“She's in Juniper,” he announced smugly. “We retook it yesterday.”

“What!” Aber cried.

“How?” I demanded.

“I brought an army of my own… trolls. Half a million of them.” He chuckled. “You should have seen the bloodbath! Enemy soldiers had occupied the castle and the lands around it. No more.”

I shook my head. “Trolls? I don't understand.”

“I do,” Freda said. “He found a Shadow where trolls are breeding out of control. He offered them Juniper as a new colony in exchange for clearing out the enemy. Think of it… a whole new world for them. Of course, they jumped at the chance.”

“Brilliant, right?” Grinning, Fenn took a seat next to me. “Isadora is back there now, helping mop up the last of the invaders. You should have seen her, Oberon! Bodies stacked fifty feet high, and her standing on top, screaming her battle cry, sword in hand! Magnificent!”

There was a reason, I reflected, that Aber had once called her the warrior-bitch from hell.

Now Aber slid a drink across the table to Fenn.

“So you've retaken Juniper,” I said. “Doesn't that leave us with, ah, a slight troll problem?”

“Half a million troll problems,” Freda said.

“We can bring in giants to take care of the trolls,” Aber said.

“And then dragons, I suppose, to take care of the giants?” I said with a annoyed snort.

“Now you're getting the idea!” Aber said with mock seriousness. “And dragons… what eats dragons?” He looked at Freda, who only sighed.

“Maybe it wasn't the best idea,” Fenn admitted, “but it solved the immediate problem and got rid of the attackers. We can always find another Shadow like Juniper.”

I asked, “Were there any survivors from our men?”

“Maybe, hiding in the woods. If the trolls don't eat them, Isadora will bring them back.”

“Fair enough, I guess.”

“But,” Fenn went on excitedly, “I have more important news than that!”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Locke contacted you and told you to come here.”

“That's right!”

“What did you tell him?”

“I was too busy—but the trolls worked faster than I thought they would, so I came straight here.”

I shook my head. This whole conversation had an air of inevitability to it. Someone—or something—wanted us all in one place. It would make the murders easier. Fortunately, only Fenn and Freda has risen to the bait. The rest of our immediate family remained safely hidden.

Fenn searched our faces. “Has he been in touch with you, too, then?”

“Locke,” I said firmly, “is dead.”

“What!” He stared. “When? How?”

Quickly I filled him in on what had happened in Juniper, and then here. He shook his head stubbornly, though.

“You made a mistake,” he insisted. “It was Locke, and he contacted me by Trump less than an hour ago! I know my own brother better than any of you. It was him!”

“This is a family of lunatics!” I said. “Locke is dead! We all—Aber, Freda, and I—saw his body! You can't deny it.”

Fenn frowned. “But Locke said—” And then he paused. “But—” And he paused again.

“Trust me, Locke is dead.” I glanced at Aber. “Unless you can think of some way for him to come back?”

“As far as I know,” Aber said with a uncomfortable shrug, “death is final.”

“It is hard to kill a Lord of Chaos,” Freda said, “but once he is dead, he remains dead. I have never heard of one coming back to life. And some have been very powerful.”

Aber said, “I supposed it could have been a ghost…”

“Are ghosts real?” I asked.

“Yes,” Freda said. “I have spoken with a few of them, as the need arose. But they have no physical form. They could never use a Trump.”

Fenn said, “Locke wasn't a ghost. I'm certain.”

“Nor was my Locke a ghost,” Freda said firmly. “He was as much flesh and blood as you or I. No, there must be another answer. And we will find it.”

“Besides,” Aber said to me, “where would a ghost get a set of Trumps? I have Locke's here. It's complete… I checked after I took them back from his room. Freda's Trump and Fenn's Trump are both there.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Remember, hell-creatures searched our rooms. Have you checked his Trumps since then? Maybe they borrowed a few. Or maybe Locke, or whoever is impersonating him, used that Logrus trick of yours—the one where you pull items from distant Shadows—and has them now.”

He gasped. “I hadn't thought of that! Let me check.” Turning, he ran out into the entry hall.

“It was not a ghost,” Freda repeated. “It was a man. I know the difference. And it was Locke. He always was an arrogant bastard. Who else would have dared order me about like a common servant, even through a Trump?”

“What did he ask you to do?”

“He told me to come here. Our father needs me, he said. Forget about hiding in Shadow, he said, and be a dutiful daughter. Come and help.”

“So you came.”

“Yes. How could I not?”

“It sounds like he tricked you into joining us here,” I said.

“What about me?” Fenn asked. “Why would he contact me and tell me to come here? Freda is the powerful one, next to Dad.”

“Get us into one place and it will be easier to kill us all.”

“Let us assume it was neither Locke nor a ghost,” Freda said. “What other possibilities remain?”

“Here's one,” I said. I willed my features to change, and in a second I looked exactly like Locke, from arrogant sneer to haughty tilt of the head. I faced my sister.

“Get thee to the Courts of Chaos,” I said in a fair imitation of Locke's voice. With a little practice, I think I could have matched it perfectly. “I command you!”

“You are not funny,” she said flatly.

“I wasn't trying to be.” I let my face fall back to its normal appearance. “Our enemies include shape-shifters. Remember the barber who tried to cut my throat?”

“Ivinius? Yes, I remember that unfortunate incident. But you are clearly not Locke, even when you take his form. I know my brother well enough to tell the difference. I was not taken in by a demon.”

I sighed. She could be as inflexible as our father sometimes. And yet… she had a point.

“At least concede the possibility,” I said. “The Courts of Chaos are full of shape-shifters, Aber tells me.”

“True,” Freda said, “but it is considered bad manners to impersonate people. Also, the one who spoke with me not only looked like Locke, he acted and sounded like Locke, and he had Locke's memories. He knew things…”

“What sort of things?”

She blushed and looked away. That was a first; he had known something personal, something embarrassing.

“It was… something that happened when we were children. No one else knows, or will ever know. He offered it as proof.”

“Maybe it was him,” Aber said from the doorway. I hadn't heard him return. “His Trumps are gone.”

“Maybe the man who died in Juniper wasn't Locke after all!” Fenn suggested, sounding excited.

“What!” The possibility shocked me. “You mean… Locke might have been replaced by a demon?”

“Yes!”

It seemed impossible. And yet, our enemies had gone to fantastic effort and expense to destroy us. Would it be so hard for them to replace Locke with a shape-shifter? One who would lead our troops to defeat in Juniper?

“No,” I said firmly, remembering Rhalla and how she had looked when we found her body outside. “A shape-shifter would have reverted to its true form after its death.”

“Yes.” Freda nodded. “We all saw Locke's body. It was not a demon.”

“There are other possibilities,” Fenn said.

I looked at him. “Such as…?”

“Perhaps Locke found a double of himself in one of the Shadows,” Fenn said, “and left him in charge while he slipped off to safety.”

“That doesn't sound like Locke,” I said. He was nothing if not duty-bound, valiantly defending Juniper and our family even in the face of impossible odds.