New Amber Trilogy 2 - Chaos and Amber Read online

  He thought for a minute. "I don't quite know. Maybe fifty years ago, as Chaos counts time. Maybe a little more."

  "And they just suddenly appeared?"

  "Well… it wasn't quite that simple, or so I'm told. I wasn't there, after all. According to my grandmother, a huge storm descended on the Courts of Chaos. No one had ever seen anything like it before. The sky went black and quiet. The stars disappeared. Then the ground began to shake and split apart, and whole cities were destroyed. Thousands died. Only afterward did things begin to return to normal… though—at least according to my grandmother—nothing was ever quite as good as it had been before."

  "How old is our father?" I asked, feeling a strange prickling sense of foreboding.

  He shrugged. "I'm not sure anymore. Time runs differently in Shadows. He's been out there a long time. But his oldest child—as Chaos reckons time—must be thirty-five or forty now."

  "Then he's old enough to have lived through that storm—the one that came before these new Shadows appeared?"

  "Sure. I know he is. Why?"

  "Oh… no reason. Just curious."

  I did not voice my sudden suspicion. He was old enough. He was interested in science and experiments. What if our father not only enjoyed these new Shadows… but had actually done something to create them?

  No, that was impossible—how could one man create thousands upon thousands of worlds? No single person could possibly wield so much power. He would be like a god. And if our father did have godlike powers, he certainly hadn't shown them. He had allowed us all to be trapped in Juniper. He had let his children die at the hands of unknown enemies. No, it was a crazy idea, and I pushed it to the back of my mind.

  And yet, some distant part of me noted, such power would make him a man to be feared. It would explain why someone was trying to kill him… and the rest of us too… wouldn't it?

  SIXTEEN

  Several hours later, the storm still raged outside, and it seemed to be growing worse. I heard wind constantly now, howling like a wild animal. This time at least I knew it was real, not something imagined or hallucinated. Thunder growled constantly, too, a low, steady rumble.

  Twice Aber and I walked back to the courtyard door and looked out, and the last time we saw three distant tornadoes over the wall, their funnels black as night as they twisted and turned. And yet they did not seem to be gliding across the land, the way tornadoes did in Ilerium… these seemed rooted in place, swaying back and forth like the pendulums of some enormous clock.

  "Have you ever seen tornadoes here before?" I asked Aber.

  "No," he said, "and I don't think it's a good sign."

  "Can you do anything about them?"

  He gave me a funny look. "I think you have an exaggerated idea of my magical abilities."

  At that, I laughed. "It seems I've always underestimated people. About time I started overestimating them!"

  He laughed too, but uncertainly.

  After a long break, when it seemed they wouldn't be able to go back outside because of the storms, the guards asked for permission to resume their exercises in the front entry hall.

  "Go ahead," I told Captain Neole, looking at Aber for guidance. As I expected, he gave a subtle half nod. "Just don't break anything."

  They made room by moving the lamps, braziers, and odd bits of furniture to one side. I had to admit the chamber was big enough, and as long as they watched out for the rows of tall stone columns running down the center, they seemed in no immediate danger.

  They worked through a series of exercises, then began pairing up to practice swordplay. I found myself watching from the library door, a bit enviously. Part of me longed to join them, to forget myself for at least the next few hours in grueling physical exertion, but I didn't feel up to it. Tired and sore, with a headache that threatened to split my skull, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for the next few days.

  "That's it," I told Aber. "I'm going to bed."

  He seemed surprised. "Already?"

  "I've had it," I said. "Between visions and lightning bolts, my head feels like it's going to explode. Wake me if we're being attacked and slaughtered, or if Dad shows up. If it's anything else, solve the problem yourself!"

  "Can you find your way back to your room?"

  "Sure." I felt certain I could, at least from the main staircase. I'd been up it often enough to get my bearings. "What about you? Your day has been just as hard."

  "True. But I have some work to do first," he said.

  "Oh?"

  He laughed. "Nothing you'd find exciting or interesting. Just some letters to write."

  "To anyone I know?"

