The left mouth said, “Of course! Wouldn't you, knowing King Uthor is gone and you have no longer have any hope of ascending the throne?”
“Probably.” With King Uthor dead, few would dare stand openly against Swayvil.
“The good news,” said Great Aunt Eddarg's right mouth, “is that the lai she'one are no longer hunting Dworkin”—(“That idiot!” chimed in the other mouth.)—“or the rest of you. That must come as a relief.”
I nodded. “Good news, indeed.”
Freda said, “But he has not released any of our family, nor lifted the death sentences on us?”
“No, no,” said the right mouth. The left said, “Not yet. Except for your brother, of course.” And the first mouth added: “He is a dearie, but thin. We must get him fattened up.”
“Do you mean Aber?” I asked.
“Yes,” said both mouths at once. “A hero,” said one.
“How is he faring?” Freda asked.
“Haven't you heard?” said Great Aunt Eddarg. “He was adopted into House Swayvil two days ago.” Her second mouth added: “The king gave him a suite in the palace—though not in the king's own wing—and the dearie has been throwing lavish parties for his friends.” The first mouth continued: “He is quite partial to roast piqnar and keeps asking for it.” The second mouth added: “Expensive tastes, but King Swayvil does not seem to mind. They dine together now and again.”
“Then he is doing well,” Freda asked. She shot me an uncertain glance—not sure whether to be happy or dismayed, I guessed. That was my own reaction.
“Thriving, from the sounds of it,” I said. For once, Aber seemed to have everything he'd ever wanted: security, a place in a powerful family, and freedom from our father's influence.
“Has he asked King Swayvil to free Pella and Syara?” I asked casually.
“I do not know, dearie. I am not privy to their discussions. Now, I must get dinner ready,” said Great Aunt Eddarg. “There is another banquet tonight.” Her other mouth added: “Talk to me again soon, dearies?”
“I will,” Freda promised with a smile. “I will let you know whenever we have news. And you must do the same.”
“Of course, dearie!”
Freda covered the Trump with her hand, and we were alone. We stared at each other for a heartbeat. Aber had certainly landed on his feet.
“We must,” Freda said, “find a way to use Aber to our advantage.
“The best way to deal with a serpent,” I said unhappily, “is to cut off its head.”
Chapter 31
Over the next week, events seemed to hit a strange lull. With the newly crowned King Swayvil concentrating on hunting down the last of King Uthor's followers, no one in Chaos seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to us. It was as if Dad, the Shadows, and Amber had suddenly ceased to be important. Perhaps Uthor had been right in his estimation: Swayvil had used us solely as a distraction. Now that he held the throne, he would spend his days consolidating his base of power.
Which was entirely fine by me: while he worked on strengthening his hold on the Courts of Chaos, I would consolidate my own power in Amber.
“King Oberon” still had a very nice ring to it, and I meant to hang on to my title, my crown, and most of all my life.
Weeks passed, a constant blur of non-stop action. I spent exhausting and exhilarating days in the field, reviewing troops or recruiting new ones with Conner… fascinating days visiting nearby Shadows and buying or bartering with the native populations for food, supplies, and most important of all, settlers… but most especially glorious days exploring our new world of Amber.
I sailed with our fledgling navy as it explored the coastline… rode with the cavalry as it mapped the hills and valleys… marched with the infantry as they cut roads through the forests and began the lengthy task of setting up watchtowers along our soon-to-be-city's flanks.
When I returned to Amber one evening, I found an unhappy reception committee waiting: my father, Freda, and Conner, all looking angry.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“What have you done with him?” Freda said.
“I am close to a cure!” Dad said. “Another week, and he would have been free from Suhuy's poison!”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, looking from one to another. Had they lost all reason?
Sharply, Conner said, “Do you deny releasing Fenn?”
“What—you mean he's gone?” I looked uncomprehendingly from one to another. “I've been at sea all day! When could I possibly have released him?”
Dad let out his breath. “I see Suhuy's hand in this,” he muttered. “Another imposter!”
“What! And nobody thought to question him?” I demanded.
“You… he… was in a foul mood,” Freda said. “He rode in alone, went straight to Fenn's cell, and ordered the guards to tie Fenn up. Which they did. Then he dragged Fenn out, ordered fresh horses, threw Fenn across the saddle, and left. Dad and I were here, but it happened so fast… he was gone before we knew it.”
I shook my head. “This must stop. Now. Every time someone returns from a trip, one of us must be in the courtyard to greet him. We will have a password system.”
“What do you mean?” Freda asked.
“Each time one of us comes home, someone else will say a word or ask a question. The proper response must be given to establish a true identity.”
Conner frowned. “When you came home, I would say, 'fish' and then you would say, 'cakes'? Something like that?”
“Something a little more subtle.” I frowned. “The first person will say, 'How was the weather?' and the correct reply will be, 'Fire and hail.' That way, if another imposter shows up and gives the wrong answer, he won't know he's been discovered.”
“Agreed,” Conner said quickly.
“Now, why did Suhuy want Fenn back?” I mused. “We discovered his true identity. Suhuy must know that trick won't work again.”
“A better question,” Dad said, “is—who was impersonating you?”
