Treachery of Kings (2 page)

“Get up,” Finn said. “You're clearly a fellow with only half a wit. I'll try to explain this again.”

Stumbling to his feet, the fellow rubbed his jaw, spat out a tooth, and looked curiously at Finn. Then, as if to further irritate his betters, he turned to Letitia again.

“I'm askin’ your pardon,” he said, backing off a step with half a bow. “I hope you'll be forgiving a poor unlettered fool, Missy, what's got no proper ways, but I was borned in Sessia-Troat, where there's many a Mycer folk, as I'm certain that you know.

“That's why I acted how I did, for your kind's got a way of heatin’ a fella's fires. A sinful thing it is, but the head can't stop what the body's set to do—”

“Kettles and Pots, that's more than enough of you!”

Finn came at him, hand on his hilt, ready to give the lout the flat of his blade, to see him on his way.

“Stop him, help me,” the man cried out, stumbling back in terror, arms flailing at the air. “Murder it is, an’ I've done no harm at all!”

The act was a poor one, worse than Finn had seen in some time, but it took no talent to draw a good crowd on such a day.

“Murder, you say,” said a farmer stopping by, “who be killin’ who?”

“The ugly one, there, he be the one gettin’ kilt,” said a merchant with a great enormous nose. “That's what I heard him say.”

“The other one goin’ to murder him.”

“I believe he is.”

“One gettin’ kilt, he ugly for sure.”

“I seen folk dead an’ buried a week, lookin’ better than him.”

The merchant was bald as a stone. The farmer had a thatch of yellow hair, cut, it appeared, by a madman with a saw.

In scarcely a moment, the pair were joined by another, and another after that. Finn was appalled to see that he and Letitia were suddenly surrounded by a curious, and somewhat surly crowd.

“All right, clear a way, please,” he said, “no one's killing anyone, nothing's happening here.”

“You hear him,” the ugly said, “you hearin’ what he say? Don't listen to him, friends, look what he done.
Look what he done to me!”

With that, the fellow thrust one grimy hand at the crowd, poking the thing in their faces so everyone could see.

The folk there gasped and rolled their eyes, shrinking back from the awesome sight. Some grabbed their amulets, thrusting them at Finn.

For an instant, Finn was stunned as well. The brute's hand was no longer a hand—suddenly it appeared to be a twisted, broken thing, fingers frozen at tortured, horrid angles, a talon, a claw, caught in the throes of death.

“Damn me,” he said beneath his breath, “this fool's a better actor than I thought… “

“This man is a trickster,” he called out to the crowd. “There's nothing wrong with his hand a little work
wouldn't cure. He's a lowborn fellow who lives by his wits, while the rest of you follow an honest trade.”

“And what do
you
do, sir,” the farmer with exploding hair wished to know. “How do you earn your bread?”

“Rumbley-rumbley-roo…”the crowd added to that.

“Hah!” shouted the lout, making his hand even uglier than before. “I'm the trickster, am I? Look at what he did to me. There's your trickster, good friends, there's your seer, for he did this with merely a single touch!”

“Nonsense! Foolery!” Finn said, his words quickly lost in the anger of the mob.

“And is that not enough? Is there more to this we've yet to know? There, men of County Ploone, is the rest, right there, behind the villain who's crippled me for life.”

With that, his twisted hand stabbed out at Letitia Louise. The crowd surged forward, each man stretching for a look.

Letitia, who'd stood behind Finn, near paralyzed with fear, praying this horror would vanish quite soon, suddenly found herself the center of it all. Faces white as moons, moons with raggedy mouths and crater eyes, seemed to take her breath away, seemed to block out the sky.

“Finn,” she said very softly, “may we leave now? I fear I don't want a sugar-pear or corn on a stick anymore.”

“Easy, dear,” he told her, “stay right beside me, I'll let no harm come to you.”

