Free To Rule in Amber by Roger Zelazny, John Gregory Betancourt Page B

downstairs," I said as he stripped off his shirt and began splashing water onto his face. "I want to hear about everything I missed. And I'm sure Blaise does, too, whether she admits it or not."
    I carried Dad's sword downstairs with me and had Jamas put it away for safekeeping. Then Blaise and I passed a pleasant half hour sitting quietly at the bar, sipping a cool, fruity red wine and sharing a comfortable silence. We both had a lot to think about.
    Jamas had just informed Blaise and me that his eldest son had left to fetch for Old Doc Hand when Aber trooped down the staircase and joined us. My eyes widened in surprise. He now wore a shimmering blue tunic, deep blue hose, and black riding boots with heavy silver kickplates at the toes. His
    brown hair, brushed straight back, glistened damply. With the dust and dirt scrubbed from his face and hands, he looked even more gaunt than before.
    "Much better," I said. Then I sighed. "But you used the Logrus again, didn't you?"
    "Uh… sorry." He gave a sheepish grin and pretended contrition. "Really, I couldn't help myself. I hate being dirty. Besides, no one can trace us when we use the Logrus. Ask Blaise if you don't believe me."
    "Blaise?" I glanced at our sister.
    "How would I know?" She shrugged. "I don't care how the Logrus works. I'm just glad it does!"
    "Considering our enemies," I said, "I'd still rather err on the side of caution. They seem to know more about how magic and the Logrus works than anyone else here - including you and Dad."
    "True…" He sighed. "I'll be more careful. Besides, we aren't going to be staying here long, are we?"
    "Just long enough to get Dad well."
    Aber took the stool next to mine, on the other side from Blaise. I caught a whiff of lavender -
    he'd even perfumed himself. I shook my head in disbelief.
    "What are you drinking?" he asked, peering over the rim of my tankard.
    "Stout."
    "I'll have a pint, too," he said to Jamas.
    "Aye." Jamas squinted at Aber as he drew a pint from a keg.
    "Didn't see you go upstairs, sir."
    "I'm pretty quiet," Aber said with an half smile. "People don't notice me much."
    "Not quiet enough," Blaise murmured to herself.
    "Better quiet than blathering." Aber glowered at her.
    Blaise suddenly found it necessary to study her fingernails.
    "Cut it out!" I told them both. "We don't have time for such childishness. If we're all that's left of our family, we will get along. Got that?"
    "You're right, of course, dear Oberon," Blaise said. She put her arm around my shoulder and gave a not-so-subtle wink. "I'm sorry, Aber," she said. "You certainly didn't deserve that. I'll try to be more kind ?"
    "You're not my sister," Aber said darkly. He drained half in stout in one long gulp. "The real Blaise would never apologize. It's not in her nature."
    "You don't know anything about her nature," Blaise said. " My nature, I mean."
    "Whose nature?"
    "You're an idiot!"
    He brightened. "Now that's the Blaise we know and love!"
    I sighed. So much like little children… I half wished I could spank them both and send them off to bed without supper. But Blaise would probably break my arm if I tried.
    Better to simply change the subject.
    "Tell me what I missed in the Courts," I said to Aber. "What happened to you?"
    "It's quite a tale."
    "I'm not going anywhere."
    "Neither am I," said Blaise somewhat contritely. She leaned on the bar, pillowing her chin in her hands. "Tell us of your heroic cowering in basements."
    "Blaise…" I said warningly.
    "Don't mind her," Aber said. "No one else does."
    Chuckling, he drained the rest of his stout, then motioned for Jamas to refill his tankard. With a new drink in hand, he cleared his throat, leaned back, and launched into his story.

Nine
    After I left you and Dad at the Pattern," Aber began, "I returned to our home in the Beyond. A
    week or more must have passed while we were away. The house was strangely quiet - it had that echoey, empty feeling a place gets when there's no one left alive. Even the