“Your right, I'm sure.” I sighed and drew her to one side, where they couldn't over hear our conversation. “What are you really doing here?” I asked. “Your instructions were clear. You were to stay in Shadow until the danger is past. Nothing has changed. We are still under attack.”
“And,” said Aber, trailing us, “Dad's going to be furious when he finds out. He picked that Shadow especially for you and Pella.”
“Do not prattle on,” she said to him. “This is neither the time nor the place for such a—”
With an expression of annoyance she turned and hurried back to her luggage. A servant had been about lifting a large crate one-handed, and she took in from him and set it down.
“Careful with this one, Sahin!” she said. “It is filled with glass!”
Aber rolled his eyes. “Perfume, I bet!”
“She hasn't changed a bit,” I said with a smile.
Sahin threw himself to the floor. “Yes, my goddess,” he whimpered. “Forgive me! Forgive me!”
“Rise. Finish your work. Take more care. You have my blessing.”
“Thank you!”
Rising, he lifted the trunk with greater care. Freda watched him for a moment, then wandered back to join us.
“There is much yet to be done, I see,” she said to me. Her eyes swept across the remaining trunks, then fixed on Aber. “Make us all drinks in the library, please. Travel is thirsty work, and there is still much I must do today.”
“Yes, Freda,” he said meekly, and he hurried into the library. He always ended up doing as she asked, I'd noticed, though sometimes his cooperation seemed grudging.
She waited until he was out of sight, then pulled me into a secluded alcove. It seemed she wanted a private talk. She had never confided in me before, and it took me a bit by surprise now.
“Where is Father, really?” she asked in a soft voice. “I must know!”
“He went for an audience with King Uthor. He didn't come back.”
“I cannot believe—” she began. Then she stopped herself. “He did not tell you, did he?”
“Tell me what?”
“Where he went afterward? He would be back here by now; it does not take so long to see the king. Who did he visit next? Where did he go?”
“I don't know—do you?”
“I… have a suspicion.” She turned away, eyes distant. “There is a place he goes when he is unhappy or sad. A Shadow…”
“There's a woman involved?” I guessed. “His lover?”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
“I do not know… only that she is a powerful sorceress. She has given him things… objects of power… and helped him to master the magics he now commands.”
I frowned. “If she's so powerful, he should have gone to her as soon as war started in Juniper. Why didn't he?”
“I do not know. Perhaps she is not in a position to provide military assistance. Or perhaps he is guarding her safety.”
So, a woman was involved… suddenly Dad's actions began to make sense. If he meant to protect her, then he certainly would make sure neither Aber nor I—nor anyone else—knew her location.
She continued: “What else has happened here? You mentioned several attacks?”
Quickly I filled her in, from Rhalla to the lightning in the garden to the serpent-creature scrying on my bedroom.
“I'm not sure what's happening outside,” I added. “King Uthor's hell-creatures searched the house yesterday. They were looking for something specific, something small, but I don't think they found it. Any idea what it could be?”
“None. How about you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Now, what brought you back here, really?”
“That I must share with Aber, too. It concerns us all.”
She turned and led the way to the library. After we entered, she closed and bolted the door behind us, then crossed to the far wall, pushed on a high-set sconce, and opened a small door that had been cunningly concealed as a wall panel. A hidden room or passage—I couldn't see which—lay beyond. She glanced in, then closed the panel; apparently it was empty. I heard a soft click as its latch caught.
I glanced at Aber.
“I didn't know it was there!” he said.
“There is a lot you do not know,” Freda said.
“We have been spied on constantly since we arrived here,” I told her. “Aber tried to put up spells to protect us, but we aren't sure they worked. What can you do to help?”
“Wait. I will check.”
She gathered the folds of her dress and sat at the table. Then, taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and seemed to go into a light trance. I saw her eyelashes flutter, and several times her hands jerked, but mostly she remained silent and still.
“Whiskey?” Aber asked me in hushed tones.
Nodding, I accepted a glass from him. He filled it, we clinked glasses in a silent toast, and then we both sat back, sipping, to wait for Freda. I had never seen her do anything like this before; how long would it take?
Finally, after what must have been ten or fifteen minutes, Freda suddenly opened her eyes.
“A nice job,” she said to Aber. “I only found one hole, and I do not think it has been used.”
He smiled with obvious relief. “Great!”
“Did you fix the hole?” I asked her.
“Yes. No one will spy on this house again without us finding out. That I can promise.”
“I told you she was good!” Aber said smugly.
“Red wine, please,” she told him.
Drawing a small deck of Trumps from the bag at her side, she shuffled them and began to deal them out in front of herself. I recognized my picture, Dad's, Aber's, and the rest of our family. She included her own, too. A circle began to form, with images looking in toward the center.
As she worked, Aber poured a goblet of red wine and set it to one side. Then he topped off my whiskey as well as his own.
“I hate to drink alone,” he said.
I did not know how the Trumps worked for Freda, but they helped her see the future—or possible futures—and that was exactly the sort of information we needed. Leaning forward, I watched her flip the last Trump and set it in place in the exact center.
