“What should we do with him?” I asked. “Do you know any safe Shadows, where they can't possibly reach him?”

“I have a better idea.”

He produced a new Trump and handed it to me. It showed the library of our house in the Beyond. The paint glistened; it hadn't been made long before.

“Take him to Freda. She will nurse him back to health. Home may be the best place for them all right now. I can't think of a safer one.”

“Aber and Freda put up spells to shield it,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “So have I. Get going.”

“Then what? When will I see you again? You said you needed my help.”

“I do. I will.” He nodded. “I will contact you soon. I have one quick errand first…”

Scooping up Taine, I studied the Trump until the library grew before me. Scrolls, books, the table…

I stepped through and found myself in the room. Fenn and Aber were seated at the table, talking. They leaped to their feet, looking surprised—and happy.

“Is that Taine?” Aber cried.

“Yes.”

“How“

“I rescued him,” I said simply.

I deliberately didn't mention our father's role in the adventure—if they knew too much, they might be considered conspirators with Dworkin and me, and punished accordingly. That was the moment I realized I was a conspirator, whether I wanted to be or not. Clearly, with that Pattern inside me, I could never hope to ally myself with King Uthor and the Courts of Chaos. They would destroy me at once if they ever found out. My future had to lie elsewhere… with this power to which Dad had allied himself.

“Let me give you a hand,” Fenn said. He took Taine from my arms.

Aber and I followed him out and up the stairs to the floor where we all had rooms. He knew Taine's door, and the face carved in it let us all in without any question. It seemed they could adapt to emergencies when they had to.

Anari suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking concerned.

“Lord Taine?” he asked. “Is he—”

“Alive but unconscious,” I said. “Find Freda and tell her to get in here. Then get us warm broth and lots of water. I don't think he's eaten in weeks.”

“Yes, Lord.” Anari turned and ran down the hall.

I returned to the bed. Taine began to stir and opened his eyes a little as Fenn put pillows behind his head.

“I dreamed…” he whispered.

“Try not to think about it,” Aber said. “The important thing is that you're here and you're safe.”

Freda appeared. “What is this about?” she demanded. Then she saw Taine and hurried forward, pushing Aber and Fenn to one side.

“I think,” Aber said, drawing me out to the hall, “that you have a story to tell us.”

I chuckled. “It's going to have to wait. I'm exhausted, and I'm going to bed. Call me if we're attacked, otherwise…”

“But your meeting with Locke! What happened?”

“It wasn't Locke,” I said simply. “He told me where to find Taine before I killed him. Then I went and got him. It's that simple.”

Port swung my door open as I approached.

“No one,” I said after he closed, “is to come in here until I wake up. Especially not brothers, sisters, or beautiful half-dressed women!”

“A very wise decision,” said Port, sounding happy at last.

I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours before I felt rough hands shaking me.

“What now?” I groaned. If this was Aber, using yet another of his seemingly endless supply of Trumps, I'd strangle him.

But it was not Aber. It was my father.

“Get dressed, quickly and quietly,” he said. “We're leaving. I told you I needed your help. The time has come.”

Chapter 29

“You keep telling me you need my help,” I said, sitting up. “With what, exactly?”

“Oh, this and that,” he said. “And I want your company, my boy. We should spend more time together…”

I had a strange feeling he had no intention of telling me anything right now. The last time he had shown up like this and dragged me out of bed, it had been in Ilerium, and he had saved my life. Hell-creatures had hurled glowing green fire at my house, destroying it almost as I stepped through the door.

I began pulling on my pants.

“Is an attack coming?” I demanded. I pulled on my left boot, stamping my foot on the floor to force it comfortably into place. “If so, we have to get everyone out of the house.”

“No one knows I am here,” he said. “I do not think an attack will come. At least, not tonight.”

“Will I need a sword?”

“Hopefully not. Bring one anyway.”

Chuckling, I got my right boot on, then pulled on my shirt and laced up the front. I would have brought my sword whether he wanted me to or not; that he wanted me to bring it meant he expected fighting.

Finally, rising, I buckled on my swordbelt and loosened the blade in the scabbard.

“Ready,” I announced.

“That sword—I meant to ask you where you got it.”

“Aber borrowed it for me. I needed it for my engagement party. I'm supposed to marry my cousin Braxara next year.”

He stared at me, shaking his head. “Oberon… how do you get yourself into these things? I will talk to her parents. We cannot have such a match.”

“Not that they would let her marry the son of a traitor,” I said.

He looked at me oddly. “Not a traitor… the founder of a new dynasty!”

“I'd be happy to make it through this whole mess alive.”

He shook his head and pulled out a Trump I had never seen before. This one had been carefully finished, unlike the hastily sketched Trumps he had made in Juniper, and it looked old—a favorite place he had been many times before, I guessed.

It showed an ancient tavern with ivy-colored walls, small-paned glass windows glowing warmly from within, and a pair of huge brick chimneys from which smoke rose. The sign of a boar's head hung over the doorway.

“You're taking me drinking?” I asked, letting a hopeful note creep into my voice.

“I need help,” he said, “to correct a great mistake I made many years ago. And this is where we are going to start.”

“Aha,” I said. “The theft of the Jewel of Judgment, I assume.”

“What do you know about that?” he demanded, regarding me warily. Unconsciously, he touched his chest… just about the place a pendant would hang. Or the Jewel, if he had it on a chain around his neck. I studied him.

“It's all everyone is talking about in the Courts. People keep asking me if I know where you hid it.”

Shaking his head, he forced a laugh. “Next time they do, tell them I never had it.”

“All right,” I agreed. No sense in tipping my hand any more than I already had. “Now, about this tavern…”

He smiled happily. “A friend of mine runs it,” He said. “Come on. I do need a drink now!”

Taking my elbow, he raised the Trump and concentrated on the image. It seemed to come to life, rising and expanding before us, a low stone building with ivy running up the walls, plenty of open windows with curtains fluttering in the breeze. I heard voices raised in a cheerful drinking song, smelled baking bread and roasting meat on the faint wind that now touched my face.

He stepped forward, pulling me with him. My feet left the wooden floor, and I trod on hard-packed dirt.

It was early afternoon, and we stood in front of the tavern. A warm wind blew, heavy with the smells of trees and grass and summer. Birds sang and insects chirped.

Through the open doorway of the tavern came a minstrel's voice, accompanied by the strumming of a lute, and suddenly a dozen voices joined in on the chorus.

I smiled; this was the sort of place I liked. Leaving Chaos made it feel like a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I would not go back easily to that nightmare place.

Dad started forward, and I fell in step behind him, one hand dropping to the hilt of my sword. For all I knew, this might be a carefully constructed trap. If our enemies knew Dworkin frequented this place, what better spot for an ambush?