The Prophecy Machine (Investments) (8 page)

And even now, those who defended Newlie rights often admitted in their hearts that humans and Newlies would never be the same. Finn wished it weren't so, but wishes seldom changed the world. All he could do was try and keep Letitia from the uglier aspects of life. Which, he thought, with no little shame, he wasn't doing very well now, caught in the midst of an odorous crowd who cheered a pack of lunatics in tall yellow hats.

Letitia tried to see past him, and Finn did his best to make sure that she did not. The madmen had reached a new plateau in their torment of the old man on the rack. Much to the pleasure of the crowd, one fellow brought out a large, shiny, wicked-looking blade that clearly belonged to the butcher's trade.

Skinning, hanging, evisceration and fire …

Finn recalled, with a visible shudder, those words of the Master of Chairs. And without a conscious thought, he touched the pommel of his own weapon hanging at his side.

“Butter and Bread,” he said aloud, “If that's not a fleshing blade, then I'm a great pile of whale doo!”

“My stars, Finn.”

“Sorry,” Finn said, and moved even closer to block her way.

The horror by the cart was difficult to watch, but Finn couldn't bring himself to look away. The brute with the butcher's blade drew a charcoal line across his captive's chest, from one collarbone to the next.

Here
, the fellow was showing the crowd,
is where I will begin …

The victim saw the blade and screamed …

One fellow gagged him …

Another tightened the knots around his legs …

One poked him with a stick, missed, wandered off left and then right, came back and poked him in the groin …

One ran into the wagon, knocked himself cold, and dropped to the ground …

Lout number one raised his blade high …

The crowd sucked in a great collective breath …

The blade descended, and touched his howling victim's chest …

Everything began to happen, everything at once …

It happened so quickly there was scarcely time to think. A single voice, a murderous cry roiled like thunder through the crowd. The great and noisy herd was struck silent, awed by the unearthly sound that seemed to come from everywhere.

Then, just behind the torture rack itself, a yellow-hat bowed his head and dropped. Another grabbed his face and
fell, still another stared at the fountain of red where his arm had been half a blink before.

The awful, fearsome voice that had stilled the raging crowd now showed itself to be a man, a tall man, a man with arms and shoulders strong enough to wield the heavy, man-killer blade he clutched in both hands. He wore a suit of leather and mail, shirt, cape and baggy trousers the shade of the sea. On his head, a rakish felt hat crowned with plumes of lavender, green and gold.

Never stopping for a moment, never even slowing down, he hacked, slashed, and chopped himself a path through the killers like a mad reaper loose in a field.

For an instant, his foes seemed dazzled, stunned, completely out of sorts. Then they found their wits and came at him like an angry nest of hornets, like a hive of yellow bees. But this was not a bare, pasty old man, a man you could laugh at, poke with a stick …

Men dropped, men died, men crawled away and bled. Men shrieked and howled, men turned away and ran.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was just as quickly done …

Finn watched, bewildered, as the big man lowered his blade, and the yellow-hats fell back. Moving to the rack, he slashed at the bonds that held the old man. The poor fellow sagged, wavered, but managed to stand his ground. The swordsman turned his back to the crowd and covered the old man with his cloak.

Still wielding his weapon, the tall man drew a leather sack from his belt, weighed it in his palm, then tossed it to the yellow-hats, tossed it with contempt. One of the Hatters caught it, peeked inside, let the others see, then quickly jerked it back. He spoke to the swordsman, waving his arms about. The swordsman laughed, and swung his blade in a blur, missing the man by an inch. The Hatters shrank back.
The man with the sword gripped the old man's arm, and stalked away boldly through the crowd.

A few steps farther and he stopped, found another bag, dug around inside, pulled out a fistful of bright silver coins and threw them to the crowd.

The horde went mad, pounding, pummeling, and kicking one another to grab a precious coin. The big man laughed and stomped across the square, swinging his blade to keep the crowd aside.