Drawn by Aber, it showed Locke in a quite unflattering portrait: a disagreeable-looking, puffed-up man in silvered chain mail, with a slight pot belly (he hadn't had one in real life) and a look of indigestion on his face.
“Well?” I said.
“It is… inconclusive. Let me cast the future again.”
Frowning, Freda gathered up the cards. I got the impression she hadn't liked what she saw and shifted uneasily in my seat. She shuffled twice, had me cut the deck, and began to deal them out a second time.
Aber and I continued to watch in silence. This time, the cards played out slightly differently—though once more Locke ended up at the center.
“So?” I prompted, as I slid into the seat opposite hers. “What news? Any predictions?”
For a long moment she said nothing, studying the cards. I remained patient, though every fiber of my being demanded immediate answers.
“You do not know yet,” she finally said, “do you?”
“Know what? Something you saw in your cards?”
“Locke. He is alive.”
“Impossible!” Our brother died in Juniper, I knew. I had seen him in his tent after the battle, being tended by physicians. I had watched him die.
“Yes, I thought so too.” She nodded slowly. “But the cards say you, Oberon, will meet him soon. Perhaps even tonight.”
I shook my head. “I was with him when he died, Freda. You saw his body. Locke is dead. We burned his body, remember?”
“We all saw it,” Aber agreed.
“I know,” Freda whispered. “I remember.”
“Then what makes you think he's alive?” I asked.
She picked up her wine and sipped it. “Because,” she said, “I spoke with him
this morning.”
Chapter 22
“It's a trick!” I said. I rose and began to pace. “You know how devious our enemies are, Freda. They found a way to fool you.”
“That's what I thought,” she said. “But he knew things… things only the two of us had shared.” Her voice dropped. “It was him. I swear it.”
I took a deep breath. Enough impossible things had happened to me in the last month… maybe Lords of Chaos really could return from the dead.
“What do you think?” I asked Aber.
He might be childish at times, but he knew a lot, and without Dad here, he was my main source of information on all things magical. Although Freda probably knew more about magic than any of our other siblings, she had an infuriating mysterious streak, and I was always left with the impression that she kept back as much as she revealed.
“I don't know,” he admitted. I suppose—”
A light knock sounded on the library door. I motioned to Aber, and he hurried over and opened it.
Anari stood there.
“My lords, Lady Freda,” he said. “Lord Fenn is in the dining hall. He asked me to inform you. He wants to see your father.”
“What about Isadora?” I asked. Fenn and Isadora had run off together before Juniper fell, in search of help for our armies. They had not returned, nor had we gotten any word from them, since that time.
“Lady Isadora is not with him, sir,” Anari said. I glanced at Freda. “You didn't bring him with you, I assume?”
“No,” she said, looking puzzled. “I went into hiding with Pella, remember? She is still in Averoigne, awaiting my return. I have not seen Fenn since he disappeared.”
“Thank you, Anari,” I said. “Let him know where we are and ask him to join us.”
Fenn nodded a somewhat sheepish greeting when he entered the library. He was taller than Dworkin but not as tall as me, with blue eyes, light brown hair, and a hesitant but honest smile. He wore dark blue leggings and tunic, with a simple belt and boots. A sword hung at his side. I had not gotten to know him well, but until his sudden disappearance in Juniper, right before the attacks began, he had struck me as trustworthy. Since then, I half suspected him of being the one spying on us.
“It's good to see you all,” he said.
“And where were you when we needed you?” I folded my arms and glared. “You ran out on us.”
“Where have you been?” Freda asked. “Where is Isadora?”
“She's in Juniper,” he announced smugly. “We retook it yesterday.”
“What!” Aber cried.
“How?” I demanded.
“I brought an army of my own… trolls. Half a million of them.” He chuckled. “You should have seen the bloodbath! Enemy soldiers had occupied the castle and the lands around it. No more.”
I shook my head. “Trolls? I don't understand.”
“I do,” Freda said. “He found a Shadow where trolls are breeding out of control. He offered them Juniper as a new colony in exchange for clearing out the enemy. Think of it… a whole new world for them. Of course, they jumped at the chance.”
“Brilliant, right?” Grinning, Fenn took a seat next to me. “Isadora is back there now, helping mop up the last of the invaders. You should have seen her, Oberon! Bodies stacked fifty feet high, and her standing on top, screaming her battle cry, sword in hand! Magnificent!”
There was a reason, I reflected, that Aber had once called her the warrior-bitch from hell.
Now Aber slid a drink across the table to Fenn.
“So you've retaken Juniper,” I said. “Doesn't that leave us with, ah, a slight troll problem?”
“Half a million troll problems,” Freda said.
“We can bring in giants to take care of the trolls,” Aber said.
“And then dragons, I suppose, to take care of the giants?” I said with a annoyed snort.
“Now you're getting the idea!” Aber said with mock seriousness. “And dragons… what eats dragons?” He looked at Freda, who only sighed.
“Maybe it wasn't the best idea,” Fenn admitted, “but it solved the immediate problem and got rid of the attackers. We can always find another Shadow like Juniper.”
