows how."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I used your Trump."

  I frowned. "I didn't sense anything…"

  "There are other ways to use them. I've been around you more than anyone lately, we're blood relatives, and I drew the Trump, so perhaps I'm more attuned to you than most. By concentrating very lightly on your card, I can tell where you are… sometimes even look out through your eyes."

  I shivered, not liking the sound of that. I'd have to practice keeping my mental defenses up. And it might mean using the Pattern to shield myself from any Logrus-spying.

  "So… you're saying you looked through my eyes and drew a Trump of this clearing?"

  "That's right." He pulled it out and showed me.

  I took it and threw it into the fire.

  "Hey!" he said.

  "This is a special place for Dad and me. We used to go camping here when I was a boy. Dad won't be happy that you're here. And he'll be furious if he discovers you made a Trump to get here."

  "Then we won't tell him." He shrugged.

  "I'm not going to lie," I said.

  He sighed. "Well, tell him whatever you want. I don't care." He rose and, using the Logrus, summoned a couple of blankets for himself, which he spread out on the ground next to mine.

  I heard a crashing noise, as someone came through the forest towards our camp.

  "Is that Dad?" Aber asked me.

  "Probably."

  A moment later Dworkin emerged from the bushes. When he spotted Aber and me sitting up by the fire, he frowned. He must have imagined he could quietly slip back into camp unnoticed.

  "Hi, Dad," Aber said.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Why aren't you home?"

  "It got a little unpleasant there, what with the searches and all the torturing King Uthor has ordered."

  "Where have you been?" I asked Dad.

  "Oh, here and there. Many people to see, many things to do."

  "I saw you with her," I said to our father. "Tell me the truth."

  "Answers will come in time. You are not ready for them."

  "You're wrong."

  Dworkin shrugged. "I have been wrong before."

  "I need those answers!" I snapped. "I'm not a child anymore, and this isn't a game! All our lives are in danger! You say you need my help. Well, I'm not going another step with you until I get answers.

  And it better be the truth this time."

  "Would I lie to you?" he asked.

  "Yes!" He had lied to me constantly since he had swept back into my life.

  He sighed. "Very well. Ask your questions, my boy. I will answer as best I can. I owe you that. I owe you both that."

  THIRTY-TWO

  For a second, I could not believe he'd finally given in. I almost expected to look around and see King Uthor's hell-creatures bearing down on us from all sides, Fate seemed so determined to keep me in ignorance. But it really was just the three of us here, sitting before the campfire, on a remote world far from home.

  I licked my lips. "All right. Was that a unicorn I saw?"

  "That was no unicorn," Dworkin said. "That was your mother."

  "My-mother?" I felt my heart skip. Suddenly, everything began to make sense. My life in Ilerium-it had all been a lie. He had brought me there to keep me out of harm's way. The woman who had raised me as her own… she must have been paid. That's why Dworkin had taken care of her all those years. My mother-my real mother-had to be a shape-shifter… some lady of Chaos. But why not tell me the truth?

  He let out his breath with an explosive sigh.

  "Yes… I brought you here several times, long ago, so she could see you. You are her child… heir to all she represents."

  "The Pattern…" I whispered.

  "Yes," my father said simply.

  Suddenly it all came clear. My mother couldn't be a lady of Chaos. She had to com
e from somewhere else… and she must incorporate the Pattern into her being the way the people of Chaos incorporated the Logrus. That explained all Dad's secrecy. If anyone had known about me, about my true heritage, I probably would have been assassinated years ago. He had kept my true mother a secret to protect me.

  "Where is she from?" I asked.

  "I am not really sure," he said. "She found me, here, in this place."

  I didn't know what to say or do. A thousand conflicting emotions ran through me. But mostly I felt relief. The largest part of the puzzle had come into place, and I thought all the other pieces would fall into position with a little more effort.

  Aber stared at both of us. "A unicorn? What are you talking about?" he demanded.

  I ignored him. "And the Jewel of Judgment?" I asked my father.

  "It is a part of her… just as it is a part of the Logrus, and much else in the universe. I needed it to create the Great Pattern."

  "Then you have the Jewel?" Aber demanded.

  "Of course," he said.

  My brother stood. "I want it," he said, and he held out his hand. "Give it to me."

  "No," I said. I stood and put myself between them. We didn't have time for arguments now.

  "You're not returning it to King Uthor."

  "It's for the good of everyone," he said. He peered around me at our father. "You stole it, Dad.

  It's weakened Chaos. It's going to cost King Uthor his throne… and the lives of Freda and all your other children. Not to mention me. Hand it over, and I'll make sure you're spared."

  I stared at him. "You sound like you mean it," I said.

  "I do."

  "But how can you offer a bargain like that? You're not the King-"

  Our father struggled to his feet. "He's one one of them!"

  "Yes," Aber told him.

  I stared blankly at him. "One of what?"

  "King Uthor's men," Dad said from behind me. I heard the whisper of his sword leaving its scabbard. "A spy, in the king's pay, prying into my affairs! Traitor!"

  "You're the traitor," Aber retorted. "You've fooled Oberon with this nonsense about his mother and a Pattern, but you haven't fooled me. You're playing with forces beyond your understanding. I've tried to shield you-to protect you all-but I can't do it any longer."