Treachery of Kings (14 page)

“We spoke of religious matters, but only in a general way. And after that, there wasn't a lot of time. I cannot imagine anyone fool enough to hang around in this— oversize casket, waiting for the King to turn over and yawn. Rocks and Crocks, seven months is out of the question. I wouldn't spend seven
days
here.”

Julia swept her tail about. In the flickering light of the torch, her ruby eyes seemed to dance to a fiery beat. In the corner, in a very small bundle, Letitia moaned in her sleep.

“Who are you trying to convince, Finn? You, or me?”

“No one at all,” Finn said, more than a little annoyed at her remark, which hit too close to home. “I don't have to convince anyone. It's just that this whole situation is so bloody irritating. The ways of this land make no sense at all.”

“And ours do?”

“That's not the issue here.”

“I suppose it isn't. I'll give you that.”

“Gracious of you, I'm sure.”

Finn glanced at Letitia. Even with his heavy cloak about her, he was certain she was cold. Weariness, exhaustion from the day, could scarcely overcome the chill of that stone, a chill so old, so primal, buried so deeply within its granite heart, it would never go away.

“If you had, to, Julia, could you find your way back through this maze, to the door where we came in? I know you were beneath my cloak and all… “

“Of course I could,” Julia said, her bright snout swiveling about, as if to test the frigid air.

“As you well know, since it's your fancy gadget that whirls about in my gut. I know every path I've trod, though I don't see why I should. It would be more efficient if you could show me where I'm going instead of where I've been.”

“If I could do that, I would swallow such a gadget myself. That
whirly gadget
, by the way, as I'm sure you recall, is a compass, Julia. It is used in navigation at sea and in the air, though it does little good in either place, as near as I can see. And you're right on one point, at least. If I'd known where I was going, I damn sure wouldn't be
here.”

THOUGH HE SURELY COULDN'T TELL FROM A HOLE in the ground, it was likely nearly dawn. It seemed much longer than one dawn past since he and the Bullie had risen from the Royal Balloon Grounds, floated past the Swamp of Bleak Demise, the awesome battleground, and into a chimney in Heldessia Town.

Scarcely arrived, then, and eager to depart—a wish that was nearly as strong as his second desire, a decent hot meal.

Letitia, bless her, surely was starving as well. Only great fatigue would set her need aside. For despite her ever-slender form, Letitia Louise seldom strayed far from the chance for a tasty meal.

No use even trying to sleep now
, Finn said to himself.
Morning will be upon us, and we'll be out of here.

Where would he find Bucerius? The Bullie said he'd be around, but Finn knew he should have asked. There was a
shop he'd mentioned, someone he knew. Perhaps the name would come to mind.

As for the clock, the birthday present, the most tasteless object Finn had put together since he'd thought of lizard craft—he would give it to that sober-faced Dostagio when he saw the fellow again. Maybe a note would be apt, he could surely do that:

Probably not the way to put it, but something like that.

Finn rose, and gently pulled the cloak more snugly about Letitia Louise. Julia stood perfectly still in a corner of the room, giving her imitation of a nap. Finn had told her repeatedly she did not have the ability to sleep, and Julia, of course, insisted that she did, pointing out that while she was, indeed, a mechanical device, she had a ferret's brain, and that was the part that slept. A bit of logic, there, Finn had to admit—but never to Julia, of course.

No use sleeping, but it wouldn't hurt to simply sit: either that or stand up all night. What he wouldn't do, couldn't do, on the floor that chilled him to the bone, was nod off. No chance of that. A man must take control of himself, despite the situation. Use his strength, use his will. Maintain vigilance, in spite of one's bodily needs…

—he woke, kicking, screaming, flailing about, grabbing for anything that might hold still—burst up out of a dream where the earth shook beneath him, tossing him helplessly, this way and that.

Woke, and saw the dream was real, heard the walls
rumble, saw the veil of dust tremble from the ceiling to the floor.

Stunned, dazed and out of sorts, Finn came shakily to his feet and made his way to Letitia Louise. She reached out for him, her dark Mycer eyes full of fear.

“Quake, tremor, terrible disaster, I don't know,” he shouted, “I wish we were somewhere, anywhere but here!”

He waited, then, holding her close. Catastrophes seldom stopped at one. Usually, you could count on three.

Nothing.

Everything was perfectly still. A tiny stone went
ping!
off Julia's golden scales, a sound that seemed much louder than it should.

“Is it over, is it done? Are we all right, Finn?” Letitia ran her sleeve across her mouth, wiping away the dust.

“I would think so. Whatever it was, it's apparently over for now. Nevertheless, subterranean quarters are not the place to be when the earth begins to shift about. You bring my cloak, Letitia, I'll get the torch. We'd best make our way out of here.”

“A sound call, you ask me,” Julia said.

“I don't believe anybody did.”

Finn opened the heavy door, thankful the mysterious tremor hadn't jammed the thing shut. The long hallway looked just as it had before. Cavernous and dark, except for the torches, set wide apart on the wall.

“All right, we seem to be clear. Let's hurry on, now.”

“Not that way,” Letitia said. “We need to go right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, dear.”

“She is,” Julia said. “And there's someone else out here as well.”

“What? Yes, Dostagio—I'm very glad you're here,” Finn said, catching sight of the fellow now, as he stepped
out of the dark. “We're about to make our way out. There was some sort of quake.”

