To Rule in Amber (16 page)

"Whoa!" Aber said. "We haven't even had lunch yet!"

"Can Amber really be built so quickly?" Freda asked.

"Yes. We'll do it the old-fashioned way… with greed." I grinned. "And, for anyone who doesn't want gold, there's plenty of land available. We need farms and wineries. For anyone really valuable to us, we can hand out minor titles -"

"You would set up a peerage among the Shadow-people?" Blaise asked, looking aghast.

"Why not?" I grinned at her. "I've lived in Shadows my whole life. There were more people of honor and integrity in Ilerium than I found in all of Chaos."

"But none of them can control Shadow or Chaos," Conner said. "They have no real power."

"Oh, a few generations of interbreeding with the likes of us, and I think they'll share our powers, too. I certainly intend to take a wife. Every king needs his queen."

"Then you
will
be king?" Aber asked, sounding hopeful. "Not Dad?"

"Oberon must be King," Freda said. "The Pattern has chosen him."

"Great!" Aber grinned. "It was my idea, you know. As a reward, I expect a few extra titles, at the very least."

"As the king's brother, you will be a prince," Freda said. "That is sufficient."

"How about Arch-Duke of Aberton?" I asked. "And - uh - Lord of All the Marshlands?"

"Much better!" He laughed. "Do we have marshlands?"

Freda frowned. "You are both being frivolous."

"We also have to figure out where Aberton is," I said, ignoring her.

Aber turned and looked to the south. "Isn't it over there? I want to see it from my rooms in the castle."

"Could be." I shaded my eyes. "I bet it's just beyond that forest."

"Insane, both of you!" Freda threw up her hands and stomped off.

Aber and I both broke up laughing.

"No, no, no!" I shouted. I pounded my fist on the table inside the tent, where dozens of sketches and blueprints lay in disarray. "I don't care whether the mules are sick, only half the workmen are here, or it's raining flaming toads! Work begins today!"

The two construction supervisors cringed before my wrath. "Yes, King Oberon!" one of them squeaked. They bowed their way out of my tent.

Three weeks had passed since our picnic atop Mount Amber, as we now called the mountain where the castle was to be built. Nothing but delays, delays, and more delays had plagued the beginning of construction. Like a rusted wheel, the machine of our builders needed to be unstuck to turn… my anger provided the solvent.

I rose and paced. Aber, with his feet up on the table, just chuckled.

"It's not funny!" I roared. I'd had it with the lot of them.

"Did I say it was?" Aber asked. "The sooner I have a real roof over my head, the happier I'll be.

I hate rain, I hate sun, and I hate living in a tent. If you didn't need my help with the blueprints, I'd be back in Selonika right now, living the good life." He sighed.

"Oh, go ahead back," I said. I waved him away. "There's not much more to do today, anyway.

Tomorrow, after you've slept off your hangover, come on back and we'll see what more needs to be done."

"You don't have to tell me twice!" He leaped up and ran out through the tent's open flaps.

Sighing, I sprawled back in my chair and began looking through the architect's sketches again.

Something about the west wing bothered me, but I just couldn't figure out
what
, exactly.

"Oberon?" I heard Freda say as she swept in. "I wish a word with you."

"Of course. Join me." I indicated the seat Aber had just vacated. "Wine?"

"Thank you."

I poured a cup of red wine for her.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"The problem," she said, "is a lack of supervision. Conner and you make sure work gets done well and quickly, but you cannot be everywhere at once. As soon as you leave, the workmen grow slack. I have seen it time and again at the sawmill, the quarry, or here as they dig the foundation… these men move at their own pace."

"I know." I let out a long sign. "Everything is behind schedule. And yet… we have all the available men working in shifts night and day. What more can we do?"

"We need more help," she said.

"All right. Hire more workers. As many as it takes, from Selokina or any other Shadow."

"No… I mean more help from our family."

That puzzled me. "I know Aber doesn't work as hard as he might, but -"

"No, you do not understand. I am not asking
Aber
to do more. He has done a wonderful job so far. I need more family members. I want to invite several of my aunts and uncles to join us. And I want permission to search for the rest of our missing brothers and sisters."

