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…
THIRTY-NINE
For 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
