Chaos and Amber tdoa-2

by John Gregory Betancourt

“Yes.” Freda nodded. “We all saw Locke's body. It was not a demon.”

  “There are other possibilities,” Fenn said.

  I looked at him. “Such as…?”

  “Perhaps Locke found a double of himself in one of the Shadows,” Fenn said, “and left him in charge while he slipped off to safety.”

  “That doesn't sound like Locke,” I said. He was nothing if not duty-bound, valiantly defending Juniper and our family even in the face of impossible odds.

  “No, it doesn't,” said Freda. “And yet… if our father had ordered him to do this thing… if he had a greater mission, which might save us all… yes, I believe he would have left a double in charge of the army. At least for a short time.”

  “And he might have taken Davin with him!” Aber said excitedly. “You said he disappeared—”

  “No,” I said. “I said we never found his body. He and his men lost that battle. We assumed he went down fighting.”

  “But if he didn't“

  “If he is with Locke—” Freda added.

  “We cannot assume it's Locke,” I said.

  “Nor can we assume it isn't him,” Fenn said.

  I looked at Freda, who leaned over to study her circle of cards, with Locke in the center. What did she see?

  “Locke is pivotal to coming events,” she said softly. “I have never seen a reading like this for a dead man.”

  We all grew silent, pondering the possibilities. If Locke and Davin lived, it changed everything. We had friends… fighters… men of strength to help us. And if they had a secret mission that could help—the possibilities sent my imagination soaring.

  And yet, despite Freda's insistence, a nagging doubt remained. Locke and I had made peace between us in those last days before he fell. No double would have done that. No, the answer was obvious. Somehow, though this double had managed to fool Freda, it couldn't possibly be Locke.

  “Who else do you suppose Locke contacted?” Aber asked me.

  “My guess would be everyone,” I said. I shook my head. “I still can't accept it, though. Our enemies want nothing more than to get us all in one place. Locke seems to be doing that for them. We must remain on guard. I don't think we can trust this person claiming to be Locke—or anyone else—until we find out the truth.”

  A grim silence followed. I looked around at my siblings' faces. Expressions of worry and unease were plain to see.

  “I just hope the rest of our family has the sense to stay where they are,” I grumbled half to myself.

  Chapter 23

  “Lord Oberon,” Port said. “You have a visitor.”

  An hour had passed since Fenn's return. I had retreated to my room, a powerful headache throbbing at my temples, to try to think things through. I glanced at the carved wooden face in the door. “Who is it?” I asked.

  “A household servant; I do not know his name. Apparently a message has arrived for you. Shall I have him slip it under the door? You look tired.”

  “That's not the half of it.” I sighed. “Let him in.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Port unlocked himself and swung the door open. A man I vaguely recognized as one of the household servants stood outside. “Yes?” I said.

  “A runner brought this for you, sir.” He held out a small white envelope.

  “For me? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I motioned him forward. Who would be sending me messages here? It had to be our father. At least, I hoped so.

  I took the message, waved him off, and returned to the desk.

  Behind me, the man cleared his throat. I glanced at him.

  “The messenger is waiting for your reply,” he said.

  “He can wait a few minutes more. Find Lord Aber and ask him to join me here, please. Tell him it's important.”

  “Yes, Lord.” He bowed, then hurried out.

  I stared down at the letter. The front said simply “Oberon” in careful script. When I turned it over, I found nothing more than a blob of dark red wax stamped by a seal in the shape of a griffin.

  I broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Six lines of the most intricate and flowery penmanship I had ever seen cordially invited me to dine with Lord and Lady Ethshell the following night.

  I turned the paper over, but that was it. Brief, to the point, no wasted words.

  But… why me? I had never even heard of Lord Ethshell. Why should they invite me, of all people, to join them?

  Aber rapped on the doorframe. “What is it?” he said, and swept in without being asked.

  I held out the letter. He read it and gave a small, “Hmm.”

  “Is that good or bad?” I said.

