Reunion (9 page)

“The River Twy, maybe, since you don't mind cold water.”

“The river, then,” she said, and smiled.

His heart nearly melted. And then he remembered she could sense his thoughts, and he blushed and coughed. To cover his embarrassment, he set the candle down on the table and took off his cloak, draping it over the same bedpost as Nia's. “Um, Nia, I was thinking. If you have . . . abilities because of your . . . connections, does that mean that, well, would I . . . ?”

“Have magic, too?” Nia finished for him. “I don't know. I'm able to speak your language, and it's becoming easier the more time we spend together. I must be learning it from our connection, and from the ocu—from something I have inside of me. But I don't know if there are any rules about this. I've honestly never heard of a Farworlder joined to a land-dweller. But there must have been, once. Before there were mermyds.”

“Before?”

“We were created from your kind,” Nia explained. “The Farworlders made us to be like them and like you. That's how we share their magic.”

Now Corwin really hoped no one was listening. “Then . . . it's possible? That I really could . . . How do you do . . . what you do?”

Nia shrugged. “I think about doing something and then it just . . . happens. Here, I'll show you.” She put the candle and its block of wood on the floor and knelt down. She reached out her arm as if trying to grasp the candle from a distance. Slowly, the block of wood moved, scraping across the floor until it bumped into her hand.

“Let me try,” Corwin said eagerly. He lay down on the floor and stretched out his arm. Nothing happened.

“You have to will it to come to you,” Nia explained.

Corwin reached out further and concentrated on the candle, insisting, in his thoughts, that it travel to his hand. In a moment, the block of wood bump-bumped over the uneven floor, falling over as it struck a raised plank. Corwin caught the candle before the flame touched the wood.

“You did it!” Nia exclaimed softly.

“I did it,” Corwin echoed, amazed. “I did it! Ha! If only old Fenwyck could see me now! What else can I do?”

Nia paused, considering. “Well, Avatars have the powers of moving objects with their minds, expending the energy from their bodies, and sensing the
unis—
which is all of time and fate—which means you can see the possibilities of the near future.”

Corwin scowled at the last one. “I already see the future, not that it's ever done me any good. But my visions aren't under my control. And they aren't about me or anyone I know. They certainly never made me and Fenwyck rich. In fact, my master Fenwyck died because of a vision I had in the royal court.”

Nia tilted her head, reminding Corwin a little of Nag. “I didn't know land-dwellers had visions,” she said.

“I don't think very many land-dwellers do,” he said. “It's a pretty rare power, and honestly—I wish I wasn't stuck with it.”

“Now that you're joined in your mind to the prince, your control should be better,” Nia said.

Corwin was a little nervous about the idea of willfully bringing on a vision. “If I just see more confusing nonsense like usual, how's that going to help us?”

“The prince will guide you,” Nia repeated gently but firmly.

“I guess. But it's a little strange having my thoughts mixed up with the thoughts of a baby squid-thing smarter than I am.”

Nia smiled encouragingly.

Determined not to let her down, Corwin closed his eyes and thought about the baby leviathan, which must be somewhere in Vortigern's castle by now. All he could sense was darkness and drifting . . . in sweet water. But the prince was weak, lost in sadness.

Help me see what we have to do
, Corwin thought. Dim images of flames and water entered his mind, but that was all. Incalculable sorrow flowed over him . . . homesickness, loneliness, loss, despair.
Come find me. Hurry,
was the only thought Corwin caught clearly from the prince. “He can't help me,” Corwin said at last. “He's too weak.”

“I know. I sensed it, too.”

Corwin felt his strength ebbing away again, and he wondered if the contact with the Farworlder prince had been a mistake. Now all of the despair of the prince was inside of him, making him feel hopeless.

“Tell me something hopeful, Nia,” he said. “What other useful spells or powers could we have?”

“We can heal,” she said, yawning. “Let me show you.” Nia came over and sat down behind him, gently pulling up his shirt.

Her hands felt cool on the skin of his back, and he let himself relax. Then she touched a place on his lower left side and he nearly yelped in pain.

“I thought so,” Nia said. “Your skin is all purple here. Like a stain of squid ink.”

