Lifting the latch, I pulled the door open smoothly. Good; Aber hadn't barred it from outside. Clearly he didn't think I'd be foolish enough to go exploring on my own.
I carefully peeked out into a long stone corridor that seemed to be oozing reds and browns. As with my room, all the angles seemed wrong. Doors opened at irregular intervals on both sides, with what might have been oil lamps burning in sconces every few feet between. Light dribbled in faint golden trails toward the ceiling, where it pooled.
My head swam as I tried to take it in. Aber and my father seemed to have no trouble walking around; what was their trick? Perhaps it had something to do with the Logrus. I felt a rising sense of depression; I didn't think I'd ever get used to this place.
Thankfully, no hordes of hell-creatures rushed to attack me. In fact, I saw no one at all. If that bell had signaled the arrival of guests, they were still downstairs. I listened for a long time, but heard nothing—no banging, no breaking glass, no angry voices. Had I imagined them? I didn't think so, but in this place, I really couldn't be sure.
While the floor tried to push me into the wall, I braced myself and waited for my sense of balance to return. It did, but slowly.
This place was insane. The sooner we left, the better off we would be. I didn't see how I could possibly help anyone here.
The hallway appeared to dead-end thirty or so feet to the right, which meant Aber must have turned left. The passage curved out of sight in that direction.
I hesitated. I needed a plan. What exactly did I hope to accomplish with this little expedition? Did I want to check on Aber and these mysterious visitors?
No, not yet. If my brother had run into trouble, I was in no condition to help him. In fact, I'd probably make things worse by needing rescue myself. And if—as I half suspected—some of our neighbors had dropped in, I did not want to reveal my weakness to them. Better to let everyone wonder what had become of me.
The thing to do was reconnoiter. I wouldn't go far; no sense in getting lost. Perhaps I could find my father's rooms… there might be something there that could help me.
Keeping one hand on the wall, I turned—and found myself face to face with one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. I took a deep breath. Her black hair shimmered with bluish highlights. Her eyes held the honeyed color of molten gold. Her skin, pale as milk, held the faintest of blushes at her cheeks—save for a small beauty mark on the left. From her high, finely drawn cheekbones to her delicate chin to the sensuous fullness of her deep red lips, I had never seen anyone like her.
Where had she come from? One of the other rooms on this floor?
“Hello!” I said.
She looked startled for a second, then dropped her gaze to the floor and curtsied. “You are… Lord Oberon?”
“Yes.” From her demeanor, she had to be a servant. I felt a pang of disappointment. “And you?”
“Rhalla, my lord.”
“Do you know what that bell was about?” I asked.
“Bell?”
“Didn't you hear it?” I said.
“No, my lord.”
“It sounded not long ago—maybe fifteen minutes.”
“I did not hear it, my lord. Perhaps it happened when I was in the wine cellar.”
“So you were just downstairs?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Are there any… problems down there?”
She looked at me strangely. “Problems, my lord?”
“Yes—I heard some odd noises.”
She shook her head. “No, my lord. Everything is fine.”
That was good news. I allowed myself to relax a bit and glanced over my shoulder. Still no sign of Aber, though… probably stuck playing the genial host. For once, I welcomed his absence. Something about Rhalla fascinated me. I could have spent the rest of the day looking at her.
She went on, “You are wet, my lord. Do you need dry clothing? I am sure something can be found—”
“That's all right,” I said with a chuckle and a half shrug. “I'll dry soon enough. Right now, I'm having trouble finding my way around—” A sudden wave of giddiness washed over me. Against my will, I staggered half a step, startling her. I caught myself against the wall, thinking I must look like a clumsy idiot.
“Are you ill, my lord?” she asked.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide my weakness. I wanted her to see me as I saw myself—tall, strong, brave. Not a cripple who couldn't walk ten paces without falling down.
“A bit dizzy, is all,” I said. “I was sick, but I'm over the worse of it.”
“Here. Let me help you.”
She leaned forward to assist me, hand poised, and I caught her scent—a light, sweet musk. The hallway began to spin slowly around me. I breathed her in, deeply, my heart racing. I tried to stay calm.
“Which way,” I said in as smooth a voice as I could manage, “are my father's rooms?”
“Lord Dworkin's?” Her gaze flicked up to my face for a second, and I saw mild surprise there. “Two floors above us, my lord.”
“Show me the way.”
“It is forbidden—”
The floor shifted unexpectedly under my feet, and I staggered again in the other direction, catching my balance on her shoulder.
Her muscles tensed and quivered beneath me, shifting like liquid beneath her skin. It was a very strange sensation, unlike anything I had felt before. It made me regard her more carefully. She looked human—but something made me hesitate. Human bones and muscles do not move that way.
“Is something wrong, Lord?” she asked.
“No.” I shook my head and smiled. It had to be my screwed-up senses playing tricks on me. She was a beautiful woman—nothing more.
The floor tilted. I staggered to the left.
“Lord Oberon?” she cried, seizing my arm and holding me upright. “What's wrong?”
“I am… still a little dizzy. Help me. I need to lean on someone or I'll fall.”
