The Chronicles of Amber

An hour later, after a long hot bath of my own (Aber seemed to have made off with all the available women, unfortunately), I shaved, brushed my hair, and put on the odd-looking clothes that my brother provided: a high- collared white shirt, loose black pants with what looked like a snakeskin belt, and low-cut black leather shoes— surprisingly comfortable. After a lifetime of military boots, my feet felt strangely light.

Suitably cleaned up, I left my weapons on the table by the bed, then went downstairs to join my family. I found them seated at a large round table in the inn's cavernous dining hall. The room must have had two hundred tables of various sizes, with a large dance floor at the center. Half the diners were out on the floor, swaying to the odd atonal sounds coming from a band composed of what looked like variations on flutes, guitars, violas, and drums.

“You cleaned up nicely,” Aber said, smiling. “Though you forgot your necktie.”

I stared at the intricately tied piece of black cloth at his collar and frowned. “Is that what the scrap of cloth was for? I didn't know. I polished my shoes with it.”

“Here.” Freda reached under the table for a second, then pulled one out—surreptitiously using the Logrus, I assumed. Leaning across to me, she looped it around the back of my neck, then quickly knotted an intricate bow in front. “Much better.”

“Thanks.” It felt too tight and binding, though, and I couldn't help but pull at it with one finger.

Freda slapped my hand. “None of that.”

“Yes, Mom.”

She shook her head. “If you hadn't just rescued me…”

I chuckled. “I guess that buys me a lot of good will.”

“A lifetime of it.”

“Have some wine!” Aber said. He filled my glass from a tall-necked green bottle. “It's a little sweet, but quite good. Locally made, too.” He leaned back and squinted at the label. “It says so right here—Product of Selonika. Royal Charter of Prince Marib.”

Dad cleared his throat and raised his glass. “To Oberon! Our man of the hour!”

I raised my glass. “To all of us! Everyone here contributed to Freda's rescue. Dad got us safely in… Blaise provided a ready sword!” I gave her a wink. “And of course Aber got us safely out. We're not just a family, we're a crack squad of commandos!”

“Hear, hear!” everyone agreed. We drank.

After that came huge slabs of steak, baked potatoes, strange bulbous green and red vegetables, and more wine than I knew what to do with… and as the evening wore on and the music grew loud and wild, dancing spread between the tables, and everywhere laughing men and women danced, drank, and celebrated. Dinner became a pleasant, warm blur. I couldn't remember having such a grand time in months, if not years.

Late that night, very late, I left the dining hall in search of an outhouse. I found it, relieved myself, and headed back to rejoin the others. As I strolled along a white pebble path toward the dining room, I listened to cicadas brr and crickets chirp. A cool, pleasant breeze blew steadily, keeping away pesky insects, while high overhead a moon grown golden and huge limned the trees and bushes around me with silver highlights. I had a pleasant buzz from all the alcohol, and I felt really good. All told, a perfect evening.

When footsteps suddenly crunched on the pebbles behind me, I felt a jolt of alarm. Enough had gone wrong in the last few months that I expected to be attacked at any given moment.

Without hesitation, I threw myself to the side, tucked into a roll, and came up with a knife in each hand. I never should have left my sword in my bedroom.

A ball of light flared over the path, illuminating it like noon on a cloudless summer day. Magic! I blinked and shaded my eyes. This was no mere holdup. A manlike creature dressed in red robes and carrying a tall wooden staff stood before me. A pair of short horns curled back over a slightly pointed skull. I guessed his age somewhere between forty-five and fifty—though considering how long-lived the denizens of Chaos were, I could have been off by a hundred years—or a thousand.

“You won't take me without a fight!” I snarled.

“Ah! You must be Oberon, then.” He nodded pleasantly, leaning on his staff. I glanced around, but he seemed to be alone. “Your talent for survival is becoming legend in certain circles.”

“Who are you?” I watched him warily, but he made no move toward weapons. “I don't believe we've met.”

“The name is Suhuy.” He said it like it meant something, but it didn't—at least, not to me.

“Lord Suhuy?” I guessed. “Of Chaos?”

“If you wish.” He shrugged. “Such titles are meaningless. It is a man's deeds that matter. Those speak for him long after he is dust.”

“True.” I lowered my knives. Clearly Suhuy wasn't scared of me. “I assume you're here to kill me,” I said.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” He continued to lean heavily on his staff, as though he needed it to walk. “An old man like me doesn't go around attacking people. It would be… unseemly.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Merely to look upon the face of the man who killed Lord Thellops. I thought you would be taller.”

“Why seek me out if not revenge?”

“I have no need for revenge.” He smiled again. “Thellops was neither well liked nor well understood in Chaos. Many are secretly relieved that he is gone.”

I folded my arms. “All right, then. You've looked upon my face. Return to the Courts of Chaos and seek me no more.”

“So quickly to the point.” He tsk-tsked, shaking his head. “All the niceties of conversation are lost on the young…”

“Too many people from Chaos have tried to kill me over the last year. I find my patience at an end.”

“Is it my appearance that disturbs you?” He took a step forward. His body seemed to melt and reflow, and a moment later he stood there as a young human boy in a white tunic, with olive skin and wide innocent eyes. “I will change, if it makes you more comfortable.”

I shook my head. “Go home, Suhuy.”

He took another step, becoming a beautiful woman in a sweeping green gown, with long black hair, an ample bosom, and the delicate face of an angel. Against my will, I let out a horrified gasp. I knew her; this was Helda, my poor dead love from Ilerium. Hell-creatures had killed her before trying to kill me.

“See?” Suhuy said in Helda's voice, soft and sensuous. “Those born of Chaos need not appear threatening to you…”

“Enough games!” I threw a knife at his head.

Helda/Suhuy caught the blade between thumb and forefinger, an inch from her left eye. She flowed, becoming a horned old man again. He leaned heavily on his staff. The knife was gone.

“Very well,” he said. “I will speak plainly, since that is what you want.”

I tensed. Here it came—the attack I had been expecting.

But Suhuy merely said, “There is an elaborate game being played out in Chaos and in Shadow. You must know this by now. We are all pawns to larger powers. In killing Master Thellops, you upset the gameboard… and elevated me to a new rank.”

“Not intentionally,” I said.

“Nevertheless, I find myself in your debt.” He inclined his head slightly. “All in Chaos are not your enemies, Oberon. Remember that in years to come.”

“What do you really want?” I asked. If he had a point, I wished he would get to it. This whole conversation made me distinctly uneasy.

“Right now… I want nothing. In fact, I have a gift for you. Lo!”

He pointed with his staff. The air between us crackled with lightning. It formed a sphere, which bulged like a pregnant calf. With a sound like thunder and a blast of hot wind, it broke open. From inside tumbled a gaunt, half- naked man. He struggled to rise from the pebble path, then fell back. I stared at his long matted hair and his torn and filthy pants. He stank like an open sewer.

“What sort of trick is this?” I cried, half gagging from the odor.