By John Gregory Betancourt
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Additional resources for Chaos and Amber
I hated being sick and disoriented. I was used to being in control of every situation, a leader and not some helpless invalid. If anyone attacked us, I would not be able to leave this room, let alone protect Aber or fight my way clear of the building. I strained to hear over the constant low hiss of wind. No clash of weapons nor screams from dying guards reached me. If we were under attack, wouldn't I hear something! Our visitors had to be friendly. Probably neighbors paying a social call; after all, Dworkin hadn't been here in years.
Thus, the ransacking of our father's house continued. By the time the sounds of searching had faded to distant cracks, bangs, and crashes, several hours later, we were on our third bottle of the red stag wine. " I asked. My tongue felt thick; my words slurred slightly. "Third floor. Living quarters. " I felt a jolt of alarm. " He smirked. " "They're tucked away. " I chuckled and allowed myself to relax. " More boots tramped overhead, and porcelain shattered noisily. Then a thump shook the whole house.
I've been ordered to keep you awake, and that's what I'm going to do. " Dripping, cold and miserable and thoroughly wide awake now, I stumbled to one of the dragon-backed chairs, sat heavily, and glared at him. At least the room wasn't moving so much anymore. Maybe there was something to his "Chaos legs" theory. Or the ice-water had shocked the worst of the disorientation from me. "I am going to kill you, you know," I promised. " He gave a thoroughly evil chuckle. " At that remark, I rose and took a step toward him.