Reunion (7 page)

The guard holding the sword glanced back at the prince with wide, uncertain eyes. “Y-yes, your Highness.” He came at her with his sword upraised. “Kneel, girl, and I will see that my sword's stroke is swift and painless.”

“No, you . . . do not understand!” She held out her arms to deflect him and Corwin saw the palms of her hands. His blood went cold. Her right palm bore the same sun-shaped mark as his did.

Is that a sign of the curse? Did she see the kraken, too?
Suddenly Corwin sagged as strength was sapped from his body. Again a great blast of wind flew from the girl's hands and the guards were blown backward. The one with the sword bravely struggled against the flow of air. But his blade began to glow red-hot, and with a cry, he dropped it to the ground.

The inner voice in Corwin's mind was insisting again,
What is happening? What is happening?

“Peace, my prince,” said the girl. “I am trying to . . . free you, so that we may complete . . . the Naming.”

She hears it, too!
Corwin thought, astonished.
It isn't just in my mind. She called it her prince. So this prince is the one whose thoughts I keep hearing inside of me? But its thoughts seem like those of a little child, not a devil or a royal. And what is a Naming, anyway?

“Let's get help!” Vortimer said to Faustus. The two noblemen rushed for their horses, untied the frightened beasts, and leaped onto their backs. To the girl, Prince Vortimer cried, “This attack against the royal family will not go unpunished.” To Corwin, he added, “We'll have your head eventually, too, thief. You can count on that!” The pair galloped away, their guardsmen close behind them.

“Ah!” The girl cried out, reaching helplessly after the riders. Corwin realized that Faustus still had the shell.

She raised her hands and Corwin felt even more strength seep out of him. The world seemed to spin and shake around him—these were sensations from the other mind, the prince-mind.

But the girl was now too weak for whatever spell she was attempting and she slumped to her knees on the ground.

Corwin worked hard to force the disorienting feelings from the prince-mind aside. He wanted to get away, to run back to his cave, to pretend this nightmare of a day was finished. But this girl clearly knew more about his mysterious illness. And if he was doomed to die, he wanted to know why. Corwin crawled over to the mysterious sorceress and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“We have to stop them. We have to rescue the prince,” she whispered.

“We?” asked Corwin, hoping she didn't mean him. “Um, I—”

“My prince has marked you. I don't know why. But we will all die if we don't help each other.”

“Marked?” Corwin looked at the sun-shaped welt on his palm.
I must have gotten this when I picked up the shell, then.

“Yes, you now bear the Avatar's mark. The prince's blood is in your blood. That's why we are joined. That's why we will die if we don't complete the Naming.”

Corwin gave his head a slight shake. This was all getting too confusing. “Who are you and what's going on?” he demanded. It was bizarre being near her. The other mind found her presence soothing, yearned for her to tell him everything would be all right. Corwin wanted to hear that, too, but suspected that was not what she would tell him.

“Oh. Forgive me,” she said, so earnestly that it would have been impossible not to. “My . . . name is Niniane. Of the Bluefin Clan.”

Corwin tried to wrap his tongue around the unusual name. “Ninny . . . ninniya . . . what?”

She gave him a wan smile. “Most people just call me Nia.”

“Oh. That's easier. Nia. Well, I'm Corwin. And I'm not of any clan.”

Nia's face became somber. “I'm sorry to hear that. To be without a clan, without family . . . that's a dreadful thing.”

“I hadn't noticed the loss, really.” As Corwin said it, he knew it was a lie. Fenwyck had been a poor substitute for the ties of blood and heritage that others had. As if sensing his inner sorrow, Nia put her hand on his shoulder. Corwin couldn't quite make himself shrug it off. “I've done all right. Really. You don't need to pity me. Cousins and brothers and uncles would be just a nuisance to me.”

Nia winced and removed her hand. Corwin instantly wished she hadn't. A faint smile appeared again on her face and Corwin realized she could read his thoughts, or at least his feelings. His face flushed hot as he blushed.

