Reunion by Kara Dalkey Read Free Book Online Page B

jester who had popped out of the earth. Vortimer handed the shell to Faustus and approached Corwin’s corner. “Well, well, well,” said the prince. “It would appear the soothsayers spoke sooth after all. This is the very scoundrel we’ve been looking for.”
    Corwin knew he was too weak to fight, but he didn’t have to reveal that to the prince. “Get out! Leave us alone!” he snarled.
    â€œOr you’ll . . . what?” asked the prince, coming closer until his face was inches from Corwin’s. “If you lay a hand on me, that is treason and punishable by death.”
    Unfortunately, the prince was right. Corwin knew he had just ruined whatever hopes he could have for freedom. He tried to put a brave face on it. “I’m already dead if you capture me, aren’t I?” he asked. “What do I care if I take you with me?”
    â€œOooh, this puppy growls fiercely,” purred the prince. “I wonder if his bite is as fierce as his bark.”
    Both Vortimer and Faustus were older, perhaps in their twenties, bigger and stronger than Corwin, and noblemen trained to the sword since they were children. Corwin didn’t have a chance. But as Fenwyck had always said, when life gives you no hope, do what you’d most like to do—then you can die with no regrets.
    Closing his hand around a sharp piece of antler, Corwin mentally prepared himself to stab the prince in the belly with it. It wouldn’t kill him, but it might surprise him, maybe enough that Corwin could run past him and Faustus and out the door. Assuming the noblemen had arrived without a guard. Corwin thrust his arm upward. . . .
    But he was too slow. Vortimer grasped his wrist in a grip like iron and pulled Corwin out from behind the barrels. “Did you think I was so soft, you could kill me with that ?” cried Vortimer in astonished humor. “The days of the pampered princes vanished with the Romans, silly boy. I’ve been training to fight since I was three. My father didn’t want me to be easy prey like that fool Constans. Now come along like a good fellow and don’t make me bruise you too much. My father’s wizards want you alive, for the time being.”
    â€œWhy should I believe you?” Corwin asked, unable to free his wrist from Vortimer’s grasp. It was so hard to keep the fear out of his voice and to ignore the constant demands of the mind within his mind saying, What is happening? What is happening ?
    â€œWhy do I care whether you believe me?” Vortimer sneered. “Returning with you will please my father, and I want to keep him pleased, at least until his crown is mine. Now will you come along, or do we have to make mincemeat out of your old friend here first? He was caught harboring a criminal, after all.”
    Corwin swallowed hard. His stomach felt sick, more from fear than from his mysterious ailment. He was angry at himself for not being able to do something, anything to hurt his captors or escape them. But he didn’t want Henwyneb to suffer for his sake like Fenwyck had. “No. I’ll come with you if you leave him alone. He doesn’t know who I am.” Corwin allowed the prince to grab him by the shoulder and pull him to the door.
    â€œCome along, Faustus. We’ve got what we were sent for.”
    Faustus looked disappointed. “Do we have to leave so soon?” He put the shell into a pouch at his belt, and Corwin felt a strange sense of pressure around him. It was suddenly harder to breathe.
    â€œThe sooner I’m away from this filthy, foul-smelling place, the better,” Vortimer growled. He pushed Corwin out the door.
    Corwin saw his chance and started to stagger into a run—only to find himself running into the chain-mailed arms of a guardsman, one of two standing next to the horses.
    â€œWhat have we here, Highness?” asked the guard, grinning. “ ’Tis a large