He looked at me oddly. “Just what I said.”
“How can they be new?”
“Well… they just suddenly appeared one day. All these Shadow worlds… Juniper, your Ilerium, all the others… they haven't existed long. One day, they simply sprang into existence. I thought everyone knew that.”
“Not me,” I said. Once more I found myself rearranging my mental view of the universe. “I assumed they always existed. Everyone kept calling them Shadows… I thought they were shadows cast by the Courts of Chaos. At least, that's what Freda told me, I think…”
“It's one theory,” he said with a shrug. “Chaos does cast Shadows. We're in one now—the Beyond. It's the closest shadow to the Courts, and it's always been here, as far as I know. It's so close it's considered part of the Courts of Chaos. But the other Shadows… the nice ones, where Dad and everyone else likes to roam… they didn't exist when my mother was young.”
“When did they appear?”
He thought for a minute. “I don't quite know. Maybe fifty years ago, as Chaos counts time. Maybe a little more.”
“And they just suddenly appeared?”
“Well… it wasn't quite that simple, or so I'm told. I wasn't there, after all. According to my grandmother, a huge storm descended on the Courts of Chaos. No one had ever seen anything like it before. The sky went black and quiet. The stars disappeared. Then the ground began to shake and split apart, and whole cities were destroyed. Thousands died. Only afterward did things begin to return to normal… though—at least according to my grandmother—nothing was ever quite as good as it had been before.”
“How old is our father?” I asked, feeling a strange prickling sense of foreboding.
He shrugged. “I'm not sure anymore. Time runs differently in Shadows. He's been out there a long time. But his oldest child—as Chaos reckons time—must be thirty-five or forty now.”
“Then he's old enough to have lived through that storm—the one that came before these new Shadows appeared?”
“Sure. I know he is. Why?”
“Oh… no reason. Just curious.”
I did not voice my sudden suspicion. He was old enough. He was interested in science and experiments. What if our father not only enjoyed these new Shadows… but had actually done something to create them?
No, that was impossible—how could one man create thousands upon thousands of worlds? No single person could possibly wield so much power. He would be like a god. And if our father did have godlike powers, he certainly hadn't shown them. He had allowed us all to be trapped in Juniper. He had let his children die at the hands of unknown enemies. No, it was a crazy idea, and I pushed it to the back of my mind.
And yet, some distant part of me noted, such power would make him a man to be feared. It would explain why someone was trying to kill him… and the rest of us too… wouldn't it?
Several hours later, the storm still raged outside, and it seemed to be growing worse. I heard wind constantly now, howling like a wild animal. This time at least I knew it was real, not something imagined or hallucinated. Thunder growled constantly, too, a low, steady rumble.
Twice Aber and I walked back to the courtyard door and looked out, and the last time we saw three distant tornadoes over the wall, their funnels black as night as they twisted and turned. And yet they did not seem to be gliding across the land, the way tornadoes did in Ilerium… these seemed rooted in place, swaying back and forth like the pendulums of some enormous clock.
“Have you ever seen tornadoes here before?” I asked Aber.
“No,” he said, “and I don't think it's a good sign.”
“Can you do anything about them?”
He gave me a funny look. “I think you have an exaggerated idea of my magical abilities.”
At that, I laughed. “It seems I've always underestimated people. About time I started overestimating them!”
He laughed too, but uncertainly.
After a long break, when it seemed they wouldn't be able to go back outside because of the storms, the guards asked for permission to resume their exercises in the front entry hall.
“Go ahead,” I told Captain Neole, looking at Aber for guidance. As I expected, he gave a subtle half nod. “Just don't break anything.”
They made room by moving the lamps, braziers, and odd bits of furniture to one side. I had to admit the chamber was big enough, and as long as they watched out for the rows of tall stone columns running down the center, they seemed in no immediate danger.
They worked through a series of exercises, then began pairing up to practice swordplay. I found myself watching from the library door, a bit enviously. Part of me longed to join them, to forget myself for at least the next few hours in grueling physical exertion, but I didn't feel up to it. Tired and sore, with a headache that threatened to split my skull, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for the next few days.
“That's it,” I told Aber. “I'm going to bed.”
He seemed surprised. “Already?”
“I've had it,” I said. “Between visions and lightning bolts, my head feels like it's going to explode. Wake me if we're being attacked and slaughtered, or if Dad shows up. If it's anything else, solve the problem yourself!”
“Can you find your way back to your room?”
“Sure.” I felt certain I could, at least from the main staircase. I'd been up it often enough to get my bearings. “What about you? Your day has been just as hard.”
“True. But I have some work to do first,” he said.
“Oh?”
He laughed. “Nothing you'd find exciting or interesting. Just some letters to write.”
“To anyone I know?”
“Distant cousins, whom I'm hoping will prove sympathetic to our situation.”
“Good idea,” I said. For once, he was thinking like a soldier: find allies and bring them into the fight on your side. If I knew anyone here, I wouldn't have hesitated to summon their help.
He went to the desk and retrieved quills, a short-bladed knife for cutting down the point, and writing paper, all of which he arranged within easy reach.
I left him there bent over the table, pen in hand, and the scritch-scratch noises followed me out into the hall.
Safely back in my room, I undressed and gave my clothes to Horace, who made as if to leave with them. Then he paused.
“Sir?”
“What is it?”
“Do you need me to watch your sleep tonight?”
I thought about it, then shook my head.
“No need. I'll be fine. Go to bed and catch up on your own rest.”
“Yes, sir!” I didn't have to tell him twice—he hurried into his room and shut the door before I could change my mind.