A month passed since Aber had betrayed King Uthor and me. Freda continued to check with her aunts nearly every day for updates on the political situation in the Courts of Chaos. Sometimes we got word of a friend or family member who had sworn fealty to King Swayvil; more often, however, we got lists of the executed as Swayvil's bloody purges continued.
Always we looked for word of missing family members, but since Uthor's death, not one had been publicly executed. Of course, they could be undergoing torture in Swayvil's dungeons… or, as Conner had been, simply left to rot in a cell. We had no way of knowing. Perhaps, I sometimes thought, the new King of Chaos meant to save them for bargaining chips when he finally moved against us.
Several weeks into the new king's rule, King Uthor's brother Irtar tried to seize the throne. Backed by half a dozen powerful Lords of Chaos, his assassination attempt nearly succeeded. But Suhuy's timely intervention, according to Great Aunt Eddarg, saved the day.
After that, Swayvil rushed many of Uthor's former supporters to trial. Some days as many as two dozen Lords of Chaos met the axe in public ceremonies… all to the cheering of the bloodthirsty residents of Chaos. After Irtar's death, Swayvil declared a holiday and gave out refreshments and favors at the palace gates to all who called.
Of course, I recognized none of the names of the dead, though Freda wept several times when men and women she knew fell to Swayvil's purge. I could do little to comfort her.
She spent days working on Castle Amber, organizing the staff, decorating the halls and rooms, supervising all the little niceties that finished off the castle properly. And Amber slowly became a home to us all.
Early one morning I took a stroll along the castle's upper battlements, gazing out across the fields and rolling hills that had begun to sprout the beginnings of a town. It was a gloriously beautiful day, the air tasted crisp and fresh, and I felt well-rested and strong. Below me, the castle guard had turned out for morning drills, and with
a wistful little smile I listened to the officers' orders and the beginnings of swordplay. I missed dawn roll-calls and early morning workouts.
Then I felt a light mental contact. Someone was trying to reach me through a Trump… probably Conner, who had gone off to explore the southern marshlands with several squads of infantryman. He had instructions to call me if anything went wrong.
When I opened my thoughts, though, I found myself staring at a wavering, uncertain image of Aber. He sat high on a pile of luxurious-looking cushions, and he looked well oiled and well fed.
He had nerve. My rage started to bubble toward the surface, but I held it in check.
“What is it?” I said coldly. He must have something important to say, after all he had done.
“Hi, Oberon.”
He smiled with his usual cheerfulness, as though nothing had happened between us. Didn't he realize how much his betrayal had wounded me?
Slowly I dropped one hand to the knife at my belt. It had a good balance, perfect for throwing. I palmed it as subtly as I could. Would it strike him through the Trump if I threw it while we were talking? Somehow, I thought so.
“What do you want?” I said.
“I miss everyone,” he said. He frowned a bit. “How would you feel about returning to the Courts on an official state visit, as ruler of Amber? Freda too, of course. And Conner if he wants.”
“You must be joking,” I said. I couldn't believe he'd just asked me to return to Chaos.
He grinned. “Okay. You don't have to bring Conner if you don't want to.”
“Swayvil would kill us all.”
He actually laughed. “Nonsense. I hate to be insulting, but you have an exaggerated opinion of your own importance. The king simply doesn't care about you, Dad, or Amber right now—he has bigger problems.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “The body count seems to be rising quite fast, from what I hear.”
“Ah? Freda's keeping tabs on us, I guess.”
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I'm something of a golden boy right now, you know… after all, I single-handedly ended the civil war and probably saved tens of thousands of lives. That makes me quite the hero in certain circles.”
“Uh-huh. You're a hero.” I let a note of disdain creep into my voice. “Congratulations.”
“So, I asked the king if you could all visit, and he agreed. He personally guarantees your safety. When can you come?”
“You're insane,” I said. He had to be out of his mind if he thought we would blindly walk into the Courts of Chaos again. “After all that's happened, you expect us to simply show up for dinner, never mind that Swayvil has been killing off our family for years?”
“Well, yes. And it would be more than just dinner—it would be an official state visit. You'll all be quite safe, of course.”
“I'd sooner slit my own throat than let Swayvil do it for me. Or you, for that matter.”
“How can you say that!” He actually looked hurt. And he managed it with such sincerity, I almost believed him. He had certainly missed his true calling—the stage.
I tightened my grip on the knife. “I don't take betrayal well, Aber. You can't talk your way out of it.”
“You ought to be thanking me.” He folded his arms stubbornly. “I did you a huge favor.”
“Murdering King Uthor? If Swayvil hadn't attacked when he did…”
“It was carefully timed,” he said smugly.
“You left us there to die!”
“Not at all. I had every faith in you. You're a survivor, after all. You'll just have to trust me this time—you were never in any real danger.”
I shook my head. He made it sound almost plausible… only I knew the truth. He'd been looking out for himself, without a moment's thought for the rest of us.
Trust him? Never again.
At my silence, he continued: “You are my favorite brother, after all. That's got to count for something, Oberon!”
“Sure it does,” I said, reaching my empty hand toward him. “Come on through. We'll discuss it over dinner… I know Freda wants to see you, too.”
