Reunion (5 page)

Henwyneb held out the bowl and Corwin greedily took it, not caring that he spilled a few scalding drops on his breeches. He drank the stew down, tasting mussels and scraps of venison and rabbit, carrots and cabbage seasoned with thyme, parsley, and juniper berries. Corwin sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. It was the most exquisite meal he had ever tasted. “Ah, this is wonderful,” he moaned.

“Hunger does make the best sauce, doesn't it?” Henwyneb said, sitting on the other stool. “Now, tell me about this medicine you need, and whether it's for yourself or someone else.”

Corwin took some moments to gobble the rest of the stew down. “Could I have some more stew, first?” he asked.

“By all means,” said Henwyneb with an amused smile. “Hearing such praise for my humble cooking, how could I say no?”

Corwin ladled himself a brimming bowlful from the kettle and drank it down again, finding it as delicious as the first.
As madnesses go
, he thought,
this might not be so bad after all.

At last, with a big sigh, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Corwin was ready to set down the bowl and tell Henwyneb everything that had happened to him that morning—of the leviathan on the shore, and the horrible red sea serpent, the strange mark on his hand, and the illness that had struck him afterward.

As Corwin talked, Henwyneb set about heating some water on the hearth. He took down a jar from a nearby shelf and sprinkled some dry herbs into a tiny muslin drawstring bag. Placing this in a mug, he poured hot water into it.

Corwin was finishing with, “. . . and so I finally got up to come here, but I kept noticing everything around me as if I were a child again and . . . what
is
that?” The herbal smell was fascinating to his newly sensitive nose.

“A tisane of marigold leaves and chamomile and mint and . . . oh, a few other things. I find it a soothing tonic for aches and offenses to the stomach, and at least it won't bring you any harm. Until I have a more specific notion of what's wrong with you, this medicine will have to do.”

Corwin took the mug in his hands and inhaled the steam. He sipped at the tea, and it tasted mostly like water with leaves steeped in it, but the scent was soothing all by itself. “Thank you, Henwyneb. You're very nice to a stranger.”

“Pshaw, you're no stranger, despite the fact that you choose not to tell me your name. You've been in my home before. And I sense that you're as much in need of friends as I am. Now, as to your tale,” Henwyneb said, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully, “it's as strange as any I've heard in a long while. And I've heard many, I can assure you, from the sailors and fishermen whom I've met. The sea is a vast, uncharted world, which men can only skim the surface of. What lies beneath, no man can truly know.”

He's beginning to sound like Fenwyck
, Corwin thought. Although Fenwyck had been the sort of man who believed truth was an annoying obstacle to getting what you wanted; Henwyneb was the sort of man who seemed incapable of speaking anything
but
truth.

The old blind button-maker stood and began to pace the small room. “As to the leviathan, well . . . many a bizarre creature has washed up onto that strand. I have heard tales that would make you shake your head in wonder. Stories of whales larger than this house. Or of the unicorn of the sea, the narwhal, which is very like a whale but has a horn that juts from its forehead.”

“As I said,” Corwin interrupted, “I've seen whales, and this wasn't like those. It was more like an octopus, but huge. I found that shell I gave you tangled up in its tentacles.”

Henwyneb frowned. “The shell may have been within it only coincidentally. Or perhaps the leviathan, too, treasured the object. One sailor I knew told me of an amazing sight he once witnessed. While fishing far from land, he saw a great whale breach from the water. And riding the whale, wrapped around it in a life-strangling grip, was an enormous squid, as large as the whale itself. It was clear to this man that these creatures were fighting to the death, and that the squid would most likely be the victor. But the creatures soon sank beneath the waves, and he never saw them again.”

Corwin sat up with interest. “This creature wasn't as big as a whale. It's only a bit longer than I am tall. But there were marks upon it like wounds from a battle!”

“There you are, then,” Henwyneb said, smiling. “Perhaps it was a young giant squid. One mystery solved.” He sat down again with a heavy sigh. “Now, on to the next. The scarlet serpent you saw coiling out of the sea . . . Sailors whose eyes have been dazed by the ripples of water and the dance of sunlight on the sea have oft thought that floating logs or shadows upon the swells were mighty sea serpents.”

