“Of course.”

By tradition, according to Aber, I could not arrive via Trump. I had to ride to Aunt Lanara's house in an open carriage, emerge in grand style, walk up the steps through a multitude of well-wishers, and finally enter the grand hall. There, a feast in my honor would commence, followed by dancing and entertainments into the small hours. I would get my first look at Braxara over dinner, when her father offered up a toast in our honor.

“Aunt Lan's parties are notorious for their excesses,” Aber told me. “Everyone important will be there. Perhaps even King Uthor himself.”

“What about Dad?”

He frowned. “He should be there. Everyone will talk about it if he isn't. Want to try his Trump again?”

I shrugged. “I suppose I'd better. Even if he doesn't show up, he ought to know what's going on.”

He brought our father's Trump to me, and I concentrated on it. It took a long time, but finally his image began to stir, as if he were far away. A misty, blurry image came into view—Dad, with a dense forest of pine trees behind him.

“What is it?” he snapped at me.

“We were worried about you,” I said. “The audience with King Uthor“

“Never took place,” he finished. “Forget about it. There are more important things happening. I will be back in a day or two. Guard your backs until then; our enemies are moving fast.”

Suddenly he was gone. I never had a chance to tell him about the serpent scrying on me, the lightning attack, Rhalla being sent to assassinate me, or my engagement to Braxara. Moving fast, indeed!

I repeated what Dad has said to my brother.

“Very curious.” Aber's brow furrowed.

“Very,” I agreed.

“At least he's planning on coming back. Where do you think he was? Any clue?”

“Not in the Courts of Chaos, certainly. The forest behind him looked normal.”

“More important things are happening… what do you think he meant?”

“I think insanity runs in our family.”

I buckled on my swordbelt. Though it had served me well, I had to admit now it showed its age. Aber, of course, noticed too.

“You need a weapon suitable to your station,” he said. “I'll get one of Dad's.” He headed for the door.

“Anything special about them?” I asked, following.

“I'll pick one of the enchanted ones!” he called over his shoulder. Then he bounded down the hall, into an alcove, and up a small flight of steps.

I didn't have long to wait. In less than a minute, he returned with the most beautiful weapon I had ever seen in my life. It was longsword, with intricate scrollwork along the entire length of the blade. The hilt, inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones, fit my hand as though it had been made for me. I hefted it. It felt curiously light—far lighter than it should have been, considering its size and workmanship.

“Well?” Aber asked.

“It will do.”

“It will do? That's one of the finest swords ever forged. It belonged to our grandfather, Duke Esmorn. He carried it through the Logrus, and it gained magical powers as a result.”

“What sort of powers?” I asked.

“I'm not sure. But that's what I've always been told. Dad refuses to use it.”

“Why?”

Aber shrugged. “I don't know.”

I regarded the flat of the blade more closely and noticed a small inscription: “The meek have no need of arms.” Truly, this was a warrior's weapon. I would take good care of it.

I raised the sword and took a few practice swings. The hilt seemed to turn slightly in my hand, almost as if it had a will of its own will. Interesting. I noted it for future study.

We left not long after, just Aber, Freda, and me—Fenn, pleading exhaustion, begged off—in a grand carriage drawn by white beasts. I hesitated to call them horses, for their necks stretched too long, their long, thin, bony tails had no hair, and their feet… well, six legs gave them speed, but somehow lacked the grace of thoroughbreds.

We left from the courtyard by the rock garden, and the driver circled the main building at a fast trot. With red skies boiling overhead, and purple lightning flickering constantly, guards swung open tall gates for us. We drove out, and madness surrounded us.

I did not know how to describe it. It was as though I stood at the edge of a great cliff, and before me streamed every nightmare known to mankind, pounding at my senses. Colors swirled in mid-air. The rush of wind, which had long died down to the merest whisper at the back of my mind, rose to a full-throated roar. Above, the clouds vanished, leaving a sky as black as midnight, but filled with stars that moved like fireflies.

The horse-creatures began to gallop, hooves pounding. The carriage lurched and jumped. Air screamed around me.

Standing in my seat, I threw back my head and laughed. So this was Chaos. So this was what I had feared!

I drank it all in, arms wide. My every sense raged. The noise and color and tastes and textures assaulted me. I felt hopelessly jumbled and no longer tried to find angles, familiar elements, or anything to cling to. I reveled in the wildness, and my heart knew no boundaries. Chaos! Yes, Chaos! It flowed around me, through me, became me.

Aber, laughing, pulled me down. I stared at him, beyond words, beyond emotions.

“You are drooling,” Freda said. She wiped my mouth with the hem of her dress.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I cried.

“This is the Beyond!” Aber said. “It's why we have walls, or all would be washed away!”

The landscape outside had begun to change. I stared. I couldn't help myself. Every way I turned, I found something incredible. Colors that leapt and spurted like water from a fountain. Walking trees. Stones that roamed the land. Mountains that shook and heaved and abruptly flattened to prairies.

And demon-creatures moved everywhere, on foot, on horseback, and in the air.

The ride, perhaps an hour long, proved a mesmerizing but ultimately uneventful spectacle. I wasn't entirely sure when we left the Beyond and entered the Courts of Chaos, but that we did so I had no doubt.

I had expected an assassination attempt on one or all of us, but it didn't happen. Perhaps Aunt Lanara's influence carried even this far: knowing I must attend her party, our enemies drew back. That, or they had another, more deadly plan in mind…

At last the lands grew more normal and less motive, and streets of huge walled estates appeared. We drove more slowly now, as we encountered traffic—carriages similar to our own, mounted riders, even a few pedestrians. Most looked as human as we did. I found that strangely comforting.

Slowing, our carriage turned in at a set of high iron gates. Behind it, towering over the wall, lay a house so immense it made ours look like a cottage in comparison. It blazed with light, inside and out, and I saw figures moving on a dozen different floors—many of them pressing up to windows to watch us.

Liveried servants, who looked more like frogs than men, stood everywhere at attention. A dozen of them bounded forward to take care of us.

“Announce Lord Oberon, Lady Freda, and Lord Aber,” my sister said.

“You are expected, Lords and Lady!” one of the frog-servants said.

Freda motioned me out. “You must go through the motions of betrothal for now,” she said softly, so only I could hear. “It is the honorable thing to do.”

I nodded. Then trumpets sounded, and a cheer went up as half a hundred doors were flung open and guests began to stream outside. There must have been a thousand of them, as the throngs grew deep around us. They began to call out: “Oberon and Braxara! Oberon and Braxara! Oberon and Braxara!” over and over again.

“What should I do?” I asked Aber, as subtly as I could considering how many people were staring.

“Get out, walk in, find our aunt!” he whispered back.

I stood, raised one hand in a salute, and stepped down onto the steps which the frog-men had carried up to the carriage. The crowds parted for me, leaving a narrow passage up to the house's main entrance.