She held out her right hand. In it I saw a stack of Trumps, face down.
“More of your future-telling?” I asked with a laugh.
“Humor me, Oberon.”
I shrugged, took the deck, shuffled it twice, and handed it back. Turning, she headed for her room… probably to read them in private. She knew how little I believed in predictions.
“Let me know if there's any good news!” I called after her. “I could use some about now!”
Aber said, “You shouldn't make light of her talents. She is a powerful sorceress.”
“Anyone can foretell the future. The trick is getting it right.”
“Futures can change, you know. That's why so many predictions don't come true. Oh! I have something for you!”
“What?”
He reached into the pouch at his belt and drew out a new Trump. The colors were bright, almost glassy. I accepted it.
“Nice. New paints?”
“I spent the morning yesterday hunting up pigments. These are nothing like the ones I used to have, but they will do.”
It showed the main courtyard of the castle. Quite a nice likeness, too.
“You may have to get back here in a hurry,” he explained. “This is in case Freda and I aren't around.”
I grinned. “Thank you!”
“Oh, it's nothing much.” He made a deprecating gesture, but seemed delighted by the praise. “My small contribution.”
I added it to the stack of Trumps in my pouch, hesitated, then pulled out Dad's. Aber said nothing, but his eyes begged: Please don't!
“I have to,” I said. “He must be told what's going on. He might be able to help in some way. Why don't you come along?”
“You know Dad can't stand me!”
“Oh, he can stand you. He just doesn't like you!”
“And that makes it worse.” Sighing, Aber looked away.
I'd spoken half in jest, but I saw that it had touched a nerve. I hadn't meant to hurt him. I really needed to curb my tongue.
Quickly I added, “I really didn't mean it quite the way it sounded. I—”
“I know what you meant, Oberon!” he said. “Don't worry about it. The truth is painful sometimes, but I'll get over it. I always do. Besides, I'll have the last laugh. I plan to outlive him. Longevity is the best revenge.”
I chuckled. “At least you have a plan.”
Raising Dad's Trump, I concentrated on the picture. The jester slowly changed, becoming a dwarfish man dressed all in brown. He had been puttering about in the basement, in the large meeting room.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“I need to talk to you,” I said. “I killed an assassin in the castle. He had a Trump.”
“What!” Dworkin cried. “Are you hurt?”
“I'm fine.”
He reached out for me, and I took his hand. With a quick step, I was standing in his library. The shelves were a maddening jumble of books and scrolls.
“Where did you get these?” I asked, staring.
“The Logrus.”
I shook my head. Only a few weeks here, and he had already amassed a lifetime's supply of reading matter, true packrat that he was.
He chuckled. “Do not fear the Logrus, my boy. It's the arms of the thing…”
I gave him a puzzled look. “Arms?” Had his dementia returned?
He laughed. “Those who serve its cause. Uthor's men. Thellops. Others.”
I opened my mouth, but before I could reply, someone outside began to ring a loud bell. We exchanged quick glances, then ran for the door. What now?
Conner burst in on us, grinning from ear to ear.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“We've found Uthor's camp!”
It took half an hour to mount our scouting expedition. Ten men strong, the party consisted of Conner and me, two of Conner's lieutenants, and six men from Ceyoldar—two of King Aslom's sons, Haetor and Iankos, plus four of Ceyoldar's best cavalry officers. Aslom and his two other sons were busy organizing their camp on the beach below the castle. A hundred thousand warriors needed ample space.
We headed out as soon as fresh horses could be saddled and supplies could be packed. At my brother's suggestion, we brought heavy wool cloaks, hats, and gloves.
“I found a place to observe them from the mountains,” he said. “It's cold and a little treacherous, but I don't think they will spot us.”
“Good.” That sounded like an ideal plan.
Finally, as late afternoon sunlight slanted down through the treetops, we entered the forest. Connor shifted through Shadows immediately, and the land grew rocky. As the temperature began to drop, the sky turned gray and sullen with the promise of snow. Oaks gave way to pines, then the pines gave way to scraggly, gnarled underbrush.
I noticed how the men from Ceyoldar stared at everything around them with wonder. They knew this was the way we had entered Amber, but nothing looked the same. Ah, the powers of a god… Smiling to myself, I caught up with my brother.
Now the road grew rocky and narrow; forced into a single-file line, we climbed a steep path, moving into rugged snow-draped mountains. A cold, crisp wind gusted into my face, stinging with occasional flakes of snow. I blinked hard and squinted into the wind. We would need capes soon. I started to look for a place to stop.
“How many men would you say Uthor has?” I called ahead.