"They wouldn't say." Aber sighed helplessly. "I wish I knew. I'd give it to them."
"That might be the worst thing we could do."
"Maybe. Or it might end all this craziness. I'd give a lot just to have my boring old life back again."
"Me too." I found I meant it. Much as my newfound family and their magical powers fascinated me, I couldn't remember a single moment of happiness since Dworkin had swept back into my life.
Iron-shod boots thumped down the hallway outside. King Uthor's men had reached this floor, it seemed. I took a deep breath. Doors banged open. I heard furniture being thrown about, then something made of glass shattered noisily.
"Listen carefully," Aber said, a note of anxiety creeping into his voice. "You must be calm. Stay in your seat. Don't show any fear or weakness. They will report back on anything or anyone who seems odd or out of place. Promise?"
I swallowed, one hand rising to caress my sword where I'd left it on the table. My every impulse told me to stand and fight, to force these intruders out. They had no right to be here. They had no right to search our house. And yet, in my current state, I knew I wouldn't stand a chance against them.
"Promise me!" Aber said again, urgently. He rose, looking at the door. "They will be here any second!"
Gazing up at him, I saw how afraid he was. I felt my own apprehension grow, too. Better to play it safe for now. A foolish death benefited no one.
"Promise me!" he demanded.
I took a deep breath, then nodded. "I'll do as you say. I'll stay in my seat no matter what they say or do."
"Thank you." He moved behind me, putting one hand on my shoulder reassuringly. "You made the right decision."
King Uthor's men were close now. I could hear them just outside, talking softly.
An unpleasant prickling sensation began at the nape of my neck and spread down my back and arms. I couldn't make out the words, but those voices—those guttural tones—I recognized them!
They threw open the door to my room, and my worst fears were confirmed. Two hell-creatures, like the ones who had destroyed Ilerium, like the ones who had destroyed Juniper, swaggered inside.
FIVE
They wore beautifully silvered chain mail, the chest emblazoned with a red crown. Their slitted eyes glowed pinkly behind their high-plumed steel helmets. Although nasals and cheek guards concealed most of their features, I spotted a faintly iridescent pattern of scales around their mouths and chins.
Growling in anger, I half rose from my chair. The room began to tilt and slide around me.
"Easy," Aber said in a calming voice. His hand already on my shoulder pushed me back into my seat.
"Who are you?" one of the hell-creatures demanded of me. His voice was a gravelly croak.
I glared up at him but had a hard time restraining myself. Hell-creatures! Here in the Courts of Chaos… in our own house! They had destroyed my home and slain my king in Ilerium. They had destroyed Castle Juniper and murdered who-knew-how-many family members. And now my brother wanted me to sit here calmly and let them tear this place apart, too!
I glowered and thought hard about going for my sword. Unfortunately, I was in no condition to take them on, and I knew it. They would have cut me down before I made it to my feet.
"This is my brother, Oberon," Aber said hastily, when I didn't answer.
"He is not listed in your family's genealogy."
"Not yet," Aber said quickly. "He will be."
I did not move, did not speak, only stared in tense silence. My heart pounded; a cold sweat began to trickle down my back.
Dismissing us with a casualness that bordered on contempt, the two hell-creatures turned to my bed. They drew knives and cut through the sheets and blanket, then ripped into the mattress. I leaned forward, watching with interest as they pulled out the goose-down stuffing and throw it into the corner. Then they removed their gauntlets and began sifting through the feathers carefully, feeling for—what? Something small, certainly, if they required bare hands to find it.
"Are you sure you don't know what they're doing here?" I whispered to Aber, studying them carefully.
Aber shook his head. "Like I said, they wouldn't tell me anything downstairs. Just that they were here on King Uthor's orders, and I was to cooperate or I would be arrested."
"What about Dad? Has he seen King Uthor yet?"
"I don't think so."
I thought about that for a long moment. It seemed to me we needed to know more.
