The Chronicles of Amber

Davin smiled. “That’s right. We’ve been preparing them for a year now.”

I frowned. “The logistics of keeping such a force—the food supply alone, not to mention the costs! How is it possible? Juniper looks well off, but surely it can’t support a standing army of such size for long!”

“All we need is taken from Shadow,” Davin said with a grand wave of his arm. “We’re worshipped as gods on countless thousands of worlds. People are happy to tithe us all we need—food, weapons, gold, jewels. Everything.”

“But why so many? Do we really need two hundred thousand men? Or half a million? How many hell-creatures do you expect will attack?”

Freda said, “If we command this many, so too may other Lords of Chaos. They have had longer to prepare… they might well command more. Perhaps millions more.”

I found the numbers incredible. That my family could sustain a force of two hundred thousand, let alone train and manage it, spoke greatly of their general competence in such matters.

Dworkin said, “An attack is coming, and soon. Freda has seen it.”

“In her cards?”

I glanced at her, and she gave a little nod.

“Soon,” she said.

“Oberon has given me some good news, though,” Dworkin said happily. “Taine is alive.”

There were exclamations all around the table.

“How? Where?” Freda demanded.

I took a minute to tell them of my dream or vision or whatever it had been—the few details I could still recall, anyway. Dworkin had to remind me of several key points as I stumbled through the narrative.

“Are you certain it was real?” Davin asked me, sounding more than a little skeptical.

“No, I’m not,” I said. I had more than a few doubts myself. “I have no experience in such things.”

Dworkin said, “Remember, Oberon has never been to the Courts of Chaos. He had never even heard of it before today. In his dream, however, the blood flowed up. That is a detail he could not have guessed or imagined. I believe his vision is true. Somewhere, somehow, Taine is still alive.”

“Indeed,” Freda said.

Davin looked thoughtful suddenly and regarded me with what I thought was a new-found respect.

“The question now,” he said, “is what do we do? How can we rescue Taine?”

“Perhaps his Trump…” Aber said.

Freda shook her head. “I have tried that too many times now. He cannot be reached.”

“When was the last time?” I asked.

She thought carefully before replying. “Perhaps two weeks ago.”

“It never hurts to try again,” Dworkin said. “Perhaps, knowing he is alive, you will have a better chance of reaching him.”

“I will try,” she said, “as soon as dinner is over. We should all try.”

There were murmurs of agreement from all present. It seemed they all had Trumps depicting Taine and could use them.

I felt a measure of pride. Perhaps I was more than a cripple after all. Maybe I had my own form of magic to fall back upon… visions that showed more than Freda’s Trumps.

Servants began bringing in platters bearing the next course—cubes of beef, nicely pink and steaming, artfully arranged with waxy looking yellow-and-red striped beans. Unfortunately, as delicious as it looked, I found my appetite completely gone. A restlessness came over me, a need to get up and do something active rather than sit and wait for the meal to end.

Pointedly, I stifled a yawn.

“If you don’t mind,” I said to Dworkin, “I’d like to retire. Everything I’ve been through today is starting to catch up with me. I’m going to fall asleep in this chair if I don’t get some rest.”

“Off you go, then.” He made shooing motions with his fork. “Pleasant dreams, my boy. I will send for you again tomorrow. There are still a few matters we must discuss.”

“Yes, Dad,” I said, rising.

Freda, Aber, and all the rest—even Davin—bade me good night. They all had interesting expressions on their faces: not so much pity, now, as a kind of awe or wonder. I might not be able to walk the Logrus as they had done, but it seemed I shared at least some of their powers. Dworkin had been right to show it off before them. This way they wouldn’t dismiss me outright, the way Locke had done.

I strode out into the corridor, pausing only long enough to get my bearings. Although exhaustion really did threaten to overwhelm me, I knew I had work to do: Ivinius’s body remained hidden behind that tapestry. I had to dispose of it without being seen.

Instead of going back to my rooms, however, I decided to explore the castle a bit more. There might be a safe, easy passage out—I just had to find it.

Unfortunately, every way I turned, I found more servants moving on errands or scrubbing the floors or changing candles or filling reserves in oil lamps. The castle’s staff had to number in the hundreds.

I passed one of the guard rooms Aber had pointed out earlier that afternoon. Through the open door, it looked like any of a hundred guard rooms I’d seen over the years—a rack of swords against the far wall, armor and shields on wooden pegs, a table and plenty of sturdy chairs.

At the moment, three guards sat at the table throwing dice. Unfortunately, the one facing the door recognized me—the moment he saw my face, he leaped to his feet.

“Lord!” he cried. He saluted, and the other two shoved back their chairs and did the same.

“Please, continue with your game.” I gave a polite wave, then strolled on. No need to involve them; they were probably off duty and unwinding from a long day’s work.

Kitchens… servants’ quarters… the still-guarded corridor by Dad’s workshop… the main hall… everywhere I went, I found people. Lots of people. And all seemed to recognize me. Clearly, I thought with some frustration, getting Ivinius out of Juniper would not be as easy as I’d hoped.

Then I remembered Aber’s gift—my own set of Trumps. I could make them work on my own—after all, I had been able to contact my brother earlier from Dworkin’s horseless carriage. Perhaps I could use one now to get rid of Ivinius’s body. Frowning, I tried to recall all their pictures. I had barely glanced at them—but hadn’t one showed a forest glade with Juniper in the distance? That would be perfect, I thought.

Excited now, I hurried back up to my rooms. The hinges squeaked when I entered. Servants had lit an oil lamp on the writing table, but everything else looked just as I had left it: my sword across the back of one of the chairs, the stand and washbasin beside the now-dark windows, the desk shoved up against the wall, its paper, ink, and blotters all in slight disarray.

The carved wooden box containing my set of Trumps sat atop the stack of unused towels on the tray atop the washstand.

Feeling a growing sense of elation, I opened the little box and pulled out my stack of Trumps. They felt cool and hard as ivory in my hands. Slowly, one by one, I leafed through them. Portraits came first: Aber… Locke… Pella… Blaise… Freda… 

Yes—there was the one I needed! With a trembling hand, I drew forth the card I had half remembered. It showed a dark forest glade, lush grass underfoot, trees all around, with Juniper’s towers just visible in the distance. This seemed an ideal place to dump a body… far enough from Juniper to be safe from any immediate discovery. Let Ivinius’s masters try to figure out what had happened to him!

Card in hand, I started for the sitting room. Then I stopped myself. How would I get back after I’d disposed of the body? I gave a chuckle. I was catching on to this game of Trumps—I would need one to bring me safely home.

I returned to my set of cards, selected the one that I had confiscated from Aber, which showed my bedroom, and only then headed for the sitting room. This would be a fast and simple job using magic, I thought. I would go to the glade, dump the body, and come straight home.

Hurrying now, I swept back the tapestry.

My elation died. I had come back too late.

The body had disappeared.