“Where Lord Faustus kicked me,” Corwin groaned. “It must be bruised pretty badly. I'm surprised he didn't break a rib.”

“Let me heal you,” Nia said. Suddenly warmth spread from the palms of her hands into the skin and muscles of his lower back. His pain was eased, and he could feel the sinews regaining their health. “Ah, that's wonderful. Thank—”

Nia slumped against his back, her head falling between his shoulders.

“Nia? Nia?” Corwin turned around and caught her as she slipped toward the floor.

“Tired now,” Nia whispered. “Sleep . . . ”

Healing me must have really drained her
, Corwin thought, wincing in guilt. He stood and took her in his arms, then carried her to the bed, placed her on the straw mattress, and covered her with his cloak.

Though the sorrow from the prince-squidling was still in him, Corwin also felt a wild, triumphant hope.
If I have magical powers, true magic, I could outshine Fenwyck! No need for tricks and Hammurabia and sleight of hand. No need to sell Nia. Kings will give bags of gold to me as I mow down enemy armies for them, and heal the royal children, and make predictions for the kingdom. Yes, the future may be very bright indeed.

If he lived to see it, of course.

Taking the other cloak as a blanket, Corwin blew out the candle and curled up on the floor. “No worse than sleeping in the cave,” he muttered and soon fell fast asleep.

 

Corwin's eyes blinked open, and he gazed around the dingy room, struggling to remember where he was. He had had very bizarre dreams. Dreams of swimming in cold, dark water, a beautiful, glimmering city beneath him. Dreams of being curled up tight and warm, lazily feeding himself scraps of seaweed or fish with his tentacles.

Corwin focused more clearly on his surroundings.
I shouldn't be here
, he thought. But somehow he wasn't sure if the thought was his or someone else's. And then it all came back to him—why he was here and who he was here with.

Corwin rolled over and looked at the bed. Nia was still there, still asleep. He got up and went to the window, squinting at the beams of sunlight slanting in. He pushed one of the shutters slightly open. Birds chirped and horses whickered in the clearing below. It was midmorning. And he had only five days left to live.

“Nia, Nia!” Corwin shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Mmm?” She made movements as though trying to swim and then began to gasp, her gills working in and out like bellows.

“Nia, are you all right?”

“So heavy . . . must get to water . . . uuuhhh,” she groaned and writhed.

Corwin ran to the side table, grabbed the bowl, and threw the tepid standing water onto her.

She sat upright, trying to catch the water running down her hair and face, and he tried to direct the water to her gills. The gills seemed to drink in the liquid, but Nia coughed and sputtered.

Corwin threw down the bowl and sat beside her. “Is there anything I can do?”

Gasping, Nia said, “I dreamed I was trapped in a dry room. Now I'm awake, but it's just like my dream.”

Corwin was beginning to get an idea of what a dry room might be. For someone who had lived her life in water, it had to be horrible. “We have to get you to the river so you can swim.”

“Yes. Swim. In the river.”

Corwin picked up her cloak and threw it over her shoulders, putting the hood up over her silvery hair. Even though it was quite warm, he put on his own cloak as well, disguise being more important right now than comfort. “Breakfast will have to wait,” he said. “We don't want to stay here any longer than we have to. Word may have gotten back to the castle already of where we are. Given what Anwir usually serves for breakfast, we won't be missing much.”

He helped Nia get out of bed and stand up. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind became a voice.
You are awake. What is happening? What is happening
?

Corwin and Nia both sighed at once. “We're coming to find you, er, Highness,” Corwin said, not knowing if the title was appropriate.

Nia smiled a little. “As he said, my prince, we will find you.”

Good. I tried to heal you during your sleep. You will not be as sick for a while. But I am very weak now. Come find me. Hurry.

Corwin realized he did feel a little better, though he still would rather have curled up in a corner and slept for three days. He knew it made sense since Nia had picked up his language, but he was still a little disturbed to find that the baby-prince-squid-thing had learned the tongue so quickly. Nia was his age, but the prince was so young!

Your thoughts
, sent the prince,
are mine now
.

That
was even more disturbing.

Nia's cool hand closed on his arm. “It's for the best. You'll see.”

