“I don't know—do you?”

“I… have a suspicion.” She turned away, eyes distant. “There is a place he goes when he is unhappy or sad. A Shadow…”

“There's a woman involved?” I guessed. “His lover?”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“I do not know… only that she is a powerful sorceress. She has given him things… objects of power… and helped him to master the magics he now commands.”

I frowned. “If she's so powerful, he should have gone to her as soon as war started in Juniper. Why didn't he?”

“I do not know. Perhaps she is not in a position to provide military assistance. Or perhaps he is guarding her safety.”

So, a woman was involved… suddenly Dad's actions began to make sense. If he meant to protect her, then he certainly would make sure neither Aber nor I—nor anyone else—knew her location.

She continued: “What else has happened here? You mentioned several attacks?”

Quickly I filled her in, from Rhalla to the lightning in the garden to the serpent-creature scrying on my bedroom.

“I'm not sure what's happening outside,” I added. “King Uthor's hell-creatures searched the house yesterday. They were looking for something specific, something small, but I don't think they found it. Any idea what it could be?”

“None. How about you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Now, what brought you back here, really?”

“That I must share with Aber, too. It concerns us all.”

She turned and led the way to the library. After we entered, she closed and bolted the door behind us, then crossed to the far wall, pushed on a high-set sconce, and opened a small door that had been cunningly concealed as a wall panel. A hidden room or passage—I couldn't see which—lay beyond. She glanced in, then closed the panel; apparently it was empty. I heard a soft click as its latch caught.

I glanced at Aber.

“I didn't know it was there!” he said.

“There is a lot you do not know,” Freda said.

“We have been spied on constantly since we arrived here,” I told her. “Aber tried to put up spells to protect us, but we aren't sure they worked. What can you do to help?”

“Wait. I will check.”

She gathered the folds of her dress and sat at the table. Then, taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and seemed to go into a light trance. I saw her eyelashes flutter, and several times her hands jerked, but mostly she remained silent and still.

“Whiskey?” Aber asked me in hushed tones.

Nodding, I accepted a glass from him. He filled it, we clinked glasses in a silent toast, and then we both sat back, sipping, to wait for Freda. I had never seen her do anything like this before; how long would it take?

Finally, after what must have been ten or fifteen minutes, Freda suddenly opened her eyes.

“A nice job,” she said to Aber. “I only found one hole, and I do not think it has been used.”

He smiled with obvious relief. “Great!”

“Did you fix the hole?” I asked her.

“Yes. No one will spy on this house again without us finding out. That I can promise.”

“I told you she was good!” Aber said smugly.

“Red wine, please,” she told him.

Drawing a small deck of Trumps from the bag at her side, she shuffled them and began to deal them out in front of herself. I recognized my picture, Dad's, Aber's, and the rest of our family. She included her own, too. A circle began to form, with images looking in toward the center.

As she worked, Aber poured a goblet of red wine and set it to one side. Then he topped off my whiskey as well as his own.

“I hate to drink alone,” he said.

I did not know how the Trumps worked for Freda, but they helped her see the future—or possible futures—and that was exactly the sort of information we needed. Leaning forward, I watched her flip the last Trump and set it in place in the exact center.

Drawn by Aber, it showed Locke in a quite unflattering portrait: a disagreeable-looking, puffed-up man in silvered chain mail, with a slight pot belly (he hadn't had one in real life) and a look of indigestion on his face.

“Well?” I said.

“It is… inconclusive. Let me cast the future again.”

Frowning, Freda gathered up the cards. I got the impression she hadn't liked what she saw and shifted uneasily in my seat. She shuffled twice, had me cut the deck, and began to deal them out a second time.

Aber and I continued to watch in silence. This time, the cards played out slightly differently—though once more Locke ended up at the center.

“So?” I prompted, as I slid into the seat opposite hers. “What news? Any predictions?”

For a long moment she said nothing, studying the cards. I remained patient, though every fiber of my being demanded immediate answers.

“You do not know yet,” she finally said, “do you?”

“Know what? Something you saw in your cards?”

“Locke. He is alive.”

“Impossible!” Our brother died in Juniper, I knew. I had seen him in his tent after the battle, being tended by physicians. I had watched him die.

“Yes, I thought so too.” She nodded slowly. “But the cards say you, Oberon, will meet him soon. Perhaps even tonight.”

I shook my head. “I was with him when he died, Freda. You saw his body. Locke is dead. We burned his body, remember?”

“We all saw it,” Aber agreed.

“I know,” Freda whispered. “I remember.”

“Then what makes you think he's alive?” I asked.

She picked up her wine and sipped it. “Because,” she said, “I spoke with him this morning.”

Chapter 22

“It's a trick!” I said. I rose and began to pace. “You know how devious our enemies are, Freda. They found a way to fool you.”

“That's what I thought,” she said. “But he knew things… things only the two of us had shared.” Her voice dropped. “It was him. I swear it.”

I took a deep breath. Enough impossible things had happened to me in the last month… maybe Lords of Chaos really could return from the dead.

“What do you think?” I asked Aber.

He might be childish at times, but he knew a lot, and without Dad here, he was my main source of information on all things magical. Although Freda probably knew more about magic than any of our other siblings, she had an infuriating mysterious streak, and I was always left with the impression that she kept back as much as she revealed.

“I don't know,” he admitted. I suppose—”

A light knock sounded on the library door. I motioned to Aber, and he hurried over and opened it.

Anari stood there.

“My lords, Lady Freda,” he said. “Lord Fenn is in the dining hall. He asked me to inform you. He wants to see your father.”

“What about Isadora?” I asked. Fenn and Isadora had run off together before Juniper fell, in search of help for our armies. They had not returned, nor had we gotten any word from them, since that time.

“Lady Isadora is not with him, sir,” Anari said. I glanced at Freda. “You didn't bring him with you, I assume?”

“No,” she said, looking puzzled. “I went into hiding with Pella, remember? She is still in Averoigne, awaiting my return. I have not seen Fenn since he disappeared.”

“Thank you, Anari,” I said. “Let him know where we are and ask him to join us.”

Fenn nodded a somewhat sheepish greeting when he entered the library. He was taller than Dworkin but not as tall as me, with blue eyes, light brown hair, and a hesitant but honest smile. He wore dark blue leggings and tunic, with a simple belt and boots. A sword hung at his side. I had not gotten to know him well, but until his sudden disappearance in Juniper, right before the attacks began, he had struck me as trustworthy. Since then, I half suspected him of being the one spying on us.

“It's good to see you all,” he said.

“And where were you when we needed you?” I folded my arms and glared. “You ran out on us.”

“Where have you been?” Freda asked. “Where is Isadora?”