“I thanked you for that. I don't intend to do it twice. Besides, I think I could have handled the situation myself.”
“How? You gonna hit ‘em with your clock? Scare them louts with your fancy city talk? You gonna-”
“Hold it right there, buckos. Make a move and I'll fair drop you on the spot…”
Finn and Bucerius turned as one, staring at the man who had silently stepped out of shadow, taken them unawares, and now aimed a pair of pistols squarely at their heads.
“Sir, we mean you no harm,” Finn said at once, “we're merely passing by.”
“No, we aren't just passin’ by,” Bucerius said, sending a furious glance Finn's way, “now put those toys down, you ol’ fool, ‘fore I stuff ‘em down your craw.”
“Easy,” Finn said softly, “if I'm not mistaken, that's a very fine pair of matched Wesley-Grovenhalters. Back- action, side-lock. Notch rear sight. Sliding safety catch. Sixty caliber, I doubt I'm wrong in that.”
“Fifty-seven,” said the stranger. “You've got an eye for arms. Not many thugs of your sort can tell a fine weapon from a brick.”
“I assure you we are not-”
“Stop! Another step and you'll be singing with a Coldie choir!”
The man didn't look to be a danger-seventy, eighty if he was a day, and clearly walking with a limp. A pale, stringy fellow with scarcely any flesh on his bones, a bristly chin, and hardly any teeth at all. His eyes seemed enormous behind the thick spectacles that perched on the bridge of his nose. A nose, Finn noted, with a prominent wart on the end. A wart so big, it might well have grown a wart itself.
Looks, though, could be most deceiving, Finn reminded himself. Large-bore weapons had a way of enforcing respect, even among the aged, the ugly and the lame.
“You got no cause to point them things at us,” Bucerius said, with less defiance than before. “We're not a couple o’ thieves. I be a respectable businessman, and this human person's a master of clocks-”
“Lizards,” Finn corrected.
“Whatever. Anyhow, it oughta be clear we isn't no bein’ ruffians or felons of any sort.”
“What you are,” the old man said, the weapons still steady in his hands, “is arsonists, torchers, flat maniacs. Heartless brutes what burns a man's ship of the air, and nearly murders him to boot!”
Bucerius stared. “That thing was yours? And you got out alive? I'm not believin’ that. Anyone was in that thing was burned to a cinder ‘fore they could blink an eye.”
The old man showed them a nasty, double-toothed grin.
“If you was in it when it catches, that's so. If you had the sense to get out, that's something else again. And what's it to you? You care if an old man fries?”
“You got out before it… Damn me, I never thought of that. Who are you, what's your name, then?”
“Devius Lux. What of it?”
“Devius Lux. I heard of you somewheres.”
“I expect you have. Devius Lux, purveyor of antiquities and such. Ancient brushes, curries, combs. Items for those who take an interest in hair care of the past. My shop is next to Gaxiun-Froon, the seer who sells plain water and swears it'll turn any female into a savage of desire.”
Devius frowned. “Who in hell you be, sir? I expect you best tell me that.”
“Bucerius. A merchant like yourself. I be dealin’ in, ah-a number of things. It was the filthy Bowsers what brought you down, not me.”
“They got us too,” Finn added. “We're lucky to be alive ourselves. I feel our fall was cushioned by chickens. Otherwise, we would not have fared as well.”
Devius Lux looked dubious, not wholly convinced.
“You know who I am, all right. That doesn't prove a thing, and I never heard of you. You could be in league with those Bowser kind. No offense, but you're a Newlie yourself.”
“Damn you, then!” Bucerius’ chest began to heave, like an enormous bellows, intent on stirring up a fire.
“Patience,” Finn said again, “those Wesley-Groven-halters can do a great deal of damage, even to a fellow your size.”
“Pistols or no, I won't be insulted by a dried up old man sellin’ combs.”
“They are not everyday combs, they're combs from ancient times.”
“A comb is a comb to me!”
“Stop it, both of you.” Finn stepped between the two, facing the brace of pistols himself.
“Bigotry and bile have no place here. You are both tradesmen, and quite aware that commerce goes beyond racial and political bounds. It's foolish to stand here and argue while a pack of ruffians is very likely on our trail. This is a time when we must all-”
“Get out of my way, or I'll blast you and the beastie both!”
“Wait, now listen, please!” Finn felt his heart leap up in his throat, felt his mouth go dry as toast. Knew, in an instant, from the light in the old man's greatly magnified eyes, that he wasn't listening at all, didn't give a flop about race, religion or anything else.
What he wanted to do was shoot someone, anyone at all, with his brand-new Wesley-Grovenhalters, for what's the good of costly, quality arms, if you keep them in a drawer with your socks somewhere?
“Put those down or I'll have your head for it,” Bucerius said. “I won't be askin’ you again.”
“Sticks and Bricks,” Finn said, “that's not the way to handle this at all. We're all civilized here.”
“He's not,” the old man said, taking a bead on the Bullie's head. “He's a creature, nothing more than that.”
“-and so am I, Devius Lux, and you harm either one of those two, especially the man I love, and you'll answer to me!”
“Letitia?”
Finn drew in a breath, certain that a vision, a fine hallucination, had appeared before his eyes. “Is that really you, or am I in a bizarre and happy dream-”
Before he could finish, Letitia stepped out of shadow and rushed into his arms. Tears of joy stung his cheeks, and they weren't all his alone…
EIGHTEEN
Devius Lux, who didn't like surprises at all, especially those that included any form of bliss, stared in wonder and disgust at the joyous scene. Stared, but only for an instant, until a glitter, a gleam, an errant flash of silver in the shadows caught his eyes.
A shiver crawled up the old man's spine, crawled up and raised the half dozen hairs on his head. A monster, a demon, an unholy thing scuttled out of the alley, clacking its teeth and winking its ruby eyes.
“Gibido, Fibido, something-something Blik!” he said in a quavering tone, too frightened to remember the spell for such events.
Instead, he took careful aim, raised his pistols, and fired them both at once.
Twin explosions shook the street. Gouts of fire burst from the barrels, followed by a pall of black smoke. Devius Lux staggered back, stunned, his arms going numb. Bucerius grabbed the empty weapons, and cursed beneath his breath.
“Julia!”
Finn and Letitia shouted as one, loosing their grips on one another and rushing to the lizard's aid.
Finn gagged, waving smoke aside, certain he would find a horrid sight, a lizard blown to nature's basic bits, iron, copper, silver and tin, scattered about like dust. Ghostly hints of cogs, springs and golden gears.
“Julia,” he cried, with wonder and relief, “why, you're all right, you're perfectly intact!”
“On the outside, yes,” Julia said with a rusty croak. “Inside, I'm a'quiver, a total nervous wreck.”
“You don't have any nerves. That's all in your head.”
“Now you don't know that,” Letitia said. “I expect she's upset quite a bit.”
“I made her, my dear. I know what's inside. There aren't any nerves to quiver, just a bunch of wires, hardly
