The Chronicles of Amber

I shook my head. I felt like a pawn, all right—but his pawn, not some greater power's. He had lied to me so often now, I couldn't separate facts from his flights of fantasy. For all I knew, Ish and his kind might be cousins on my mother's side. Maybe they were unicorns, too. How would I know?

After a moment's thought, I said, “I don't mind playing. I want to win. I will win. But it helps to know what the rules are, Dad. Help me understand.”

“Well said.”

“Go on, then.” I folded my arms stubbornly.

Smiling, he shook his head. “No one tells us the rules. We must discover them as we go.”

Of course, another evasion. Why wasn't I surprised?

I decided to try another tack. I said, “So… if we are the pawns… who are the players? The Feynim?”

“If we are pawns, they are knights.”

“And Chaos?”

He chuckled. “The gameboard, perhaps. Or perhaps one small square…”

“You know I'm not happy with that answer.”

“It is the only one I have.”

Chapter 20

When we returned to camp, I just stood and stared in amazement. The changes were nothing short of miraculous. An army of stonemasons, carpenters, and other workmen must have descended on Amber during our brief absence—scaffolding had been built along the outer walls, and derricks had already begun moving huge blocks of stone into place. Inside the walls, one wing of the castle had gone up. Dozens of workers on the roof installed red slate shingles.

“The king! The king!” a voice cried.

Work halted as hundreds of workmen turned and craned to see me. They cheered. I gave an uneasy wave.

A moment later, Aber and Freda came running through the opening where the front gates would go. They raced down the winding dirt road to us. Freda gave me a huge hug. She had begun to cry. Grinning, Aber pounded me on the back.

“About time!” he cried. “Where have you been?”

“All this—” I waved at the castle. “How did you do it?”

“Hard work.” He shook his head. “More of it than I've ever done before.”

Freda let go of me and stood back. “Welcome back,” she said. “Where did you find him, Father?”

I looked at the two of them. “Why are you making such a fuss? I've only been gone an hour!”

“An hour!” Aber laughed. “Oberon—you've been gone for four months!”

“Impossible!”

“The Feynim,” Dad murmured. “I had no idea…”

Freda shuddered. “You did not make a bargain with those creatures—” she began.

“No. They refused to help us,” I said.

“Good. We want nothing to do with them.”

“Tell me—what has happened here?” I stared again at the castle. “All of this, and so fast!”

“Believe it or not,” Aber said proudly, “we are actually three days ahead of schedule. Now that you are back, things should go more smoothly.”

I didn't like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“There have been some problems,” he admitted. “Come inside. I'll show you around and tell you all about it.”

Freda nodded. “Go on, Oberon. I have a few matters to discuss with Father.”

“Very well.” I looked at Aber. “Lead on. I want to see and hear about everything I've missed.”

As soon as we were out of earshot, my brother's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Blaise is gone.”

“What! Where?”

“I don't know. She disappeared one night. Just up and vanished. She took all of her possessions with her… I'm not sure if she went back to Chaos or is hiding in one of the Shadows.”

I sighed. “I can't believe it.”

“And,” he went on gravely, “Uthor knows where we are. There have been problems… sabotage in the construction. All our mules and horses were poisoned one night. And dozens of workmen have been killed. It hasn't been pleasant.”

“Where is Conner?”

“In the forest with the army. There have been a few skirmishes with Uthor's forces. Scouts, he thinks. Uthor is spying on us.” He swallowed. “Dad and Conner have been trying to keep on top of things, but—”

“What do you mean about Dad?” I asked, puzzled. “He's been with me.”

“You're crazy. I had breakfast with him twenty minutes ago!”

“What!” I stopped dead in my tracks.

“He went to his room to work, and a few minutes later he showed up outside with you. Didn't he go get you, then return with a Trump?”

“No. He was with the Feynim. I went and got him.”

Aber swallowed. “One of them is an imposter.”

I drew my sword. “Show me his room. Maybe he's still there.”

“This way!”

Turning, he raced between stacks of lumber, piles of stone, and stacks of red roofing tiles. I followed him through a doorless entryway where carpenters were busily laying a plank floor, then up a partly finished staircase. He turned right at the top and entered a wide corridor. Plasterers on ladders were at work on the walls and ceiling. They gave us curious glances as we dashed past.

“Here,” Aber said, stopping in front of a high closed door.

I tried the handle, but it had been locked from the inside. Taking a step back, I gave it a savage kick. It flew open with a loud crash, and I sprang in with my sword held high.

With a single glance, I took in the canopied bed, the long table littered with scrolls, blueprints, and other papers, and the wardrobe in the corner. The imposter was nowhere in sight. I stalked over to the wardrobe and threw its doors open, but aside from a few neatly folded shirts, pants, and undergarments, it lay empty.

Where could he have gone? I crossed to the window, in case he had jumped out, but saw no one below except workmen carrying stacks of lumber.

“Any idea where else he might be?” I asked.

“No. He did have a stack of Trumps, though… I saw him carrying them.”

I nodded. “He must have heard the watchman shouting when Dad and I arrived. Probably grabbed whatever he needed, used his Trump, and fled back to Chaos.”

“I can't believe he fooled Freda and me!” Aber muttered, shaking his head. Then he gave a snort. “I don't suppose mine was the real one and yours is the imposter?”

“No. Mine is the real Dworkin. I know it.”

We regarded each other soberly for a moment. Then I remembered the Feynim, my spikard-ring, and all the questions Dad hadn't been willing or able to answer. Maybe my brother could help.

“Can you tell me anything about the Feynim?” I asked him.

“Not much.” He frowned. “Nobody has heard from them in generations, not since they mopped the floor with King Ythoc. They're mostly legends now… bogeymen to scare little children. How did Dad get in touch with them, anyway?”