The Chronicles of Amber

She shook her head. “I have not been able to use my Trumps since this morning. I started to tell you when we were in your room. I wanted you to shuffle them… I thought I had done something to cause the problem.”

“It had begun even then?” I said. “Before the cloud?”

“Apparently. Why?”

“Then maybe the cloud isn’t the cause. Maybe it’s something else.”

“Like what?”

I shrugged. “You and Dad are the experts. Is there a device that could cause it? If so, could it be hidden here, inside the castle?”

“Not that I know of,” she said.

I sighed. “So much for that idea. I thought Ivinius or our unknown traitor might have smuggled something into Juniper.”

“Still… it is possible, I suppose. I will organize a search, just to make sure.”

“Why don’t you ask Blaise to do it?”

She looked at me in surprise. “Why?”

“She’s already in charge of the servants. She can put them to work.”

“You ask her, then. I cannot, after what she accused me of.”

I looked into her eyes. “Trust none of them, but love them all?”

She sighed and looked away. “Advice is easier when given than taken,” she said. “Very well, I will talk to her.”

Turning, she headed back to the window. I saw her pull Blaise aside, and they began to talk in low voices. Since no blows were exchanged, I assumed the best. In a life-or-death situation, even bitter enemies would work together to save themselves.

I went outside, into the main courtyard. The cloud had grown large enough to blot out the sun and most of its light, and a hazy sort of twilight settled over everything. Guards hurried across the courtyard, lighting torches. I knew without doubt that something huge and terrible was about to break over us. I think we all did.

Well, let it come. I gave a silent toast to inevitability. The sooner it came, the sooner we could act against it.

Without warning, a tremendous flash lit the courtyard, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Tiny bits of rock rained down on me, followed by a choking cloud of dust. Then a block of stone as big as my head hit the paving stones ten feet from where I stood, shattering. I reeled back, coughing and choking, eyes stinging and tearing.

Screams sounded from inside the castle. It took me a second to realize what had happened—lightning had struck the top floor.

I ran for the steps to the battlements, knowing I’d be safer there than out in the open. The real danger lay in falling stones, not being struck by lightning. Somehow, I had a feeling this one had been the first of many to come.

Gaining the top of the battlements, I looked out across the army camp. Men by the thousands worked frantically, packing gear, pulling up wooden stakes and folding tents, herding animals. I spotted Locke on horseback, directing their movements. He seemed to be directing everyone within two hundred yards of the castle away to the empty fields by the forest where the hell-creatures had been spying on us.

Another blast of lightning came, then a third. Each struck the castle’s highest tower, cracking stone blocks and roof tiles. Debris rained down. Luckily no one was injured or killed.

“Close the gates!” I called down to the guards on duty. “Don’t let anyone in except Locke or Davin! It’s too dangerous!”

“Yes, Lord!” one of them called up, and two of them began to swing the heavy gates shut.

I went back down to the courtyard, waited for the next bolts of lightning to strike and the debris to fall, then sprinted across the courtyard and into the audience hall.

It was deserted. Two of the windows had broken, and I saw blood on the floor—someone had been cut by flying glass, I thought.

I spotted servants moving in the hallway, and I hurried to see what they were doing. Anari, it turned out, had taken Dworkin’s orders to heart and had begun moving all the castle’s beds and bedding to the ground floor. Servants would sleep in the grand ballroom. My sisters would share the dining hall. My brothers and I would have one of the lesser halls—one with no windows. Hopefully the lightning would stop or the castle would withstand its blasts through the morning.

I caught sight of Aber, who was supervising two servants as they carried an immense wooden chest down the stairs, and I strode over to join him.

“Who got hurt in the audience hall?” I asked.

“Conner,” he said. “A section of the glass fell in on him. His face and hands are cut up, but he’ll live.”

“That’s good news,” I said. “What’s in the trunk?”

“My set of Trumps. And a few other precious items I don’t want to lose. I thought I’d store them down here until we leave. We are leaving, aren’t we?”

I smiled bleakly. “What happened to your faith in Dad, Locke, and me? I thought you planned to sit tight until we killed everyone.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “No offense, brother, but have you noticed what we’re up against? We won’t be alive to fight if we don’t get out of here, and soon. They’re bringing the castle down on our heads!”

A particularly loud crack! sounded outside as if to underscore his words. The castle shook, and I heard the low rumble of falling stones.

He might have a point, I thought. But the castle walls grew stronger the closer you got to the foundations. It wouldn’t be easy to destroy Juniper.

“In case you missed it,” I told him, “our Trumps aren’t working anymore. We can’t go anywhere. It’s time to stand and fight.”

“What?” He paled. “You’re wrong! The Trumps always work!”

“Try one,” I said, “and you’ll see. Neither Freda, Dad, nor I could get them to work.”

The servants carrying the trunk had reached the bottom of the stairs, and he motioned for them to set it down. They did so, and he flipped open its lid. I peered over his shoulder and saw stacks of cards… there had to be hundreds of them.

He picked up the top one, which showed me… it was the same card he’d been painting in his room earlier.

“Do you mind?” he asked me.

“Go ahead.”

He stared at it intently, frowning, but I felt no sense of contact. From his frustrated expression, I knew it wasn’t working for him, either.

With a low moan, he dropped his arm and looked at me. His face had gone ashen; his hand trembled.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I felt a little guilty for having him try the Trump when I’d known it wouldn’t work. Making Trumps seemed to be his one great talent, and it had been rendered useless right now.

“I can’t believe it,” he said.

“We’ll think of something else,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Dad has whole rooms full of magical stuff. He must have something that can help us.”

Aber tossed the card back into the trunk, then slammed down the lid. Motioning for the two men to pick it up again, he told them to put it with the rest of his belongings. They started off down the hall.

“Well,” he told me philosophically, “I’ll just have to fall back on my other plan, I suppose.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Hide until the danger’s past!”

I laughed, and he gave me a weak smile. At least he still had his sense of humor.

The lightning stopped half an hour later, with the coming of night, but I suspected it was a temporary reprieve. Perhaps whoever had sent the cloud needed daylight to direct his attack. I had little doubt but that the blasts would resume at dawn.

Our father remained locked in his workshop, leaving the rest of us to care for the castle. It was late by the time we had everyone bedded down for the night, from family to servants. The guards bravely walking the