“I hope so,” Corwin said, “because five days from now I may not be seeing anything.”

He helped Nia get her balance, and they went out the door and into the hallway. All seemed quiet, normal for a tavern in the morning. He hoped. He guided her down the stairs. The common room was empty except for one man with his head down on a table loudly snoring.

“Hmm, Anwir's being charitable,” Corwin murmured. “Usually he throws everyone out at dawn. I bet he'll charge this man a night's room rent when he wakes up.” There was a basket of rolls on the table. Corwin snatched three of them and put them in a pocket of his cloak.
If nothing else
, he thought,
they might be useful as weapons, given how hard they are.

As Corwin looked around, he felt a chill pass down his spine. There was something unsettling about the stillness in the inn. “I don't think we should leave that way,” he blurted out just as Nia reached the front door.

“Should we go through one of these?” Nia asked, pointing at a window, as if it were a completely sensible question.

“Um, no, I think that would be worse, for being noticed, than the front door. C'mon. Anwir must have a secret back door to this place, considering the kind of men who come here.” As he led Nia past the bar into the kitchen, Corwin took one look back at the common room. For a moment he thought the sleeping man's eyes might be slightly open, watching him. But Corwin couldn't be sure, and he didn't have time to worry about it now.

Chapter Six

They found a secret way out through the back of a narrow pantry beside the inn's kitchen hearth. Both Corwin and Nia were coated in a light dusting of ashes by the time they came out.

“What's this powder?” Nia asked, trying to wipe it off but only smearing it worse on her hands and face.

“It's soot,” Corwin replied. “You'd better just leave it on. It'll help with our disguise.”

As luck, or Anwir's design, would have it, the bushes behind the inn came right up to the secret back door, so they were able to duck out among the trees without being noticed.

Normally, a walk to Carmarthen Castle would take only a couple of hours or so from the Toad & Ferret. But that meant going through the center of Carmarthen town, which Corwin was not willing to risk in daylight.

So they skirted the town, keeping to the wooded areas surrounding the farm fields, ducking low whenever another person seemed near. This took much longer.

“If you don't mind,” Nia gasped after they had been wandering for about two hours, “is the river near? I really have to swim.”

Corwin sighed, glancing at the tall trees surrounding them. “I—I'm not sure where the river is at the moment,” he said.
We aren't lost
, he told himself.
We can't be lost. Dear God, tell me we aren't lost. Oh God, we're lost.

“Rawwwk!” came Nag's cry from the branches overhead.

“Oh, that's just like you,” Corwin growled at the bird. “You always show up at a good time to laugh at me.” Corwin took one of the rolls out of his cloak pouch and threw it at Nag. The raven jumped up and deftly caught the bread roll in his talons, then flew off through the trees to their left.

“Miserable clever bird,” Corwin muttered. “You tricked me into giving you some of our breakfast. Not that I wanted to break a tooth on Anwir's baking. Maybe your beak will break and that will be punishment enough!”

“Rawk rawk rawk rawk,” Nag called from a distance. It really did sound like laughter. And then came a splash.

Nia peered around a tree toward Nag's noises. “Corwin, look! Your bird found water!”

“What?” Corwin stood beside Nia and looked. Just a few yards away, Nag was happily swooping up, then dropping the roll into . . . a small lake. Nag picked up the floating roll, flew up, then dropped it again, with another splash. The bird picked it up one more time, then dropped it onto the lakeshore with a thunk, alighted beside it, and began to nibble away at the now soggy roll.

“All right, so he's smarter than he seems. He's still a nuisance.”

But Nia had already left Corwin's side. She ran up to the lake, threw off her cloak, and waded in. Corwin hurried to catch up to her.

He paused on the lakeshore. There was something a bit eerie about the place. A light mist rose from the water, particularly around the edge of the lake. The sunlight seemed to dim, even though there were no clouds in the sky. It felt like the very trees were paying attention to them. There was a sense of importance about the lake. Corwin felt a bit of the sorrow he had felt the previous day returning. He didn't like seeing Nia swim in this water. There was something wrong and he didn't know what, which he found very annoying.
Is this more of the Farworlder prince's poisoning?
he wondered.