The Chronicles of Amber

Chapter 8

“Here!” Without hesitation, I reached toward him.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes growing wide, then seized my wrist with both hands. It felt as though he weighed a ton, but I gritted my teeth and hauled him forward. He tumbled into my arms.

“O—!” Aber stretched out his hands and staggered. He couldn't seem to get his balance. “There's something wrong here—”

He would have fallen if I hadn't supported him. Could the same thing that happened to Blaise be affecting him, too?

“You just need to get your Pattern-legs,” I said wryly, with more confidence than I felt. When he didn't so much as smile at that private joke, I knew he had to be in pretty bad shape. More concerned now, I helped him sit on the bed next to Dad.

He had lost a lot of weight, and his face had a desperate, hunted quality I'd only seen in game animals before the kill. Although he wore his usual blue pants and shirt, yellowish dust covered him from head to toe. The knees of his pants had been torn to shreds, like he'd just crawled through a rock garden… which, for all I knew, might have been trying to eat him. Rocks had strange properties in Chaos.

“What's wrong with Dad?” he asked, staring at our father. “Did someone attack him? Is he all right?”

“He's sick,” I said.

“Great,” Aber muttered, putting his head down in his hands. He took a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I figured he'd be able to fix everything.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “You want him to destroy the Pattern.”

He glanced up. “No! But… maybe if he gave himself up, Uthor would spare the rest of us.”

“Self-sacrifice? That doesn't sound like Dad.”

“No, I guess not,” he said, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. “Though, of course, we could always sacrifice him ourselves. Maybe the king would make a deal…”

“No,” I said flatly. “We're family, and we're going to stick together.”

“You and your idealism! Dad would sell you out in a heartbeat if he thought it would save his own skin.”

“You aren't doing him justice,” I said. Dad had gone to great lengths to protect me during my childhood. “Take a minute to catch your breath. Then you can tell me all about what happened in the Courts. Maybe I can help some other way.”

“I don't think anyone can help now.” He studied the floorboards. “They're after us all. I think Uthor's caught everyone but you and me and Dad.”

“And Blaise, of course,” I said. “She's free.”

“Blaise? That's just great!” he said sarcastically. I remembered there was no love lost between them. “Of course she would be the one to get away.”

“Thanks for caring, Aber,” Blaise said coolly from behind me.

He glanced up in surprise.

“I thought you were dead,” he said to her.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Why didn't you answer my calls?”

“I must have been busy.”

Aber opened his mouth for an angry retort, but I waved him to silence.

“Go downstairs,” I told Blaise. “We'll join you at the bar in a few minutes. I need to talk to Aber alone.”

“Oh, very well. I need that drink anyway. Especially now that he's here.” She stomped off into the hall without another word.

“Bitch,” Aber muttered under his breath. To me, he said, “I tried to reach her five or six times over the last few weeks, when I really needed help. She didn't answer. I assumed she had been captured. It figures she wouldn't bother to answer me.”

“She had her own problems,” I said. “I got her out of the Courts of Chaos just in time—hell-creatures were breaking down the doors to her room.”

“You should have left her there.” He folded his arms stubbornly. “Some people aren't worth rescuing.”

“She's still family,” I said. I tried to look stern. We couldn't let arguments divide us, not with so many enemies after our blood. “If what you say is true, there are few enough of us left now. And I'm sure Blaise will prove useful once we're settled in again.”

He gave me an odd look. “She wouldn't help in the Courts when I needed her. I'm not going to forget that!”

“I didn't say you should. Be aware of her limitations and know you can't count on her. She may be difficult, and you may not enjoy her company, but we have to stick together whether you like to or not.”

“That's a good way to get us all killed,” he grumbled. “I keep telling you not to trust anyone!”

“Except you.”

“Of course!” He laughed, a bit of his old spirit returning. “And Freda, of course. But Blaise? Certainly not! I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be the traitor who almost got us all killed in Juniper.”

“Don't worry.” I shook my head. “I don't trust anyone right now. She wants me to destroy the Pattern, after all.”

“What!” He gaped. “And destroy the Shadows?”

“Don't worry, I won't do anything so drastic.” I chuckled. “Even if I knew how to destroy it. Which I don't.”

He sank back. “Good.”

“You said Uthor has everyone else?”

“I think so. As soon as those storms came, he issued orders to arrest everyone in our family.”

“I'm not surprised.” I would have done the same thing, in his place.

“How were the storms created?” Aber asked. “Did Dad really send them to destroy Chaos, the way everyone says?”

“If he created them, it was by accident.” I shrugged. “When he retraced the Pattern, it destroyed all the old Shadows and made new ones. The force of that destruction must have carried as far as Chaos. I can't think of any other explanation.”

“The Pattern—are you sure he made it correctly this time?”

“Yes. I can feel it in the back of my mind, the way you must feel the Logrus.”

“Really?” he brightened. “That is good news! Since you're determined to keep it, there's only one thing to do.”

“What's that?”

“Learn to control its powers. Maybe Dad…”

His voice trailed off as he looked at our father again. He leaned closer, studying the bruises, cuts, and split lip. At least the swelling had started to go down.

“What happened to Dad?” he asked. “It looks like a ton of rocks fell on his head.”

“Making the new Pattern did something to his mind. He's been acting crazy. He tried to kill me this morning, and I had to defend myself.”

“So you did this?”

“Afraid so,” I said half apologetically.

He whistled, then looked at me with new respect. “Except for Locke, Dad was the best swordsman in the family; you must be even better.”

I didn't deny it. Let him think so… a dangerous reputation never hurt anyone.

Aber continued, “All I can say is—good for you! About time someone put Dad in his place. I only wish I'd