“Not really, sir. It wasn't a quake, it was the Millennial Bell. Shook things up quite a bit upstairs.”

“The
millennial
bell, you say?” Finn was uncertain he'd heard the man right. “What's that all about?”

“Sir,” Dostagio said, as if he hadn't heard a word, “If you'll follow me, you might wish to clean up a bit: we'll find you some proper clothes. Breakfast will be at eight. I expect His Grace will be there. He's always quite hungry after he's been dead a while… “

N
O, I'M NOT GOING TO ASK HIM THAT, AND
you're not either, Julia. The King's got his church, and I've got mine. It's not our concern. It might be the fellow simply decided to get up early this time.”

“He's right,” Letitia said softly, for sound carried much too well in the vast stone hall. “I'm curious too, but perhaps someone will explain.”

“If I'm not being too impertinent,” Dostagio said, without missing a step, without turning about, “what is the nature of that thing wobbling about at your side? Is it yours? I don't recall seeing it before.”

“It's a lizard, and no, you didn't have a chance to see it when we arrived.”

“A lizard, you say?”

“Yes, that's what they're called. That's what I do. I make lizards of every sort.”

“Very well, sir.”

A
TWIST HERE, ANOTHER THERE, WALLS, TORCHES
, and a myriad of doors. Where these doors might lead, Finn couldn't guess, and wasn't sure he wished to know.

Finally, however, the grim, black-marble walls came to an end. In their place were grim, black-marble stairs, spi-raling up from the depths. A warm, more comforting
breeze wafted down from above, driving away the chill of the underground world.

“If I should lose my senses and leave the surface of the earth, ever again—I beg you, Finn, stop me, by whatever means.”

“A promise, my dear.”

J
ULIA, AS AGILE, QUICK AND SPRY AS ANY CREATURE OF
flesh and bone, had met her match on the winding marble stairs. At times she simply stalled, iron claws spinning against the slick, unyielding stone. She moved in a blink, in a blur of motion, going nowhere at all.

Neither Finn nor Letitia made any move to help, or even notice she was there. If senses beyond either human or Newlie were a virtue, then pride was Julia's sin.

A
S THEY APPROACHED THE TOP OF THE STAIRCASE
, they could see, ‘round the corner, not the dim flicker of torches, but the first, hopeful beams of nature's light itself. And, a few steps farther into the ascent, a dazzling dome of brightly colored glass came into sight.

“How perfectly lovely,” Letitia said, squinting into the unfamiliar splendor overhead. “What a marvelous thing to see!”

“Finely crafted, indeed,” Finn added, mostly to himself.

He noted, upon a second look, that a face was pictured there, a face of extraordinary beauty, features captured in an instant of unbridled joy, triumph and release.

“It is called
The Happy Dead
, sir,” Dostagio said, as if
guessing Finn's thoughts. “One of our finest works of art. You will see, as we reach the final steps, it is the first of such wonders made to light the Hall of Lengthy Termination, the Holy Place of Emperors, Tyrants and Kings.”

“Oh, dear!” Letitia, first on the heels of their guide, clasped a hand to her breast, as if she could scarcely breathe. “Never have I seen such a marvel in my life. Finn, I can't believe my eyes.”

Finn, too, was stunned by the sight. He felt a pang of both envy and pride, for the artisans who had created these masterpieces clearly possessed skills unsurpassed.

Each magnificent statue stood atop a solid, polished obsidian base. The works themselves, carved of the whitest, purest marble Finn had ever seen, stretched down the long passageway in seemingly endless array, the whole brightened by still more dazzling colored domes arching overhead.

The marvel of these pieces lay in their extreme sense of detail. Each gem-encrusted crown, each fold in a ruler's cape, each vein, each feature of royal countenance, was sculpted with most exquisite care.

And so many, Finn thought, such a long line of kings! Prince Aghen Aghenfleck's forebears, he knew, could be traced for many generations, but nothing so ancient as this.

“His castle isn't that grand, either,” Finn whispered to Letitia. “I wonder if the arrogant fool knows what his foe has over here?

“I must say, Dostagio, I have seen fine art in a number of lands, but these marbles of your kings are most notable, indeed.”

“Oh, no, not
marble
, if I may correct you, sir,” Dostagio said, pausing to face his charges there. “Crystallization, as
it were. Deanimation, wherein one is shifted to an unresponsive state. Awfully painful, I understand, but nobility has its ups and downs, you know. Are you all right, Miss? Can I get you a goblet of water, perhaps a cup of tea…?”

L
ETITIA LOUISE, QUEASY, SLIGHTLY OUT OF SORTS
and weak in the knees, completely forgot about petrified potentates and calcified kings the moment they reached the top of the twisted stairs.

The sight before her was spacious, immense, though neither word could describe the beauty and grandeur of the place. Another, even greater dome of glass arched a good hundred feet above the floor, and was easily twice as wide. Countless delicate shards of fractured glass clung together in spiderwebs of lead. Unlike the brighter hues in the Holy Place of Emperors, Tyrants and Kings, the glass here was a thousand, muted shades of amber, rose, coral, saffron and tangerine. And, scarcely there at all, lest keen eyes searched them out, pale breaths of lilac, lavender and beryl-blue.