The Prophecy Machine

52

The sea looked grand, a bright, azure blue that mirrored the cloudless sky. The ship, a lean square-rigger, had braved a summer squall the night before. Now she lay in the calm of the harbor, her sails hung out to dry. Her name was Anna Call, rather catchy, Finn thought, the sort of thing you'd call a ship as trim and neat as that.

There was not a single Yowlie in her crew and her captain seemed reasonably sane, or as sane as a captain might be.

Finn had sent Letitia aboard as quickly as he could, anxious to get her far from that misbegotten shore. Julia was with her, patched, mended, somewhat out of sorts until Finn could get her home among his proper tools. Not the beauty she had been, as far as lizards go, but her temper and her tongue seemed perfectly intact.

“I regret you've not seen the best of our land in your stay,” Dr. Nicoretti said. “I fear you'll take a poor impression back home, and encourage others to stay away.”

“With all due respect,” Finn told him, “I doubt I'll discuss my trip at all.”

“Don't guess I can blame you for that. This has been a most upsetting time for everyone, and you and the Newlie, I suppose, have suffered more than most.”

Finn saw no way to respond in a civilized manner, no way at all short of physical assault.

He looked past the doctor, past the wharf itself, empty now, except for a seabird pecking about. The town looked as dismal as ever. Between the sea and the village, there was scarcely anyone around. In a field of dead grass, the Crimson Lancers Volunteers (still with no lances in sight) attempted to form a straight line. Past them, down the dirt road, he imagined he could see a faint smudge, a darkening of the land where the ghastly charred remains of the Nuccis' former home would be.

“I should tell you things before you leave,” Dr. Nicoretti said. “Though you haven't been open with me, I see no reason to sink to your level, there's little honor in that. In truth, I did have some interaction with the Foxers. I told you I didn't, but I did.”

“I suspected as much,” Finn said. “I told you so at the time.”

“Well, I did, and I don't apologize, for I did the right thing.”

“I'm afraid to ask.”

“I merely told them-not long before you came, as a fact-I told them that the Nuccis were responsible for the abduction and murder of many of their kind. Abductions which happened after my sister Ingretta married Calabus and moved into that dreadful house.”

“You told them that,” Finn said, showing the man a wary look, “and you know that for a fact?”

“Not really, no, but I think it's likely so.”

“You think?”

“Yes, I surely do. When you think about it, it makes a lot of sense. Ingretta had friends among the Foxers, below her class, of course. When she came into wealth as the bride of Calabus, she often hired Foxers to work around the house. Retainers, gardeners, house maids and such. Calabus and his father couldn't abide the lot. They cut Ingretta off from everyone. They would not allow her to have any friends, servants or not. That included me, her brother, of course.”

“And you think the Nuccis killed them. That's why the Foxers took their revenge.”

“Oh yes, I'm sure it is.”

“This is why they killed the old man and burned his house down.”

“I believe it is, yes.”

“And why did they wait all these years, Doctor, to get around to that? What took them so long?”

“I can't imagine why.”

“I can,” Finn said. “They didn't know about it till you put the idea in their heads.”

“Ridiculous.” Nicoretti made a face. “Everyone in town knew the Nuccis and the Foxers were at odds. You'll find a lot of folks think the same as me.”

“Rocks and Socks, you think-you believe, but you don't know if any of this is true.”

“It very likely is.”

“But you don't know that. The Nuccis are dead because you guess they maybe did the Foxers in. Sometime. Long ago. Or maybe not. And, a great many Foxers are dead now too.”

Nicoretti muttered under his breath. “You don't mind asking me a lot, but you won't give anything back. You never said what Calabus was up to down there. I've got a right to know that.”

“I don't see you do at all.”

“Damn you, boy-”

“Clocks.”

“What's that?”

“Clocks. Your brother-in-law was making clocks. Small, delicately crafted clocks. Clocks impossibly intricate and fine. Clocks smaller than a mustard seed, smaller than a gnat. Finally, clocks no larger than a mote, a dot, no larger than a speck. This is the obsession that finally drove him mad-or madder than he might have been before. There came a time when he couldn't even see his clocks. He'd breathe and they were gone. Sent him over the edge, poor man.”

Nicoretti looked slightly annoyed. “A bunch of little clocks made all that racket up there, sent awesome tremors through the ground?”

“They were little, sure, but there were a hell of a lot of them, I think I mentioned that.”

Nicoretti showed Finn an arrogant grin, a sly and cunning old man grin, a grin full of old man guile.

“I'll get a straight answer, boy, but it won't come from you. I don't expect manners from one of your kind. Have a nice trip, Master Finn. And give that pretty a feel for me.”

“You'd best quit right there,” Finn said, “while you're barely still ahead …”

At the end of the wharf where the skiff and the loaders and the other small craft came in, Finn found a Bullie and a cart. On the cart was a most familiar chair. Standing by the cart was Master of Chairs, Dalto Frick.

“You bought a chair,” Frick said, “now take it out of here.”

“No thank you,” Finn said, “I don't need a chair.”

“You bought a chair, mister. Why'd you buy it if you don't need a chair?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Have a pleasant day, I've got to run now.”

“Damn tourist,” Frick shouted after Finn. “You don't know the rules here, you don't know the customs of the land!”

“I can't argue with that,” Finn said to no one at all, picked up his pace, and hurried to the skiff.

“It's a beautiful evening,” Letitia said. “I never imagined I'd be so happy to be on a ship again. Still, I hope I never see another after this.”

“You don't feel bad, about missing Antoline Isle?”

“You know better than that,” she said, coming close under his arm, resting her head on his chest. “I don't want to go anywhere but home.”

Finn breathed in the salt air, squinted at a weary amber sun dropping behind a purple cloud.

“I don't know if I can talk about this,” Letitia said, “but if I don't, I'm sure I'll never get a night's sleep again.”

“You know about as much as I. There's little more to tell.”

“There is, too. I don't recall a thing, except getting lost from you and waking up outside with an awful pain in my head.”

“It's just as I told you,” Finn said, looking anywhere but in Letitia's eyes. “The Foxers killed Calabus and set the house afire. I doubt we'll ever truly know why. I'll tell you what Nicoretti said, once I've thought about it some. Sabatino didn't make it either. We talked about that.”

Letitia shuddered, but not from the pleasant night air.

“I don't know why, but I feel sorry for the man. I don't think he could help it, being what he was. I think we all maybe have to be what we are, don't you?”