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noble heritage... and playing politics in the Courts of Chaos. Perhaps having
the right seat at dinner was important, and I simply didn't have sense enough
to realize it. I definitely would have preferred a spot at the far end of the
table next to Aber.
I glanced at my father. Better to sit with a friend, even in
exile, than with an enemy. No, I had to correct myself, not an enemy. A tired
old man, sad and out of his element. Dworkin wasn't meant for war, I realized
suddenly, thinking of his workshop and all his experiments. He should never
have been head of our family... he should have been tinkering and building and
playing with his toys.
And I knew, then, why Locke commanded the army instead of him.
Everything our family, our plight began to make sense in that context. Dworkin
was weak, and our enemy had to believe we made easy prey. Weakness had often
been the cause of war, I knew from my studies of Ilerium's history... and the
history of the Fifteen Kingdoms, which had once numbered twenty-seven before
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conquest and consolidation had dwindled their number.
Try as they might, Locke and Davin would not be able to win this
war, which clearly had already begun. And from the look of things, we were far
outclassed.
I gave Freda a sad little smile as she sat to my right,
"You're looking particularly lovely this evening," I told her
sincerely.
She all but preened, smoothing her dress and looking entirely
pleased. "Thank you, Oberon. You cleaned up rather well yourself."
"Thanks toyou, dear sister. You sent the barber up, didn't you?"
"Me? No it was probably Anari."
"Probably," I said blandly. I took a glance around the table to
see if my mentioning Ivinius's visit had gotten a reaction, but apparently it
hadn't. Side conversations had sprung up, and only Locke and Freda and our
father were paying attention to me Locke pretending not to, of course, but I
could tell he took in every word as a man too long in the desert takes in
water.
I chatted amiably enough with all of them over the first course, a
cold creamy soup made with some kind of yellow pumpkin, telling one and all a
bit about my childhood in Ilerium. And, in turn, I learned more about them.
Dworkin certainlyhad been busy over his 200 years. Almost all of
them had different mothers on different Shadows. Most had been raised with the
knowledge that they were children of Chaos, and all had gone through the
Logrus in the Courts of Chaos except for me. I felt a pang whenever they
mentioned it.
Freda must have sensed it, for she touched my arm and murmured,
"Your turn will come," she murmured. "You must have patience."
Patience... I'd had too much of that already. So I simply smiled a
little sadly and made no reply: little sense in letting them know my bitter
news just yet, I thought.
I did find out some interesting facts. Locke turned out to be more
than eighty years old though he looked no more than thirty. Our whole family
aged quite slowly, it seemed, which explained not only Dworkin's condition
despite his advanced age, but how he had managed to sire so many offspring. He
had left more than a few women or had them leave him, as with Locke's mother,
a Lady of Chaos but most had been normal humans found on Shadows such as my
own. They had died of old age while he remained young and hearty.
And at least twice Freda hinted that time moved at different
speeds in different places. A year in the Courts of Chaos might well be two or
five or ten years on other Shadows.
It was Aber who broached the question I had hoped to avoid. "So,
Dad," he said happily, and I could tell he thought he was helping me, which
made it all the more painful. "How soon will Oberon go through the Logrus?"
"Never," Dworkin said flatly. No tact there, just a sharp and
unpleasant truth.
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I looked down, studying the tablecloth, fingering my napkin.
Never. It had a final ring.
"What!" Aber sounded honestly shocked. "But not even King Uthor
can deny Oberon his birthright. He must gain power over Shadow!"
Dworkin shook his head. "Though he is my son, Oberon does not
carry the Logrus within him. It is so distorted, it has become nearly
unrecognizable. Hecannot try the Logrus...ever. It would destroy him, as it
destroyed my brother Darr."
ELEVEN
Utter silence followed. I took a quick glance down the length of
the table. To a one, my every half-brother and half-sister, even Locke, had a
look of stunned disbelief on his or her face. They took their magical powers
for granted, I realized. That one of their own might be unable to use
them unbelievable!
And yet it was true. Despite my anger and hurt and earlier denial,
I could find no reason for Dworkin to lie to me. If anything, he needed me to
go through the Logrus... needed another strong son to help defend Juniper.
Clearly such a task now lay beyond my meager, mortal abilities.
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