Roger Zelazny - The Chronicles of Amber

“Haven't you heard?” said Great Aunt Eddarg. “He was adopted into House Swayvil two days ago.” Her second mouth added: “The king gave him a suite in the palace—though not in the king's own wing—and the dearie has been throwing lavish parties for his friends.” The first mouth continued: “He is quite partial to roast piqnar and keeps asking for it.” The second mouth added: “Expensive tastes, but King Swayvil does not seem to mind. They dine together now and again.”

“Then he is doing well,” Freda asked. She shot me an uncertain glance—not sure whether to be happy or dismayed, I guessed. That was my own reaction.

“Thriving, from the sounds of it,” I said. For once, Aber seemed to have everything he'd ever wanted: security, a place in a powerful family, and freedom from our father's influence.

“Has he asked King Swayvil to free Pella and Syara?” I asked casually.

“I do not know, dearie. I am not privy to their discussions. Now, I must get dinner ready,” said Great Aunt Eddarg. “There is another banquet tonight.” Her other mouth added: “Talk to me again soon, dearies?”

“I will,” Freda promised with a smile. “I will let you know whenever we have news. And you must do the same.”

“Of course, dearie!”

Freda covered the Trump with her hand, and we were alone. We stared at each other for a heartbeat. Aber had certainly landed on his feet.

“We must,” Freda said, “find a way to use Aber to our advantage.

“The best way to deal with a serpent,” I said unhappily, “is to cut off its head.”

Over the next week, events seemed to hit a strange lull. With the newly crowned King Swayvil concentrating on hunting down the last of King Uthor's followers, no one in Chaos seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to us. It was as if Dad, the Shadows, and Amber had suddenly ceased to be important. Perhaps Uthor had been right in his estimation: Swayvil had used us solely as a distraction. Now that he held the throne, he would spend his days consolidating his base of power.

Which was entirely fine by me: while he worked on strengthening his hold on the Courts of Chaos, I would consolidate my own power in Amber.

“King Oberon” still had a very nice ring to it, and I meant to hang on to my title, my crown, and most of all my life.

Weeks passed, a constant blur of non-stop action. I spent exhausting and exhilarating days in the field, reviewing troops or recruiting new ones with Conner… fascinating days visiting nearby Shadows and buying or bartering with the native populations for food, supplies, and most important of all, settlers… but most especially glorious days exploring our new world of Amber.

I sailed with our fledgling navy as it explored the coastline… rode with the cavalry as it mapped the hills and valleys… marched with the infantry as they cut roads through the forests and began the lengthy task of setting up watchtowers along our soon-to-be-city's flanks.

When I returned to Amber one evening, I found an unhappy reception committee waiting: my father, Freda, and Conner, all looking angry.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“What have you done with him?” Freda said.

“I am close to a cure!” Dad said. “Another week, and he would have been free from Suhuy's poison!”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded, looking from one to another. Had they lost all reason?

Sharply, Conner said, “Do you deny releasing Fenn?”

“What—you mean he's gone?” I looked uncomprehendingly from one to another. “I've been at sea all day! When could I possibly have released him?”

Dad let out his breath. “I see Suhuy's hand in this,” he muttered. “Another imposter!”

“What! And nobody thought to question him?” I demanded.

“You… he… was in a foul mood,” Freda said. “He rode in alone, went straight to Fenn's cell, and ordered the guards to tie Fenn up. Which they did. Then he dragged Fenn out, ordered fresh horses, threw Fenn across the saddle, and left. Dad and I were here, but it happened so fast… he was gone before we knew it.”

I shook my head. “This must stop. Now. Every time someone returns from a trip, one of us must be in the courtyard to greet him. We will have a password system.”

“What do you mean?” Freda asked.

“Each time one of us comes home, someone else will say a word or ask a question. The proper response must be given to establish a true identity.”

Conner frowned. “When you came home, I would say, 'fish' and then you would say, 'cakes'? Something like that?”

“Something a little more subtle.” I frowned. “The first person will say, 'How was the weather?' and the correct reply will be, 'Fire and hail.' That way, if another imposter shows up and gives the wrong answer, he won't know he's been discovered.”

“Agreed,” Conner said quickly.

“Now, why did Suhuy want Fenn back?” I mused. “We discovered his true identity. Suhuy must know that trick won't work again.”

“A better question,” Dad said, “is—who was impersonating you ?”

A month passed since Aber had betrayed King Uthor and me. Freda continued to check with her aunts nearly every day for updates on the political situation in the Courts of Chaos. Sometimes we got word of a friend or family member who had sworn fealty to King Swayvil; more often, however, we got lists of the executed as Swayvil's bloody purges continued.

Always we looked for word of missing family members, but since Uthor's death, not one had been publicly executed. Of course, they could be undergoing torture in Swayvil's dungeons… or, as Conner had been, simply left to rot in a cell. We had no way of knowing. Perhaps, I sometimes thought, the new King of Chaos meant to save them for bargaining chips when he finally moved against us.

Several weeks into the new king's rule, King Uthor's brother Irtar tried to seize the throne. Backed by half a dozen powerful Lords of Chaos, his assassination attempt nearly succeeded. But Suhuy's timely intervention, according to Great Aunt Eddarg, saved the day.

After that, Swayvil rushed many of Uthor's former supporters to trial. Some days as many as two dozen Lords of Chaos met the axe in public ceremonies… all to the cheering of the bloodthirsty residents of Chaos. After Irtar's death, Swayvil declared a holiday and gave out refreshments and favors at the palace gates to all who called.

Of course, I recognized none of the names of the dead, though Freda wept several times when men and women she knew fell to Swayvil's purge. I could do little to comfort her.

She spent days working on Castle Amber, organizing the staff, decorating the halls and rooms, supervising all the little niceties that finished off the castle properly. And Amber slowly became a home to us all.

Early one morning I took a stroll along the castle's upper battlements, gazing out across the fields and rolling hills that had begun to sprout the beginnings of a town. It was a gloriously beautiful day, the air tasted crisp and fresh, and I felt well-rested and strong. Below me, the castle guard had turned out for morning drills, and with a wistful little smile I listened to the officers' orders and the beginnings of swordplay. I missed dawn roll-calls and early morning workouts.

Then I felt a light mental contact. Someone was trying to reach me through a Trump… probably Conner, who had gone off to explore the southern marshlands with several squads of infantryman. He had instructions to call me if anything went wrong.

When I opened my thoughts, though, I found myself staring at a wavering, uncertain image of Aber. He sat high on a pile of luxurious-looking cushions, and he looked well oiled and well fed.