“Traditionally formal? I'll guess that means fancy clothes, boring speeches, and pretentious old men and their wives?”
“You've dined with them before?”
I sighed. “With their counterparts in Ilerium, anyway.”
“You'll see,” he said with an encouraging nod, “the food alone will be worth the trip. Now, though, we have to get you cleaned up for Aunt Lan's party.”
I tried on outfit after outfit, assisted by Horace and Aber. My brother kept summoning fancier garments using the Logrus, and each time I thought I looked magnificent, he would shake his head and try again. Fancy collars, shoes like golden hooves, hats of impossibly complex design—I tried them all on, then tore them all off. The stack of discarded silks, leather, and frilled lace grew high on top of my bed.
When I finally stood back and regarded myself in a looking glass, I had a hard time keeping from laughing. My final costume seemed ludicrous. Crimson leggings, a heavily ruffled red shirt with sleeves that puffed out like over-ripe melons, and a jaunty cap with long flowing red feathers that trailed down behind—I had never seen anything so outlandish in my life.
The sad thing was, Aber took it entirely too seriously. He adorned himself in dark blue, though his shirt had splashes of gold at the sleeves. His hat's feathers were longer and more spectacular than my own—not that I objected, of course.
I studied my reflection in the looking glass. Not bad, I finally decided. Once you got used to the puffiness and color, everything fit me well and flattered my appearance.
“If Helda could see me now,” I murmured.
“What did you say?” Aber asked from across the room. He brought my swordbelt over.
“You're absolutely certain,” I said for what must have been the tenth time, “that everyone will be dressed like this?”
“Of course.”
By tradition, according to Aber, I could not arrive via Trump. I had to ride to Aunt Lanara's house in an open carriage, emerge in grand style, walk up the steps through a multitude of well-wishers, and finally enter the grand hall. There, a feast in my honor would commence, followed by dancing and entertainments into the small hours. I would get my first look at Braxara over dinner, when her father offered up a toast in our honor.
“Aunt Lan's parties are notorious for their excesses,” Aber told me. “Everyone important will be there. Perhaps even King Uthor himself.”
“What about Dad?”
He frowned. “He should be there. Everyone will talk about it if he isn't. Want to try his Trump again?”
I shrugged. “I suppose I'd better. Even if he doesn't show up, he ought to know what's going on.”
He brought our father's Trump to me, and I concentrated on it. It took a long time, but finally his image began to stir, as if he were far away. A misty, blurry image came into view—Dad, with a dense forest of pine trees behind him.
“What is it?” he snapped at me.
“We were worried about you,” I said. “The audience with King Uthor“
“Never took place,” he finished. “Forget about it. There are more important things happening. I will be back in a day or two. Guard your backs until then; our enemies are moving fast.”
Suddenly he was gone. I never had a chance to tell him about the serpent scrying on me, the lightning attack, Rhalla being sent to assassinate me, or my engagement to Braxara. Moving fast, indeed!
I repeated what Dad has said to my brother.
“Very curious.” Aber's brow furrowed.
“Very,” I agreed.
“At least he's planning on coming back. Where do you think he was? Any clue?”
“Not in the Courts of Chaos, certainly. The forest behind him looked normal.”
“More important things are happening… what do you think he meant?”
“I think insanity runs in our family.”
I buckled on my swordbelt. Though it had served me well, I had to admit now it showed its age. Aber, of course, noticed too.
“You need a weapon suitable to your station,” he said. “I'll get one of Dad's.” He headed for the door.
“Anything special about them?” I asked, following.
“I'll pick one of the enchanted ones!” he called over his shoulder. Then he bounded down the hall, into an alcove, and up a small flight of steps.
I didn't have long to wait. In less than a minute, he returned with the most beautiful weapon I had ever seen in my life. It was longsword, with intricate scrollwork along the entire length of the blade. The hilt, inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones, fit my hand as though it had been made for me. I hefted it. It felt curiously light—far lighter than it should have been, considering its size and workmanship.
“Well?” Aber asked.
“It will do.”
“It will do? That's one of the finest swords ever forged. It belonged to our grandfather, Duke Esmorn. He carried it through the Logrus, and it gained magical powers as a result.”
“What sort of powers?” I asked.
“I'm not sure. But that's what I've always been told. Dad refuses to use it.”
“Why?”
Aber shrugged. “I don't know.”
I regarded the flat of the blade more closely and noticed a small inscription: “The meek have no need of arms.” Truly, this was a warrior's weapon. I would take good care of it.
I raised the sword and took a few practice swings. The hilt seemed to turn slightly in my hand, almost as if it had a will of its own will. Interesting. I noted it for future study.
We left not long after, just Aber, Freda, and me—Fenn, pleading exhaustion, begged off—in a grand carriage drawn by white beasts. I hesitated to call them horses, for their necks stretched too long, their long, thin, bony tails had no hair, and their feet… well, six legs gave them speed, but somehow lacked the grace of thoroughbreds.
We left from the courtyard by the rock garden, and the driver circled the main building at a fast trot. With red skies boiling overhead, and purple lightning flickering constantly, guards swung open tall gates for us. We drove out, and madness surrounded us.
I did not know how to describe it. It was as though I stood at the edge of a great cliff, and before me streamed every nightmare known to mankind, pounding at my senses. Colors swirled in mid-air. The rush of wind, which had long died down to the merest whisper at the back of my mind, rose to a full-throated roar. Above, the clouds vanished, leaving a sky as black as midnight, but filled with stars that moved like fireflies.
The horse-creatures began to gallop, hooves pounding. The carriage lurched and jumped. Air screamed around me.
Standing in my seat, I threw back my head and laughed. So this was Chaos. So this was what I had feared!
I drank it all in, arms wide. My every sense raged. The noise and color and tastes and textures assaulted me. I felt hopelessly jumbled and no longer tried to find angles, familiar elements, or anything to cling to. I reveled in the wildness, and my heart knew no boundaries. Chaos! Yes, Chaos! It flowed around me, through me, became me.
Aber, laughing, pulled me down. I stared at him, beyond words, beyond emotions.
“You are drooling,” Freda said. She wiped my mouth with the hem of her dress.
“Why didn't you tell me?” I cried.
“This is the Beyond!” Aber said. “It's why we have walls, or all would be washed away!”
The landscape outside had begun to change. I stared. I couldn't help myself. Every way I turned, I found something incredible. Colors that leapt and spurted like water from a fountain. Walking trees. Stones that roamed the land. Mountains that shook and heaved and abruptly flattened to prairies.
And demon-creatures moved everywhere, on foot, on horseback, and in the air.
The ride, perhaps an hour long, proved a mesmerizing but ultimately uneventful spectacle. I wasn't entirely sure when we left the Beyond and entered the Courts of Chaos, but that we did so I had no doubt.