John Betancourt - The Dawn of Amber

She hurried me out and down a series of back staircases and plainly furnished corridors through which a constant stream of servants moved until I had quite lost all sense of direction. Juniper was big . But when we pushed out into a main hallway, I realized we’d taken a shortcut and reached Dad’s workshop in about half the time it normally would have taken from my suite.

Now that she had a purpose, she moved with a speed and determination that surprised me. Who did she suspect? As Aber had said, there was more to her than I’d thought.

She swept past the two guards, with me still trailing, and knocked on our father’s workshop door.

Dworkin opened it after a heartbeat, peered up at the two of us, then stood back for us to enter.

“This is an odd pairing, I would say. What brings you here together?”

“Tell him,” Blaise said, looking at me.

So, for the third time that afternoon, I repeated my story, leaving nothing out. Then I told him our conclusions, down to our having a traitor in the family,

“I know I should have come to you sooner,” I said, “and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know who I should trust… so I trusted no one.”

“You thought you were doing the right thing,” Dworkin said. “We will get to the bottom of this matter.”

“Blaise thinks she knows who the traitor is,” I added.

“Oh?” He looked at her, surprised and pleased.

“That’s right, Father. It can only be Freda.”

“Freda!” he and I said as one. I couldn’t believe it.

“That’s right.”

“But— why? ” I said.

“Who else could it possibly be?” Blaise said. “She has more Trumps than any of us except Aber. She’s said several times that we cannot win the coming battle. And she refuses to name those who have set themselves against us.”

“I am not sure refuses is the correct word,” Dworkin said. “She cannot see who they are.”

“She has named the guilty often enough before,” Blaise said, folding her arms stubbornly. “Why not this time… unless she is helping them?”

“No,” Dworkin said. “I cannot believe it. Wild accusations prove nothing.”

“Then how about proof.” She leaned forward. “Freda went into Oberon’s rooms yesterday morning… after he went downstairs to see you. She went in alone, and she didn’t come out.”

“How do you know this?” Dworkin demanded.

“One of the scrubwomen told me.”

“A spy?” I said.

She smiled at me. “Not at all. I simply asked some of the servants to keep an eye on you, in case you needed help. She noticed Freda going in after you had left, and when Freda didn’t come out, it struck her as odd. She mentioned it to me this morning.”

Dworkin turned away, and when he spoke again, his voice shook. “Summon Locke,” he said. “And Freda.”

We had quite a little gathering in Dad’s workshop: Locke arrived with Davin in tow, and Freda came with Aber. No reason had been given, just that our father wanted them.

I had to repeat my story a fourth time for Locke’s benefit, and I went through the details quickly and surely. When I mentioned finding his Trump hidden in the bedroll, he leaped to his feet.

“I had nothing to do with them!” he said.

“Sit down,” our father said. “We know that. They clearly planted the card there, hoping to discredit you.” He looked at me. “Continue, Oberon.”

I finished up with the discussion Aber and I had, where we agreed that the hell-creatures were trying to get Locke removed.

“See?” Davin said to him in a whisper. “They fear you.”

Then Blaise told how Freda had been seen entering my rooms… and how she hadn’t come out.

I stepped forward. “Unfortunately, eyewitnesses don’t prove anything,” I said. “Remember, the hell-creatures are shape-shifters. One of them could easily have disguised himself as Freda.”

“How could they—” Blaise began.

I said, “Look!”

Closing my eyes, I envisioned Freda’s face in my mind, her long hair, the thin lines around her eyes, the shape of her jaws and cheeks. I held that image, made it my own, and then I opened my eyes.

“See?” I said with Freda’s voice. From the shocked faces of everyone around me, I knew my old childhood trick still worked. My face now looked exactly like Freda’s. “Anyone can do it.”

“How—” Blaise breathed.

Dworkin chuckled. “A simple enough trick. You have never tried to change your face, have you, my girl?”

Blaise looked from Freda to me and back again. Then, when she opened her mouth, no words came out.

“I have something to say,” Freda said, standing. She glared at Blaise. “First, my comings and goings are of no concern to anyone but myself. I don’t need your spies peeking at me from behind every wash-bucket in the castle. Second, I did go to Oberon’s rooms yesterday. He wasn’t there, so I left. And I used a Trump—we all do.”

“Where did you go?” Blaise countered. “Off to hide the body?”

“If you must know, I returned to my room,” Freda said coolly.

“What did you want with me?” I asked her.

“I wanted to read your cards. Just like this afternoon… only I didn’t get a chance then, either.”

“See?” Dworkin said. “A simple explanation.”

“Then who removed the body?” Locke said.

Nobody had an answer.

Then, for the second time that day, a distant bell began to sound an alarm.

Locke led the way out to the audience hall, where a man dressed as a lieutenant stood waiting with two other men. They were panting and soaked in sweat.

“General!” he gasped, saluting Locke, “they’re doing something to the sky!”

“What?” Locke demanded.

“I don’t know!”

As one, we ran to the windows and peered up at the sky.

Directly over Juniper, immense black clouds now boiled and seethed. A strange bluish lightning flickered. The cloud grew larger as we watched, and slowly it began to move, swirling, spiraling inward.

“What is it, Dad?” I asked Dworkin.

“I have never seen its like before,” he admitted. “Freda?”

“No. But I do not like it.”

“Nor I,” said Locke.

“Where is Anari?” Dworkin said.

“Here, Prince.” He had been standing to the back of our little crowd, also staring up at the sky.

“I want everyone out of the top floors,” Dworkin said firmly. “Bring the beds downstairs to the ballroom, dining hall, and audience chambers. No one is to go above ground level.”

“I’m going to pull some of our troops away from Juniper,” Locke said, starting for the door. “I don’t know how, but that cloud means ill for us.” To Dworkin he said, “You and Freda need to find something to stop it. If you need to swallow your pride and ask for help at the Courts of Chaos, do it!”

Turning, he ran for the door, with Davin and the lieutenant close behind.

“Oberon, come with me,” Dworkin said, turning and heading back toward his workshop.

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to join Locke in the field, getting the army camp moved farther from Juniper. There was something about those clouds that made me more than a little bit afraid. But a good soldier—and a dutiful son—obeys orders, and I followed him back to his workshop.

Inside, he bolted the door, then turned and went to a large wooden chest pushed up against the wall. He opened the top and drew out a blue velvet bag with its drawstring pulled closed.

He opened it slowly, carefully, and pulled out a set of Trumps similar to Aber’s. Looking at them over his shoulder, I saw portraits of men and women in strange costumes. I didn’t recognize any of them as part of our family.