  "Distant cousins, whom I'm hoping will prove sympathetic to our situation."

  "Good idea," I said. For once, he was thinking like a soldier: find allies and bring them into the fight on your side. If I knew anyone here, I wouldn't have hesitated to summon their help.

  He went to the desk and retrieved quills, a short-bladed knife for cutting down the point, and writing paper, all of which he arranged within easy reach.

  I left him there bent over the table, pen in hand, and the scritch-scratch noises followed me out into the hall.

  Safely back in my room, I undressed and gave my clothes to Horace, who made as if to leave with them. Then he paused.

  "Sir?"

  "What is it?"

  "Do you need me to watch your sleep tonight?"

  I thought about it, then shook my head.

  "No need. I'll be fine. Go to bed and catch up on your own rest."

  "Yes, sir!" I didn't have to tell him twice—he hurried into his room and shut the door before I could change my mind.

  Then I turned toward my bed. A subtle movement of the bedclothes warned me that they weren't empty. An assassin? Or was it another trick of this accursed place, where down was up and everything moved on its own?

  I couldn't take any chances. Softly I crept over to the chair where I'd so carelessly hung my swordbelt moments before. Drawing the blade slowly and silently, I inched closer to the bed, reached out, and flipped back the covers.

  A familiar and quite beautiful face peeked out at me.

  "Rèalla!" I said with delight, relaxing.

  "A sword?" She lowered her eyes, then smiled up at me. "Is this the way you welcome lovers to your bed, Lord Oberon?"

  "Not usually."

  I returned my sword to its scabbard at the desk. Then I joined her in bed. We kissed, and made love frantically, as though it might be the last thing either one of us did.

  Far too early the next morning—at least, I assumed it was morning—I awakened from a deep and dreamless sleep to Aber's annoyingly chipper voice.

  "Wake up, Oberon. Too many hours in bed will make you weak!"

  "Go away!"

  "I'm hungry, and I see no reason to eat alone with you in the house. Time to get up."

  I groaned, then closed my eyes again.

  "Port, throw him out!" I called

  "Sorry, Oberon," my door replied. "I am not a bouncer. You will have to throw him out yourself."

  "Don't be a slug-a-bed!" he told me. I heard him open the ward-robe's doors and rummage around inside. "You've got plenty of clothes here. Pick something or I'll pick it for you."

  I sighed. So much for a quiet morning in bed. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. After making love to Rèalla half the night, exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me.

  "Is Dad back yet?" I asked, eyes still closed.

  "No."

  "How about the hell-creatures?"

  "No sign of them, either."

  "Then what's the rush?"

  "I'm hungry!"

  I rolled over, opening one eye. Golden light bubbled up from the lamp by the door. He stood before me with arms folded, tapping one foot impatiently. He had gray silk pants and shirt tucked under his arm.

  "Ready to get dressed?" he said. "Where's your valet?"

  "Sleeping, like any sensible person!" I told him.
"Now, go back to bed. I need my sleep. I'll have lunch with you later."

  "Afraid not. We have too much to do today. I'm expecting replies to my letters. And don't you want to try Dad's Trump again?"

  I gave a huge sigh. Clearly he wasn't taking no for an answer. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, then pulled the sheet across my lap to cover my nakedness.

  "All right, pest. Give me the clothes."

  "Here." He held them out, and I took them.

  Behind me, still buried in the covers, Rèalla stirred and murmured a sleepy question.

  "It's just my brother Aber," I told her. I rubbed her back through the quilt. "Go to sleep."

  "Who's that—" Aber began, leaning forward to see.

  "Don't be nosy," I told him. "I know you won't approve, but I couldn't help myself. She's beautiful and smart…"

  Without warning, my brother sucked in a panicked breath and leaped back, looking desperately around the room. He motioned frantically for me to stay silent and get out of bed. Running to the desk, he began to fumble with my swordbelt.

  "What is it?" I said impatiently, yawning.

  "Oberon," he said. Something in the quiet tone he used set my nerves on edge. "Get away from the bed. Don't argue. Do it quickly. You're in danger."

