I knew exactly what he meant. “They’re all stiff and formal, afraid to say or do the wrong thing.” I’d seen it in Ilerium, among the bluebloods in King Elnar’s court.
“From what Dad told us, Freda and I expected you to be another Locke. You know, all soldier, dedicated to war and politics. But you’re not like Locke at all. I wouldn’t trust Locke to clean my paint brushes. You, dear brother, I just might.”
I scratched my head. “I’m not quite sure how to take that,” I admitted. Clean his paint brushes?
He laughed. “As a compliment, of course! Good brushes are a painter’s best friend. More valued than wine or women—and twice as expensive.”
“Surely not more valued than women!”
“Well, the available women in Juniper, anyway.”
“Then thank you for the compliment.”
“You feel like a friend, somehow,” he went on, eyes far away suddenly. “Like I’ve known you all my life and we’ve just been apart for too long and need to catch up with each other. Does that make sense?”
“Sure,” I said. I knew exactly what he meant—I already felt the same way about both him and Freda: comfortable.
I changed the subject. “So Locke’s not a friend?”
“When it’s convenient for him—and that’s usually when he wants something. He took me out drinking a month ago when he wanted me to make him some new Trumps, and I haven’t had two words from him since. Well, that’s not true. He said ‘pass the wine’ last night at dinner, and that’s three words.”
“I see the real problem.”
“Really?” He looked startled. “What?”
“If you have to pass the wine, there aren’t enough bottles on the table!”
That got a snort of amusement.
“See? This is what I meant… and why I like you. Nobody else in our family has a sense of humor. Not even Freda.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“To Locke, we’re all tools to be used toward his own ends. Davin doesn’t mind being a tool. That’s the height of his ambition, to be second in command. The others…” He shrugged. “Nobody really wants to serve under Locke. He’s a bully when he wants his way. If not for Dad pulling us all together here, we’d scatter to the winds again.”
I found myself agreeing with his assessment. Every word he’d said rang true.
Over the years, I’d known quite a few officers like Locke. They were always noble-born, and their only interest lay in yoking those beneath them to their own political and military advancement. Oddly enough, they always found eager followers. Sometimes a lot of them.
And I had invariably ended up at odds with them.
Aber said, “I still remember the first time Locke and Freda met as adults!” He shook his head. “He ordered her to fetch him and his men wine—he treated her like a common servant. Freda!”
“Did she do it?”
“Of course, like any prim and proper hostess. And then she dumped the whole tray in his lap.”
I smiled at that.
Aber said, “She still hasn’t forgiven him… nor has he forgiven her.”
“Well, I can see both of their positions,” I said, picturing the scene with some amusement. “And yet, part of me still thinks I’d be better off throwing in with Locke. After all, as the general in charge of Juniper’s army, and the firstborn son, he seems poised to take over after our father. And I’m a soldier. I’d fit in with Locke. We’d… understand each other.”
“You’re wrong, brother.” He said, voice firm. “Locke sees you as a threat. If you try to make friends with him, you won’t live long enough to stand a chance to replace him.”
“He’d kill me?” I said uneasily. “His own brother?”
“Half brother. And not directly, no… but he grew up in the Courts, where fighting and treachery are a way of life. His rivals never lasted long.”
“Murder?” I wondered aloud, thinking of Ivinius the demon-barber, sent to kill me in my chambers. Locke could easily have told him all he needed to know.
“Let’s call it a series of convenient accidents. Locke is careful, and no one has any proof of his involvement. But over the years, there have been too many hunting accidents, a drowning, two convenient suicides, and half a dozen mysterious disappearances in our family alone. That’s not counting other rivals.”
“Coincidences, I’d say.”
“So many? I think not.” He looked away. “When Dad turned the army over to him, I knew it was a huge mistake. He’ll never surrender command now. And he won’t welcome any rivals in the ranks.”
“I’ve served kings and generals my whole career. I’m used to taking orders, and I’d probably make a good lieutenant for Locke.”
“You don’t have ambitions?”
“Of course. But I’m not going to stroll in and try to wrestle away Locke’s position. That’s a fool’s errand. He has his command, and he’s welcome to it.”
“But—it can’t be that way!” he blurted out.
“Why not?”
“Freda said—”
Aber hesitated; clearly he didn’t like the direction our conversation had taken… and I took some pleasure in shaking apart his all-too-cozy view of our relationship. He had revealed a lot to me already—more than I had dared to hope, in fact—but I wanted more. And I thought I could get it.
“I can imagine what she said.” I lowered my voice to a more conspiratorial whisper. “I was just jerking your chain about Locke. Did Freda tell you… everything?”
He relaxed, his relief obvious.
“She told me enough,” he admitted. “The cards were a surprise. I didn’t think anyone could ever oppose both Dad and Locke.”
So, Freda didleave something out when she read my future, I thought. Oppose Dworkin and Locke? That had an ominous sound. Oppose them in what?
With deliberate mildness, intrigued despite my skepticism about Freda’s talents, I said: “Freda didn’t mention anything to me about opposing Locke and our father.”
He gulped suddenly, eyes wide with alarm. “No?”
“No.”
I folded my arms, waiting patiently as an awkward silence stretched between us. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot, not looking at me, gazing back down the corridor like he wanted to go haring off to his rooms.
I saw it now. Freda had put him up to befriending me, feeling out my loyalties, and trying to win me over to their side. Despite that, I liked Aber, and I had the feeling he genuinely liked me.
Now he desperately wanted to take back his words and start on a different tack. It was something Freda could have done, I thought: just switched subjects and kept going, or announced she was tired, closed her eyes, and gone to sleep. Anything to get out of a cat-and-mouse game of questions-and-answers that couldn’t be won. Poor Aber made an excellent mouse.
“And?” I prompted, when I’d waited long enough. Like most questions, the benefit was in the asking, not the answering. “What did she see?”
He just stared at me wonderingly. “You are good,” he said suddenly. “Honestly, I thought you were just a soldier. But Freda saw truly.”
“I am just a soldier.”
“No. You’re better at these games even than Freda. She was right about you. I thought she was crazy, but I see it now. You are a threat to Locke. And to our father. Maybe to all of us.”
“What did she say?” I asked again.
“I guess it can’t hurt.” He sighed, looked away. “You and Locke are going to be at odds. And you will win.”
“And our father?”
“Him, too.”
“She saw all this in her Trumps?”
“Yes.”
“Rot and nonsense.”