He hoped she didn't notice he was not near as confident, not near as bold as he might sound. He was good enough with a blade, good as any man with an honest trade, but there was quite a pack now gathered about, more than a throng, say, less than a horde. Still…

“Back now,” he said, loud enough for all to hear, only
the slightest irritation in his speech, “there's no trouble here, clear away, if you please.”

“Clear away, is it?” The pock-faced rogue stepped in Finn's path, close enough to loose a foul exhalation, a stench, a rank and awesome thing that could bring a strong man to his knees.

“There, you see what I'm saying? The pretty hiding behind him there? I swear to one an’ all, I seen him touch her in a sinful way, I did. A Newlie, mind you, a Mycer girl!”

The crowd came alive, a storm appearing from a clear and empty sky, a beast, aroused from sudden sleep into unthinking ire. Finn scarce had time to draw his blade fore they were on him, pounding on him, kicking at him, knocking him about. He shouted a warning to Letitia as they drove him to the ground.

“It's him what ought to be hangin’ today,” the grimy lout crowed, “oughta be
him
on the Grapnel and the Snip. Consorting with a beast is a crime against nature, a mortal offense, a—
Rawwwwwk!”

Later, some would say they saw it, caught it in a blink as it slid, quivered, rustled down the back of Finn's cloak, a blur of shiny metal, a splash of brass and copper in the sun, a thing, all agreed, quite agitated, clearly disturbed, not at all pleased with the turn of events.

Only seconds after that, no two men agreed they'd seen the same. One saw iron claws rake across his boots, tearing them to shreds, one saw his trousers disappear under snapping silver jaws. One later said, he was sure a razored tail had whipped about his crotch, not an inch from his precious private parts.

Everyone agreed they'd heard a rusty cackle, heard a rattle and a hiss, heard a croak like a saw ripping through a sheet of tin. Many saw and heard things that never even happened at all. …

• • •

F
INN GOT TO HIS FEET, AND HELPED LETITIA OFF THE
ground.

“I trust you're all right,” he said, brushing her off as best he could. “I'll see someone is severely punished for this, I promise you that. The Prince himself will hear of this, love. If a person's not safe in the royal courtyard…”

“Finn, stop it, will you? Just quit!”

She smiled, pushing his hands gently aside, fussing with her gown. “I don't need any help, I can brush myself off. You look like a fool doing that.”

Finn shrugged. “I would, perhaps, if there was anyone about. We're quite alone, it seems.”

He was right, of course, she'd have to admit to that. SpringFair was crowded as ever, but there was a visible gap where a pressing mob had been before.

“I find that a great relief,” Letitia said. “For a moment I was not at all certain we would make it out of there.”

“There was never really any doubt,” came a rasp, came a creak, from under Finn's cloak. “My senses, as ever quite acute, read that brute's intentions the moment he appeared. I would not have let him do any harm.”

“Fine,” Finn said. “You certainly let everyone in the county know you were there. Only no one asked for your help, Julia, no one asked you to make a spectacle of yourself.”

“Please, don't shower me with gratitude. I cannot abide that.”

“She did help,” Letitia put in.

“I could have handled the matter myself. In scarcely a moment, those dolts would have melted under my will.”

He glanced at the great clock in the royal tower overhead. “We have important things to do, and we've scarcely time to grab a bite to eat.”

“If it wasn't for me,” said the raspy voice again, “you'd likely have a hole in your belly, and no place to keep your lunch at all”

“Quiet,” Finn said, “I didn't ask you.”

“What else is new?” said Julia Jessica Slagg. “You hardly ever do… “

A
FTER ALL THE FRACAS, AFTER ALL THE FRAY
, fatpie-and-nettle seemed to lose its taste. The ale was flat and warm by the time he got a mug, and Finn was extremely out of sorts.

Julia had been quite helpful, and that was part of the aggravation, though he'd not admit to that. The rest, of course, was the incident itself. Why, on a day such as this, when he must complete a most important task—why, with hundreds of others about, did that gross collection of sores, cankers and other eruptions have to chance upon
him
? Why not another fellow, why not anyone else? What if he'd been severely hurt, maimed, crippled for life?

