New Amber Trilogy 2 - Chaos and Amber Read online

  Horace stood just behind Aber, peering around at me. He was pale, and I saw the scarlet imprint of a hand on his left cheek. Aber must have backhanded him for letting his guard down—or for waiting too long in calling him.

  I looked around the room, but saw no sign of that dark mist. It must have been killed or destroyed when the window closed.

  "How long has it been?" I asked.

  "At least two hours," Aber said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. He folded his arms and sighed. "You started moaning in your sleep, Horace said, so he tried to wake you. Finally, when he couldn't, he came to get me."

  I nodded.

  "Leave us," I said to Horace. "Wait in the next room. Aber and I need to talk privately. If I need you again, I'll call you."

  "Yes, Oberon." He ran out.

  Much as I liked Horace, I did not yet know how far I could trust him to guard my privacy. From certain things that had happened in Juniper, I knew we had spies among us… possibly even a family member. I didn't want servants hearing about these visions. That serpent-creature knew a lot about magic, and I didn't want it to figure out how I had come to its tower.

  After the door had shut behind the boy, I turned back to my brother. Quickly I told him all I had seen and done in the tower of bones. When I got to the part about changing the Pattern and using it to kill the hell-creatures, he just sat there with his mouth open, fascinated and, perhaps, more than a little awed.

  I felt a surge of pride once more. This time I really had done something to strike against our enemies. If only I knew more about this Pattern and how it worked…

  "You did well," Aber admitted when I finished my story. He had an odd look in his eyes. "This Pattern seems to have a power greater than we realize… perhaps nearing that of the Logrus."

  "And Taine is still alive, though I don't think he's going to last much longer," I said. "He looked terrible. He's really been abused. Do you think we can rescue him? Is there anything you can do to find out the location of this tower?"

  "I hope so. I'll try contacting him with a Trump as soon as I get back to my room. Maybe I'll be able to reach him now that we're home. I don't think he's very far from here."

  "That's what Dad said the last time." Taking a deep breath, I sat up, remembering. "Dad's audience with King Uthor—what happened? Is he back yet?"

  "Not yet."

  I chewed my lip. "It's been too long. Something's wrong."

  "We don't know that. Maybe he's still talking with the king. Or…"

  "Or what?"

  Aber swallowed. "Maybe he's been arrested."

  "If so, wouldn't someone tell us?" I said. "Besides, why should he be arrested? As far as we know, he hasn't done anything."

  "I suppose you're right. But I've never heard of the King's guards searching someone's house… especially not a Lord of Chaos's house. They wouldn't do it without cause."

  "No, they wouldn't." I mulled that over. "There must be a reason. But what?"

  "Something Dad's done—"

  "Or something he's suspected of," I said.

  We looked at each other.

  Neither of us had an answer.

  TEN

  We talked for another hour, trying to work out what Dad might have done to incur the king's wrath, but we made no real progress. It could have been anything… from insulting the wrong woman at a dinner party to swiping King Uthor's wooden leg (assuming he had a wooden leg, which I very much doubted—but we had a good laugh over it).

  Despite all our theories, we both kept coming back to the guards who had searched our house. What had they been looking for? Something small… something easily hidden… something Dad shouldn't have had. What could it be?

  My instincts told me the answer was important. It might well be the key to understanding everything that had happened to our family, from the murders of so many of our brothers and sisters to the attack on Juniper Castle.

  "We might as well sleep on it," I finally told Aber, since we didn't seem to be making any progress. "Maybe the answer will come to us."

  "I guess."

  "And you'll try to reach Taine with his Trump?"

  "Right away. And what about you?" he asked. "Will you be safe now?"

  "I think so." I sighed, eyes distant. "I don't think the serpent-creature will try anything else tonight."

  "I'm sure he won't. He'll deal more cautiously with you from now on. After all, you might surprise him with another magical attack, and next time you might kill him."

  "It wasn't anything deliberate. I was lucky."

  "Luck is all it takes." He gave a shrug. "Sometimes it's better to be lucky than skilled. Something is still troubling me, though."

