To Rule in Amber (12 page)

Suddenly the room tilted to the left. I staggered into the table and caught myself against it.

Everything swam drunkenly, and gravity flip-flopped several times.

Blaise gripped my shoulder. Gulping frantically, I looked into her face.

I couldn't make out the words, but I read her lips: "Are you all right?"

"Dizzy…" I muttered.

Something in my ears made a little popping sound, and the next time she spoke, I actually heard words:

"Want me to slap you?"

"Hah!" I said. Maybe my "Chaos legs," as Aber had called them, were returning. "Just try it."

"If you think it will help…"

I released the table. "Only if I get to break your arm!"

"He's all right," she said to Dad.

"Are you sure?" Dad asked, hesitating. "He looks sick."

"I'm fine," I growled. I had no intention of sitting out Freda's rescue.

"Don't worry," Blaise said, patting my cheek. "If you can't keep up, I'll carry you." She glanced at our father. "Can you locate Freda? I sense her presence, but not clearly. Is she close?"

"Yes," Dad said. "This way, I think." Pushing open the door, he hurried out into a hallway.

Blaise motioned me forward, so I went next. She brought up the rear.

Dimly glowing balls of light hovered overhead at regular internals. Light puddled on the ceiling above them, casting a dim yellow glow across the stone floors and wood-paneled walls.

Dad headed right, and I followed two paces behind. He seemed to have a clear idea where he was going. We passed doors with faces, each exactly the same as the last. They had all been carved from slabs of ebon-colored wood, with an identical face in each one's exact center: horned forehead, deep-set eyes, broad nose and cheekbones, cleft chin. Each face had its eyes closed, as though sleeping.

If these doors acted anything like the ones in Dad's house in the Beyond, they might wake up at any moment, spot us, and raise an alarm. I made certain not to touch any of them.

I was about to suggest we return to Thellops's workshop and search for keys to the doors when the floor began trying to slide out from under my feet. Stumbling, I had to lean against the wall every few paces to keep my balance.

Blaise caught up and grabbed my arm to steady me. "Do you need to go back?" she asked in a hushed voice, her tone no longer kidding.

"I'll make it," I said.

She hesitated. "If it comes to fighting," she said, "stay behind me. I'll protect you as much as I can."

"Thanks, but I fight my own battles!"

"A lot of good it does us if you end up dead!"

I shook my head stubbornly. "Then we'll just have to be careful. I'm not hiding behind you, Blaise. Don't ask me to."

She frowned, but didn't press the point. Which was fine with me, since I had no intention of giving in. Besides, I had a feeling I'd be back to normal soon… my Chaos-legs were definitely returning.

Dad navigated a twisting course through hallway after hallway. The passages seemed to curve back on themselves like serpents devouring their own tails. Hadn't we come in a full circle? Were we back where we had started? I couldn't tell. Still we passed door after identical door - the count must have run into the dozens by now. Several times I had the impression of descending on a slight incline, though the floor always appeared level. More tricks of Chaos…

Dad stopped in front of a door like so many others we had passed. It had no markings or numbers to identify it.

"Prepare yourselves," he said. "This is the one."

"I'm ready." Swallowing hard, I tightened my grip on my sword. Nothing to do now but storm in, letting heads fall where they may.

"Wait, Dad," Blaise said. "Are you sure?"

"I know Freda's voice," he said, eyes distant. "She is calling from inside. I am certain of it."

"I don't hear anything," I said.

Dad made a dismissive gesture. "You are deaf to the Logrus,
my
boy. Her spirit is crying out in agony. You are not attuned to it, so you cannot hear it. Blaise and I can."

I glanced at Blaise, who nodded. "Yes. I hear her, too." Then, to our father, she added: "I know Freda is in pain. I feel it. But I'm not certain she's inside this room."

"I am."

"If you make a mistake…"

He nodded. "I know. But the only way to find out - is so!"

Before Blaise or I could stop him, Dad rapped sharply on the carved wooden face on the door, right in the center of its forehead.

The face twitched. Its eyelids flew open, and it glared at us with blood-red eyes.

"How dare you touch me!" it snarled.