There was no sound answer, of course, nor did Finn expect there to be. It was his belief the Fates had a measure of misfortune to dump on mortals every day, and there was little one could do to get out of the way.

“I trust,” he said, to whoever might hear such pleas, “that you're finished with this for now… “

I
MUST SAY,” LETITIA SAID, WITH A HAND TO HER
breast, “I have never been so dreadfully high. The view is lovely, but it takes my breath away.”

“Indeed,” Finn said, “there is no place like it in County Ploone, or in the whole country, as far as that goes. Unless
one counts Mount Spleen, which, of course, is a natural site, and should not be compared to such as this.”

“I should love to see a mountain sometime. Not merely Mount Spleen, though that would be fine. You've worked very hard, dear Finn. Perhaps we could take a vacation after this. Get away from home, leave our worries behind.”

Finn gave her a startled look. “Our last vacation was a total disaster, have you forgotten that? I can't imagine you'd care to risk your life again.”

“It wouldn't be the same, and you know it, love. Really, now. What are the chances we'd run into lunatics and demons and horrors such as that? We had a string of bad luck, is all.”

“Bad luck, you say.”

“Yes, that's precisely what I say. Most people never run into that sort of thing at all.”

“There's that,” Finn agreed, for it was certainly true. Most people merely bored themselves silly looking at historic old things and eating bad meals. Buying ridiculous items they'd throw away the moment they got back home.

Still, the idea of leaving The Lizard Shoppe, leaving the safe, familiar scenes of Garpenny Street, gave him the shudders, as it did every time it crossed his mind. There must be a reason people were where they were. Very likely, this was exactly where they were intended to be.

I
NDEED, LETITIA WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE VIEW FROM
the Prince's Keep. Past the crowds in the royal courtyard, past the massive gatehouse and the guards, the way led through the inner court and up a dizzying set of stairs.

From there, high atop one of the four great towers, he could see beyond the banners and the pennants, past the ragged crenels and the thick curtain walls, far past the
bounds of Ulster-East, past County Ploone, to the borders of Fyxedia itself.

The castle, Finn felt, though surely a wonder, was a testimony to excess. Its turrets, loops and parapets had served a purpose in ancient times. Now, this monstrous structure was merely decoration, and a costly one at that.

War was still a fearsome thing, but was no longer fought as it had been in ages past. From where Finn stood, he could see, in the distance, a most disturbing sight, one that never failed to knot his belly up tight. Above the River Dill, the brassy sky was filled with dark balloons of war, a terrible array of fat, distended hulks painted in cheerless shades of dun, gray and a noxious tone of brown.

Hanging from each of these ungainly vessels—though Finn couldn't see them from such a great distance away— were coarsely woven baskets full of men. Men from the Green Fusiliers and the Crimson Cannoneers. Home Guards, Royal Guards, Lilac Lancers and the Prince's Dragoons. Men from the bold, ever-colorful, Balloon Grenadiers.

Each, Finn knew, was headed for the battles raging in the west, and each, to a man, was very likely doomed. Doomed, as so many others who'd gone before, fighting a war that had lasted more than seven hundred years.

And what, exactly, was the war all about? You could ask around, but no one seemed to know.

Not for the first time, Finn thanked whatever gods there be that he'd been born a craftsman, fit for something better than the ghastly warrior trade.

Many a soldier went to war, but few returned alive, or wholly intact. Coldtown was filled with the shades of poor fellows who would never find rest.

• • •

F
INN, I DO BELIEVE YOUR MIND HAS BEEN
a-wandering again,” said Letitia Louise. “Some new marvel, I'll wager, some wondrous device that is scarcely imagined by ordinary men.”

“Why, you are unbelievable, my love,” Finn said, covering his somber mien with a smile. “It's quite uncanny how you can manage to read my every thought… “