“Certainly not!”

To Freda, I said, “Get back to Amber, both of you. See if you can find that imposter and hold him. I'll return tomorrow morning with troops… a lot of them.”

She nodded curtly. “I will let you know if we catch him,” she said. Then she broke the connection.

I put her Trump down and began to pace again. It seemed Uthor and his spies knew a lot about us… enough to fool Aber, anyway. Showing up and heaping abuse on him appeared to have been exactly the right thing to do.

Well, it wouldn't work for long. Never mind Kelionasha—I had to get ready to leave Ceyoldar.

At dawn, I planned to be on the road to Amber.

Chapter 22

When Freda called me again an hour later, I was on the road leading King Aslom's forces down out of the city. I spurred my horse and rode twenty feet ahead so I could talk to her privately. “We have him!” she announced. “Father caught him in his room. He is bound now, magically and physically.”

I felt a rush of excitement. “Can you hold him there until I get back?”

“I think so. He can do no harm where he is.”

“Good. I have a hundred thousand warriors with me, give or take a few thousand. Tell Aber to start laying in supplies. Since Uthor knows where we are anyway, he might as well use the Logrus to save time.”

“Excellent. I will let him know.”

It took me two days to lead King Aslom's forces back to Amber. It was neither terribly far nor a hard march; but the sheer logistics of getting so many people up and moving at the same time took far longer than I would have expected. My own experiences in Ilerium, as one of King Elnar's lieutenants, proved less than adequate to the task. Elnar's army had numbered in the low thousands, and I had commanded scarcely a hundred and fifty men. Here I commanded nearly a thousand times as many.

Finally, though, the horses and wagons and war-chariots and miles-long lines of infantrymen all came within sight of the forest. A road had been cut straight through to the castle—visible from here only as a faint smudge on a distant mountainside—and we were quickly challenged by a squad of armed men.

I rode forward to greet them.

“It's the king!” one, then another, began to mutter. Quickly they knelt, heads bowed.

“Rise,” I said, reigning in my stallion. “You must be vigilant. We caught an imposter at the castle pretending to be my father, Lord Dworkin, two days ago. Challenge everyone who passes, whether you know them or not.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

“You—” I pointed at a sergeant. “What's your name?”

“M-Mevill, Sire!”

“I must go ahead. You will take my horse and escort King Aslom and his men to Castle Amber.”

“Y-yes, Sire!”

I rode back to King Aslom and his sons, who had drawn to a halt in their golden war-chariots, and apprised them of my plans. They nodded agreeably. After all, who were they to question the great Oberon?

Dismounting, I turned my horse over to Sergeant Mevill, pulled out a Trump of the caste's courtyard, and stepped through. It must have been quite a sight for Aslom and his sons—more proof, if any were needed, that I was a god.

I found Freda and Dad in the main hall. They hurried over to greet me.

“Is that imposter still here?” I asked.

“Yes,” Dad said. “He is trapped in my room. We have been waiting for you before questioning him.”

“Good. Let's have a look at him.”

They led me upstairs, back to the room whose door I had kicked open three days before. The door hadn't been repaired yet and still hung open.

Inside, someone who looked just like my father sat on the edge of the canopied bed. He had bitten his thumb and was dribbling a thin line of blood slowly onto the floorboards… trying to draw a Trump, by the looks of things. Only it wasn't working. I felt no power coming from the spattered red lines.

He looked up, saw me, and said: “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

“Very funny,” I said. I turned to Freda. “Do you recognize that picture?”

She stared at it, tilting her head slightly. “Yes. It is the Third Tower. It lies well beyond the Courts of Chaos.”

“What is it?”

“A place of ancient power and prophecy.”

“Prophecy?” That sounded interesting.

She nodded. “Visions sometimes come to those who meditate there. There are thousands of them recorded in the Great Record. Perhaps he knows of a prophecy concerning us, or Amber, and wishes to return and consult it.”

The fake Dworkin rose and crossed to the doorway, gazing out at us. Raising one hand, he touched the space where the door would have been, but seemed to run into an invisible barrier.

“He cannot get out,” Dad said. “Spells have sealed the room.”

“Release me,” the imposter said.

“Why? So you can report back to King Uthor?”

“I do not serve Uthor.”

“Who, then? Lord Zon?”

“No.”

“Or… Suhuy?”

He did not reply this time. I raised my eyebrows.

“So it's Suhuy, then.”

“Release me, brother.”

“And it's 'brother' now?”

Freda gasped then and clutched my arm. “No… Oberon! They have done something to him—this is Fenn!”

I stared at him. Stared hard. “Fenn?”

“Yes, brother. You must let me go. Please.”

Swallowing, I looked at Dad, who shook his head faintly. I motioned with my head to one side, and we retreated up the hall to where he couldn't hear us.

“Fenn…” Freda whispered. “How horrible.”

“I think he looks rather handsome,” Dad said with a hint of a smile. “Never better, in fact.”

She glared. “This is not a time for jests!”

“At least we know how he managed to fool you and Aber,” I said to her. “Fenn would know what to say and exactly how to say it convincingly. Now comes the big question… what do we do with him?”

“He must have his old appearance restored, of course,” I said. “Dad… is that something you can do?”

“I am not sure.”

“Why is Suhuy sending spies?” Freda asked. “As Keeper of the Logrus, he should not be involving himself in politics.”

“Tell him that,” I said. “If returning Conner to us doesn't count as playing politics, what does? Unless he wants to play on both sides… by secretly helping us and King Uthor, wouldn't he keep everyone's favor?”

“Possibly,” Dad said.

“What matters with Fenn is his motivation,” I said. “If he came unwillingly, forced by Suhuy to do his bidding, perhaps he can be freed of whatever compulsion is upon him. If he's a willing spy, though…”

They both nodded. Having decided, we returned to Fenn and peered in at him. He had returned to his seat on the bed.

“Well?” he demanded.

“We don't know what to do with you,” I said.

“Let me go. I must return to my master.”

“Or…?”

“Or I will die.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact voice that I knew he believed it.

I swallowed. “How?”

“He gave me a slow poison. I must return each week to make my report and take a dose of the antidote. If I miss one week, I become weak. If I miss two weeks, I become violently ill. If I miss three weeks…” He shrugged. “So, you can see I have no choice.”

“How long has it been?” I asked.

“Four days.”

Grimly, I turned to our father. If anyone could help Fenn, he could.

I said, “You have two weeks to find a cure. Don't let him out until he's well or dead.”

He nodded gravely. “Yes, Oberon.”

Without another word to Fenn, I went to find Aber. We still had to prepare for a hundred thousand visitors.