John Betancourt: The Dawn of Amber

He flipped past these people quickly, then drew out an image I did recognize… a gloomy castle almost lost in night and storm, with strange patterns of lightning around the silver-limned towers and battlements: The Grand Plaza of the Courts of Chaos, drawn almost exactly as it had been on Freda’s card.

“You’re going to the Courts of Chaos?” I asked slowly. Just looking at the Trump sent my skin crawling.

“Yes. Locke is right—I have avoided it too long. This fight has gotten out of hand. I must petition King Uthor to intercede. It is a disgrace… but it must be done. You will accompany me.”

I swallowed. “All right.”

He raised the card and stared at it. I took a deep breath, held it, expecting to be whisked off to the world on the card at any second.

But nothing happened.

I let out my breath. Still Dworkin stared. And still we stayed in his workshop, unmoving.

“Uh, Dad…” I began.

He lowered the card and looked at me. I saw tears glistening in his eyes.

“I can’t do it,” he said.

“Want me to try?”

Silently, he handed me the card. I raised it, saw the courtyard, concentrated on the image… and nothing happened. I stared harder. Still nothing.

Rubbing my eyes, I turned the card over and looked at the back—plain white—then at the front again. I remembered how other Trumps had seemed to come to life as I stared at them, and I tried once more, willing it to work.

Nothing.

Was I doing something wrong?

Dworkin took the card out of my hand.

“I thought so,” he said softly, returning it to the bag and tightening the drawstring. “Now we know what the clouds are for. Somehow, they are interfering with the Logrus. We are cut off.”

“Perhaps it’s just the cloud,” I said. “If we ride out from under it…”

“No,” he said, eyes distant. “They are here, now, and they are close. Now that we cannot retreat, cannot run, they will march on us… and they will kill us all.”

I swallowed. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

“Why not?” I had no answer.

“I’ll tell Freda,” I said, starting for the door. “Perhaps she’ll know what to do.” He gave a curt nod.

I left him there, seated at one of his work tables, just staring into space. I had never seen him like this before, and it tore me up inside. How could he have let it come to this? How could he have become so helpless so suddenly? It didn’t take me long to find Freda; she still stood at one of the windows in the audience hall, staring up at the sky. Aber and most of the others were still there as well.

The black cloud, I saw, had doubled in size, and it swirled faster than before. Blue flashes and the constant flicker of lightning gave it a sinister appearance.

I touched Freda’s arm and motioned for her to follow me. She gave one last look at the sky, then we went off to the side, where we could talk without being heard.

“What happened?” she asked. “Is he gone?”

“No.” Quickly I told her what we had discovered. “I thought you might be able to do something.”

She shook her head. “I have not been able to use my Trumps since this morning. I started to tell you when we were in your room. I wanted you to shuffle them… I thought I had done something to cause the problem.”

“It had begun even then?” I said. “Before the cloud?”

“Apparently. Why?”

“Then maybe the cloud isn’t the cause. Maybe it’s something else.”

“Like what?”

I shrugged. “You and Dad are the experts. Is there a device that could cause it? If so, could it be hidden here, inside the castle?”

“Not that I know of,” she said.

I sighed. “So much for that idea. I thought Ivinius or our unknown traitor might have smuggled something into Juniper.”

“Still… it is possible, I suppose. I will organize a search, just to make sure.”

“Why don’t you ask Blaise to do it?”

She looked at me in surprise. “Why?”

“She’s already in charge of the servants. She can put them to work.”

“You ask her, then. I cannot, after what she accused me of.”

I looked into her eyes. “Trust none of them, but love them all?”

She sighed and looked away. “Advice is easier when given than taken,” she said. “Very well, I will talk to her.”

Turning, she headed back to the window. I saw her pull Blaise aside, and they began to talk in low voices. Since no blows were exchanged, I assumed the best. In a life-or-death situation, even bitter enemies would work together to save themselves.

I went outside, into the main courtyard. The cloud had grown large enough to blot out the sun and most of its light, and a hazy sort of twilight settled over everything. Guards hurried across the courtyard, lighting torches. I knew without doubt that something huge and terrible was about to break over us. I think we all did.

Well, let it come. I gave a silent toast to inevitability. The sooner it came, the sooner we could act against it.

Without warning, a tremendous flash lit the courtyard, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Tiny bits of rock rained down on me, followed by a choking cloud of dust. Then a block of stone as big as my head hit the paving stones ten feet from where I stood, shattering. I reeled back, coughing and choking, eyes stinging and tearing.

Screams sounded from inside the castle. It took me a second to realize what had happened—lightning had struck the top floor.

I ran for the steps to the battlements, knowing I’d be safer there than out in the open. The real danger lay in falling stones, not being struck by lightning. Somehow, I had a feeling this one had been the first of many to come.

Gaining the top of the battlements, I looked out across the army camp. Men by the thousands worked frantically, packing gear, pulling up wooden stakes and folding tents, herding animals. I spotted Locke on horseback, directing their movements. He seemed to be directing everyone within two hundred yards of the castle away to the empty fields by the forest where the hell-creatures had been spying on us.

Another blast of lightning came, then a third. Each struck the castle’s highest tower, cracking stone blocks and roof tiles. Debris rained down. Luckily no one was injured or killed.

“Close the gates!” I called down to the guards on duty. “Don’t let anyone in except Locke or Davin! It’s too dangerous!”

“Yes, Lord!” one of them called up, and two of them began to swing the heavy gates shut.

I went back down to the courtyard, waited for the next bolts of lightning to strike and the debris to fall, then sprinted across the courtyard and into the audience hall.

It was deserted. Two of the windows had broken, and I saw blood on the floor—someone had been cut by flying glass, I thought.

I spotted servants moving in the hallway, and I hurried to see what they were doing. Anari, it turned out, had taken Dworkin’s orders to heart and had begun moving all the castle’s beds and bedding to the ground floor. Servants would sleep in the grand ballroom. My sisters would share the dining hall. My brothers and I would have one of the lesser halls—one with no windows. Hopefully the lightning would stop or the castle would withstand its blasts through the morning.

I caught sight of Aber, who was supervising two servants as they carried an immense wooden chest down the stairs, and I strode over to join him.

“Who got hurt in the audience hall?” I asked.

“Conner,” he said. “A section of the glass fell in on him. His face and hands are cut up, but he’ll live.”

“That’s good news,” I said. “What’s in the trunk?”