"Let me try something." To the hell-creatures, I said in a loud voice: "What are you looking for? Maybe I know where it is."
They both ignored me.
"See?" Aber said quietly.
"Hey!" I said, more loudly. "Are you deaf?"
The one who had addressed me before turned his head slightly. The pink eyes met my own.
"Shut up, d'nai," he said. I did not know the word, but from the sneering delivery I recognized it as an insult. "We will tell you when to talk." Then he turned back to the goose down and continued his search.
Rage billowed through me. Sick or not, I couldn't ignore the slight. Slowly, my hand moved toward my sword, which still lay on the table before me. If I could draw it before they noticed—there were only two of them here—
Aber's hand on my shoulder became a vice, pinning me to my chair. He leaned forward.
"Do nothing," he said very softly in my left ear. "These are King Uthor's men. If you interfere, they will hurt us both. Maybe even kill us. Don't throw our lives away."
"They are hell-creatures!" I whispered.
"They are lai she'on."
I hesitated. "What?"
"An ancient race that has served the Lords of Chaos from the beginning of time. Do not draw your weapon or they will kill us both."
Gritting my teeth, I withdrew my hand from my sword's hilt. No, I wouldn't throw away both our lives. But when I could stand and hold a weapon properly again, I silently vowed to make this particular hell-creature take back his words.
Aber relaxed his grip on my shoulder.
The hell-creatures—lai she'on—whatever—finished their search of my room by dumping the chamber pot on the floor. They kicked it out of the way, gave a sneering look in our direction, then trooped out into the hall.
"Bastards," I muttered.
"We're all bastards in the Courts. I think it's a requirement," Aber said, blithely making light of the situation.
I snorted. "Shouldn't you be with them?" I asked, eying the door uneasily. It sounded like they were doing quite a lot of damage. "Supervising, or something?"
He shrugged. "I gave them the master key to the house. They don't need me. They can get in anywhere they want."
"I meant to watch what they're doing."
"I'm sure they wouldn't like that."
"If they find whatever they're looking for, don't you want to know what it is?"
"Sure." He drained his wine and refilled his glass. "But they're not going to tell me, and if they find it, for all I know they'd kill me to keep me from seeing it."
"You do have a point," I admitted.
"Besides, Dad isn't a fool. If he has something valuable that everyone wants, he knows enough to put it where only he can get to it."
"How?"
"There are ways," he said, nodding knowingly.
That wasn't exactly helpful. I sighed, shaking my head. This whole mad family of mine could be infuriating at times. None of them ever gave me a straight answer when I wanted one.
"Lord Aber?" said a familiar voice from the doorway. "Lord Oberon? May we proceed?"
I glanced over and saw Anari, an elderly man in red-and-white livery who had managed our household in Juniper. He had come here with us, I remembered. A half-dozen other servants stood behind him, all armed with mops, buckets, and other cleaning equipment.
"Please," Aber said.
Anari motioned his forces forward, and everyone hurried inside and began to clean up—gathering the bedding, mopping the floor,
straightening the furniture. One of them carried off the empty mattress casing while two more gathered all the goose feathers into new sheets and blanket, then dragged them out into the hallway.
"I guess I'm not going back to sleep anytime soon," I said wryly. Not that I could sleep with hell-creatures, these lai she'on, loose in the house, even ones who weren't specifically trying to kill me. "What do you think Dad will do when he finds out?"
"Oh, I don't think he'll mind." Aber nudged me, then gave a pointed glance at Anari and the other cleaners. "We have nothing to hide, after all."
"True," I murmured. No sense giving the servants more to worry and gossip about. Lai she'on searching our rooms were bad enough.
My brother said, "I think this calls for a drink."
For once, I agreed wholeheartedly.
Reaching into the air, he produced a bottle of red wine with a flourish. The label showed a pair of red stags running through a dark green forest. He uncorked it, produced two goblets by similar magical means, handed me one, and poured us both large portions.
"Cheers." I raised my glass in a toast.
