Treachery of Kings (25 page)

“I know you're distressed, friend, it does not take a person of magic to see that.”

The seer took a bite of the heavily battered kale, smacked his lips and let the crumbs fall in his lap.

“What I would say, and this comes from me, by the way, and not from a loyal servant of the King—which, of course, I remain—what I would say is I strongly suggest you free your mind from any path that might lead to tragedy or bodily harm. Think, instead, of a bright new life ahead—and not the one that you
cannot
ever live again”

“That's easy to say, and not that simple to do, sir. I'm not certain I—”

Finn stopped. Something gripped his chest in a vise. He felt as if someone were driving nails in his head.

He took a deep breath, felt tiny beads of sweat sting his brow.

Rocks and Stones, does the fellow
know
he's doing that? Does he hold the power, or does it hold him
?

When he looked up again, he met the seer's broad, open smile, the smile full of goodwill and cheer, devoid of any malice at all.

At that moment, Finn decided Obern Oberbyght was one of the most frightening creatures he'd ever met, and surely the nicest person in all Heldessia Town.

“I'm grateful for your sound advice,” Finn said, “and I'll surely take it to heart. You must understand, though, I'm deeply troubled by this. I have no doubt Heldessian folk are as good as any you can find, but I would never feel I was not a prisoner here.”

“Oh, my friend!” Oberbyght looked terribly pained. He nearly reached out for Finn's hand, then drew his back again.

“I hope this feeling will pass. Surely you will change your mind and find happiness here.”

“I think, if the King truly understands that though I'm grateful for his honor, I don't belong here….”

The seer shook his head. “Do not pursue this, sir. There is no chance that he will change his mind.”

“Why, though? He could at least listen to me.”

“He likes you. He holds you in high regard.”

“He doesn't
like
me. He scarcely knows who I am.”

A glance from the seer told Finn he might wish to guard his tongue when speaking of the King.

“You won his respect with that clock of yours. He's quite delighted with that. The way the eyes and the tail go back and forth. I find it most amusing myself.”

Oberbyght was good at guessing another's thoughts, and Finn didn't wish to reveal his own opinion of clocks. Instead, he turned his attention to the corner of the inn, where the two Badgie snoops were pretending they had no interest in him at all.

Past them, closer to the door, a table of hefty Snouters were having the time of their lives. There were seven of them, farmers in red overalls and tattered felt hats. All had the tiny, tar-colored eyes of their kind, bristly faces, ugly noses that seemed wet all the time, and scarcely a trace of any chin.

The more dark ale they consumed, the harder they laughed. No chortles or chuckles, no snickers and such— these fellows roared, and shook all over with unabashed glee.

“You will find Heldessia is more than tolerant of Newlie folk,” the seer said, following Finn's glance across the room. “There are many Snouters and Bullies about. And Mycer folk, I believe. Your companion would find friends here.”

“And Bowsers,” Finn added, for he felt he had to toss that in. “Plenty of them around.”

“You might wish to open a shop,” the seer went on, as if Finn hadn't spoken at all. “No one makes lizards here.”

“No one makes lizards anywhere,” Finn said, making no effort to hide his irritation. “No one but me.”

“I meant no offense, Master Finn.”

“No, I'm sure.” Finn paused, as if he'd given this matter careful thought. “And if, I say
if
, now, the King will not allow me to return to my home, would you be kind enough to suggest that we return to Fyxedia, close things up there, and bring our tools and goods here? This is not a choice I would favor, as you know. Still… “

The seer looked at Finn with no expression at all.

“And you would, of course, agree to come back.”

“Why, you would have my vow, sir.”

The seer took a healthy swallow of his ale. “That, of course, is something you would have to take up with the King.”

“I would be glad to do that. May I ask when you think he'll be, ah—up, again? How long is it, as a rule, from one demise to the next?”

Oberbyght didn't answer, and Finn was sure he didn't imagine the slight, oppressive pain in his head, as if a band of iron had been wrapped about his skull.

Why, he wondered, was he wasting his time, crossing swords with this man? No one in this land of lunatics would ever let them go. If he and his loved ones were ever to see Garpenny Street again, they would somehow have to break free on their own.

“I wonder if we might have another ale,” Finn said. “You have been so generous, sir, I should like to buy the next round myself.”

“I wouldn't hear of it, Master Finn,” said Oberbyght with a cheerful smile. “You're my guest here. When you get settled, and begin your new life, then you may treat me, my friend.”

The seer's pleasant manner, his insidious grin, filled Finn with such rage and desperation, he could scarcely keep himself from strangling the fellow on the spot.

Instead, he gripped the edge of his chair and studied the damp circles of ale on the table, lest he give himself away before the seer's penetrating eyes.

“Are you all right, Master Finn? I hope you're not ill?”

“A little dizzy, is all, I'm shamed to admit. I am not used to the strength of fine Heldessian ale.”

Oberbyght laughed. “We'll get you used to it, sir. I'll personally see to that.”

Finn glanced up, then, as the table of Snouters broke into another boisterous round of good cheer. Some of the stout farmers had indeed consumed more than their share of the dark and heavy ale. A bench overturned. One fellow
stumbled and nearly fell. Then all began to gather up their cloaks, say their farewells, and converge upon the door.

Seven hefty Newlies and only one door. One didn't have to be a master of odds to bet on this event. It was, Finn thought, much like squeezing potatoes into the neck of a pickle jar

“Friend Oberbyght,” Finn said, rising rather quickly from his chair, “I fear I must relieve myself before we start back. I doubt I could make it that far.”

The seer raised a brow. “Well, then you must. That way, out the back.”

“My thanks,” Finn said, and forced a painful smile.