  My breath caught in my throat. Danger? What had he seen?

  Suddenly wide awake, I stood and took two quick steps toward the door. Port's face appeared there, staring at us with concern.

  "What is it?" I demanded.

  Rèalla stirred again and rolled over, half opening her eyes.

  "Oberon?" she asked.

  "Don't move," I told her. I scanned the covers, looking for anything dangerous—snakes, spiders, some Chaos-born monster—but saw nothing unusual or out of place.

  Rèalla, head pillowed on her arm, blinked and looked up at me. She was even more beautiful by day—not that you could tell from the lack of windows.

  Aber drew my sword and turned toward the bed, a grim expression on his face.

  "Hey!" I told him. "What are you doing?"

  "Get out of the way, Oberon."

  "What is it?" I demanded. "What do you see?"

  "A succubus!"

  In one swift motion, he leaped toward my lover.

  SEVENTEEN

  "Wait!" I cried, leaping in front of him. "What do you think you're doing?"

  Rèalla screamed. I knew Aber meant to kill her, and I couldn't allow that. What had she done to provoke him? Why this half crazed, half desperate response?

  He skidded to a stop. Rèalla gave another ear-piercing shriek and threw herself behind the bed, trying to hide in the bedclothes.

  "Stand aside!" Aber said. He tried to dance around me.

  I blocked his way. With a feint, then a quick punch to his stomach, I took the air and the fight out of him. He doubled over, and I took the opportunity to pry my sword from his fingers.

  "Have you gone you insane?" I demanded. Crossing to the desk, I returned my blade to its scabbard.

  "She's—" he gasped.

  "She's mine," I said fiercely.

  "She's—a—succubus!"

  "A what?" I demanded.

  "A female demon." He glared at her. "They feed on the blood of their lovers. Look at yourself, Oberon!" His finger stabbed at my chest. "You're marked! She's been feeding on you!"

  Involuntarily, my hand rose to touch my chest. The welt I'd discovered yesterday was still there, though smaller. But now I felt a second one next to it.

  A chill swept through me. Rèalla had been drinking my blood? No wonder I had twice awakened to find her in my bed. No wonder she wanted to be with me. I could not believe what a fool I had been.

  "Rèalla," I said, voice very calm. I wouldn't let her see how unnerved I had become. "I don't believe you've met my brother. This is Aber."

  "No, Oberon," she said, peeking out at us. "I have not had that pleasure."

  "Come here," I told her.

  Silently she rose and came around, covering herself with the sheet. I put my arm around her shoulders in a protective gesture.

  "How can you keep that thing in your bed?" Aber demanded, staring from me to Rèalla and back again. "Kill it! Kill it and be done, before it kills you!"

  "Rèalla is a good woman. I enjoy her company." I turned and gazed down at her, allowing myself a wistful smile. That much at least was true. And she was startlingly beautiful, which didn't hurt.

  "Not as much as she enjoys yours." He jerked his chin toward my chest. "You are nothing to her but food!"

  "No!" Rèalla cried. "Those are love bites! I would not hurt him—"

  "Shh," I told her. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You don't need to explain yourself to him. Or to me. If you need blood, you may take as much of mine as you need to live, but no more."

  Aber howled, "Oberon! You don't know what you're saying! You don't know what you're offering! She'll drink you dry!"

  "Never!" Rèalla vowed fiercely. "I will take only what I need, no more!"

  "I believe her," I said.

  "Her kind has a barbed tongue," Aber went on, glaring up at us. "They drink the blood of men who take them to bed. She will feed on you every night until you are too weak to resist, then she will reveal her true form."

  "True form?" I asked.

  "You would not like it," she said, and for once she refused to meet my gaze. "I much prefer this one. It is… elegant."

  Aber climbed to his feet. "I never thought a succubus would dare to feed on a Lord of Chaos—you must kill her, for that insult alone!"

  I looked at Rèalla again, and this time she turned her eyes toward mine. In those depths I thought I saw a warmth, a spark of love for me. I believed she really did care for me. Just as I had begun to care for her…

  She said, "Oberon… you must believe me… I mean you no harm."

