“It’s a good drawing,” I said, taking the card and studying it. He had caught not just the look, but the feel of my bedchamber. As I stared at it, the image seemed to grow lifelike and started to loom before me… I had the distinct impression that I could have stepped forward and been in the next room. Hurriedly I pulled my gaze away and focused on him.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, chest swelling a bit with pride. “Art is but one of my many talents, if I do say so myself.”
“Are there any more cards like this one?”
“No, that’s the only one I’ve done so far.”
Instead of handing it back, I tossed it atop the pile of dirty towels on the tray.
“You don’t mind if I keep it.” Deliberately, I made it a statement instead of a question. I didn’t need him—or anyone else—popping in on me unannounced.
“Not at all.” He shrugged. “I made it as part of your set, so it’s yours anyway. You should always have a few safe places to fall back on if need arises.”
“Then… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He gestured toward the box I still held. “Go ahead, take a look at the others.”
I took a moment to admire the mother-of-pearl dragon inlaid on the top of the box—also his work, it turned out—then unlatched the clasp and swung back the lid. Inside, nestled in a velvet-lined compartment, lay a small stack of Trumps, all face down. Their backs showed a blue-painted field with an intricate gold lion in the middle, exactly like Freda’s.
I pulled all the cards out and fanned them—about twenty-five, I judged. Most showed portraits done much like the ones in Freda’s set. I pulled out Aber’s. He looked even more heroic than in Freda’s set, if possible; here, he held a bloody sword in one hand and the severed head of a lion in the other. Clearly he had no problems with his own self-image.
“They’re terrific,” I said.
“Thanks.”
“You’ll have to show me how they work later, when we have more time.” I put them back in the box, adding the one of my bedroom to the top of the stack.
“You don’t know…” he began. “Sorry! I thought you knew. This morning, someone used my card. Just for a second, I thought I saw you and Freda inside a carriage.”
“That was me,” I admitted. “But it was an accident. I didn’t know what I was doing,”
He shrugged. “It’s not hard. Take out a card and concentrate on it. If it’s a place, it will seem to grow life-sized before you, like a doorway. Just step through and you’re there.”
“And the people?”
“You’ll be able to talk to them,” he said, “but only if they want to talk to you, too. After contact is made, either one can help the other pass across.”
“It works both ways?”
“That’s right.” He nodded. “Just stick out your hand, the person you’re talking to will grasp it, and you step forward. Fast and easy.”
“It almost seems too good to be true!” I said, a trifle skeptical. Why would anyone bother with horses or carriages if a single card could make traveling quick and painless? “Freda said you liked pranks. You’re pulling my leg now, aren’t you?”
“No,” he insisted, “I’m telling the truth. I always tell the truth. It’s just that half the time nobody believes me!”
I gave a snort. “That’s what the best liars say.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that. Give me the benefit of the doubt, Oberon.”
“Very well—explain to me again how you got in here.”
“I used that Trump of your bedroom,” he said solemnly, indicating the one I’d put in the box. “I left Dad in his study just a minute ago. Which reminds me, I’m here because he wants to see you. So you’d better hurry up. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I had to smile. “Some things never change.”
Throughout my childhood, Dworkin had hated waiting for anything, from lines at the baker’s to finishing my penmanship lessons so we could get on to more important things, like swordplay and military tactics.
“So,” I went on, “if I concentrated on Dad’s card right now, he’d pull me into his study? Just like that?” I’d never be able to master such a trick, I thought. It sounded impossibly hard, somehow.
“Sure. But I wouldn’t do it with Dad, ever, unless you haven’t any other choice… he doesn’t like to be distracted when he’s working. Sometimes he has delicate experiments going on, and if you accidentally mess one up… well, let’s just say he has quite a temper.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I said. I knew what he meant about our father’s temper, all right. Once in the marketplace, when a soldier twice his size had insulted my mother, Dworkin had beaten the fool senseless with his bare hands. It had taken four of the city watch to drag him away, or he surely would have killed the fellow. I hadn’t seen him that angry very often, but it was a terrible thing to behold.
Some things, it seemed, never changed.
“Let me finish getting ready,” I said, turning back to the mirror and picking up the razor. “Then maybe you can show me the way down.”
“Sure, glad to.”
“Anari was supposed to find me some clothes. Maybe you can hurry him up.”
“What about those?” He pointed through my bedroom door, and to my amazement I saw brown hose, a green shirt, and undergarments laid out on the chair next to the bed where I’d been sleeping.
“I must be going blind,” I said, shaking my head. “I would’ve sworn they weren’t there five minutes ago!”
He chuckled. “Okay, you caught me. I put them there. After I saw Dad, I went to my room first to pick up your set of Trumps. Ivinius was in the hall, and I told him to let you know I’d bring in some clothes for you. I guess he forgot to mention it.”
I laughed with relief. “So I’m not crazy!”
“No… at least, I hope not! Say, why didn’t you let him shave you?”
“The way his hands were shaking? Never!”
“Well, he is getting old.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Someone ought to tell Anari to find us a new barber.”
“I think that would be a good idea. I wouldn’t want to have my throat cut.”
I finished shaving quickly. All the while I studied my brother. He stood by the window, gazing out across the castle grounds. He didn’t seem at all surprised at finding me alive. If anything, he seemed to like my company; I thought he must be lonely. It was easy to rule him out as a suspect in a conspiracy to have me killed—you didn’t kill friends, especially ones with as little power here as I had.
And that, I thought, made him my first potential ally.
I splashed water on my face, then toweled dry. Not the best job, I thought, studying my reflection and rubbing my chin, but it would do for now. I’d get a haircut tomorrow, if I could find a real barber.
I began to dress quickly. Anari had a good eye for clothes; these fit me almost perfectly. A tiny bit too narrow in the shoulders, a little too wide in the waist, but with a belt, they would do nicely.
“You look a bit like him,” Aber said suddenly as I pulled on my boots.
“Who?”
“Taine. Those are his clothes.”
Taine… another of my missing half-brothers. I studied my reflection more critically… yes, I thought, dressed in his colors, I looked a lot like him in his Trump.
I said, “Freda thinks Taine is dead. Do you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. He has Dad’s temper, and he left after a fight with Locke. I suppose he could be off somewhere, brooding and planning his revenge.”
“What did they fight about?”