"To mysteries," he said. Our glasses clinked.
"May there be fewer of them!" I added.
We both downed the wine, grinning at each other, listening to the ongoing noises of destruction from outside. Doors slammed; furniture crashed. Then I heard boots tramping directly over our heads; apparently they had moved upstairs.
Thus, the ransacking of our father's house continued.
By the time the sounds of searching had faded to distant cracks, bangs, and crashes, several hours later, we were on our third bottle of the red stag wine.
"What's directly over us?" I asked. My tongue felt thick; my words slurred slightly.
"Third floor. Living quarters. My room, I think."
I felt a jolt of alarm. "They're probably going through your Trumps and everything else you brought back from Juniper."
He smirked. "Oh, I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"They're tucked away. Safe."
I chuckled and allowed myself to relax. "Like Dad would have done with whatever they're looking for."
"Exactly."
More boots tramped overhead, and porcelain shattered noisily. Then a thump shook the whole house.
"Show me," I said.
"What?"
"Where your Trumps are."
"More wine?" he said.
"Sure."
He refilled my goblet for what seemed the twentieth time. I said, "You're not going to tell me."
"Nope."
Silence fell. I found myself straining to hear, anticipating the next noise. It didn't come.
"They must have gone up to the fourth floor," Aber said finally. "That one is all Dad's. He keeps his old experiments there."
"Experiments?"
He chuckled. "That's what you'd call it if you want to be kind. It's mostly junk. Bits and pieces of magical stuff. Things he's researched and thrown aside. It will take anyone else years to figure out what most of it does."
"They'll probably smash it all."
"Probably," he agreed.
"Don''t you care?"
He shrugged. "It's no great loss. He'd moved all the good stuff to Juniper, anyway. So it's already in their hands."
Already in their hands? Did he know more than he was saying?
I asked, "So you think these hell-creatures are the same ones who took Juniper?"
"Lai she'on." He frowned. "Yes. Maybe… I don't know. Don't you think so?"
I shrugged, recalling our father's magical carriage. Then I thought of all the other devices in his workshop, all the tubes and wires and strange glowing glass balls. It had been a lifetime's accumulation of magical items, and I was certain Dad would feel its loss keenly. When I envisioned the fall of Juniper Castle, with hell-creatures storming into the deserted corridors and rooms, I easily saw them smashing the things he had built.
None of the lai she'on attacking Juniper had worn crown symbols, however. Of course, they could have been disguised… a painted emblem is the easiest thing in the world to hide.
Another, more distant crash sounded.
"Fourth floor?" I asked, eying the ceiling.
"I think so."
I leaned back and drained the last of my wine. Perhaps the search wouldn't take much longer. I certainly wanted it over and these hell-creatures gone.
"Let me fill your glass."
Aber produced another bottle of that excellent two-stag red. When I held out my goblet, he poured, and we continued our drinking, a comfortable silence stretching between us.
Every once it a while, a distant thump spoke of the continuing search above us.
"I wonder what Dad is doing right now," I said at one point. Had he been seen by the king? Been attacked and murdered on the way?
Something worse?
Surely we would have heard if something had happened to him… wouldn't we?
Aber said, "I bet he's having more fun than we are."
It was probably the wine, but I found that offhanded remark incredibly funny. Somehow, I just couldn't see our father having fun, regardless of the situation.
Where was he now? I hated not knowing.
After that we drank in silence.
Somehow, I had a feeling our father had walked into a trap when he went to that audience with King Uthor. It seemed too convenient. The summons had gotten him out of this house and left Aber and me off guard here.
How long had it been? I had no way of telling time, no reference to day or night in this strange, windowless house in this accursed world. He had certainly been gone for hours… far too long for a simple audience. In Ilerium, King Elnar's audiences seldom lasted more than ten or fifteen minutes… though he sometimes kept petitioners waiting for hours.
What had happened to our father?
