John Betancourt - Chaos and Amber

I asked, “What about you? Can you do anything to protect us?”

Aber hesitated. “It's not the sort of thing at which I'm skilled.”

“Give it a try,” I urged. “It can't hurt.”

He sighed. “All right.”

“Will it take long?”

“Maybe an hour to prepare everything, set up the spells, and lay them over the house. Maybe a little more if I run into problems.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” For some reason, I longed to see more real magic… perhaps because I had managed to use some myself. If I could learn to control this Pattern, to master its power the way the serpent in the tower had mastered the Logrus, I might stand a fighting chance against it.

“No. It's fairly delicate work, and it will require all my concentration.”

“So I'd be in the way,” I said, with a twinge of disappointment. “All right. I'll stay here.”

“That's probably for the best.” He said it with clear relief, as though I might inadvertently mess up his work. “Better for you that way. It's fairly meticulous Logrus manipulation—setting up magical trip-wires, in case we have magical prowlers. That way we'll be alerted if someone comes snooping.”

“Let me know when you're done. If you run into problems or need my help, don't hesitate to call.” I grinned and gave a wry attempt at humor. “I might not be able to use the Logrus, but I have a strong back. Give me a heavy box and I'll carry it for you.”

“No boxes involved, I'm afraid.”

He seemed distracted—probably already laying out the spells in his mind—and when he gave a curt nod and stood, I did not object. Best to get the spells in place before the serpent tried again to kill me—or any of us. I knew it would be back if we didn't act swiftly.

Aber headed for the door, paused, looked back.

“Don't forget—have your valet watch you while you sleep,” he said, “just in case.”

“All right.”

After the door closed, I turned to the desk and sat heavily, mentally reviewing everything that had happened in the tower of skulls. What else should I have done? What else could I have done?

I hadn't told Aber this, but the Pattern I'd reshaped had obeyed my commands… as though it understood what I'd told it to do.

How could that be possible?

It had almost seemed alive . And, when I touched it, it made me feel whole and strong, better than I'd felt in years. I still felt that way, I realized, flexing my fingers and staring down at my hands, remembering the feeling of power that had surged through me. Even the slight stiffness in my left thumb, due to a months-old battle injury, had disappeared.

Not only that, but the floors and walls no longer seemed to be moving. Everything around me seemed normal… or as normal as it could be, in a world where nothing obeyed the laws of nature I had grown up with.

Rising, I began to pace the length of my room again. I felt trapped and restless. Clearly, I wasn't ready to go back to sleep.

Opening the door to the next room, I checked on Horace and found him curled up on a small bed in the corner, still fully dressed. He was already asleep, poor kid. Easing the door shut, I went back to the door to the hallway.

“Shouldn't you be in bed, Lord Oberon?” said Port, gazing up at me. “The hour is late and you look terrible.”

“I thought you were a door, not a doctor.”

“I am allowed to offer commentary and advice as needed. You ought to rest.”

With a sigh, I said, “Thanks. I don't need advice right now, though.”

“Very good, Lord Oberon.” He had a slightly snippy tone. “Henceforth I will keep my advice to myself.” His face disappeared, leaving an empty wooden panel in the door.

“I didn't mean to offend you,” I said. But he didn't reappear. Well, screw him and his opinion—I didn't need to get into arguments with inanimate objects.

I had thirty minutes to kill while Aber set up his magical tripwires. I didn't want to fall asleep and miss the results, so I dressed, pulled on my boots, and went out into the hallway. Might as well explore some more, I thought.

I prowled the length of the hall. Each door had a different face carved into its middle, all with eyes closed, seemingly asleep. I did not knock on any of the doors. Port had been loud and talkative. I didn't want to mess up Aber's work by distracting him.

The hallway dead-ended. To the left, in a small dark alcove, a narrow servant's stairs wound up and down. It had to be the same one I'd explored earlier with Rhalla.

I headed down. What I really needed now was a drink—and something stronger than wine. With a house this big, at least one of the rooms ought to have an ample supply of liquor.

Two floors down, I went to the end of the corridor, turned right, then right again, then a third and a fourth time. My mind told me I had come full circle and back to my starting point, but I found myself in a cavernous hall at the foot of a broad set of marble stairs.

Two guards, both of whom I recognized as men we'd brought from Juniper, snapped to attention as soon as they spotted me. They stood by a pair of huge iron-shod doors at the far end of the hall. Not much chance of an attack coming from that direction, but it never hurt to be prepared. While I didn't know either one of them by name, I gave a quick wave. They grinned and saluted. My presence definitely seemed to raise their spirits—the hero of Juniper, the only son of Lord Dworkin who had been able to defeat the hell-creatures and drive them back. Yes, I would definitely be a rallying point for our troops.

“Any idea where they keep the drinks around here?” I asked as I approached them.

“Do you mean the wine cellar, sir?” one of them asked.

“I was hoping for something stronger.”

“Try this.” He pulled out a small metal flask and offered it to me.

I unstoppered it, and the smells of a strong sour mash rose. I took a tentative sip.

Whatever it was, it burned going down. I gasped, eyes watering. I'd only tasted rotgut this bad a couple of times. If it didn't cause blindness and insanity, it sure felt like it ought to.

“Do you like it, sir?” the guard asked, grinning. I noticed his two upper front teeth were missing.

“Awful! Simply awful!” I grinned back, then took a bigger swallow. It went down a bit easier this time. “Quite a kick. What's in it?”

“You don't want to know.”

“Thanks. Here you go.” I held out the flask.

“Keep it, sir. I'll have plenty more in a few days.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You make it yourself?”

“Yes, sir! Two weeks old, and that's as good as it gets!”

I laughed. “Thanks, I will keep it.” I gave an approving nod. “I'll return the flask when it's gone.”

“Much appreciated, sir.”

After that, I wandered off down the hall, opening doors and taking small sips. I discovered a salon with comfortable looking couches and chairs, a library filled with racks of scrolls and shelves of books, a map room, and several closets. A couple of narrow corridors seemed designed for servants. No one except those two guards seemed up and about at this hour.

Aber had to be nearly done with his magic by now, I figured, so I climbed the marble steps back up to the third floor, found my bedroom door, and Port let me in without my having to ask. My valet was nowhere in sight—still sound asleep, I assumed—so I sat down at the desk to wait for Aber. Idly I opened both drawers, but except for quills and a small blade for sharpening them, they were empty.

After a few minutes had passed, Port's voice interrupted:

“Sir. Lord Aber is here.”

“Thanks.” I rose and went out to the hall to join him.

“It's done,” he said. He looked exhausted; the spells seemed to have taken a lot out of him. “I don't think anyone will be able to spy on us now without setting off alarm bells.”