“You know I'm not happy with that answer.”

“It is the only one I have.”

Chapter 20

When we returned to camp, I just stood and stared in amazement. The changes were nothing short of miraculous. An army of stonemasons, carpenters, and other workmen must have descended on Amber during our brief absence—scaffolding had been built along the outer walls, and derricks had already begun moving huge blocks of stone into place. Inside the walls, one wing of the castle had gone up. Dozens of workers on the roof installed red slate shingles.

“The king! The king!” a voice cried.

Work halted as hundreds of workmen turned and craned to see me. They cheered. I gave an uneasy wave.

A moment later, Aber and Freda came running through the opening where the front gates would go. They raced down the winding dirt road to us. Freda gave me a huge hug. She had begun to cry. Grinning, Aber pounded me on the back.

“About time!” he cried. “Where have you been?”

“All this—” I waved at the castle. “How did you do it?”

“Hard work.” He shook his head. “More of it than I've ever done before.”

Freda let go of me and stood back. “Welcome back,” she said. “Where did you find him, Father?”

I looked at the two of them. “Why are you making such a fuss? I've only been gone an hour!”

“An hour!” Aber laughed. “Oberon—you've been gone for four months!”

“Impossible!”

“The Feynim,” Dad murmured. “I had no idea…”

Freda shuddered. “You did not make a bargain with those creatures—” she began.

“No. They refused to help us,” I said.

“Good. We want nothing to do with them.”

“Tell me—what has happened here?” I stared again at the castle. “All of this, and so fast!”

“Believe it or not,” Aber said proudly, “we are actually three days ahead of schedule. Now that you are back, things should go more smoothly.”

I didn't like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“There have been some problems,” he admitted. “Come inside. I'll show you around and tell you all about it.”

Freda nodded. “Go on, Oberon. I have a few matters to discuss with Father.”

“Very well.” I looked at Aber. “Lead on. I want to see and hear about everything I've missed.”

As soon as we were out of earshot, my brother's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Blaise is gone.”

“What! Where?”

“I don't know. She disappeared one night. Just up and vanished. She took all of her possessions with her… I'm not sure if she went back to Chaos or is hiding in one of the Shadows.”

I sighed. “I can't believe it.”

“And,” he went on gravely, “Uthor knows where we are. There have been problems… sabotage in the construction. All our mules and horses were poisoned one night. And dozens of workmen have been killed. It hasn't been pleasant.”

“Where is Conner?”

“In the forest with the army. There have been a few skirmishes with Uthor's forces. Scouts, he thinks. Uthor is spying on us.” He swallowed. “Dad and Conner have been trying to keep on top of things, but—”

“What do you mean about Dad?” I asked, puzzled. “He's been with me.”

“You're crazy. I had breakfast with him twenty minutes ago!”

“What!” I stopped dead in my tracks.

“He went to his room to work, and a few minutes later he showed up outside with you. Didn't he go get you, then return with a Trump?”

“No. He was with the Feynim. I went and got him.”

Aber swallowed. “One of them is an imposter.”

I drew my sword. “Show me his room. Maybe he's still there.”

“This way!”

Turning, he raced between stacks of lumber, piles of stone, and stacks of red roofing tiles. I followed him through a doorless entryway where carpenters were busily laying a plank floor, then up a partly finished staircase. He turned right at the top and entered a wide corridor. Plasterers on ladders were at work on the walls and ceiling. They gave us curious glances as we dashed past.

“Here,” Aber said, stopping in front of a high closed door.

I tried the handle, but it had been locked from the inside. Taking a step back, I gave it a savage kick. It flew open with a loud crash, and I sprang in with my sword held high.

With a single glance, I took in the canopied bed, the long table littered with scrolls, blueprints, and other papers, and the wardrobe in the corner. The imposter was nowhere in sight. I stalked over to the wardrobe and threw its doors open, but aside from a few neatly folded shirts, pants, and undergarments, it lay empty.

Where could he have gone? I crossed to the window, in case he had jumped out, but saw no one below except workmen carrying stacks of lumber.

“Any idea where else he might be?” I asked.

“No. He did have a stack of Trumps, though… I saw him carrying them.”

I nodded. “He must have heard the watchman shouting when Dad and I arrived. Probably grabbed whatever he needed, used his Trump, and fled back to Chaos.”

“I can't believe he fooled Freda and me!” Aber muttered, shaking his head. Then he gave a snort. “I don't suppose mine was the real one and yours is the imposter?”

“No. Mine is the real Dworkin. I know it.”

We regarded each other soberly for a moment. Then I remembered the Feynim, my spikard-ring, and all the questions Dad hadn't been willing or able to answer. Maybe my brother could help.

“Can you tell me anything about the Feynim?” I asked him.

“Not much.” He frowned. “Nobody has heard from them in generations, not since they mopped the floor with King Ythoc. They're mostly legends now… bogeymen to scare little children. How did Dad get in touch with them, anyway?”

“I don't know. They seemed interested in the Pattern.”

He nodded slowly. “That makes sense. They would be interested in a new primal power.”

“Do you mean the Pattern?”

“Yes. They were interested in the Logrus… that's what led to the fight with King Ythoc. They wanted to see it. He refused and invaded their lands. Ten years of fighting followed.”

“Dad let them see the Pattern.”

“Probably a wise move.” He frowned. “I wonder if they ever did see the Logrus…”

“Why would they be interested?”

“Who knows. It's not like they need it—they have their Keye, of course.”

“Keye?”

“You know—like the old nursery rhyme. 'What turns no lock but opens all doors? The Feynim Keye of course…' “ His voice trailed off.

“I've never heard that before,” I said.

“It's just nonsense for kids.” He shrugged. “A grain of truth wrapped in sugar and rhyme.”

We spent an hour searching the castle and its surrounding lands, but found no trace of the fake Dworkin. I wasn't surprised; he must have returned to Chaos and made his report to King Uthor by now. Every plan and word and deed made in the castle over the last four months would now be known in Chaos.

Angry and sick at heart, I called Conner through his Trump and brought him back immediately. Four months had changed him enormously. No longer thin and weak from starvation, he had filled out with new muscle and sported a short brown beard, shoulder-length hair, and a sun-bronzed face. He had assumed command of the army and begun setting up our defenses—which included hourly patrols along all the natural borders surrounding Amber, a line of guardposts, and cutting several roads for supplying troops. All in all, a good start.

“It's nice to have you back,” he said, sipping the wine I poured for him. “I don't want to be king.”

“King?”

“Dad—the imposter, I mean—kept telling me that you weren't coming back. That I had to take the crown for myself.”

I chuckled. “I'm glad you didn't! It's only been a few hours for me since I left. The changes everywhere…” I shook my head. “I'm impressed. Everyone seems to have pitched in.”

“Except Blaise. She never liked it here.” He made a face. “We're better off without her.”