  I nodded. "Our enemies know too much about us. And I don't like that serpent spying on me in my own bed in my own room in this house. How long has it been doing that? Does it know everything we've been talking about?"

  "I don't like it, either," he admitted. "It doesn't make me feel safe here."

  I stood and began to pace like a caged tiger. "Is there something you can do to protect us? Some charm or spell to keep prying eyes out?"

  "Spells can be set up to shield us. I'm sure Dad could do it, and easily. Freda, too."

  I chewed my lower lip thoughtfully. He hadn't volunteered his own magical talents to protect us. What did that imply? Uncertainty… or weakness?

  "That's no help," I said. "Dad and Freda aren't here, and we need protection immediately. For all we know, that serpent is watching us right now and plotting his next attack."

  "If so…" He made a rude gesture toward the ceiling.

  I couldn't help myself; despite the gravity of the situation, I chuckled. But it still didn't change the situation.

  I asked, "What about you? Can you do anything to protect us?"

  Aber hesitated. "It's not the sort of thing at which I'm skilled."

  "Give it a try," I urged. "It can't hurt."

  He sighed. "All right."

  "Will it take long?"

  "Maybe an hour to prepare everything, set up the spells, and lay them over the house. Maybe a little more if I run into problems."

  "Is there anything I can do to help?" For some reason, I longed to see more real magic… perhaps because I had managed to use some myself. If I could learn to control this Pattern, to master its power the way the serpent in the tower had mastered the Logrus, I might stand a fighting chance against it.

  "No. It's fairly delicate work, and it will require all my concentration."

  "So I'd be in the way," I said, with a twinge of disappointment. "All right. I'll stay here."

  "That's probably for the best." He said it with clear relief, as though I might inadvertently mess up his work. "Better for you that way. It's fairly meticulous Logrus manipulation—setting up magical trip-wires, in case we have magical prowlers. That way we'll be alerted if someone comes snooping."

  "Let me know when you're done. If you run into problems or need my help, don't hesitate to call." I grinned and gave a wry attempt at humor. "I might not be able to use the Logrus, but I have a strong back. Give me a heavy box and I'll carry it for you."

  "No boxes involved, I'm afraid."

  He seemed distracted—probably already laying out the spells in his mind—and when he gave a curt nod and stood, I did not object. Best to get the spells in place before the serpent tried again to kill me—or any of us. I knew it would be back if we didn't act swiftly.

  Aber headed for the door, paused, looked back.

  "Don't forget—have your valet watch you while you sleep," he said, "just in case."

  "All right."

  After the door closed, I turned to the desk and sat heavily, mentally reviewing everything that had happened in the tower of skulls. What else should I have done? What else could I have done?

  I hadn't told Aber this, but the Pattern I'd reshaped had obeyed my commands… as though it understood what I'd told it to do.

  How could that be possible?

  I
t had almost seemed alive. And, when I touched it, it made me feel whole and strong, better than I'd felt in years. I still felt that way, I realized, flexing my fingers and staring down at my hands, remembering the feeling of power that had surged through me. Even the slight stiffness in my left thumb, due to a months-old battle injury, had disappeared.

  Not only that, but the floors and walls no longer seemed to be moving. Everything around me seemed normal… or as normal as it could be, in a world where nothing obeyed the laws of nature I had grown up with.

  Rising, I began to pace the length of my room again. I felt trapped and restless. Clearly, I wasn't ready to go back to sleep.

  Opening the door to the next room, I checked on Horace and found him curled up on a small bed in the corner, still fully dressed. He was already asleep, poor kid. Easing the door shut, I went back to the door to the hallway.

  "Shouldn't you be in bed, Lord Oberon?" said Port, gazing up at me. "The hour is late and you look terrible."

  "I thought you were a door, not a doctor."

  "I am allowed to offer commentary and advice as needed. You ought to rest."

  With a sigh, I said, "Thanks. I don't need advice right now, though."

