“They also do not know anything of any real value,” Freda said to me. “Swayvil must know that. Why waste his time on them?”
“True,” I said.
Great Aunt Eddarg cackled a bit. “And the king is more than busy with his own enemies,” said one mouth. The other added: “All of King Uthor's immediate family—wives, children, grandchildren, down through a dozen generations, poor dearies—have been arrested.” And the other mouth continued, “Those who waive all claim to the throne and swear fealty to King Swayvil are allowed to live. Any who hesitate receive summary execution.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Most are swearing fealty?”
The left mouth said, “Of course! Wouldn't you, knowing King Uthor is gone and you have no longer have any hope of ascending the throne?”
“Probably.” With King Uthor dead, few would dare stand openly against Swayvil.
“The good news,” said Great Aunt Eddarg's right mouth, “is that the lai she'one are no longer hunting Dworkin”—(“That idiot!” chimed in the other mouth.)—“or the rest of you. That must come as a relief.”
I nodded. “Good news, indeed.”
Freda said, “But he has not released any of our family, nor lifted the death sentences on us?”
“No, no,” said the right mouth. The left said, “Not yet. Except for your brother, of course.” And the first mouth added: “He is a dearie, but thin. We must get him fattened up.”
“Do you mean Aber?” I asked.
“Yes,” said both mouths at once. “A hero,” said one.
“How is he faring?” Freda asked.
“Haven't you heard?” said Great Aunt Eddarg. “He was adopted into House Swayvil two days ago.” Her second mouth added: “The king gave him a suite in the palace—though not in the king's own wing—and the dearie has been throwing lavish parties for his friends.” The first mouth continued: “He is quite partial to roast piqnar and keeps asking for it.” The second mouth added: “Expensive tastes, but King Swayvil does not seem to mind. They dine together now and again.”
“Then he is doing well,” Freda asked. She shot me an uncertain glance—not sure whether to be happy or dismayed, I guessed. That was my own reaction.
“Thriving, from the sounds of it,” I said. For once, Aber seemed to have everything he'd ever wanted: security, a place in a powerful family, and freedom from our father's influence.
“Has he asked King Swayvil to free Pella and Syara?” I asked casually.
“I do not know, dearie. I am not privy to their discussions. Now, I must get dinner ready,” said Great Aunt Eddarg. “There is another banquet tonight.” Her other mouth added: “Talk to me again soon, dearies?”
“I will,” Freda promised with a smile. “I will let you know whenever we have news. And you must do the same.”
“Of course, dearie!”
Freda covered the Trump with her hand, and we were alone. We stared at each other for a heartbeat. Aber had certainly landed on his feet.
“We must,” Freda said, “find a way to use Aber to our advantage.
“The best way to deal with a serpent,” I said unhappily, “is to cut off its head.”
Chapter 31
Over the next week, events seemed to hit a strange lull. With the newly crowned King Swayvil concentrating on hunting down the last of King Uthor's followers, no one in Chaos seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to us. It was as if Dad, the Shadows, and Amber had suddenly ceased to be important. Perhaps Uthor had been right in his estimation: Swayvil had used us solely as a distraction. Now that he held the throne, he would spend his days consolidating his base of power.
Which was entirely fine by me: while he worked on strengthening his hold on the Courts of Chaos, I would consolidate my own power in Amber.
“King Oberon” still had a very nice ring to it, and I meant to hang on to my title, my crown, and most of all my life.
Weeks passed, a constant blur of non-stop action. I spent exhausting and exhilarating days in the field, reviewing troops or recruiting new ones with Conner… fascinating days visiting nearby Shadows and buying or bartering with the native populations for food, supplies, and most important of all, settlers… but most especially glorious days exploring our new world of Amber.
I sailed with our fledgling navy as it explored the coastline… rode with the cavalry as it mapped the hills and valleys… marched with the infantry as they cut roads through the forests and began the lengthy task of setting up watchtowers along our soon-to-be-city's flanks.
When I returned to Amber one evening, I found an unhappy reception committee waiting: my father, Freda, and Conner, all looking angry.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“What have you done with him?” Freda said.
“I am close to a cure!” Dad said. “Another week, and he would have been free from Suhuy's poison!”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, looking from one to another. Had they lost all reason?
Sharply, Conner said, “Do you deny releasing Fenn?”
“What—you mean he's gone?” I looked uncomprehendingly from one to another. “I've been at sea all day! When could I possibly have released him?”
Dad let out his breath. “I see Suhuy's hand in this,” he muttered. “Another imposter!”
“What! And nobody thought to question him?” I demanded.
“You… he… was in a foul mood,” Freda said. “He rode in alone, went straight to Fenn's cell, and ordered the guards to tie Fenn up. Which they did. Then he dragged Fenn out, ordered fresh horses, threw Fenn across the saddle, and left. Dad and I were here, but it happened so fast… he was gone before we knew it.”
I shook my head. “This must stop. Now. Every time someone returns from a trip, one of us must be in the courtyard to greet him. We will have a password system.”
“What do you mean?” Freda asked.
“Each time one of us comes home, someone else will say a word or ask a question. The proper response must be given to establish a true identity.”
Conner frowned. “When you came home, I would say, 'fish' and then you would say, 'cakes'? Something like that?”
“Something a little more subtle.” I frowned. “The first person will say, 'How was the weather?' and the correct reply will be, 'Fire and hail.' That way, if another imposter shows up and gives the wrong answer, he won't know he's been discovered.”
“Agreed,” Conner said quickly.
“Now, why did Suhuy want Fenn back?” I mused. “We discovered his true identity. Suhuy must know that trick won't work again.”
“A better question,” Dad said, “is—who was impersonating you?”
A month passed since Aber had betrayed King Uthor and me. Freda continued to check with her aunts nearly every day for updates on the political situation in the Courts of Chaos. Sometimes we got word of a friend or family member who had sworn fealty to King Swayvil; more often, however, we got lists of the executed as Swayvil's bloody purges continued.
Always we looked for word of missing family members, but since Uthor's death, not one had been publicly executed. Of course, they could be undergoing torture in Swayvil's dungeons… or, as Conner had been, simply left to rot in a cell. We had no way of knowing. Perhaps, I sometimes thought, the new King of Chaos meant to save them for bargaining chips when he finally moved against us.
Several weeks into the new king's rule, King Uthor's brother Irtar tried to seize the throne. Backed by half a dozen powerful Lords of Chaos, his assassination attempt nearly succeeded. But Suhuy's timely intervention, according to Great Aunt Eddarg, saved the day.