“Ah-ah.” He wagged a finger at me and grinned. “Business before vengeance.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Business?”
“Well, I had hoped to save it for the banquet… but what would you say to a pardon from King Swayvil?”
I stared at him. “Impossible!”
“If the king offered you and Dad and everyone else in our family pardons, including the return of our lands and restoration of our titles, would you return to Chaos and swear fealty to him?”
“What about Amber?” I demanded. After all we'd done, I couldn't just leave it.
“Amber will become a principality. You would remain Prince of Amber… and continue to rule it, paying homage to King Swayvil of course. An annual tribute, that sort of thing—a token of your allegiance to Chaos.”
It all came clear. “So I would become a puppet for Swayvil.”
“Of course not.”
“Forget it,” I said. If he couldn't see through that plot, he was deluding himself. It might take a year—or five years, or ten years—but sooner or later Swayvil would move against me. Whether it came through slow poisons or a hunting “accident” or an a late-night assassination attempt didn't really matter. I knew without the slightest doubt that Swayvil would try to get rid of the Pattern and the Shadows as soon as his attention moved beyond Chaos.
“Think!” Aber said, leaning forward. “Our family could return to Chaos. Our father's lands and titles would be restored. It would be easy. Take advantage of the king's generosity!”
“It's too easy,” I said. “What about everyone currently being held by Swayvil?”
“Freed.” His voice dropped, low and urgent now. “This is the chance of a lifetime. Think of it, Oberon—it's what you've been waiting for. You'll be a hero.”
“This banquet idea… who do I have to thank for it?”
“Me.” He all but preened.
“Hmm.” Of course, I didn't believe him. He had his devious side, but somehow this plan seemed beyond him. And he really seemed to believe Swayvil meant to keep his word.
“First,” I said, ticking off my fingers on my free hand, “I don't trust you. Second, I don't trust Swayvil to keep his word and not kill me the moment I set foot in the Courts. And third, I am king here… and I will never serve anyone else ever again.”
He sighed and leaned back in his cushions. “Is that your final word?”
“No. Please give Swayvil a message for me.”
In one quick motion, I hurled my knife at his head.
He severed the Trump connection so fast, my throw never had a chance. The wavering window to Chaos vanished. Instead of striking him, my knife sailed over the battlements and disappeared.
Hurrying to the edge, I leaned out and watched it bounce across the ground ten feet from where a small squad of guardsman drilled with swords. They whirled, craning their heads to look up at me.
“Sire?” called the captain of the guard.
“Bring my knife back up, Giras!” I called. It was a nice weapon; no point losing it.
Then I went to find Freda.
Chapter 32
I found my sister in the rose garden, overseeing the new plantings. Drawing her aside, I relayed Aber's message. “What do you think of it?” I asked. She frowned thoughtfully. “It is a tempting proposition.”
“Too tempting. It's exactly what we need.”
“Yes.”
She sighed, then shook her head. “I advise patience. After all, Swayvil is preoccupied now with tightening his grip on Chaos. Leave him to his problems; we will continue to strengthen Amber. That is our best hope for survival.”
“Exactly my own conclusion,” I said.
A week passed. I didn't hear from Aber again in all that time—which half surprised me. He wasn't the sort who gave up easily. But I shrugged and went on with the seemingly endless supply
of tasks that required my immediate attention. Blueprints for unbuilt sections of the castle… street-plans for the someday-soon city surrounding the castle proper… land grants for the hundreds of settlers now streaming into Amber, courtesy of Conner's recruitment efforts in nearby Shadows… and of course all the regular duties of an army commander, king, lord of the manor, and general administrator—everything from meting out justice in court to simply signing off on military duty assignments.
I wished, for the thousandth time, that I had more lieutenants to whom duties could be passed. King Aslom's sons, though of unquestioning loyalty, needed many more years of seasoning to be left on their own. And Conner had to be in nearby Shadows, buying whatever we needed, bringing in soldiers and mercenaries and artisans and all the other workers we now needed in great number.
Despite my work load, I never forgot about Aber. Perhaps, I thought at times, he would grow content to stay in Chaos and crow about his heroic accomplishments… If it impressed his friends and the women of the Courts, who was I to object? So long as he kept out of my way, I would not pursue revenge.
Overall, life felt good. As the castle crept toward completion, as the population grew and the army took shape, a sense of pride filled me. This was what I had been born to do. Amber would stand forever.
Busy as my days became, I made sure our family managed to gather as often as possible for dinner.
When the banquet hall was finally finished to her satisfaction, Freda set it up magnificently—long and broad, it had twin columns of white marble to either side of a fifty-foot-long table. A pair of crystal chandeliers glittered with the light of two thousand candles. Tapestries on the walls showed cheerful scenes—hunting stags, epic battles, and portraits of family members in handsome poses. Freda had commissioned one of me in kingly robes with a gold circlet on my head, beaming down at the table. I had to admit it was a good likeness.
She had also commissioned portraits of all our brothers and sisters, even the missing and the dead. I walked down the row of them, staring up at the missing and the dead. Locke… Davin… Mattus… Titus. So many…
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