I could only hope he was waiting in some antechamber for the King Uthor's nod.
SIX
The time passed with annoying slowness. It felt as though everything and everyone—myself included—had paused it mid-step, in anticipation of something momentous.
At one point Anari returned with two men, who silently restored the now-mended mattress to the bed. A woman followed with fresh sheets and a blanket. When she spoke to Anari, they both used hushed, almost reverential tones. And they kept glancing surreptitiously in our direction.
Neither Aber nor I deigned to notice them. We were both pretty drunk. They left, and an almost eerie silence spread over the house.
"Do you think the hell-creatures… the lai she'on … are gone?" I finally asked.
"No. Anari will tell us." He sighed. "They must be on the fifth floor."
"What's there?"
"Servants' quarters."
After we finished our fifth bottle, I finally decided I had drunk too much. I felt happily numb, and though everything had a comfortably blurry shine, I couldn't tell if it was me or the wine or our location that caused it. My senses had become so screwed up since entering this place that nothing looked or felt or smelled quite right any more. Fortunately, thanks to the wine, I didn't particularly care.
Aber, too, had begun to slur his words, and several times he laughed to himself as though at some private joke. To be good company, I laughed along. Every once in a while we would exchange trivialities:
—"Do the walls look like they're bleeding to you?" (Me.)
—"Not really." (Him.) "Is that what you see?"
—"Yes." (A hesitation.) "But they're not bleeding like they were an hour ago."
—"Oh."
I sat back, pondering everything around me with the deep sense of wisdom that can only be found in an excess of alcohol.
"You know what we need?" I said.
"What?"
"Windows."
He actually fell off his chair, he laughed so hard.
"What's so funny?" I demanded.
"Windows. There aren't any."
"Why not?"
&
nbsp; "It's safer."
"How do you know if it's morning or night?"
"You don't. There's no such thing here."
"Doesn't it get dark?" I asked.
"Not in the sense it did in Juniper."
I thought about that for a while. It seemed impossible, but my whole life since leaving Ilerium had seemed that way.
"How late is it?" I finally said, stifling a yawn.
"Very." With a sigh, he rose. "Come on, I'll show you to your room. I imagine it's been searched and cleaned up by now."
I looked at him in surprise. "This isn't my room?"
"This little cell?" He chuckled. "What kind of hospitality do you think we offer family members? This is just a spare room where Dad stuck you. You'll have a proper suite on the next floor. Come, I'll show you."
He rose unsteadily. I did, too.
The room rolled around me, and the sound of wind—which had died down to a murmur like distant surf—rose to deafen me. By leaning on his shoulder, I managed to keep my feet, and together we staggered out into the hall.
"You can have Mattus's rooms," he grunted, bearing up under my weight. "It's not like he needs them any more."
That reminded me—what had happened to Rèalla? Probably drafted to help with the cleanup. I didn't blame her for not fetching me dry clothes. Priorities, priorities…
Aber led the way out to the hall, turned left, left again, then twice more left. It should have us put us back where we started, but somehow we found ourselves facing broad stone steps leading both up and down. Sconces held oil lamps whose light bubbled steadily upwards to pool on the ceiling.
I glanced behind us. The corridor seemed to narrow and coil in on itself. All the angles were wrong here, I reminded myself. Corners weren't square. I wouldn't be able to track my position mentally as I moved about.
"Think you can make it?" he asked.
"With you to lean on? Sure!"
With him supporting me, we ascended to the next floor.
Still no windows, I noticed, like Aber had said. For some reason, it began to bother me—though it was probably just as well that I couldn't see outside. I remembered my sister Freda's Trump, which showed the Courts of Chaos. Merely looking at the image had unnerved me. A sky that writhed like a living thing, stars that darted and swirled in seemingly random patterns, and giant stones that moved across the land on their own, while colors pulsed and bled. I should have been happy not to have to gaze out onto such nightmare landscapes.
New Amber Trilogy 2 - Chaos and Amber Page 4