"Will your relatives come?" I asked. "They must know how difficult life here will be, at least in the beginning. We can only offer tents… and a lot of hard work."

"It is still preferable to their present lives in the Courts."

I paused. "You already spoke to them about it, didn't you?"

She raised her head. "Yes. They are being persecuted by Lord Uthor for daring to help me. He has made it…
unpleasant
for them. They seek asylum. I know they will work hard -"

"Enough!" I raised my hands and smiled. "Of course they may come. If you vouch for them, I will gladly offer whatever protection I can."

"Thank you, Oberon!" She beamed. "I knew we could depend on you!"

"How could I not help them? Any who seek freedom from Uthor's tyranny should be welcome in Amber." I cleared my throat. "You also said something about finding missing family members?"

"Yes. We have had no news of so many of them… and I miss Pella. I cannot believe Uthor killed or captured them all. If Blaise and Aber were smart enough to remain free… why not a few more?"

"I suppose it's possible," I said slowly. I saw what she meant. We had plenty of other brothers and sisters who were just as clever and resourceful. Maybe more so.

"And…" she hesitated.

"What is it?"

"The last time we were in Selonika, I went through all my Trumps. I tried every one of them, for the living and the dead."

"Yes?"

She leaned forward urgently. "I thought I sensed something from Isadora, Fenn, and Davin. A flicker of contact, quickly blocked."

"Davin!" I exclaimed. He had fallen, along with our brother Locke, while defending Juniper against attacking hell-creatures. "Impossible! He'd dead!"

"I am not sure. Remember, we never did see his body."

"True." Taking a deep breath, I looked away. Davin had earned my grudging respect on the battlefield. If he had been captured instead of killed…

"All right, I'll grant you that much. Davin may be alive. What of Isadora? And Fenn?"

"I want Father to make a complete set of Trumps for me - one card for every one of his children, living and dead."

"Dead?" I asked. "Why?"

"There are… certain ways to raise the dead in Chaos," she said grimly. "Uthor may have done it with Davin. We cannot be certain. It would take a fresh body to fully restore him. Later, he could be brought back as a zombi… an animated corpse which can do simple tasks for its master."

I did not like the sound of that. Rising, I paced. She had given me a lot to think about.

Three more of us possibly alive… having Fenn and Davin here would make an enormous difference in the coming battle. But first we had to get them back. Finding them had to be a top priority.

"A complete set of Trumps sounds like a reasonable request. Go ahead and ask Dad."

"I did, but he refused."

"What! Why?"

"He did not believe I sensed them. He said he did not have time to indulge my whims. Whims!"

"He has not been quite right since he made the new Pattern," I said, remembering some of his outbursts.

"But this is important - so important, it must not be delayed."

"I agree. I'll speak to him tomorrow morning." I patted her hand, and she smiled in relief. "In the meantime, Aber just went back to Selonica. Why don't you go, too, and try your old Trumps again?

Perhaps this time…"

"Very well." Freda said. She rose. "Come with me?"

I hesitated. The day was not yet half over. Plenty of work remained here.

"Please?" she said. "I want you with me when I try Davin, Fenn, and Isadora. If you sense them, too, Father cannot deny it."

"All right. I'll go - but I can't stay long."

She nodded, then pulled out her deck of Trumps. The one Dad had made, which showed her

room at the inn, sat on top. She concentrated on it and took us through when it came to life.

She must have been planning to bring me back with her. A table with two chairs sat to one side as if waiting for us. She sat and motioned me opposite her.

Then she handed me her deck of Trumps, face down. Without being asked, I shuffled them and handed them back. I had seen her read the future through them before. Was that what she had in mind?

She set the deck down, then turned over the first card. It showed our brother Locke, who had died a hero's death defending Juniper. For a second Freda traced the smooth bonelike surface of the Trump lightly with her fingertips, but then she moved it to the bottom of the deck.

"Why don't you try him?" I said.

"But he is dead. We cremated his body."

"Humor me. I have been lied to so many times lately, I'm having a hard time believing anyone or anything. For all I know, he was replaced by a double in Juniper. Right now, he might be locked in a tower somewhere waiting to be rescued."