Nia looked down at the ground, and Corwin knew she was pretending to ignore his embarrassment. He could also tell she was feeling nearly as ill as he was.
Aha. So I can read her feelings, too. At least we're equal in this
. “Where are you from?” he asked.

“Far away. A place under the sea.”

“Are you a merrow, then?”

“What's a merrow?” she asked.

“A mermaid?”

“Mermyd,” she corrected him.

“Close enough,” Corwin breathed, his eyes wide. He now noticed the delicate, lacy, layered skin on both sides of her neck, which he had thought was part of her gown.
She has gills like a fish!
And her scent was pure salt spray and sea foam, her eyes the color of tide-pool depths. “Um, w-why have you come on land?”

She frowned. “I was . . . beached here. There was a . . . battle . . . in my city. My grand . . . my father . . .”

Corwin received a dizzying array of images of an underwater city, a merman with a knife, an old merman alive and holding a sword, the leviathan from the beach alive and swimming beside him. “Please, slow down. This isn't making any sense.”

Nia sighed and nodded in the direction the horses had gone. “Never mind. Now that I'm here, I have to follow the prince and complete the Naming.” She looked down at her palm and rubbed at the sun-shaped mark.

“Can you please just tell me, Nia, who is this prince, what is this Naming, and what on earth does this mark mean? I have it, too!” He held out his hand to her.

Nia took his hand in both of hers. Corwin rather liked that and fought down another blush. “Yes, of course,” she said. “You bear the prince's mark. He had to give you his . . . fluid, or he would have died. He still may, if we don't find him. And we will die if he does.”

“Is that why I'm sick and crazy and hearing thoughts that aren't my own? Has your prince cursed me because I picked up his shell?”

Nia frowned again. “It's not a curse. It's a great honor among my people. You are an Avatar now, or will be if we can complete the Naming. Your mind and the prince's and mine are joined for the rest of our lives. Which may be short, if we can't rescue him.”

Corwin felt like kicking a rock in frustration. “Please, please can you explain why I'm doomed to die! I'd like to know what I'm giving up my poor, miserable excuse of a life for. And what prince?”

She gazed at him again with her intense aquamarine eyes. “I'm sorry. There's so much to tell. The prince is the offspring of . . . of . . .” She couldn't seem to find the words, but Corwin received an image in his mind again of the tentacled leviathan alive and swimming. “These beings are from very far away,” she said. “
Very
far.” She pointed up toward the now darkening sky.

A cool breeze washed over Corwin and he suddenly became aware that, lengthy though summer evenings might be, dusk would be falling soon. And with it might come the kraken.

The door to Henwyneb's cottage opened and the old man shuffled out. “Is everyone all right? What happened?”

Corwin left Nia's side and staggered over to the blind man. “I seem to have escaped royal capture for the moment, Henwyneb.”

“I heard a strange battle and the voice of a young girl.”

“Yes, yes, I fought them all off. . . . ,” Corwin began. He cringed. “Actually, luck was on my side, that's all. Sort of. But we'd better go different ways. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Henwyneb waved a hand dismissively. “I'm old. Death will come to me sooner or later in any case. I've little to risk. But who is this girl-witch I heard mentioned?”

“She's amazing, Henwyneb. She says she's a mermaid from under the sea!”

“Really? Where is she? May I meet her?”

“She's here.” Corwin guided Henwyneb over to Nia. “Henwyneb, may I present Ninny . . . er, Nia of the Bluefin Clan. Nia, this is Henwyneb, who makes buttons and medicines and very good stew.”

Nia stood, wavering a little, and dipped her head. Then she frowned. “He can't see?”

“I've been blind these twenty years,” said Henwyneb. “I now see with my fingers. If I may . . . touch your face, lady, then I may know your aspect.”

Corwin nodded to reassure her. Nia stepped closer and Henwyneb gently traced his fingers over her face and neck, pausing especially on the feathery gills.

“Astonishing,” he whispered. “And where might you be from, good lady of the sea?”

“You won't have heard of it, I'm sure. My home is called Atlantis.”

Henwyneb gasped and stepped back.

Corwin blinked in surprise. “Isn't that the place you were telling me about, Henwyneb? The ancient island that sank beneath the sea, in the Roman stories?”