I gulped. If this guardian was anything like the doors in Dad's home in the Beyond, it would take the magical equivalent of a battering ram to get through now that Dad had pissed it off.

"I am your master," Dad said.

It blinked. "You are not Lord Thellops!"

"No," Dad agreed.

"Who are you," it said in haughty tones, "and what do you want? Speak fast, or I shall summon guards and have you executed for this outrage!"

Dad said, "You know who I am."

"You…" The face stared blankly at him. "Are you the one? The maker?"

"Your name!" Dad commanded. "Obey me!"

"I am Oberon," said the face.

I gaped. "Did you say
Oberon
?" Maybe I hadn't heard correctly. Chaos might still be playing tricks on my senses.

"Yes," said the door, looking at me, "I did say Oberon. What of it?"

"Uh… I wasn't sure I heard you correctly." I shot a puzzled glance at Dad. "That's my name, too.

Funny coincidence."

"You are Oberon?" Dad said to the door, ignoring me. "Yes, I thought so. Do you remember
me

?"

"I think… I think I know you," it said, staring at his face.

I stared at Dad unbelievingly. How was he doing it? Hypnotism?

Calmly, Dad nodded. "I am Lord Dworkin. I made you for Thellops many years ago. I carved you with these two hands. I painted the light into your eyes and into your heart. Do you remember me now?"

"Yes… Lord…
Dworkin
… yes. You are the one. I will obey… master."

Ah, so Dad had made Thellops's doors! Sometimes it paid to be an inventor. His confidence about getting through to Freda suddenly made sense.

Now, though, I had a question or two of my own. Had he named me after a door, or named the door after me? After we rescued Freda, I intended to find out.

Dad smiled kindly, like a proud father at his son. "I have returned, as promised. Now open for me."

The face blinked several times. "None may enter, by Lord Thellops's command."

"
I
may enter," Dad said firmly. "I made you. Your first instructions came from me. Recall them."

"You… you may pass through me at any time, day or night, without question. I must obey you in all things."

Dad leaned forward. "What else?"

"Now and forever… you are my one true master."

"Good. Now, let us pass."

"Yes… master."

The lock clicked several times. The door swung open.

Dad drew himself up, sword ready. I looked at him with new respect. He must have made these doors for Thellops many years ago… and made sure they would always open for him. The crafty devil.

Had he planned a career as a burglar?

"Faster!" Dad commanded. "Be quick and be silent!"

The door swung completely open, revealing darkness. From inside came a strange snuffling, snorting sound, almost like a pig rooting for food in its trough. A monster? A guard of some kind? I raised my sword, prepared to defend myself, but nothing charged from the darkness. What was it waiting for?

Without hesitation, Dad strode forward. He disappeared into the room.

The snuffling noise grew louder.

"Come on!" I said to Blaise. Then I charged after him.

I found myself in warm, humid darkness, unable to see anything. From somewhere ahead, I heard a faint tap-heart pounded. My every nerve jangled in alarm. I did not like feeling blind and helpless.

"Dad!" I called. "Can you see anything?"

"Light!" Dad commanded.

Brilliant white flared all around us. We were not in a room any more - and yet neither were we outside. A strange foglike grayness surrounded us. I could see Dad and Blaise, but nothing else. It reminded me of the fog through which I had fallen after Dad created the new Pattern. Could they be related, somehow?

The snuffling grew louder, but I saw nothing that could have made such a sound. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw the door we had just entered. It made a hole in the grayness. Slowly, as I watched, it began to shut.

I leaped to hold it open - how else could we get out once we rescued Freda? - but didn't reach it in time. As the latch clicked, the inside of the door faded, leaving nothing but grayness where it had been.

Great. Now we were trapped in here.

Or were we?

Closing my eyes, I felt for the door. I already knew I couldn't trust my senses in the Courts of Chaos. Perhaps this gray fog was nothing but an illusion designed to befuddle our eyes.

My fingers encountered nothing but air. I walked right through the place the door had been. We
were
trapped here.

"Oberon!" Dad said.

"Me or the door?" I asked.

"Pay attention, my boy." His voice echoed oddly. "Stop fooling around and get over here."

I turned back to him. He walked swiftly to the right, with Blaise at his side. I jogged to catch up.