Finn could see the plume of his hat bobbing above the crowd, then, for the first time, a glimpse of his face, the pock-marked flesh, the thick red hair—

“Great Gars and Guppies!”
Finn gasped, scarcely able to believe his eyes. “It's him, by damn—it's that bloody lout, Sabatino Nucci in the flesh!”

Finn took a step back and drew his blade. Drew a breath and held it, felt his heart pound against his chest.

“Finn, dear,” Letitia said, resting her hand lightly on his arm, “I doubt he has the time to fight now, he seems to be quite occupied.”

“You simply don't know him,” Finn said, moving her gently aside, “The man's a lunatic, crazed, of unsound mind. You simply can't say—”

Finn sliced the air, bent one knee, parried, thrust, snapped to a dueler's stance again.

“—what a savage like that will do next. He doesn't think like a man of reason, Letitia. Don't be fooled by the fancy clothes, he's scarcely civilized. Stay here, love, I shall be right back.”

“Finn … !”

Townsmen stepped aside, puzzled, bewildered at a stranger pushing through their ranks. Something was
amiss. One swordsman was ample entertainment, two was not proper, two was not right.

The crowd was behind Finn now, and there, not a dozen feet away, the man who'd tried to kill him stood before him once again. And, at the very same moment, Sabatino recognized him.

He stared, threw back his head and laughed soundly at the sky.

“Why, I can't believe this. Is it truly you, Master Finn? By damn, it is. What are you doing here, sir? I never expected to see you again!”

Sabatino stalked forward, bracing the old man with one hand, grasping his sword with the other. The crowd stepped even farther back. A pack of yellow-hats followed, keeping their distance, clearly not ready to let the pair out of their sight.

Finn gripped the hilt of his sword. Did this brute take him for a fool, greeting him like a friend? At least he had a weapon himself this time.

Finn glanced over his shoulder at Letitia. Her face was the color of chalk. Under his cloak, he could feel Julia Jessica Slagg clawing her way quickly from his frontside to his back.

“Coward,” Finn said beneath his breath, “if he spits me with that great heavy blade, it'll do you little good to hide there.”

Julia didn't answer. For the first time that Finn could recall, the loud-mouth lizard had nothing to say.

Sabatino came to a halt. “Well, sir, as I say, I did not expect to see you again.” He raised his eyes past Finn. “And that would be your Newlie, ah—serving wench, yes? Most attractive, my friend. I only got a glance aboard. She's certainly worth a second look.”

Sabatino's glance was so bold, open, and rife with lewd intent that it quickly brought Letitia's color back. Sabatino
couldn't miss the sudden change in Finn's stance. He shrugged and met his foe's challenge with a grin.

“You're overly sensitive, sir. I only expressed admiration, I meant no sore offense.”

“You, sir, are an offense in yourself,” Finn said. “I
know
what you meant, and I resent it quite a bit.”

Sabatino sighed. “That's a craftsman for you, always sees himself a step above his class. An artist, if you will, a man of deeper soul. He strives for greater station, and forgets he was born to the hammer, not the brush.”

“This is neither the time nor the place, Sabatino, but by damn, you owe me satisfaction, and I'd have it now.”

“Yes? Now is perfectly fine with me.” He paused, then, and raised a curious brow. “Ah, where is that little tin
toy
of yours, sir? I only got a quick look before our—quarrel aboard that odorous vessel. If it's as pretty as I recall, I'd buy it from you—proceeds to whatever beneficiary you wish to name, of course …”

Finn stepped back and raised his blade. At once, Letitia moved up to his side.

“Don't be foolish, dear. You don't have to do this.”

“Listen to her, Finn.” Sabatino glanced over his shoulder, then faced Finn again. “Better still, heed a word from me.”

To Finn's surprise, Sabatino sheathed his weapon, left the old man on his own, and drew closer still.

