Roger Zelazny - The Chronicles of Amber

“Later!” I promised. Pushing past them, I followed after Freda. I had to see to her first.

They carried her into the great hall. Work continued apace, I saw as I glanced around hurriedly: stonemasons were carefully laying out an intricately-patterned slate floor, full of red and blue interlocking circles.

Without a word, they carried Freda swiftly past and up the corridor toward the wing that housed our quarters. We passed a dozen rooms before coming to one with furniture: a divan, several low tables, and three comfortable-looking armchairs.

They set my sister on the divan and raised her feet, placing pillows behind her head and spreading a light blanket across her lap.

Suddenly her eyelids fluttered and opened. She glanced around, apparently confused.

“Feeling better?” I asked, kneeling beside her.

“A little.” She tried to sit up. I helped, fluffing more pillows and placing them behind her back. She seemed more physically exhausted than injured—working that spell had taken a lot out of her.

More servants, trailing after us, brought in silver trays laden with silver cups and pitchers, teapots, and still more pastries and intricately arranged fruits.

“Put everything down and go.” I motioned toward the tables. To the steward, I said: “Ask our father to join us. He is still in the castle, isn't he?”

“I am not sure, Sire,” he said.

“Find out.” If he wasn't here, I'd have to contact him by Trump.

“Yes, Sire.” Bowing, he scurried off.

I investigated the trays. One pitcher held cool water. The rest held an assortment of wines. I wanted something stronger, but wine would do in a pinch. First, though, I poured Freda a cup of hot, sweet-smelling tea. She looked like she needed it.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Sugar and cream?” I asked.

“Please.”

I added both to her cup and passed her a spoon. She stirred, eyes distant.

“Aber betrayed us,” I said heavily.

“What!” she focused on me, clearly alarmed. “What did he do now?”

I told her about King Uthor's death and how my brother had vanished after relaying the message from Lord Zon. She looked distinctly unsettled.

“It must be a mistake, somehow,” she said. She sipped her tea gently, brow furrowing. “Use your Trump and call him. He must explain himself.”

“I'm sure he will,” I said. Doubts crept into my mind. “I will have to talk to him… yes. It can't have been him.”

“There may yet be another explanation.”

“Such as?”

“Someone from the Courts may have impersonated him. Chaos is full of shapeshifters, remember. You have that talent yourself.”

“The possibility occurred to me,” I admitted. I poured myself a glass of the red wine and drained it in a single long gulp. Aber's parting comment still echoed in my mind. “Our brother has a certain… style , let us say, all his own. He betrayed me. I have no doubt about it. I know him.”

“Then he must have had a good cause.”

“Something secret, but heroic?”

“That must be it,” I said.

Freda looked at me oddly. “Do you feel well?”

“Never better. Why?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Has… has Aber given you anything lately? A ring or a pendant, perhaps? Something you carry with you always?”

“Just my Trumps. Why?”

“Let me see them.”

I pulled out my deck. Before I could flip through them and pull out the newest ones, she took them from my hands and set them on one of the small tables. She raised her hands over them, closed her eyes, and murmured softly for a second.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A few spells,” she said. “Simple charms to make you like him.”

I snorted. “He doesn't need charms for that. I've always liked him.”

She made a small gesture with her left hand, then picked through the Trumps, setting five of them aside. Aber had given two of them to me in Juniper, one in the Beyond, and two in Amber.

“These are the ones,” she said, “that have charms laid upon them. Two make you like him. One makes you trust him. One makes you forgive him. I am unsure what the fifth does… perhaps it gives him the benefit of the doubt whenever his actions are questioned.”

“I don't understand… why would he need to charm me?”

“Because,” Freda said, looking me in the eye, “he betrayed you and tried to kill you.”

“I'm sure he had good reasons for what he did,” I said stubbornly. “Aber wouldn't do that to me. Lord Zon must have forced him to do it.”

She shook her head. Then she reached out and touched my forehead with the thumb of her right hand.

“See clearly,” she told me. “Be well.”

The room swam dizzily. I blinked and steadied myself on the arm of the chair.

Like a veil being lifted, I saw Aber clearly for the first time… the petty manipulations… the betrayals… the lies. He betrayed King Uthor, then left me there to die. The truth hit me like a blow.

“Oberon?” Freda asked.

“The next time I see him, I'm going to kill him,” I said grimly. “I can't believe he cast spells on me. What a fool I've been!”

“Not a fool…” she murmured. “You must understand Aber. He grew up in the Courts of Chaos, where betrayal is a way of life. He is very good at what he does.”

I shook my head. “I can never forgive him.”

“Nor should you,” she said. She paused. “And yet… are you sure it was him?”

“What do you mean?”

“We know of at least two doubles… one of you and one of Father. Perhaps there is a double of Aber as well. One who is working for Lord Zon.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I know my brother. It was Aber, all right.”

She shook her head sadly, bit her lip, looked away. She knew he had betrayed us.

“I'll leave you to discover his reasoning,” I said. “If I ever see him again, I'll have to kill him. And it's not something I want to do, damn it!”

Her gaze met mine. I recognized an icy resolve in her eyes.

“I will find out,” she promised. “Believe me, if he has done this thing, he will come to regret it.”

Hearing loud footsteps in the hall outside, I glanced over at the door. Our father? Sure enough, he burst in, face flushed, breath ragged. He must have run all the way here. I had never seen him so upset.

“Freda!” he cried. He rushed to her side and took her hands, rubbing them. “They said you were injured!”

“Not injured, just exhausted.” She patted the divan next to her. “Come, sit with me, Father. Oberon has a story to tell you. It is very important.”

I poured Dad a glass of red wine as he seated himself, and once more I told what had happened after our arrival in Uthor's camp. Aber's betrayal stung every time I thought about it.

Dad frowned. “I never trusted that boy,” he muttered. “Trouble from the day of his birth. Should have put him down years ago.”

“It's too late for that now,” I said dryly. “The question is—what now? King Uthor is dead. Zon has tightened his grip on the throne.

“Get drunk,” Dad said. “We must celebrate.”

“Celebrate! Things are in ruins.”

“Nonsense, it could be far worse,” Dad said.

“How?” I demanded.

“Swayvil could be attacking us right now. Instead, he will spend months—if not years—consolidating his power in Chaos.”

Freda added, “Every day our defenses grow stronger, Oberon. Time is our ally now.”

I shook my head. “With the time difference between Amber and Chaos, Zon has more time that we do… a year for him to consolidate his victory might only be a month to us. I don't want to wait for his attack. It's a mistake.”

“Freda is right, my boy,” Dad said. “There is balance to the universe now. The longer it lasts, the harder it is to upset. King Uthor felt it. That's why he wanted to make a deal with us. Zon will feel it too, if you give him enough time.” He chuckled. “They are both, after all, mere pawns in a larger game. Entropy will keep the Pattern safe.”