“It chased me down and would have killed me, if the sun hadn't struck it!” Corwin said. “Believe me, it was no illusion.”

“Well, then.” Henwyneb scratched his head in thought. “I once met a fellow from the Far North, a Saxon, who told me of the kraken. This is a monster that lives in the sea and is the cause of maelstroms that drag ships down to their doom. The creature is said to float upon the sea like a woven mat, enticing men to land upon it as though it were an island. It is said to have arms like serpents—perhaps this is what you saw.”

“This creature grew eyes and a mouth,” said Corwin. “It wasn't just an arm that almost ate me.”

“Hmmm. The Northmen also speak of the World Serpent, which dwells at the bottom of the ocean. It was the deadly foe of their thunder god, Thor, but it was said only to rise when the destruction of the world was imminent. I truly hope it was not this that you saw.”

Corwin sighed. “All these stories don't help me much. I need to know how to kill it or avoid it if it attacks me again.”

“But you already know this,” said Henwyneb. “The thing was destroyed by sunlight, you say.”

Corwin shook his head. “Somehow, I don't think it was really destroyed.” The new mind that spoke within his thoughts only confirmed his feeling that the kraken, or whatever it was, would rise again when the sun set.

“Then you must avoid the sea and the dark, 'tis clear,” said Henwyneb.

“I wish it were that simple,” Corwin said.
What possible life could I live, avoiding men during the day and a monster at night?

“Surely there is some other occupation you could try than gathering seashells by the seashore?”

“What about the mark on my hand?” Corwin said, changing the subject before Henwyneb could pry further into his circumstances.

“Let me see it.” The old man stood and shuffled over. He took Corwin's right hand in both of his and traced the raised mark on Corwin's palm with his fingers. “You're right. . . . it's very like the shape of the sun.”

“Do you know what would make a mark like that?”

Henwyneb paused. “No. But do you know much about the Druids?”

“Druids!” Corwin nearly laughed. “They don't tell anyone their secrets. What would those scholars and wizards have to do with me?”

“I only ask because they are said to worship the sun and base their sciences on teachings older than those of the Romans.” Henwyneb stood very still for a moment, then walked to the papered window. “You say you see things with new wisdom?”

“Not with new wisdom,” Corwin answered, “but with new eyes and senses. It's as if—as if there is another
me
inside, but different somehow.” He shook his head. He really
did
sound crazy.

“Hmm. That may prove to be the same thing, in time.”

“So you believe this ailment is a blessing, not a curse?”

“As to that, I couldn't say, for wisdom can often prove to be both. The denizens of the sea are often said to be the bringers of gifts—fish that grant wishes. And the merrows.”

“What are merrows?” Corwin asked with a frown. So much new information was coming at him, and he had been newly infused with so much curiosity that it was all quite overwhelming.

“The mermen and mermaids who are said to visit our shores. There is a tale of a man named Lutey, who rescued a mermaid from a tide-pool. In gratitude, she gave him the skill and knowledge of healing, which he passed down through his family. Though, as I recall, at the end Lutey had to leave his land-wife and sons and join the mermaid in the sea. And though there are many stories of land people falling in love with merrows, or vice versa, these tales often don't end well for one or the other. And if there are children from these unions, they might be born with a curse upon them, or webbed feet, or scaly skin.”

“Your thoughts wander more than mine, old man,” Corwin said. “I haven't seen any mermaids.” But he did remember the vision from the mind-that-was-not-his of the gray-bearded man with a fin instead of legs. And that
other
sense inside of him—it seemed to itch at the description the button-maker had just given him, as if there were something familiar there. Because of that vision, maybe?

“No one I know has seen any mermaids, either, my boy, but that doesn't prevent their legends from persisting. The sea is so vast that it can contain whole kingdoms of human fancy. And who is to say what does or doesn't exist? Selkies and sea serpents, ghost ships and giants, mysterious islands that appear and disappear. Do you know the tale of Atlantis?”