“Shall I take you back to your bedroom—”
“It's not necessary.” I hesitated, polishing the lie. “I just need someone beside me so I won't fall. If you don't want to help—”
“No, my lord,” she said quickly. “Lean on me. I will help you. Where are you going?”
“Up to my father's rooms.”
I leaned on her shoulder as lightly as I could. Again I felt her muscles jump and quiver under my hand. It seemed readily apparent to me that she didn't like my touch, but she put up with it.
Slowly and carefully, she turned around and helped me walk toward the dead end. Just before it, we came to a narrow, spiraling set of wooden steps deep in a shadowed alcove. I had taken it for a doorway. The steps led to upper and lower floors.
“This was the closest way to the upper floors,” she said half apologetically.
“It's fine, Rhalla.”
I paused. From below I heard a distant murmur, like half a dozen voices talking, and a faint clink-clink-clink of pottery being stacked or moved about. “The kitchens?” I asked.
“Yes, Lord Oberon. They are just below us.”
I sniffed, but only caught Rhalla's musky scent. Odd—shouldn't dinner preparations have been well under way? Perhaps smells worked differently here, too. I tried to imagine them pooling on the floor or ceiling, like the light.
That sound of breaking glass must have come from the kitchens, I decided. Some servant dropped a platter… of course the cook's angry voice would have followed, berating him for his clumsiness. There was a simple explanation for everything I had heard.
Turning slightly, I gazed up the stairway into darkness, toward my father's rooms. Only one person at a time could go up or down— if I had to leave fast, this was the way I'd go.
Grasping the hand rail firmly, I began to climb. Rhalla followed.
I concentrated on the steps, taking them one at a time. Every few feet they seemed to twist and shift beneath me, but by keeping one hand on the rail and the other on the wall, I made i
t safely up to the next floor. When I peeked out, the hallways was empty. Light pooled on the ceiling from a couple of small lamps. Didn't the architect who had designed this place believe in windows?
“What's on this floor?” I asked.
“Personal rooms,” Rhalla said. “Lord Aber is the only noble-born here at the moment… besides Lord Dworkin, of course.”
“Of course.” The rest of my family was either dead or scattered to remote Shadow worlds. The ones that we could account for at all.
Returning to the stairway, I began to climb toward the floor above. The steps ended at a heavy wooden door. The center panel held the carved face of a man with horns, his mouth open as if about to speak.
I knocked for form's sake, knowing my father was out, then pushed it open to reveal a long, dark corridor pungent with the scents of mold, strange herbs, and other things I could not begin to identify. I eased myself inside. Shelves covered with odd looking trophies filled the wall opposite me—huge glass spheres, stuffed animal heads, human skulls, mummified cats, and a jumble of phials, scrolls, tubes, and magical paraphernalia I could not begin to identify. A thick coat of dust lay over everything, though it had been recently disturbed toward the far end by someone's recent passage. Probably Dad checking out his treasures after getting back.
“Nobody cleans in here?” I asked with a chuckle.
“It is not allowed,” Rhalla said in hushed tones. She had not left the steps. “We should not be here, my lord. I will be punished when Lord Dworkin finds out.”
“Nonsense. I'm with you. Since I told you to bring me, there was nothing you could do about it. My father will understand.”
It all reminded me of Dworkin's private rooms in Juniper, only from the odor of decay these had long been neglected. How long had he been away from here? Not just years, but decades from the look of things.
“My lord…” An anxious note crept into Rhalla's voice.
“He's not here,” I said, trying to reassure her, “so there is no reason for us to stay. Let's go back down.” I knew I could find my way back here again, and next time I could do it unassisted.
“Yes, Lord Oberon.” Rhalla seemed relieved. Turning, she led the way back down the stairs. I followed gingerly, breathing deeply of her musk, trying desperately not to call on her for help. And I wanted very much for her to see me as a whole, strong man.
“Thank you,” I told her as I walked unsteadily back into my room. “I… hope I will see you again, Rhalla.”
“I am sure you will, my lord,” she said, with a shy little smile and a half curtsy. “Whenever you need me, call and I will come.”
“Thank you. Oh… about those dry clothes? See if you can find some for me. I'm the same size as my brother Mattus. Look in his room.”
“Yes, my lord.”
As she hurried back upstairs, I sank into my chair and gazed down at the empty food tray. My stomach growled; second helpings were definitely in order. Maybe I should have asked for more food instead of dry clothes.
I glanced at the open door. What had happened to Aber? Never around when you needed him… and I still wanted to find out about those mysterious visitors.
Yawning, I leaned forward on the table, then put my head down on my arms. I couldn't help it; exhaustion washed over me. Although an inner voice screamed warnings, I let my eyes close, and then I found darkness.
Chapter 4
Cold water sluiced over me.
Gasping, sputtering, I leaped to my feet, knocking over my chair. The world jumped and swayed, and I almost fell.
It was Aber. He had poured another pitcher of water on my head and now stood back, grinning at his handiwork.
He said, “I didn't think you'd give me a second chance to do that.”
I glowered. He looked entirely too smug.
“I'm going to strangle you,” I said, and then I began shivering.