“What you must do,” he said, so softly that no one else might hear, “is forget, for now, this quarrel with me. You don't know the game we're playing, or the rules, and I've no time to explain it to you now. We've very little time. I'd say two, three minutes at the most. I've cut it awfully short, standing here wasting time with you.”

Finn frowned. “What in all the hells are you talking about? I have no—”

“—no time at all, so kindly shut up, my friend. You and
that pretty can stand here and die if you wish. Which you surely will, for they see you're in company with Sabatino Nucci, and that's what they have in mind for me.

“The rules, you see, call for the Moment of Useless Combat, then the Payment of the Honorable Fee. That's done, and we've jabbered right through the damned Horror of the Fallen, so we must get out of here, or wait for the Reckoning of the Just. That should begin about now.”

“I have no idea what you've gotten yourself into,” Finn said, “but whatever it is, it has nothing to do with Letitia and me.”

“Look back there, if you will,” Sabatino said. “Tell me what you see.”

“I see the same lot of yellow-hatted crazies I saw before. They're milling about, nodding their foolish heads. If I didn't know better, I'd say they'll soon break into dance.”

“Very perceptive, sir. In a moment, they'll pound those sharpened poles on the ground. We should have about twenty-two seconds after that. If you'll hold on to Father, I'll bring up the rear and try to hold them off. Keep your head and we'll make it out of here.”

“You mean
him?
” Finn looked at the shaggy-haired old man, bent, miserable, ready to collapse. “That's your
father
?”

“Yes, damn you, it is,” Sabatino said, quite annoyed now. “Do you think I'd pause to talk to the likes of you if I didn't require your help?”

Sabatino curled his lips in disgust. “Now would you do as I say, noble
craftsman?
Thanks to you, we have scarcely any time left.”

Indeed, Sabatino was right, for there was truly no time left at all. His words had scarcely passed his lips before the madmen began to pound their sharpened poles against the square, sway, shout, and dance madly about …

F
INN NEEDED NO FURTHER URGING AFTER THAT
. As he came to the old man's side, an unearthly howl rose from the rear, a sound that fair chilled him to the bone.

“Letitia,” he said, “I think we'd best go. I fear these brutes are quite serious about this.”

“Will you
move
, please?” Sabatino ran a finger down his blade. “Go, and don't look back. I shall be there with you, don't be concerned about that.”

“Oh, I surely won't,” Finn said. “How could I have any doubts about you?”

With Letitia's help, he hurried the old man across the square and back toward the market. The people gave way, opening their ranks to let them through. They shook their fists and shouted, but made no effort to interfere.

Evidently, Finn decided, that was one of the rules of this game Sabatino had not had the time to describe. Finn detested games of every sort. The whole thing was a fool's pastime. Or would have been, except for the parts about skinning, hanging and loss of inner parts.

He retreated down one narrow street and then the next.
Letitia assured him they'd come this way before, and Finn didn't doubt that she was right. Mycers came from folk who had to know exactly where they were at all times if they wished to stay alive.

“Who the hell are you? I don't know you, never saw you before, what're you doing to me?”

Finn gave the old man a curious look. It was the first time he'd spoken since his rescue from the rack.

“My name is Master Finn. What I'm doing is risking my life to save you from those dolts back there. If you'd like me to leave, I can surely do that.”

“Huh.” The old man thought about that, reached back and scratched his rear. “You a friend of that worthless son of mine?”

“Not even remotely, no.”

“Good. I'll accept your help, then, if I've got your word on that.”

“That's a great relief to me. I feared for a moment I'd have to leave you here.”

The old man glared, and tore away from Finn. “Don't talk back to me, young man. I'll have your feet flailed to bloody nubs. I'll—”

He stopped then, and stared. His bleary eyes went wide with surprise as he suddenly noticed Letitia, standing right beside Finn.

“Glory be,” he said in wonder, his weary features stretching in a grin, “Why, you naughty girl, I've had dreams about you, didn't think you'd ever come. Get over here and hug an old man, tell me your name, pretty thing.”