I smiled and brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. “Let's go. Aber is waiting for us at an inn.”

When I pulled out Aber's Trump, Dad thrust his hand over the card, blocking it.

“No,” he said. “Thellops will destroy it. Save it for use in Shadow.”

“Then how do we get out?” I asked. “Should I draw another Pattern-Trump? Or will you?”

“Too late, too late!” he cried, looking toward the door, an expression of sudden horror on his face. “Listen! Thellops is coming!”

An uncontrollable shiver went through me. From somewhere outside, I heard a low thump… thump… thump sound. Its force vibrated through the floor and into the soles of my boots. Something was coming. Something big. And it seemed to be getting close.

I swallowed hard and glanced at Dad. “What do we do?” I asked.

He smiled almost philosophically. “We die.”

“You made it out alive last time.”

Thump… thump… thump…

“We met at the Edge, where shadows of Chaos and the Pattern meet.”

“Neutral territory,” I said.

He nodded. “Terrible things are happening in Chaos. He has finally taken sides. When I told him I wanted Freda back, he… tried to destroy me. I barely escaped. Here, in his home, with the Logrus close at hand…” He swallowed. “His powers will be ten times greater.”

“A cornered rat is the most dangerous,” I said. “He would be wise to let us go.”

Thump… thump… thump…

“Oberon the door!” Dad called.

The face appeared on the inside of the door. “Yes, master?”

“Do not open for Thellops!”

It frowned, but said, “I will obey, though it costs me my life…”

Thump… thump… thump!

And abruptly the noise stopped. Thellops had reached the door. The door moaned and shook as terrible blows rained down on its other side. The wood began to splinter.

Blaise had dropped her sword. I snatched it up and ran straight toward the door.

“No!” Dad called. “You must not!”

They expected me to fling the door open and face Thellops in some last heroic gesture. But that was the last thing I had in mind. I knew I would lose any fight with Thellops. Tired, still disoriented and off-balance—how could I possibly face a master-sorcerer of Chaos?

I summoned an image of the Pattern to my mind. I wrapped myself in it. I coiled it around Blaise's sword. The air around me sang with power.

The door began to scream as its wood splintered. Throwing all my weight behind the blow, I drove Blaise's sword into the wooden face, through its gaping mouth. The Pattern hummed with power. The face screamed. Three feet of tempered steel penetrated the wood—and kept going through it and out the other side.

I felt a rough jolt as my Pattern-wrapped blade hit something on the other side. Thellops? I hoped so. The blade kept going another foot. Not even a Lord of Chaos could live through a foot of steel in his heart.

Releasing the hilt, I stepped back. Slowly I let the Pattern fade away.

The door was dead now, its wooden face frozen in a scream of pain and horror. A dreadful silence came from the other side. Time seemed to stand still. When I glanced back at Dad, Freda, and Blaise, I found all three staring with horrorstruck expressions.

Then I turned, grasped the sword, and pulled. The steel almost sang as it slid free. Its hilt tingled in my hand, and I realized it had somehow been changed—though whether the Pattern, the door, or Thellops had done it remained a mystery.

As I raised the sword, I heard the soft thud of a body falling on the other side. A gush of dark blood suddenly flooded under the door. I danced back, just managing to keep my boots dry.

I wiped the blade clean on my shirt's tail, then handed it back to Blaise. Dad was staring at me with an unbelieving expression on his face.

“How…” he whispered.

“I'm not as weak as you think, Dad.” I left it at that.

Pulling out my Trumps, I found Aber's, raised it, and concentrated. A moment later, he answered. He was sitting in a huge round bathtub, surrounded by mountains of bubbles and three of the most beautiful women I had ever seen before. Clearly, he had wasted no time in abandoning the inn where we'd left him.

“That didn't take long!” he said cheerfully. He stepped out of the tub and put on a robe. “I assume, since I see Freda behind you, that you met with success?”

I grinned. “Bring us back,” I said. “And prepare for the celebration of a lifetime!”

An hour later, after a long hot bath of my own (Aber seemed to have made off with all the available women, unfortunately), I shaved, brushed my hair, and put on the odd-looking clothes that my brother provided: a high-collared white shirt, loose black pants with what looked like a snakeskin belt, and low-cut black leather shoes—surprisingly comfortable. After a lifetime of military boots, my feet felt strangely light.

Suitably cleaned up, I left my weapons on the table by the bed, then went downstairs to join my family. I found them seated at a large round table in the inn's cavernous dining hall. The room must have had two hundred tables of various sizes, with a large dance floor at the center. Half the diners were out on the floor, swaying to the odd atonal sounds coming from a band composed of what looked like variations on flutes, guitars, violas, and drums.

“You cleaned up nicely,” Aber said, smiling. “Though you forgot your necktie.”

I stared at the intricately tied piece of black cloth at his collar and frowned. “Is that what the scrap of cloth was for? I didn't know. I polished my shoes with it.”

“Here.” Freda reached under the table for a second, then pulled one out—surreptitiously using the Logrus, I assumed. Leaning across to me, she looped it around the back of my neck, then quickly knotted an intricate bow in front. “Much better.”

“Thanks.” It felt too tight and binding, though, and I couldn't help but pull at it with one finger.

Freda slapped my hand. “None of that.”

“Yes, Mom.”

She shook her head. “If you hadn't just rescued me…”

I chuckled. “I guess that buys me a lot of good will.”

“A lifetime of it.”

“Have some wine!” Aber said. He filled my glass from a tall-necked green bottle. “It's a little sweet, but quite good. Locally made, too.” He leaned back and squinted at the label. “It says so right here—Product of Selonika. Royal Charter of Prince Marib.”

Dad cleared his throat and raised his glass. “To Oberon! Our man of the hour!”

I raised my glass. “To all of us! Everyone here contributed to Freda's rescue. Dad got us safely in… Blaise provided a ready sword!” I gave her a wink. “And of course Aber got us safely out. We're not just a family, we're a crack squad of commandos!”

“Hear, hear!” everyone agreed. We drank.

After that came huge slabs of steak, baked potatoes, strange bulbous green and red vegetables, and more wine than I knew what to do with… and as the evening wore on and the music grew loud and wild, dancing spread between the tables, and everywhere laughing men and women danced, drank, and celebrated. Dinner became a pleasant, warm blur. I couldn't remember having such a grand time in months, if not years.

Late that night, very late, I left the dining hall in search of an outhouse. I found it, relieved myself, and headed back to rejoin the others. As I strolled along a white pebble path toward the dining room, I listened to cicadas brr and crickets chirp. A cool, pleasant breeze blew steadily, keeping away pesky insects, while high overhead a moon grown golden and huge limned the trees and bushes around me with silver highlights. I had a pleasant buzz from all the alcohol, and I felt really good. All told, a perfect evening.

When footsteps suddenly crunched on the pebbles behind me, I felt a jolt of alarm. Enough had gone wrong in the last few months that I expected to be attacked at any given moment.