  “Oh, it's good. Very good. You must go, by all means.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, dear brother, they want to take your measure.” He gave an evil smile. “Unless I'm mistaken, they just received the invitation to Aunt Lan's engagement party tonight. Since their eldest daughter Honoria is still without a husband, and you are, shall we say, husbandly material…”

  “But I'm engaged to Braxara.”

  “That's never stopped true love before.”

  Now it was my turn to “Hmm.” I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. We had so much going on—so many people trying to kill us, or worse—that I didn't want parents flinging their eligible daughters at me.

  “You can bring me along,” he told me, “as chaperone.”

  “Maybe she'd prefer your hand, since I'm spoken for.”

  “I've already been considered, and rejected, as unsuitable husbandly material. Too artistic, I fear. The Ethshells have a strong military tradition.”

  I looked at the invitation again. “It doesn't say anything about bringing a guest.”

  “It will be fine. Dad should be the one going with you, but in his absence, any male family member will do.”

  He took a piece of paper, wrote a brief reply, folded it up, and dribbled a bit of wax on it. Then he motioned for the servant who'd brought the message to approach.

  “Here is our reply,” he said.

  “Very good, sir.” He bowed and left.

  The moment he was outside, Port closed himself. I turned to Aber.

  “What's she like?”

  “Honoria? Oh… she's hard to describe.”

  “Try.”

  “Two or three extra eyes, half a dozen arms, red hair, and very well rounded. Quite a… woman, I guess you'd say.”

  “Red hair?” I raised my eyebrows. Some of my favorite lovers had been redheads.

  “That's right. Very red, very long, very thick, and all over her body.” He chuckled at my expression. “Well, as much of her body as I've ever seen. I can only imagine the rest.”

  “This does not,” I said, “sound promising.”

  “Dinner will be a small but traditionally formal affair with the Ethshells. No more than twenty people. I'm sure you'll impress them all.”

  “Traditionally formal? I'll guess that means fancy clothes, boring speeches, and pretentious old men and their wives?”

  “You've dined with them before?”

  I sighed. “With their counterparts in Ilerium, anyway.”

  “You'll see,” he said with an encouraging nod, “the food alone will be worth the trip. Now, though, we have to get you cleaned up for Aunt Lan's party.”

  I tried on outfit after outfit, assisted by Horace and Aber. My brother kept summoning fancier garments using the Logrus, and each time I thought I looked magnificent, he would shake his head and try again. Fancy collars, shoes like golden hooves, hats of impossibly complex design—I tried them all on, then tore them all off. The stack of discarded silks, leather, and frilled lace grew high on top of my bed.

  When I finally stood back and regarded myself in a looking glass, I had a hard time keeping from laughing. My final costume seemed ludicrous. Crimson leggings, a heavily ruffled red shirt with sleeves that puffed out like over-ripe melons, and a jaunty cap with long flowing red feath
ers that trailed down behind—I had never seen anything so outlandish in my life.

  The sad thing was, Aber took it entirely too seriously. He adorned himself in dark blue, though his shirt had splashes of gold at the sleeves. His hat's feathers were longer and more spectacular than my own—not that I objected, of course.

  I studied my reflection in the looking glass. Not bad, I finally decided. Once you got used to the puffiness and color, everything fit me well and flattered my appearance.

  “If Helda could see me now,” I murmured.

  “What did you say?” Aber asked from across the room. He brought my swordbelt over.

  “You're absolutely certain,” I said for what must have been the tenth time, “that everyone will be dressed like this?”

  “Of course.”

  By tradition, according to Aber, I could not arrive via Trump. I had to ride to Aunt Lanara's house in an open carriage, emerge in grand style, walk up the steps through a multitude of well-wishers, and finally enter the grand hall. There, a feast in my honor would commence, followed by dancing and entertainments into the small hours. I would get my first look at Braxara over dinner, when her father offered up a toast in our honor.

  “Aunt Lan's parties are notorious for their excesses,” Aber told me. “Everyone important will be there. Perhaps even King Uthor himself.”