  "Very good, Lord Oberon." He had a slightly snippy tone. "Henceforth I will keep my advice to myself." His face disappeared, leaving an empty wooden panel in the door.

  "I didn't mean to offend you," I said. But he didn't reappear. Well, screw him and his opinion—I didn't need to get into arguments with inanimate objects.

  I had thirty minutes to kill while Aber set up his magical tripwires. I didn't want to fall asleep and miss the results, so I dressed, pulled on my boots, and went out into the hallway. Might as well explore some more, I thought.

  I prowled the length of the hall. Each door had a different face carved into its middle, all with eyes closed, seemingly asleep. I did not knock on any of the doors. Port had been loud and talkative. I didn't want to mess up Aber's work by distracting him.

  The hallway dead-ended. To the left, in a small dark alcove, a narrow servant's stairs wound up and down. It had to be the same one I'd explored earlier with Rèalla.

  I headed down. What I really needed now was a drink—and something stronger than wine. With a house this big, at least one of the rooms ought to have an ample supply of liquor.

  Two floors down, I went to the end of the corridor, turned right, then right again, then a third and a fourth time. My mind told me I had come full circle and back to my starting point, but I found myself in a cavernous hall at the foot of a broad set of marble stairs.

  Two guards, both of whom I recognized as men we'd brought from Juniper, snapped to attention as soon as they spotted me. They stood by a pair of huge iron-shod doors at the far end of the hall. Not much chance of an attack coming from that direction, but it never hurt to be prepared. While I didn't know either one of them by name, I gave a quick wave. They grinned and saluted. My presence definitely seemed to raise their spirits—the hero of Juniper, the only son of Lord Dworkin who had been able to defeat the hell-creatures and drive them back. Yes, I would definitely be a rallying point for our troops.

  "Any idea where they keep the drinks around here?" I asked as I approached them.

  "Do you mean the wine cellar, sir?" one of them asked.

  "I was hoping for something stronger."

  "Try this." He pulled out a small metal flask and offered it to me.

  I unstoppered it, and the smells of a strong sour mash rose. I took a tentative sip.

  Whatever it was, it burned going down. I gasped, eyes watering. I'd only tasted rotgut this bad a couple of times. If it didn't cause blindness and insanity, it sure felt like it ought to.

  "Do you like it, sir?" the guard asked, grinning. I noticed his two upper front teeth were missing.

  "Awful! Simply awful!" I grinned back, then took a bigger swallow. It went down a bit easier this time. "Quite a kick. What's in it?"

  "You don't want to know."

  "Thanks. Here you go." I held out the flask.

  "Keep it, sir. I'll have plenty more in a few days."

  I raised my eyebrows. "You make it yourself?"

  "Yes, sir! Two weeks old, and that's as good as it gets!"

  I laughed. "Thanks, I will keep it." I gave an approving nod. "I'll return the flask when it's gone."

  "Much appreciated, sir."

  After that, I wandered off down the hall, opening doors and taking small sips. I discovered a salon with comfortable looking couches and chairs, a library filled with racks of scrolls and shelves of books, a map room, and several closets. A couple of narrow corridors seemed designed for servants. No one except those two guards seemed up and about at this hour.

  Aber had to be nearly done with his magic by now, I figured, so I climbed the marble steps back up to the third floor, found my bedroom door, and Port let me in without my having to ask. My valet was nowhere in sight—still sound asleep, I assumed—so I sat down at the desk to wait for Aber. Idly I opened both drawers, but except for quills and a small blade for sharpening them, they were empty.

  After a few minutes had passed, Port's voice interrupted:

  "Sir. Lord Aber is here."

  "Thanks." I rose and went out to the hall to join him.

  "It's done," he said. He looked exhausted; the spells seemed to have taken a lot out of him. "I don't think anyone will be able to spy on us now without setting off alarm bells."

  "Good. And Taine?"

  "I tried, but…" He shrugged. "No answer."

  "He might still be unconscious," I said. "He wasn't in good shape." He might also be dead… those injuries were enough to kill any lesser man.

  "I'll try again tomorrow morning."

