I swayed a little, and Horace leaped forward to steady me. I leaned on his shoulder as he helped me to a chair.
“That will be all,” I told him.
“Yes, Lord,” he said, and he bowed and hurried out.
Slowly I told my father everything that had happened to me: my sudden unexpected appearance at the battlefield north of Kingstown, the heads of King Elnar and his lieutenants and how they had betrayed me, my flight from the hell-creatures, and how I discovered the town had been burned.
“Aber saved me,” I said. “He made a trump to check on me, then used it to bring me back here.”
“Then it worked,” he said, awed. “The jewel really does carry a true image of your pattern. You are now attuned to it, and it to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
He smiled kindly. “You traveled to Ilerium on your own, drawing on the pattern within you. You can master Shadows now.”
I felt stunned. “It worked? Really?”
“Yes!”
“Like the Logrus?”
“Yes!”
I sighed with relief, “Good…”
“The very nature of Chaos lies in the Logrus,” he said. “It is a primal force, alive and vibrant. It is incorporated into the very essence of the Lords of Chaos, from King Uthor on down to the smallest child who shares his blood.”
“Including you,” I said. “And everyone of your blood… except me.”
“That’s right.”
“But why not in me?”
“Oh, I know the answer to that now,” he said with a laugh, “but we must save it for another day. Come, I have a bed in one of the back rooms for when I work too long here. Lie down, sleep. You will be the better for it tomorrow.”
I still had a thousand questions—how had I transported myself to Ilerium without a Trump? Did I need the ruby to work magic? Would it take me to any Shadow world I could envision, even ones I’ve never been to before?—but I didn’t have the strength to argue. Rising, I followed him through several different rooms than the ones I’d seen before, all equally cluttered with magical and scientific devices, until we came to one with a small bed pushed up against the wall. A pair of mummified lions sat on top of the covers, but he tossed them into the corner and pulled back the blankets for me.
“In you go, my boy.”
Without bothering to undress, I threw myself down.
Dreams came quickly, full of weird images of burning patterns encased in ruby light, talking heads, and Dworkin cackling as he loomed over me, pulling strings like a mad puppeteer.
Chapter 14
I don’t know how long I slept, but when I finally awoke the next day, I felt groggy and out of sorts with the world. Dworkin had vanished. Slowly I sat up, stretched, rubbed my eyes, and I climbed unsteadily to my feet. My muscles ached and my head pounded.
I wandered out of the workshop, past two new guards on duty in the corridor, and into the banquet hall. Perhaps food would help, I thought.
Blaise and a couple of women I’d never seen before were eating what looked like a cold lunch at one end of the table. I nodded politely to them, but took my own meal at the other end. They barely seemed to notice me, going on about various people I’d never heard of.
“How may I serve you, Lord?” a servant asked, appearing at my side.
“A bloody steak, half a dozen fried eggs, and beer.”
“Yes, Lord.”
He returned five minutes later with plates filled with the food I’d ordered, plus a basket of fresh bread, a cake of butter, a salt cellar, and a large bowl piled high with fruit. I recognized apples and pears, but most of the others—strange knobbed balls of green and yellow, mottled reddish-orange blades, and puffy white globes the size of my fist—I had never before seen.
I ate in silence, thinking back to events of the previous day. It all seemed distant and unreal, as though someone else had voyaged to Ilerium. And yet I could still hear King Elnar and his lieutenants’ voices—
Traitor!
Murderer!
Assassin!
It sent a cold knife through my heart.
After eating, I felt much like my old self. I had slept well past noon, I realized. I couldn’t spend the whole day lounging around the castle, so I went in search of Anari. He had set up a whole day of appointments for me with tailors and the like, but unfortunately, between Dad and everything else, I hadn’t kept a single one. Perhaps, I thought, he could reschedule them for later.
I finally found him in a small room off the audience chamber, looking over reports and making staff assignments. He greeted me warmly when I walked in.
“I trust you are satisfied with young Horace, Lord?” he said.
“Quite satisfied,” I said. “He seems able and enthusiastic. I have no complaints.”
“I am happy to hear it.” He smiled, and I thought the news genuinely pleased him.
“Do you know where my father is?”
“Prince Dworkin has gone to inspect troops with Lord Locke and Lord Davin. They should return before dinner.”
“Ah.” I couldn’t expect Dworkin to neglect his duties and wait for me, I supposed. Still, I’d hoped he would still be here.
“What of the tailors?” I said. “I’m afraid I missed all the appointments.”
He consulted a set of papers on the desk before him. “I believe… yes, they are with Lady Blaise now,” he said. “She is selecting fabrics for new officers’ uniforms. That should take most of the afternoon. Will tomorrow morning be soon enough for you to see them?”
“Yes.” I could always borrow more of Mattus’s wardrobe, as needed.
“Very good, my Lord.” He dipped a quill pen in ink and made a note of it. His handwriting, I noticed, was thin and ornate.
I continued, “Is there a workout yard in the castle?”
“Of course, Lord Oberon. Master Berushk will be at your service.” He motioned to a page of perhaps nine or ten years, who wore castle livery and stood attentively by the door. “Show Lord Oberon to the workout yard,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” the page said.
The boy led me outside to the front courtyard, with its broad flagstones, and then we passed through a small rose garden. The gate on the far side opened onto an enclosed courtyard perhaps fifty feet square. This had to be the place, I thought, looking at the practice dummies, racks of swords and other weapons. It even had a pivoting drill machine with wooden arms and swords.
Two men, stripped to the waist, now fought there with swords and knives, pivoting and thrusting, parrying and riposting. A third man, older and much scarred on his hands and face, looked on critically.
“This is it, Lord,” the page said to me.
“Thanks. You may go.”
“Yes, Lord.” Bowing, he ran back the way we had come.
I turned my attention to the fighters, whom I now recognized as my half brothers Titus and Conner. They were workmanlike at best in their swordsmanship, I decided.
“Hold!” the third man said. Titus and Conner drew up short, panting and sweating.
“You’re letting your guards down again,” he said to both of them. I silently agreed with his assessment. “You cannot count on your opponent being as tired as you are. In a real battle, such mistakes would cost you your lives.”
I pushed open the gate and went in. They all paused to look at me.
“Who is this?” Berushk asked.
“Oberon, our brother,” Titus—or was it Conner?—said to him.
“Another soft and useless child?” said the weapons-master with a sneer, giving me a dismissive look from head to heel. “Well, young Oberon, I haven’t seen you here before. Are you lost on your stroll through the roses? Off with you, and leave swordplay to real men.”
I had to laugh. King Elnar’s weapons-master had used almost exactly the same insults the first time we’d met. My temper had been hotter in those days, and as a fresh young officer, I’d had a lot to prove. Of course, I’d taken offense, drawn my blade, and demanded a fight on the spot. He’d obliged… and I’d very nearly killed him, the first student ever to do so. I would have killed him, had several others not dragged me away from the fight.