  “What about Dad?”

  He frowned. “He should be there. Everyone will talk about it if he isn't. Want to try his Trump again?”

  I shrugged. “I suppose I'd better. Even if he doesn't show up, he ought to know what's going on.”

  He brought our father's Trump to me, and I concentrated on it. It took a long time, but finally his image began to stir, as if he were far away. A misty, blurry image came into view—Dad, with a dense forest of pine trees behind him.

  “What is it?” he snapped at me.

  “We were worried about you,” I said. “The audience with King Uthor“

  “Never took place,” he finished. “Forget about it. There are more important things happening. I will be back in a day or two. Guard your backs until then; our enemies are moving fast.”

  Suddenly he was gone. I never had a chance to tell him about the serpent scrying on me, the lightning attack, Rhalla being sent to assassinate me, or my engagement to Braxara. Moving fast, indeed!

  I repeated what Dad has said to my brother.

  “Very curious.” Aber's brow furrowed.

  “Very,” I agreed.

  “At least he's planning on coming back. Where do you think he was? Any clue?”

  “Not in the Courts of Chaos, certainly. The forest behind him looked normal.”

  “More important things are happening… what do you think he meant?”

  “I think insanity runs in our family.”

  I buckled on my swordbelt. Though it had served me well, I had to admit now it showed its age. Aber, of course, noticed too.

  “You need a weapon suitable to your station,” he said. “I'll get one of Dad's.” He headed for the door.

  “Anything special about them?” I asked, following.

  “I'll pick one of the enchanted ones!” he called over his shoulder. Then he bounded down the hall, into an alcove, and up a small flight of steps.

  I didn't have long to wait. In less than a minute, he returned with the most beautiful weapon I had ever seen in my life. It was longsword, with intricate scrollwork along the entire length of the blade. The hilt, inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones, fit my hand as though it had been made for me. I hefted it. It felt curiously light—far lighter than it should have been, considering its size and workmanship.

  “Well?” Aber asked.

  “It will do.”

  “It will do? That's one of the finest swords ever forged. It belonged to our grandfather, Duke Esmorn. He carried it through the Logrus, and it gained magical powers as a result.”

  “What sort of powers?” I asked.

  “I'm not sure. But that's what I've always been told. Dad refuses to use it.”

  “Why?”

  Aber shrugged. “I don't know.”

  I regarded the flat of the blade more closely and noticed a small inscription: “The meek have no need of arms.” Truly, this was a warrior's weapon. I would take good care of it.

  I raised the sword and took a few practice swings. The hilt seemed to turn slightly in my hand, almost as if it had a will of its own will. Interesting. I noted it for future study.

  We left not long after, just Aber, Freda, and me—Fenn, pleading exhaustion, begged off—in a grand carriage drawn by white beasts. I hesitated to call them horses, for their necks stretched too long, their long, thin, bony tails had no hair, and their feet… well, six legs gave them speed, but somehow lacked the grace of thoroughbreds.

  We left from the courtyard by the rock garden, and the driver circled the main building at a fast trot. With red skies boiling overhead, and purple lightning flickering constantly, guards swung open tall gates for us. We drove out, and madness surrounded us.

  I did not know how to describe it. It was as though I stood at the edge of a great cliff, and before me streamed every nightmare known to mankind, pounding at my senses. Colors swirled in mid-air. The rush of wind, which had long died down to the merest whisper at the back of my mind, rose to a full-throated roar. Above, the clouds vanished, leaving a sky as black as midnight, but filled with stars that moved like fireflies.

  The horse-creatures began to gallop, hooves pounding. The carriage lurched and jumped. Air screamed around me.

  Standing in my seat, I threw back my head and laughed. So this was Chaos. So this was what I had feared!

  I drank it all in, arms wide. My every sense raged. The noise and color and tastes and textures assaulted me. I felt hopelessly jumbled and no longer tried to find angles, familiar elements, or anything to cling to. I reveled in the wildness, and my heart knew no boundaries. Chaos! Yes, Chaos! It flowed around me, through me, became me.

