I bowed graciously, and Aber did the same.

“Please, be at ease,” he said, smiling cordially and motioning for us to sit. “While we acknowledge the formalities of the past in Selonika, we don't cling to them. Your brother has told me you come from the far-off land of Chaos. Please observe whatever customs are usual to your people. I am eager to learn more of them.”

“You are very kind.”

I sat to his right, and Aber sat to his left. At his gesture, beautiful women began wheeling in trays of delicate pastries and sweetmeats. They served us on glass trays, then withdrew.

Marib began to eat at once, but lightly. We followed his example.

“I understand you are pioneers,” he said. “I will do whatever I can to assist you. However, doubtless due to my own shortcomings in education, I do not quite understand the magics Aber mentioned, and neither do my ministers. Can you tell me more of this place called Shadow, where you will dwell?”

“Of course,” I said. I explained quickly about all the worlds—the Shadows—and how they existed side by side. No need to go into the Pattern with him. Then I told him how my family had the ability to travel between these worlds, and after a conflict with a world called Chaos, we set off to live on our own.

“And who will rule there?” asked Prince Marib.

“Oberon will,” said Aber.

I shot him a warning glance. “That has not yet been decided,” I said.

Marib leaned back in his cushioned seat. “Oh, I think it has, my friend. If half of what Aber has told me is true, I see in you the seeds of a great and noble ruler.”

I pretended modesty. But I could not help but feel flattered. And I wondered: maybe I should be king.

Prince Marib extended his offer to assist us in whatever way he could, and we left soon after breakfast ended by exchanging vows of friendship between our peoples.

On our way back to the inn, I said to Aber: “You were right. I like him.”

On the third day after his return, Conner was up and about, with new color in his cheeks and new flesh on his bones. Now he looked merely thin rather than emaciated. Still Freda and Blaise plied him with food at every turn.

“At this rate I'll weigh four hundred pounds by the end of the month!” he complained to me.

I laughed. “You need to distract them with something else. Right now, all of their maternal instincts are focused on getting you well.”

“You keep telling me about this new Shadow,” he said. “How about taking me there? I'd like to see it. I assume you and Dad are going back today.”

“Yes. I think so. But keep in mind that it may affect you. Blaise did not react well to it.”

“I'll take that chance. And if not, I can always return here. Dad gave me a Trump of my room.”

I nodded. “Very well. We'll make a day of it, then. I know Freda wants to see it, too.”

Quickly I called down to the kitchens, and they set about making a picnic lunch for us. Nor was the manager content to pack us off with a simple basket. He insisted on a full complement of waiters and chefs, a portable grill, ice chests for the selection of wines, plus tables and chairs and sufficient linens. Our simple meal rapidly became a vast and complicated endeavor.

I sighed. At least I wouldn't be organizing it. Cold roast beef sandwiches and beer summoned through the Logrus would have been much simpler.

It was nearly noon by the time our vast entourage got underway. Sixteen wagons strong—with horses for Aber and me—left the city. Our company had swelled to eighty-six. Twenty of them were early surveyors sent by the architects, who would begin making all of the preliminary measurements and sketches. The others included various servants who would set up tents and an advance camp, cooks, waiters, a wine steward, and a dozen others whose purposes remained a mystery to me.

Only Dad elected not to join us, saying he had errands of his own to run. Mysterious and secretive to the last. Well, we didn't need him right now, and I had a new Trump of him courtesy of Dad, so I could reach him whenever I had to.

It took an hour to reach our future home. The wagons slowed us down considerably. But as the familiar hills and forests came into sight, I felt a quickening of my blood and spurred my horse. Aber hurried to keep up, and side by side we ascended a mountain and gazed down at a pristine beach below.

“This is it!” I said.

“Beautiful.” He twisted in his saddle, looking in all directions. “I want a room with a southern view. And lots of windows.”

I chuckled. “Then it will do?”

“More than do! It's perfect, as long as it lasts!”

I studied him. “How do you feel? Tired? Sick?”

“Huh? Fine, of course.”

“No ill effects?”

“No-o-o… should I have some?”

I smiled with relief. “I was half afraid everyone else would get sick here, like Blaise did.”

He pointed down the mountain, where the wagons had just drawn to a stop. “She looks fine now, as far as I can see.”

I shaded my eyes and studied her, plus Conner and Freda. None of them lay down suddenly and went to sleep, which had to count for something.

Aber stood up in his saddle, waved, and shouted a “Halloo!”

Freda waved back. Everyone climbed down from the wagons and hiked toward us. Servants, meanwhile, began to unload everything and set up tables for lunch.

Ten minutes later, my sisters and brother joined us. Blaise looked pale and faintly sick, but not as bad as before. Conner and Freda were winded, but well.

“You look good,” Freda said to me. “Almost glowing. This world agrees with you.”

I laughed. “This place… it's in my blood. I feel strong here, more powerful and alive than I've ever been before.”

“It is the Pattern. Its nearness…” She turned slowly, studying the land. “It is… different here. Not like Chaos. Nor quite like Juniper. There is something powerful about it… an energy I can feel.”

“It's better,” I said.

“Different,” she repeated.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Aber said with a sigh.

I glanced over at him. “What do you mean?”

“Do you really think King Uthor will let us build here? He will march against us immediately.”

“You forget,” I said, “that this is my world, not his. It's built from the Pattern within me. I feel like a god here. So let him come—I'll kill him and hang his head from my castle gates!”

“Castle? Gates?” Aber turned slowly, staring at the emptiness. “He isn't going to wait for us to build. I bet he's gathering his forces now.”

“It doesn't matter,” I said. My imagination soared. Towers—walls—ramparts—a whole city will rise here, on the side of this mountain! “We will bring as many workers as it takes. We can rebuild Juniper in a year.”

“Not Juniper,” Freda said sharply. “That was Father's. Make this your city, Oberon. Put your stamp upon it.”

My own city… yes. I could see it in my mind's eye. Tall towers with minarets, proud pennants flying. High stone walls, shining white in the rising sun, surrounded by a beautiful town with red-tiled roofs and well-cobbled streets. Down to the sea, where the sun shone like amber on the waves…

“Amber,” I whispered. It fit this world. It resonated nicely with Juniper's name, too… a proud and unashamed continuation of our father's legacy.

“Amber? Is that the best you can come up with?” Aber asked.

“Kind of boring. How about Aberton? Now that's a name with personality!”

“No,” Freda said flatly.

“Or just Aber. It's shorter.”

“Only by one letter,” I said.

Freda said, “Absolutely not!”

“Or maybe Oberonia?” he went on, grinning at me. “What do you say, brother?”

I had to laugh. “Actually, I kind of like Oberonia!”

“No,” Freda said firmly, turning to me and folding her arms stubbornly. “Do not encourage him, Oberon. He becomes very silly if you let him.”