I kept looking up at the sky. As before, masses of clouds swirled wildly overhead, but this time no lightning flickered.

Aber caught up and walked beside me. “Spells take time to prepare,” he said in answer to my unasked question. Shading his eyes, he stared toward the heavens. “The bigger the spell, the longer the time. That lightning storm must have been taken hours, maybe days to set properly. Whoever made it was lying in wait for you. It won't happen the same way twice.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel safe?” I asked.

“Well… in a way, yes.”

“It doesn't.”

Captain Neole led us to the back wall, which towered twenty feet high. Made of yellow stone, it seemed to completely circle the house. Guards patrolled the top now, gazing out over whatever lay beyond.

Two more guards stood at the base of the wall, next to the body. I swallowed hard as I stared at it. A flat face with jutting cheekbones and round mouth… red eyes staring blankly… hands like claws… skin as dark as old leather… none of it looked familiar. The only thing at all familiar, however, was the pale, shimmering green gown. It matched the one Rhalla had been wearing, and I knew at once that this creature, this demon, had to be her.

“Not a woman, but definitely female,” Captain Neole was saying. Bending, he tilted her head back so we could see her odd features better.

“Congratulations,” I said flatly to Aber. “You got your wish.”

“I'm sorry,” Aber said softly. When I looked at his face, he seemed genuinely upset. “I would not wish this on anyone, least of all you.”

Captain Neole said to me, “Do you know this demon, sir?”

“Yes, I knew her,” I said. “Her name was Rhalla. Bury her here, on the grounds, with all appropriate ceremony. She is to be treated with respect. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. He motioned to the two guards, and they picked her up and carried her off around the side of the house, following the wall.

“We have a mausoleum,” Aber said. “That's where they will take her.”

I nodded, feeling cold and numb inside.

Then I looked up at the wall. It had to be three or four feet thick at the top. Whoever had dumped her here had either thrown her over the wall, flown the body up and over, or sent it over by magical means. None of the options left me feeling very safe at the moment. And thunder rumbled distantly, reminding me of our enemies' power to control the weather.

“I doubled the patrols immediately,” Captain Neole said to me. “Do you have any other instructions, sir?”

“No. Stay vigilant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We will be inside. If anything else happens, summon us at once.”

He saluted. I motioned for Aber to follow me and turned toward the house. Head high, I strolled through the twisted garden at a leisurely pace. I had to assume Aber's spells had failed and that our every move was now being observed. Well, let them look! Let them think me unmoved by Rhalla's murder! The creatures of this world seemed to think only of hate and violence and death. First Helda in Ilerium, and now Rhalla here in the Beyond. Our enemies had taken too much from me. It had to stop.

“Oberon,” Aber said from behind me, “I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” I whispered.

I looked up at the seething clouds, then at the sprawling house, which still oozed color from every seam and every crack. At that moment, I knew their deaths would not go unavenged. If I had to make it my life's work, I would find and destroy everyone involved in this conspiracy, from the greatest Lord of Chaos to the least of their minions.

I sucked in a deep breath, and everything suddenly came clear for me. Bold. Daring. Unexpected. Our mysterious enemy kept making the first move against us. That would change. From now on, we would act instead of react. If Ulyanash and his masters wanted a fight, I would give it to them. And I would win… or die trying.

“Get your Trumps,” I told Aber as soon as we entered the house. “Bring them to the library.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I said, “we're going to be busy. You're going to announce me to all and sundry as Dworkin's new heir, come to the Courts of Chaos to walk the Logrus and claim my birthright.”

“But you can't—”

“Can't I?”

He nodded. “It is your right.”

“Play it up. Sell me to them. My name must be on everyone's lips. They must all know who I am before this day is over!”

“You're insane!” he said, staring at me.

“Maybe I am.” I smiled, lips thin and hard. “First, though, there will be a party for me, hosted by… I don't know. Someone you know and trust.”

“Who?” he demanded.

“It doesn't matter.” I waved my hand grandly. “Pick someone. Anyone. Make sure they accept. Don't take no for an answer.”

“But Dad“

“Has nothing to do with this,” I interrupted. “I want to be seen tonight by everyone who matters in the Courts of Chaos. I want each and every one of them, from the highest noble to the lowest slave, to know I've arrived here… and that I'm not afraid of them!”

“This isn't wise.”

“Wise?” I laughed. “If you're afraid to live, you're already dead!”

“Then I must be dead,” he muttered.

“Oh, no.” I seized his arm and propelled him toward the stairs and his room. “You've just awakened, dear brother. We've all been asleep far too long here. I'm not going to sit in this house and wait for death to find me. It's time to move—time to leap feet-first into King Uthor's court. We will renew ourselves… and our family.”

“I don't understand,” he said.

“You don't have to. Leave everything to me. Now, get those Trumps, and be quick about it! We have lots of work to do before the party.”

My enthusiasm seemed to be catching. Taking a deep breath, he bounded up the stairs three at a time.

We would need new alliances to replace the ones Dad had let slip away. If Ulyanash could do it, why not me? New friends and new allies… yes, I could play this game. And I would win.

Chapter 20

“You realize,” Aber said, “that your plan won't work.”

“Why not?” I asked.

We sat in the library, surrounded by books and scrolls. He had brought down a large, intricately carved wooden box packed to the top with Trumps, many showing people and places I had never seen before. Most were distant relatives, he assured me—cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents from our father's various marriages. Aber had drawn them over the years and squirreled them in his room until needed.

“Who is this?” I held up a Trump showing a handsome man with moustache and beard. His eyes reminded me of Freda's.

“Vladius Infenum,” he said. “Isadora's grandfather on her mother's side. He's dead, I think.”

“Murdered?”

“By his wife.” He pulled out a different Trump, this one showing a skeletal woman with upturned tusks. “Here, Lady Lanara Doxara de Fenetis. I think she'll do.”

“Who is she?”

I regarded her image casually, trying not to stare too hard lest I make contact with her. Her small black eyes had a ravenous quality that made me uneasy.

“Our great-aunt. Dad's mother's oldest sister.”

“That's right—you mentioned her before. She taught you to paint, didn't she?”

“Yes.”

“Is she well connected?”

“She used to be,” Aber said. “She stopped entertaining a decade or so ago, due to frail health… though I think that was just an excuse. Her guests tended to overstay their welcomes and eat her out of house and home. She's still well remembered at court, and I think retirement has bored her enough that she might well leap at the chance to help you. Family is important to her.” He smiled fondly; I could tell he liked her. “She was a great painter in her day, and she used to give me lessons…”

“I thought Dad was to blame for that.”

“I inherited his talent. Aunt Lan taught me how to use it. She always said I was her favorite nephew. Dad would more happily have drowned me than taught me anything.”