“No,” Corwin said. He noticed that his new inner mind suddenly became very attentive.

“It's a story from the ancient days. Of an island whose people offended the gods and sank into the sea. But it was said the Atlanteans were a great civilization, a people older and wiser than mankind. A Roman centurion I met long ago, who stayed in Wales after his regiment was ordered home, told me of it. He mentioned that there are roads in this land, straight as plumbed lines, connecting landmarks of importance, that were not built by his people. They existed before the Romans arrived. His commander used to joke that the people of Atlantis built them.”

Too bad Fenwyck never heard that story
, Corwin thought.
He could have made more use of it than of Hammurabia. The wonders of the ancients right under our own noses!
For a moment, Corwin acutely missed the old conniver.

“Ah, but forgive me,” Henwyneb said. “These are just prattlings. My mind wanders too freely these days, as you said. These summer evenings are a delight, when the sun lingers late.”

Corwin wondered why that should matter to a blind man, but then understood that Henwyneb could feel the warmth upon his face.

Suddenly Henwyneb cocked his head and appeared to be listening to something. “Two horses approaching. Male riders—noblemen, from their speech. Are you expecting others to join you?”

Corwin sat up. “What—?” Then he heard the soft hoofbeats and men's voices. “No! In fact, I would rather not meet anyone else right now.”

“Ah. Then you had better find a place to hide, since they are clearly coming here, and I have no other door but the one they will surely come through.”

Corwin spotted a stack of short, stout barrels in one corner. Onto these had been heaped sticks and deer antlers and shells and other materials from which Henwyneb could make buttons. Corwin slipped behind the barrels just as he heard voices coming near the door.

“I must say, this isn't promising,” one man was saying. “This looks more like a giant ox-dropping than a house.”

“Just what Father's sorcerers suggested we look for. I swear to you, Faustus, his superstitious nature will be the death of him someday. When I'm king, I will see all those sorcerers strangled and hanged by the threads of their pointy caps.”

Corwin crouched down lower as he recognized the voices. It was none other than Prince Vortimer and his friend Lord Faustus, both of whom, of course, would recognize Corwin right away.

The door opened and the two young nobles stepped in, without even knocking. “Now you must admit,” said Faustus, “that something strange
is
going on with the tower. Just yesterday the third tier of stones fell again, nearly killing one of the workmen.”

“Sabotage, probably,” said Vortimer. “Father isn't exactly popular with the local people. Or it could be the cisterns and viaducts below the castle that bring water in from the river. You should come explore them with me someday, Faustus, they're huge. But I don't care what they say about Roman architecture—it's not miraculous. You can't build a castle over man-made caverns and lakes that size and not expect some shifting and collapse. I've tried to tell Father this, but does he listen? What
is
that foul smell?”

“I believe it's whatever's in the kettle on the hearth,” said Faustus. “Helloooo, is there anyone here?”

Henwyneb shuffled out of the darkness. “Gentlemen, welcome to my humble home,” he said, bowing from the waist.

“Gentlemen?” said Prince Vortimer with a sneer. “I will have you know, peasant, that I am a prince of the realm, none other than the firstborn son of King Vortigern himself. On your knees, sirrah, and give me the honors due a prince.”

Nasty brute
, Corwin thought, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
He's worse than his father, the king.

“F-forgive me, Highness,” Henwyneb stammered as he slowly lowered himself. “I am blind and could not see who you were.”

“Faster, man,” Faustus snapped, and he pushed on Henwyneb's shoulders until the button-maker fell to his knees.

Henwyneb cried out in pain. “Have mercy, Highness,” he begged. “It is my old joints that prevented me from making haste to do you honors. Forgive me.”

Corwin's temple throbbed and he nearly jumped out from his hiding place.
How dare they do this? Just because they're noblemen. They're just big bullies. I wish I could show them.
But Corwin stayed hidden, afraid of being captured. He hated himself for his cowardice.