The Chronicles of Amber

seated anger and hurt and resentment over being abandoned began to melt away. I trusted him, I realized, in some deep way I couldn’t fully understand.

And he had claimed he could help end the war. That alone was worth giving him the benefit of the doubt.

A little stiffly, I nodded and started after him. All right, I told myself, you seem to know what you’re doing, Uncle. I’ll trust you for now.

I didn’t think I had much choice. We could sort out our differences when we were safe. And if he could help save Ilerium from the hell-creatures as he claimed, so much the better. That crystal gave me some idea he hadn’t been making idle promises.

Chapter 3

The pumpkin-shaped carriage looked even more ridiculous now, in the greenish glow of Helda’s still-burning house, at the end of a street littered with dead hell-creatures and half a dozen dead horses. As we neared, a little door in its side slowly swung open and delicate steps glittering like spun crystal folded out. A small oil lamp hung from the ceiling inside, and by its pale illumination, I looked upon white velvet seats and cushions, a small ivory- inlaid table, and a passenger—the woman I had glimpsed earlier.

Without hesitation I unbuckled my swordbelt and slid into the seat across from her, balancing my weapon across my knees. My fellow passenger was strikingly beautiful, I found, with long dark hair and a wide, almost familiar face. Thin nose, full lips, strong chin—

Dworkin, I realized. She looks more than a little like him. Could she be his daughter?

She was dressed in a gold-and-red silk dress, with a round red hat perched atop her head. Heavy gold rings set with large diamonds and larger rubies, if I was any judge, covered her slender fingers. If she had witnessed the battle outside, she showed no sign of concern. She might have been out for a picnic in the country as far as I could tell.

“Hello,” I said.

“Not now, Oberon,” she said.

Ignoring me, she picked up what looked like a deck of Tarot cards and nimbly shuffled them, then began turning them over one by one on the table between us. Leaning forward, she studied intently the pattern made by the first nine.

“Anything?” Dworkin asked from outside the carriage door. I glanced over at him expectantly.

Freda said, “We had best hurry. Time is running out here.”

“Time already ran out,” he told her. Then he shut the door, and from the way the carriage shook and swayed, I knew he was climbing onto its roof. Probably to steer, I thought, thinking of the bench up there, though the carriage hadn’t needed any such guidance before.

“I guess it’s just to be the two of us,” I said. I gave her a smile, but she didn’t look up.

With a slight lurch, the carriage began to move forward. It took me a moment to realize the wheels weren’t clattering over the cobblestones. From the smoothness of the ride, we might have been gliding a foot above them. It had been a night of sufficient wonders that I didn’t even question it.

Instead, my attention focused on the woman opposite me—Freda, as Dworkin had called her—who seemed intent on ignoring my presence. With deft hands she gathered her cards, shuffled them again, and began methodically turning them over once more, this time forming a circle on the table. She didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in me, Kingstown, or the hell-creatures we had just slain.

“I’m Obere,” I told her, “not Oberon.” Maybe we simply needed an introduction to get off on the right foot.

“Oberon is your proper name,” she said, still without looking up. “Things must be done properly. I am Freda.”

“I know,” I said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Yes, you are, dear boy.”

“You see that in the cards?”

“No, in you, brother Oberon.” She smiled enigmatically, eyes glistening behind long black lashes.

I could play that coy game, too.

Almost teasing, I said, “What man wouldn’t be?”

“Indeed,” she said solemnly.

“Why are you here?”

“Father does not like to travel alone, and I thought I might be able to help, in my own small way.”

“I don’t think he needs help from anyone.”

“He does from me.”

Chuckling to myself, I leaned back. Clearly she thought a little too highly of herself. Dworkin’s daughter? Of that there could be no doubt. Apparently hubris was a family trait. I found it more annoying than endearing, however.

I glanced out the little window to my left. To my surprise, what appeared to be daylight glimmered through the lace curtain. Had dawn already broken? How long had we been riding in the carriage? It should have been at least three or four more hours till first light, by my reckoning.

I swept back the curtain and sure enough, the sun greeted me. Low in the sky, it cast a reddish-gold glow across acres of neatly plowed fields. It shouldn’t have been there yet, my every sense told me. Had I fallen asleep and not realized it?

No, I thought, shaking my head, that didn’t seem possible. I had been awake the whole time. We had just set off from Kingstown a few moments ago… hadn’t we?

I rubbed my eyes and, when I took my hand away, suddenly it was night again. I couldn’t see anything outside the carriage for the blackness. Even the stars and moon were absent, hidden behind clouds.

I let the curtains drop. Just my mind playing tricks on me, I realized. I had been awake too long. Of course it wasn’t daytime yet. We couldn’t be more than a mile or two from Kingstown.

Leaning back, I noticed a faint light outside through the curtain. Dawn? Again? Impossible!

Pushing back the lace curtains a second time, I stuck my head close to the window’s glass,

No, not dawn… the clouds had parted, and the moon shone down, full and bright, set against a glittering diamond field of stars. By their glow, we sped down a coastal highway, rolling faster than the fastest horse could gallop.

Faintly, I could see gentle dunes spotted with clumps of marsh grass. Beyond the dunes lay a pale ribbon of beach where small waves lapped.

Only… we should not have been here. The carriage had taken the south road out of Kingstown, which led to twenty miles of verdant farmlands and then fifty miles of ancient, overgrown forests. This horseless carriage moved quickly, but the nearest beach lay at least four days’ hard ride from Kingstown. Over the years, I had surveyed the entire length of Ilerium’s coast—and in all that time, I had never seen this beach before. I felt certain of it. So where were we? How had we gotten here?

Magic, I thought uneasily. It seemed the only explanation.

I unlatched the window and pushed it open, breathing deeply of the smells of salt and brine. Far off, an owl screeched. The waves shushed against the sand.

It was real, not some dream or vision. We really were on the coast now… a strange coast not anywhere I knew in Ilerium.

The sky began to grow lighter. The highway turned inland, now cutting through dense sun-bleached grasses whose pale heads rose higher than our carriage. Luminous clouds roiled in the sky, and lightning began to strike all around us. I saw flames shooting through the grass and realized they were dry enough to quickly catch fire. Unless the clouds let loose torrents of rain, and fast, those fires would soon be burning out of control. I knew how fast fires