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… “
THREE
After 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.
Indeed, 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.
'Finn, 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… “
FOUR
Long before he came in sight, the High Chamberlain's boots sent reminders of his presence, harsh resonations striking one wall of the long corridor and then the next. Finn had long suspected that the Count VanDork nailed small bits of metal to his boots to produce this irritating sound. This, along with the six-inch heels, the less than subtle buildup in his soles, made the gawky fellow seem somewhat taller, and certainly louder, than he actually was.
“Ah, Master Finn, how very fine to see you again,” the Count said, accepting what he felt was a less than fawning bow.
“And you too, Miss,” he added, with a look that did little to hide the base suggestion in his watery eyes.
“Honored, sir,” Letitia said, “my privilege indeed.”
She lowered her head to hide the rising color in her face. She didn't like the man, loathed him, for a fact. He would not, in the presence of his peers, acknowledge his attraction to a mere Mycer girl, a creature, in his mind, beneath the notice of humankind. He would, though, grope her if he caught her alone in a corner somewhere, she had no doubt of that.
“You have it there, I see,” VanDork said, speaking to Finn, nodding at the cask Letitia held in her arms.
“Wonderful. I'll take it, please.”
VanDork reached for the cask. Finn held up a restraining hand.
The Count looked startled. “Really, Finn, what's this?”
“I'm grateful, sir, and honored indeed. I feel, though, that His Greatness might take offense, might, somehow, imagine a slight, might, I can even see, think I have failed in my craft, that I have asked you, in my fear,
