Reunion by Kara Dalkey Page B

tightened. “If we’re lucky,” he said. “But given the way kings are, especially ones like Vortigern, he might want to try some torture first. Boiling oil, or maybe a bed of spikes. Just to make his point.”
    Nia sighed. “Land-dwellers.”
    Now would have been a wonderful time, Corwin thought, to be struck with a vision of an old Corwin, gray-bearded, playing with grandchildren. But no such vision came.
    They rode the rest of the way to Carmarthen Castle in silence.

Chapter Seven
    As the wagon bumped over the drawbridge, Corwin glanced up at the crenellated wall. The iron cage in which Fenwyck had been exposed was still there. And from the looks of the skeletal arm that draped over the side, so was Fenwyck. Corwin shivered.
    â€œWhat are you looking at?” Nia asked.
    â€œMy old guardian, Fenwyck. Or what’s left of him. A man who was like a father to me. But Vortigern had him killed.”
    â€œOh.” A wave of sympathetic feeling came from Nia. “I had a similar loss—also because of an evil king.”
    Again Corwin saw in his mind the gray-haired merman lying on the sand. Corwin reached over to grasp Nia’s hand. Together, for some moments, they shared their sorrow.
    The wagon stopped with a sudden jolt. A guardsman came around to open the back of the wicker cage. “Come out!” he commanded.
    Corwin and Nia crawled to the back of the wagon and were hoisted out by the none-too-gentle guards. They were taken without ceremony into an antechamber and soon thereafter marched into the presence of the king.
    The throne room now looked very much like a throne room, Corwin noticed. All the rugs, tapestries, and side tables were in place. Corwin saw that one side table still had a dent in the leg from where he’d kicked it over weeks ago, and he smiled. The two-stepped dais was in place, with two high-backed thrones on it. One throne was occupied by an uncomfortable-looking young woman whom Corwin assumed was the Saxon girl Roxanna. The other held His Majesty, King Vortigern, in stiff purple robes, looking decidedly less casual than he had the first time Corwin had met him.
    All three mages stood beside the dais, huddled together and watching Corwin and Nia intently. Beside them stood Prince Vortimer, arms folded across his chest, his mouth set in a gloating smirk.
    The guards forced Corwin and Nia to their knees before the thrones. “Majesty, we bring before you the two criminals who attacked your son.”
    â€œWell, well, well,” Vortigern said, staring at Corwin. “If it isn’t the young prognosticator and lackey to a clumsy thief. I’ll have you know, fellow, that I had the viaducts below the castle searched, and there are no fighting dragons there. You must have been mistaken.”
    â€œAs I told Your Majesty,” Corwin said, “the visions may have had nothing to do with you. You had no reason to be angry.”
    The guard beside Corwin cuffed him on the ear.
    â€œWho gave you permission to speak? A king’s wrath is always justified, let that not be forgotten.” Vortigern turned his attention to Nia. “And what is this bizarre creature whom you have selected to join you in your life of crime?”
    Nia tried to stand but the guard beside her kept her down with a hand on her shoulder. “Your Majesty,” she cried, “I am Niniane of the Bluefin Clan, last Avatar of the ancient kingdom of Atlantis.”
    At this the throne room erupted in a hubbub, and the three mages stared and whispered to one another. The king held up his hand and the noise in the room subsided. With a disbelieving raise of the eyebrows, Vortigern said, “Go on.”
    â€œI beseech you to help us. I meant no harm to your son. But his companion had taken a shell that contains the last prince of Atlantis, and I had to rescue the prince—”
    At this, the king burst out laughing. “You have a prince . . . in a