He was next to certain that the seer's eyes shifted for an instant to the pair of Badgies in the corner, but the motion was too swift to truly tell.

Finn made his way through the tables toward the door at the rear of the inn, walking quickly like a man who dared not hesitate.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the two Badgies rise from their chairs. Slowly, though, only as a caution, as Finn had prayed they would. Dealing with Maddigern had taught him the Badgies had rigid restraints concerning their conduct with humankind. Neither wished to follow him on such an appalling errand as this.

And, in that instant, the moment he saw them pause, Finn turned on his heels and raced for the tavern's front door.

He heard a Badgie curse, heard the other shout. Finn didn't pause to look. He lowered his head, braced his shoulders, and plowed into the brawny pack of Snouters fighting for the narrow front door.

He hit the bunch low, plunging into a thicket of ponderous legs. The Snouters howled, roared, squealed in dismay. They tumbled, fell, tripped like a brace of nine pens, or seven as the case might be.

Finn caught a boot in the belly, another to the jaw. A weighty fellow landed on his back, driving his breath away. For a painful moment, he was trapped, crushed beneath this furious mass.

Then, of a sudden, he was scrambling free, on his feet again, darting through the crowded streets of Heldessia Town. Free, quit of his watchers, on the loose again— with no idea what he ought to do next. …

F
OR A MOMENT OF PANIC, SHEER DESPERATION AND
outright fear, Finn darted through wagons, carts, humans and Newlies of every sort, leaving angry strollers in his wake.

“This won't cut it,” he muttered to himself. “I'm leaving a trail for those louts, clear as whale doo!”

Turning at once into an alleyway, he left the busy boulevard behind. Taking a breath and releasing it again, he leaned against the damp brick wall, letting his heart slow down, willing the tension away.

He was safer, there, at least for the moment, especially with night coming on. Had they really lingered that long? He chided himself for not keeping a better account of the time. He remembered, too, that the last time he'd been on these streets at night, the Bowsers had been on a tear, and every door and window was shut against the yapper horde.

Moving down the alley, farther from the lights, he paused, waiting for any sign the Badgie pair was on his trail. By now, they could have sounded the alarm, and raised a whole swarm of the King's cloaked guards. Maddigern would be at the head of this band, furious that his fellows had let his hated foe slip away.

—Or maybe not. Maybe the two rascals would try to do the job themselves instead of admitting they'd let their prey get away.

And what of Obern Oberbyght, what would the wily seer do? Somehow, Finn thought, he might do nothing at all. Oberbyght was such a cocksure, irritating fellow, he'd surely imagine his drinking partner had no chance to get away.

Finn nearly laughed aloud, for there was surely one cheering thought in this game. The King's weighty honor still rested where Finn had left it at the inn. The seer would have to find some lackey to carry the thing back to the palace, or drag it there himself.

T
HE NIGHT SEEMED TO COME ON SWIFTLY AS HE
made his way past one pile of garbage and another in the odorous alleyways.

And, while he was greatly concerned, Finn had no regrets for his actions. He had known that his dash for freedom was risky at best. Even if he found Bucerius in the maze of Heldessia Town, even if the Bullie could somehow help him get away, Letitia and Julia were still in the palace, and doubtless under double watch now.

Yet, it was a thing he had to do, for he could not, would not, lose his freedom, could not doom himself and his love to a life in the service of a man who cared only for death, colorless clothing, and a thousand tasteless clocks.

O
NCE MORE, HE WISHED FOR THE PRESENCE OF
Julia Jessica Slagg and her uncanny sense of recalling everywhere she'd been.

“What a marvel she is,” he said aloud, “what a wonder I've performed!” Sometimes, he was even amazed at him-self—that such a cunning thing had been born in his head and brought to life with his hands. That golden gears and a ferret's brain had become such a clever, if somewhat conceited, device.

• • •

T
WICE, HE THOUGHT HE'D SIGHTED HIS PURSUERS
in the maze of alleyways. Twice, he had been mistaken. Once, the pair had been humans, the other, heavyset Bowsers, lurking about on some illegal enterprise.

The street where he stood was quite narrow. The crowded stone houses sometimes arched together overhead. Candlelight flickered in a single grimy window above. The neighborhood seemed familiar, but so had the one he'd passed through moments before.

He was cautious, here, for though the hour was late, there were beings still about. Even in the near darkness, he recognized them at once. They were Newlies, Dobbin folk, hard to mistake for any other creature, for they were quite distinct in both their bearing and their size.

If any of the Newlies could wear the mantle of the noble and the proud, Finn believed it would have to be the Dobbin kind. Theirs was not a vain and arrogant pride, but a pride of dignity and grace. They were tall, elegant creatures, with broad shoulders, flaring crops of stiffened hair, and warm and caring eyes.

Perhaps their most distinctive feature was the thick and lengthy nose, which dominated every other feature of the face. Finn had several Dobbin friends back in Ulster-East. Many of their kind seemed to favor the retail trade, for they were known as purveyors of expensive clothing— jackets, trousers and vests of satin and silk, in colorful checks and spots. They favored such garments themselves, and looked quite dapper as they strolled through the parks on pleasant days.

Finn didn't wish to reveal himself, to be remembered as a stranger roaming about in the dark. Still, he reasoned, he was hopelessly lost, and felt he could put his trust in the kindly nature of Dobbin folk.

Finn waited. In a moment, two stately fellows appeared
from a doorway across the street. The light from the single window showed him one wore a broad-striped jacket, while the other had chosen a pattern in spots. Both wore fine derby hats. They chattered as they walked, and wouldn't have noticed Finn at all if he hadn't managed a prudent cough.