“You were warned!” He wagged a finger at me. “Sleep at your own peril, brother.”
I snarled, “I wasn't asleep!”
“Hah! Towel?”
“Please.”
He pulled one from the air and tossed it to me. For the second time that day, I dried myself off and wished him an unpleasant fate. At least Rhalla would be bringing me dry clothing soon.
“Just wait,” I said. “If I ever figure out how to use that Logrus thing…”
“Be my guest.” He picked up the chair I'd knocked over and set it next to me. I sat down again. “But it isn't going to happen, and you know it.”
I sighed; he was right. I accepted it now. Members of our family all had a certain Pattern inside them, some kind of mystical design that allowed them to master the Logrus. Unfortunately, the pattern inside me was so distorted, according to Dworkin, that I would never be able to master the Logrus. Trying would kill me, as it had killed Dworkin's brother and several others in our family.
Suddenly I remembered what had called Aber away.
“What about that bell?” I said. “Did we have company?”
“Company? Of a sort.” He sighed. “A dozen of King Uthor's soldiers stopped by. They're searching the house for something. They should be up here soon.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Searching for what?”
“I don't know. They wouldn't tell me. But it must be pretty important.”
“You should have thrown them out!”
He chuckled. “You don't do that to King Uthor's men if you want to live. It would be… impolite.”
I struggled to my feet. “Get me downstairs. I'll throw them out myself!”
“Sit down. You're being foolish.”
I glared at him. “Is it better to let strangers ransack everything?”
“In this case, yes. That's what Dad would do.”
“And you left them alone? To do whatever they want?”
“Sure. Why not? I have nothing to hide.” He shrugged. “Besides, you're far more important than the house—and it's a good thing I came back here to check up on you, too. No telling how long you were asleep.”
At least he placed as high a value on me as I did on him.
“You said I was unconscious for three days,” I said softly. “Tell me what I've missed.”
“What's the last thing you remember?”
I paused, thinking. “We were in Juniper. Dad drew new Trumps, and everyone left… except the three of us.”
“That's right. Then what?”
In my mind I began to relive our mad exodus from Juniper. There had been a tremendous battle fought outside the castle, with me and two of my half-brothers each commanding a third of the army. I recalled the terrible price we had paid for victory that day… my brothers Davin and Locke had died, and command had fallen on me.
With the army badly outnumbered, I saw the situation was hopeless. It was then that an idea occurred to me. Dworkin claimed the Pattern within me was different than the Logrus-pattern he and everyone else carried. Since everyone's access to the Logrus had been blocked by magical means, I had him draw a magical Trump using the Pattern within me as its starting point.
This new type of Trump worked. We found it could open a path to other Shadow worlds without difficulty. Suddenly we had a way out of Juniper.
I had him scatter my half-brothers and half-sisters to distant Shadows, where no one but he and I would know they had gone. Under the assumption that a spy had been telling our unknown enemy where to find—and kill—us, they were ordered not to come back to Juniper or to the Courts of Chaos. I only hoped they would be all right.
Then, when only Dworkin, Aber, and I were left, Dworkin showed me the last Trump he had made. It showed a nightmare scene that made my skin crawl. I hated the place at first sight, hated the Courts of Chaos and everything like them on some deep level I could not as yet understand… and yet I had agreed to go there. Here. The Beyond.
Dworkin and I would have used the Trump and gone through immediately, but Aber stopped us.
“We can't slink back to Chaos
like whipped dogs,” he said, folding his arms stubbornly. “Ours is an ancient family, and we are due respect for our station.”
“What do you expect?” I demanded, half joking. “A parade?”
“Yes!” he snapped back at me. “That's exactly what I expect!”
It wasn't so much a parade as an entourage. It took us less than an hour to round up every servant in the castle, plus two dozen sturdy men-at-arms. Then, another hour to empty his bedroom of everything he wanted—plus Dworkin's rooms, with their experiments, machines, and other weird things he had built or collected through the years.
Finally, with our numbers swollen to more than a hundred strong, Dworkin used the Trump and began sending people through. Aber went first, then the guards, then the servants with their various burdens, until finally only the two of us remained.
“After you,” Dworkin said, waving me forward.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped through quickly, before my unnerving fear of the place could stop me. I remembered nothing of what happened after that. Just a stride forward, a sense of falling, the sound of rushing winds, and then… darkness.
“That's it,” I told Aber. “Dad used the Trump, we all walked through to“ I frowned. “I don't remember.”
Aber clasped my shoulder, growing serious. “You collapsed as soon as you set foot here. Just folded up without a word. I thought you and Dad had been attacked on the other side, and everyone drew their weapons and rushed to help, but then Dad came through and he looked fine. He wasn't even breathing hard. He didn't want to linger outside, so a couple of guards picked you up and carried you into the house. They brought you up here.”
I chewed on my lip, then nodded. It sounded true.
“Go on,” I said.
He shrugged. “At first we thought you were dead, but Dad examined you and said it was more like a very deep sleep. Your heart beat slowly and faintly. You were barely breathing. Sometimes you'd stir and cry out a little, but it was never more than that. Dad thought you were trying to wake yourself up, but couldn't.”
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