The Prophecy Machine

Julia shrank away, shut it out at once …

While all this was surging through her head, one second turned to two, and before it got to three, Julia was across the stone floor with scarcely a rattle or a scratch, and up on Finn's chest.

Finn woke.

Not with a start as most anyone would, faced with ruby eyes staring in his face, toothy snout poking at his chin. Finn was not surprised at such intrusions anymore, only vexed, irritated, irked to no end.

“Up,” Julia whispered, like the wind through a broken window pane, “Sword and dagger both. No time for boots, scarcely time for pants. Something's in the hall with murder in its head …!”

Finn took a breath, yanked on his pants, jammed his weapons in his belt. Took one step, and froze on the spot.

A blood-chilling scream shattered the silent night. Not just a scream but another after that. Screams, groans, curses and growls. Sounds of assault, terrible howls.

Letitia sat up straight, eyes big as biscuits, throwing off the sheet, baring lovely private parts.

“Stay down. Cover up. No, wait. Get under the bed. Stay there and don't come out.”

“Finn, just what is going on out there?”

“I don't know. Do what I said.”

Letitia didn't. He didn't think she would.

Finn drew his dagger and his sword, stepped back, and threw open the door.

Whatever he'd expected, it surely wasn't there. Everything else was there instead. Thirty-seven things seemed to happen at once. In the dim corridor, it was hard to sort anything out.

Sabatino Nucci stood barefoot in the hall, crouched in a fighter's deadly stance, lashing his sword about. Facing him were two wiry creatures dressed entirely in black. Black vests and boots. Silky black sashes, baggy pantaloons. Black hoods covered their features, black scarves wound about their necks.

Finn wondered why they bothered with this frightening wear. Even in the dim half-dark, their sharp Foxer noses were quite clear. Their ears made little black tents in the fabric, as if their heads were camping out.

From the corner of his eye, Finn saw Sabatino's father, moaning on the floor behind his son, kicking his legs, and flailing all about. For whatever reason, the old man was naked once again.

And, from the other corner of his eye, Finn saw a scene even more bizarre. Just at the top of the stairs, Squeen William backed against the rail where the steps went up instead of down. Squeen had one furry foot on the floor, one atop a bearded, filthy old man. The man was making meaningless sounds, and frothing at the mouth. Squeen was holding off a third Foxer, beating his withered wings, flailing at his foe with the leg of a broken chair. Clearly, he was trying to save the old man who was doing all he could to shake his benefactor free.

Finn absorbed this whole chaotic scene in the blink of an eye, then waded right in. He had no quarrel with Foxers, but poor Squeen was no match for a creature with a sword.

The Foxer saw Finn, and the greater danger, and turned away from Squeen. Finn wasted little time at all on posture, grace and style. He parried the creature's first pass, knocked the weapon from his hand, struck its bottom with the flat of his sword, and kicked the fellow howling down the stairs.

“You all right, Squeen? You hurt or anything?”

“No, issss bees fine, sssir. Ssssqueen bees thankin' you much.”

“You're most welcome, I'm sure.” Finn glanced over his shoulder at Sabatino. For the moment, he was clearly holding his own.

“Who's that on the floor, Squeen William? He doesn't look healthy at all.”

Squeen showed him a foolish Vampie grin. “Issss nobodyss, ssssir. Isss sssmelly old man.”

“I can tell that much on my own. It isn't what I asked.”

“Be damned with you, craftsman,” Sabatino shouted, “give me a bloody hand here!”

“Sorry,” Finn said, “be right along.”

He turned then, to the Foxer on Sabatino's right. He had caught Sabatino's glance, and was coming straight at Finn. Finn parried, and quickly backed him against the far wall. His hood had come loose in the fight, and Finn could see his prominent nose and pointy ears, his startling, lemon-colored eyes. He was not an animal now, but his ancestral traits were quite clear.

This second opponent was better than the first. He liked to go after Finn's face, cut and whip about the eyes. It was irritating, like batting at silver flies. The fellow didn't like body work, and didn't watch his own too well. Finn gave him a swipe about the groin, and scared the intruder to death. He brought down his sword to guard his parts, and Finn drew a thin red line across his chest. The Newlie howled in pain, dropped his blade and ran.

“Didn't mean to get you up, Finn,” Sabatino said, backing the lone Foxer down the hall. “Know you and the lady need your sleep and all.”

Finn let the words go by. Sabatino couldn't say ‘hello’ without impertinent intent.

Sabatino's foe tired quickly. His weapon was drooping, his lemon eyes were full of doubt and fear.

Sabatino laughed, cut the fellow twice on his prominent nose, and notched his ear. Like his comrade, this one had clearly had enough. With a snarl and a bark, he backed away and stumbled down the stairs.

“A Newlie will fight till he gets a little cut,” Sabatino said. “Then the sorry louts will turn tail.” He squinted at the point of his blade, then spoke without looking at Finn.

“Your face is clear as glass, craftsman. You'd best stay away from games of chance.”

Finn looked puzzled. “I'm afraid you have the best of me. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Newlies, friend. Present company in your room there excepted, of course. I've found them to be cowards, every one. Back down from a human every time. Worst of the lot are the Foxer trash. Them and the Bowser lot. Got a bunch of 'em here. Ought to run 'em all off.”

“You seem to have a problem, sir. I've noticed that before.”

He knew he ought to stop right there, but the words came all the same. “Especially, I recall, if they're young and unarmed.”

“That little pup on the ship?” Sabatino showed no offense at all, beyond a nasty smile. “You do have the stomach to bring it up. Hurrah for you. Don't waste your time goading me tonight, Finn. I'll run a blade through your low-born heart at first light.”

Sabatino glanced at his father, who'd gone to sleep on the floor.

“Now isn't that a lovely sight? Damn me if I believe I was sired by an ugly brute like that. Squeen William! Get your disgusting hide over here and get my loving daddy into bed. If you can't lift him, drag him in a corner somewhere. All right, craftsman, what are you staring at?”

“An empty spot where a very old lunatic was lying just now.”

“Really?” Sabatino's smile faded. “I urge you to return to your room, and your very charming friend. You and I have a quarrel to settle soon. I feel I'm safe in saying this is your very last chance to get a good night's sleep …”

16

Finn was ready to drop. The insanities of the day in this land clearly didn't lessen with the night. His body ached for sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. Letitia, as easily as ever, dropped off as soon as the furor was over in the hall. He wondered if he resented her for that. Decided he shouldn't, and admitted that he did.

The storm had moved away, and morning was very near. The false light of dawn did little to enhance the dreary appearance of the room. Everything in this grim pile of crooked walls and floors, angles, tangles and impossible doors, stairs that went this way and that, looked better in the night.

“You're fortunate you don't need sleep,” he said. “You might at least thank me for that.”

Julia Jessica Slagg was still indistinct across the room, but her red eyes pierced the dim light.

“Thank you for that. Anything else?”

“Courtesy wouldn't hurt. You're a little short of that.”

“I'm short of a lot of things, Finn. See, I didn't make a lizard, you did. What you put in comes out. I'm whatever you tinkered together, I thought you knew that.”