“It is indeed!” said Henwyneb. “But . . . can it be true? The sunken island of myth exists?”

Nia sighed. “Once I would have been . . . chastised for telling you this. We wished to keep our world secret from land-dwellers. Now, perhaps only land-dwellers can save us. But, yes, Atlantis lives. Or did. I don't know how many live there still.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment, and Corwin received mental images of blood in water, floating bodies—leviathan and human.

“What happened?” Corwin asked her.

Nia shook her head. “It would take so long to tell you,” she murmured, the sadness in her voice overwhelming him. “An evil mermyd . . . wanted power. He killed our kings for it.”

“That isn't so unusual,” Henwyneb grumbled. “We've got a king like that, too, here on land.”

Corwin looked around to make sure the nobles hadn't come back. “Don't let Prince Vortimer hear you say that.”

“Bah!” said Henwyneb. “That posturing prince is nowhere nearby . . . is he?” The old button-maker turned his head as if looking around.

“I don't see him, but he may return soon, and with greater forces. We should leave here.”

“If the Naming had been completed,” Nia said, “I could heal your eyes, ancient one.”

“Should that ever come to pass, lady of the sea, feel free to make a return visit. Well, do not let me detain you if you must seek safety. 'Tis a pity you can't stay and tell me your stories, Nia of Atlantis. But bide just a moment more and I will give you cloaks to wear, for I feel the night will be chill.”

“I can bear cool weather,” said Corwin.

“These cloaks have hoods,” Henwyneb added, “so they may cover any features one might not wish noticed.” He fluttered his hands at his neck.

“Oh.” Corwin took note of Nia's lacy neck-gills—not to mention her silvery hair and shiny gown. She would hardly be inconspicuous. “Of course. Hoods. Very useful things, hoods. They keep off bugs, and rain, and suspicion. Good idea, Henwyneb.”

The button-maker bustled back into the hovel.

Corwin and Nia looked at each other. The world spun again a little, as the prince-other-mind fought its own dizziness. Nia began to sag toward the ground, and Corwin caught her in his arms. She seemed to draw strength from him, and he sagged slowly, too, until they were both kneeling again. “Um . . . I can see you're not feeling your best right now, but could you tell me just a little more about this prince and why he's doomed us? I mean, dying just because I found a shell on the beach seems a little silly, don't you think?”

“The Farworlders,” she murmured, and by that Corwin knew she meant the leviathans. “They're very powerful. The fluid from one chosen to be prince binds his mind to the mind of a mermyd. This gives great power to the Avatar—the mermyd. But first, there must be the Naming. The ritual uses the power to change the fluid . . . so it's no longer poison.”

“So . . . we find the prince, do this ritual, and we're not sick anymore?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him. It was a beautiful smile.

However, it wasn't distracting enough to keep one important question from his mind. “But I'm not a mermyd. Will the ritual work for me?”

Nia's smile melted away. “I don't know.”

“That's . . . not too encouraging.”

“I'm sorry. But we are joined. If the prince dies, we die. If you die, I and the prince die. If I die—”

“I
understand
,” Corwin said, a knot forming in his stomach. “I guess you can't make things seem any more dire, can you?”

“We have seven days.”

“What?”

“If we don't find the prince in seven days, the poison will kill him.”

“And so, us, too.”

“Yes. The sunlight is going away. I was marked last night. You had yours—?”

“This morning,” said Corwin grimly. “Before dawn.”

“So we have—”

“Only six days, really,” Corwin finished for her.

“Yes.”

The cottage door banged open again and Corwin jumped up, startled. He gently helped Nia stand up.

“Here you are,” the old man said, holding out two tattered and patched woolen cloaks.

Corwin took the dark blue one and Nia took the other, a brown one. As Henwyneb had promised, they both had hoods. Corwin put his cloak on, shivering as sunset quickly faded into dusk. He helped Nia with the unfamiliar garment, careful to position the hood so that it completely hid her gills and hair.

He jumped again as a scream rent the air—a scream like a chorus of imps and demons crying out from hell.