I asked, “Were there any survivors from our men?”
“Maybe, hiding in the woods. If the trolls don't eat them, Isadora will bring them back.”
“Fair enough, I guess.”
“But,” Fenn went on excitedly, “I have more important news than that!”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Locke contacted you and told you to come here.”
“That's right!”
“What did you tell him?”
“I was too busy—but the trolls worked faster than I thought they would, so I came straight here.”
I shook my head. This whole conversation had an air of inevitability to it. Someone—or something—wanted us all in one place. It would make the murders easier. Fortunately, only Fenn and Freda has risen to the bait. The rest of our immediate family remained safely hidden.
Fenn searched our faces. “Has he been in touch with you, too, then?”
“Locke,” I said firmly, “is dead.”
“What!” He stared. “When? How?”
Quickly I filled him in on what had happened in Juniper, and then here. He shook his head stubbornly, though.
“You made a mistake,” he insisted. “It was Locke, and he contacted me by Trump less than an hour ago! I know my own brother better than any of you. It was him!”
“This is a family of lunatics!” I said. “Locke is dead! We all—Aber, Freda, and I—saw his body! You can't deny it.”
Fenn frowned. “But Locke said—” And then he paused. “But—” And he paused again.
“Trust me, Locke is dead.” I glanced at Aber. “Unless you can think of some way for him to come back?”
“As far as I know,” Aber said with a uncomfortable shrug, “death is final.”
“It is hard to kill a Lord of Chaos,” Freda said, “but once he is dead, he remains dead. I have never heard of one coming back to life. And some have been very powerful.”
Aber said, “I supposed it could have been a ghost…”
“Are ghosts real?” I asked.
“Yes,” Freda said. “I have spoken with a few of them, as the need arose. But they have no physical form. They could never use a Trump.”
Fenn said, “Locke wasn't a ghost. I'm certain.”
“Nor was my Locke a ghost,” Freda said firmly. “He was as much flesh and blood as you or I. No, there must be another answer. And we will find it.”
“Besides,” Aber said to me, “where would a ghost get a set of Trumps? I have Locke's here. It's complete… I checked after I took them back from his room. Freda's Trump and Fenn's Trump are both there.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Remember, hell-creatures searched our rooms. Have you checked his Trumps since then? Maybe they borrowed a few. Or maybe Locke, or whoever is impersonating him, used that Logrus trick of yours—the one where you pull items from distant Shadows—and has them now.”
He gasped. “I hadn't thought of that! Let me check.” Turning, he ran out into the entry hall.
“It was not a ghost,” Freda repeated. “It was a man. I know the difference. And it was Locke. He always was an arrogant bastard. Who else would have dared order me about like a common servant, even through a Trump?”
“What did he ask you to do?”
“He told me to come here. Our father needs me, he said. Forget about hiding in Shadow, he said, and be a dutiful daughter. Come and help.”
“So you came.”
“Yes. How could I not?”
“It sounds like he tricked you into joining us here,” I said.
“What about me?” Fenn asked. “Why would he contact me and tell me to come here? Freda is the powerful one, next to Dad.”
“Get us into one place and it will be easier to kill us all.”
“Let us assume it was neither Locke nor a
ghost,” Freda said. “What other possibilities remain?”
“Here's one,” I said. I willed my features to change, and in a second I looked exactly like Locke, from arrogant sneer to haughty tilt of the head. I faced my sister.
“Get thee to the Courts of Chaos,” I said in a fair imitation of Locke's voice. With a little practice, I think I could have matched it perfectly. “I command you!”
“You are not funny,” she said flatly.
“I wasn't trying to be.” I let my face fall back to its normal appearance. “Our enemies include shape-shifters. Remember the barber who tried to cut my throat?”
“Ivinius? Yes, I remember that unfortunate incident. But you are clearly not Locke, even when you take his form. I know my brother well enough to tell the difference. I was not taken in by a demon.”
I sighed. She could be as inflexible as our father sometimes. And yet… she had a point.
“At least concede the possibility,” I said. “The Courts of Chaos are full of shape-shifters, Aber tells me.”
“True,” Freda said, “but it is considered bad manners to impersonate people. Also, the one who spoke with me not only looked like Locke, he acted and sounded like Locke, and he had Locke's memories. He knew things…”
“What sort of things?”
She blushed and looked away. That was a first; he had known something personal, something embarrassing.
“It was… something that happened when we were children. No one else knows, or will ever know. He offered it as proof.”
“Maybe it was him,” Aber said from the doorway. I hadn't heard him return. “His Trumps are gone.”
“Maybe the man who died in Juniper wasn't Locke after all!” Fenn suggested, sounding excited.
“What!” The possibility shocked me. “You mean… Locke might have been replaced by a demon?”
“Yes!”
It seemed impossible. And yet, our enemies had gone to fantastic effort and expense to destroy us. Would it be so hard for them to replace Locke with a shape-shifter? One who would lead our troops to defeat in Juniper?
“No,” I said firmly, remembering Rhalla and how she had looked when we found her body outside. “A shape-shifter would have reverted to its true form after its death.”
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