  "Why not?" Aber demanded, voice shrill. "You're an assassin! You were sent to kill him! Admit it!"

  "Go on," I told her softly. I took her hand and pressed it to my lips. "Tell me the truth. It doesn't matter if you came to kill me. My feelings for you won't change. But I must know."

  "If I wanted him dead, he would be dead already!" she snapped at Aber. "I had plenty of time to kill him… but I did not."

  "Your mark is on him!" he said.

  "I mark all who take me to bed. It is a sign of love!"

  "Love? Hah! Your kind cannot love!"

  She spat at him. "We love more fiercely than you will ever know. You are unworthy of such love!"

  Aber's face grew flushed, and his hands knotted into fists. "How dare you—" he began. I had never seen him so lost for words. "How dare you—"

  "Don't spit on the carpets," I murmured to Rèalla. "They're expensive." Then, turning to Aber, I said, "And you're exaggerating the problem."

  Aber shook his head. "You're mad," he said in a hurt voice. "She has you bewitched. When Dad finds out—"

  "I know what I'm doing," I said. "I'm not a child in the first flush of love."

  "You're acting that way!"

  "Trust me."

  He shook his head, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Let me kill her, if you can't do it. She's a spy and an assassin. She's dangerous. She will kill you in your sleep. It is her nature."

  "We all have to die sometime," I said, "and I can think of many worse ways than in bed with a beautiful woman."

  "This isn't a game, Oberon."

  "No," I said firmly, "it is a game—a very dangerous game. But it's necessary if we're going to find out what's really going on." I put my arm around Rèalla's shoulders. "She told you she will not kill me. I believe her. That's the end of it."

  "Thank you," Rèalla said.

  Aber stared from one of us to the other. "You are mad. Both of you. This cannot be permitted—"

  I kissed Rèalla. "Go into the next room. Let me speak to my brother alone."

  "Yes, Oberon," she said demurely. With a triumphant glance in his direction, she turned and h
urried through the little door at the back of the room.

  Aber stared at me like I'd just grown a second head. "Don't do this, Oberon. She's toying with you. She wants something, and it's not your love. She'll kill you when she's ready."

  "If I were so easy to kill," I said, "I would have died years ago. That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger, they say."

  "No. I've seen her kind before, Oberon. She will work on you slowly. You'll grow pale and weak, you'll lose your will to fight, and then you'll die." He set his feet stubbornly. "I'm not going to let that happen!"

  "She can no longer be a lover to me," I said in a low voice, glancing at the door. It was firmly shut; I knew she couldn't hear us talking. "I know that. You've ruined her for me. Now she is just a tool… and I will use her to get to our enemies."

  He shook his head, and I could tell he didn't believe me. "I don't want to have to explain to Dad how you ended up with a succubus in your bed," he said. "I know I can't stop you. But be careful, okay? Watch who you let into your room and your bed."

  "I'll tell Dad everything myself when he gets back," I promised. Then I cleared my throat. "And, speaking of letting people into my room ... I don't recall Port announcing you. How did you get in here?"

  Aber stared at me like I had sprouted two extra heads. "How can you care when—"

  "I do." I smiled pointedly. "Just taking your advice to heart, dear brother. I can't have people barging in on me at all hours of the day and night, after all. Now, where's that Trump? I want it. Now."

  He crossed back to the spot by the door where I'd first noticed him. There, he bent and picked up what looked like a small Tarot card. He must have dropped it when he saw Rèalla.

  He returned and silently handed it to me. It was smaller than the other Trumps I had seen, but like the others it felt cool and smooth, as though carved from bone or ivory. Though the rendering was crude, one side showed my bedroom to the smallest detail, from the high canopied bed to the wash stand and looking glass. The back had been painted a simple gold color, without the rampant lion design in the middle. I had never seen a Trump like this one before.

  "Whose is it?" I asked.

  "Mine."

  I raised my eyebrows. "It doesn't match your other Trumps." I flipped it over and held it up. "And you're a better artist than this."