She pulled Locke's Trump out again. Raising it, she concentrated for a minute on his image, then shrugged.

"Nothing."

She set it face-down on the table beside her, and moved on to the next card, which showed a beautiful long-legged woman with reddish-blond hair - Syara. I had barely exchanged two words with her in Juniper.

"Nothing," she repeated.

Then she drew the next card. Fenn.

She raised it, hesitated. "There… almost!"

I hurried around to stand behind her, leaning forward to see. As we both concentrated, I felt a faint conscious stirring from the card. Was it him? I could not be certain.

Finally, we had to give up. We had not been able to exchange any words with him, but
something
conscious was connected to his card.

"See?" Freda cried. "I was not mistaken! You felt it, too."

I agreed. "Why couldn't we reach him, though?"

"It could be anything," she said. "Distance. The Logrus. He may be unconscious or consciously blocking contact. Father must make me that new set of Trumps based on the Pattern!"

"I will tell him as soon as I see him. Now, what about the others?"

She picked up the next card.
Pella
. Her full sister.

"Nothing…" she said.

We finished her deck with no more successes.

Even though we hadn't managed to contact Fenn, I returned to Amber buoyed with optimism.

Suddenly I had hope of seeing more of my brothers and sisters again.

I set to work with a new enthusiasm and spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the castle's foundations with the architect, one Yalsef Igar, a frail-looking old man whom Prince Marib had recommended highly. Indeed, I had found his plans to be a nearly flawless interpretation of my vision of the castle.

My earlier threats and screaming had done wonders in motivating the construction supervisors…

they now had their team of a hundred and fifty men hard at work shoveling dirt into barrows, rolling boulders down the mountainside, and cutting away trees, bushes, and underbrush. After stripping off the tree branches, mule-teams hauled the logs toward the new sawmill, half a mile away on the river.

"Bring in more men," I said to Igar. "You have a year to finish. Cut the time in half and I'll triple your pay."

"
Triple
?" he gasped.

"In gold."

"I will do my best, Your Majesty!"

I nodded. "Good."

After ten minutes of watching the men at work, I returned to my tent. A new set of floor plans lay open on the table for my inspection. I had just begun reviewing them when I felt a sense of contact.

I looked up, opening my mind, and found Dad waiting impatiently.

"Here." He threw a Trump at me, and I caught it instinctively. "Hurry!"

"Dad -" I began.

"Join me later."

He broke contact before I could say another word. Typical. He never let anyone get a word in if it didn't suit his purposes.

He had tossed a newly drawn Trump to me - and it showed the Pattern, glowing blue against the rock, with trees and bushes in the background. The paint still felt a bit sticky under my fingers. It hadn't quite dried yet.

A coldness swept through me. He'd said to hurry. Had Uthor reached the Pattern, somehow?

I tore my sword from its scabbard, then concentrated on the Trump's picture. The scene came to life quickly. I leaped forward.

On the edge of the Pattern, I paused. A stillness hung over everything; colors seemed more vibrant and every edge and line as sharp as a knife, from the leaves on the trees to each blade of grass.

I was not alone here. A tall, gaunt-faced stranger with skin the color of sun-bleached bones stood on the far side of the Pattern, studying it intently. If he noticed me, he made no sign of it.

He wore all black, from his broad, flat cap to his shirt and pants to his knee-high boots. As far as I could tell, he carried no weapons.

As he slowly circled the Pattern, his gait struck me as odd, and I suddenly realized he had an extra joint in his arms and his legs. It bent backward, giving him a curious hop at the end of each step.

Clearly he wasn't human. But neither was he anything like the King Uthor's hell-creatures, or any of the other creatures of Chaos I had seen.

"Hey!" I shouted. I took a step in his direction. "Hey there!"

He glanced across at me and nodded politely, as though he were an honored guest and I his host.

Then he resumed his careful examination of the Pattern.

Since he didn't seem to be doing anything overtly threatening, I lowered my sword. Why had my father sent me here? To chase him off… or to help him in some way?