The snuffling grew louder.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Inside."

"Inside what?"

"Freda."

I stopped short. "
What
?"

"He is using her. I can feel it clearly now. He is searching the Shadows for us."

"How?" I demanded. "Like Lord Zon did?"

Zon had drawn my brothers' blood from their bodies with magic, then used their blood to scry on the rest of us. One by one he had murdered my brothers and sisters.

"Zon is an amateur compared to Thellops."

Still we walked for what seemed miles, though in the grayness I had no way of telling. Finally Dad halted. Slowly he inched to the left. Then he inched back to the right. Then he took a few steps forward, stopped, and went back.

Listening to the snuffling sounds, I tried to figure out what he was doing. Suddenly I realized we had reached a central place in the grayness, where the snuffling noises could be heard the loudest. Every time we moved away from this spot, the cries lessened.

Nodding to himself, Dad turned to me. "Give me a Trump. Quickly!"

"Whose? Freda's?"

"Yes."

I pulled my Trumps out, found my sister's, and handed it to him. Holding it up, he gazed at it, concentrating.

Suddenly the card turned black. I had never seen anything like that before. As I leaned closer to see, it burst into flames. I had to leap back, slapping at my singed beard and eyebrows.

Dad dropped the Trump with a yelp. By the time it reached the ground - if ground existed beneath the grayness - nothing but ashes remained.

"Damn him!" Dad said, nursing blistered fingers. "I should have known!"

"So… you can't contact her from here?"

"No. The Logrus is preventing it."

"Give me your charcoal," I said suddenly. An idea had occurred to me - why not use the Pattern?

No one in Chaos had a defense against it yet, so maybe a Pattern-based Trump would work here.

Dad fumbled out his pouch and passed it to me, leaving bloodstains all over it. I fished out his piece of charcoal. Then I summoned a mental image of the Pattern. It seemed to hang in the air before me - brighter than ever, lit with a bright blue glow.

Unfortunately, I had nothing to draw on. Frantically I looked around. What could I use?

"Blaise -" My gaze settled on her. "Would you mind showing your back? I need your skin for a minute."

"You're not thinking of using
me
as your chalkboard -" she began, clearly horrified by the idea.

"Charcoalboard, actually. Unless you have a better idea?"

"Will this work?" she asked Dad.

"I cannot be sure," he admitted. "In theory, it should. But if Thellops has a counter to the Pattern, you might burst into flames like her Trump just did."

"It better work." She sighed, turned around, and pulled up her blouse in the back, revealing smooth white skin. "Do it quickly. And if you kill me, I'll never forgive you, Oberon."

I kept the Pattern in my mind, visualizing it as I sketched a large rectangle, then a line drawing of Freda. I was no artist - far worse than Dad - but it came out reasonably well. I recognized Freda's face, from her hair and upturned chin to the slight dimples in her cheeks.

The power of my Trump hit me in a wave.
It glowed
. I could see lines of blue energy radiating from it.

"It's burning!" Blaise whispered.

I gulped in panic. But she neither turned black nor burst into flames.

"Get Freda," Dad told me urgently. "Hurry -"

I leaned forward, concentrating on the picture I had drawn. Slowly it came to life, becoming a window through Blaise's back. There, surrounded by more gray, I saw Freda huddled with her head in her hands, sobbing softly. Her cries matching the snuffling noises we still heard echoing around us.

"Freda!" I called. Was she injured? Could she hear me? "Freda! Over here!"

I reached farther into Blaise's back and chest. My wrist and elbow went through. Blaise moaned.

I reached up to my bicep, them to my shoulder. Distantly, I noted Dad gripping my sister's arms, holding her upright and steady.

"Freda!"

Finally she looked up. "Oberon? Is that you?"

"Take my hand. Quickly!"

She reached for me. As our fingers touched, a spark leaped between us. Blaise gave another plaintive cry and started to sag. Despite the burning in my fingertips, I seized Freda's wrist and pulled hard.

She came out through Blaise's back smoothly, straight into my arms. I went over backward with her elbows and knees digging into my soft parts. But I didn't care - we had done it! She was free!

Then lights flared around us. I pressed my eyes shut. Another trap? Or -