  I nodded. "Good."

  "We both might as well turn in," he said. "We've had enough excitement for one night. The guards are supposed to call me if Dad comes back. Do you want me to wake you if he does?"

  "Yes."

  "All right. And," he went on, "don't forget to have Horace watch over you while you sleep, just in case."

  "All right. I'll wake him," I promised.

  He bade me good night and returned to his room. I went back into mine, found Horace sleeping in his little room off mine, and shook him awake. Then I told him he needed to watch me again while I slept. To his credit, the boy didn't protest, but immediately went out and took his seat on the stool.

  I stripped and climbed into bed, and the second my head touched the pillow, I slept.

  This time I dreamed strangely. There was a chanting voice saying something in a language I almost but not quite understood. Shadows moved around me. Someone—a dim figure, but I had the impression of unblinking round eyes—sat on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe.

  "Hell-creature!" I heard myself snarl, and I reached instinctively for a sword that wasn't there.

  "Shh, my lord," a familiar woman's voice said.

  "Helda?" I asked.

  "Sleep, Lord Oberon," the voice said.

  I groaned. My head hurt. The pressure on my chest grew. I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or awake. Could this be another vision? Some premonition of danger to come?

  A face loomed out of the twisting shadows. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus my eyes. Black hair, pale skin, perfect white teeth, a grave expression—

  "Rèalla?" I whispered.

  "Lie back," she said. Soft hands pushed me down onto the bed. "You are still sick," she said, and she began to rub my chest. Her hands were warm as blood. I felt myself relaxing, sliding back toward sleep.

  "It's this place…" I whispered.

  "Yes," she said, "it is." Then she pressed a small goblet to my lips and poured. "Drink this, my lord. It will make you feel better."

  It was warm brandy, and it had been spiced with something like cinnamon. The taste did not excite me, but liquor was liquor so I gulped anyway. What the hell. If I had to dream, I might as well enjoy it.

  The brandy had a bitter aftertaste. She
had added something else to it. An herb? Some medicine? I didn't know, but almost immediately I felt its effects. My vision clouded, and I felt myself sinking down, down, down, borne away on a river of darkness.

  I slept the sleep of the dead.

  The next time I awakened, I felt… different. Weak and lightheaded. That was the first thing. And the second… complete disorientation.

  I lay on my side, staring at the wall and the desk. All the confidence and strength I had felt the night before had fled, and now the world drifted around me. The bed seemed to be rocking like the deck of a ship at sea. The walls slowly oozed colors, and the faint light from the lamp on the desk, its wick turned low, dribbled up to pool on the ceiling.

  I blinked and tried to sit up, but I couldn't do it. With a sigh, I fell back on the pillow. A gentle touch steadied my arm, then moved to caress my cheek.

  "Horace?" I asked, voice rough from sleep. What would he be doing in my bed?

  "Do I look like a boy?" asked a woman's soft voice from beside me.

  ELEVEN

  I sat up suddenly, then gulped as the room pitched unexpectedly to one side. My head swam. Moving only my eyes, I followed a pale hand to a slender arm, white as alabaster, which led to a shapely elbow, then to the soft curve of a shoulder, then to a delicate neck, and finally to a face so beautiful it still took my breath away.

  I knew her. The woman who, only yesterday, had shown me the way to Dworkin's floor…

  It took a moment for the fuzziness of my thoughts to clear. I never forgot a beautiful woman's name, and hers finally came to me.

  "Rèalla?" I said.

  "Yes, Lord Oberon." She smiled and stroked the line of my jaw with her fingertips. Her scent, strange and spicy, made my heart begin to race.

  She lay next to me under the covers. Her gold eyes met and held mine for a heartbeat, then coyly turned downward. I noticed her slightly parted lips, behind which lay perfect pearls of teeth, her delicate nose, slightly upturned, and high pale cheekbones, which accentuated the lines of her face. I had seen few women who equaled her beauty.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked softly, dumbfounded. A beautiful woman was the last thing I would have expected to find next to me when I awoke.