  Aber, laughing, pulled me down. I stared at him, beyond words, beyond emotions.

  “You are drooling,” Freda said. She wiped my mouth with the hem of her dress.

  “Why didn't you tell me?” I cried.

  “This is the Beyond!” Aber said. “It's why we have walls, or all would be washed away!”

  The landscape outside had begun to change. I stared. I couldn't help myself. Every way I turned, I found something incredible. Colors that leapt and spurted like water from a fountain. Walking trees. Stones that roamed the land. Mountains that shook and heaved and abruptly flattened to prairies.

  And demon-creatures moved everywhere, on foot, on horseback, and in the air.

  The ride, perhaps an hour long, proved a mesmerizing but ultimately uneventful spectacle. I wasn't entirely sure when we left the Beyond and entered the Courts of Chaos, but that we did so I had no doubt.

  I had expected an assassination attempt on one or all of us, but it didn't happen. Perhaps Aunt Lanara's influence carried even this far: knowing I must attend her party, our enemies drew back. That, or they had another, more deadly plan in mind…

  At last the lands grew more normal and less motive, and streets of huge walled estates appeared. We drove more slowly now, as we encountered traffic—carriages similar to our own, mounted riders, even a few pedestrians. Most looked as human as we did. I found that strangely comforting.

  Slowing, our carriage turned in at a set of high iron gates. Behind it, towering over the wall, lay a house so immense it made ours look like a cottage in comparison. It blazed with light, inside and out, and I saw figures moving on a dozen different floors—many of them pressing up to windows to watch us.

  Liveried servants, who looked more like frogs than men, stood everywhere at attention. A dozen of them bounded forward to take care of us.

  “Announce Lord Oberon, Lady Freda, and Lord Aber,” my sister said.

  “You are expected, Lords and Lady!” one of the frog-servants said.

 
; Freda motioned me out. “You must go through the motions of betrothal for now,” she said softly, so only I could hear. “It is the honorable thing to do.”

  I nodded. Then trumpets sounded, and a cheer went up as half a hundred doors were flung open and guests began to stream outside. There must have been a thousand of them, as the throngs grew deep around us. They began to call out: “Oberon and Braxara! Oberon and Braxara! Oberon and Braxara!” over and over again.

  “What should I do?” I asked Aber, as subtly as I could considering how many people were staring.

  “Get out, walk in, find our aunt!” he whispered back.

  I stood, raised one hand in a salute, and stepped down onto the steps which the frog-men had carried up to the carriage. The crowds parted for me, leaving a narrow passage up to the house's main entrance.

  There, just outside, Aunt Lanara stood beaming down at me. She wore a tiara of diamonds that sparkled and gleamed, and her long gown shimmered with starlight. Even her tusks had been polished and their tips capped in gold.

  Beside her stood an elderly man, white-haired, in gold and red pants and shirt. This had to be her husband, my uncle. Aber had told me his name: Leito.

  I stopped before them and bowed. “Uncle Leito. Aunt Lanara.”

  “Welcome, Oberon. Come inside, my darling boy, and enjoy the hospitality of our house.”

  “Thank you.”

  A cheer went up from the men and women around me, and everyone began to file back inside. Turning, Leito and Lanara led the way.

  Their house proved a cavernous shell, at least in the front. The party seemed to be taking place on more than one level of the house. Above us, people stood on huge flat stones that floated in mid air, drifting up and down, though never bumping into each other or crushing their riders. People stepped from one stone to another freely as they passed, mingling, talking. Laughter, bits of song and poetry, and comments about Aber, Freda, and especially me reached my ears.

  “We must see to dinner preparations,” Aunt Lanara said. “Stay here by the door, greet everyone who comes up to you, but commit to nothing. I will return for you shortly.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  She patted my cheek and hurried across the floor, calling to servants. They began to spread out into the crowd on the ground floor, carrying trays of appetizers. Others stepped up onto the floating stones and began circulating among the guests overhead.