Oberbyght cursed beneath his breath, words in a tongue that made Finn's stomach turn.
The seer jerked out the key, frowned, gave it a sniff, polished it against the fabric of his robe.
“Damned thing's not a thousand years old. They don't make them like they did anymore.”
The sorcerer tried again. This time the lock protested with only a sizzle or two, before the key slid into place.
“After you, Master Finn.” The seer stood aside and waved a welcoming hand. “The place is a mess, but nobody comes here but me.”
Oberbyght loosed a hearty laugh. “A whimsy, you see. The jest here being no one could possibly come here but me. Why, you'd find a patch of grease on the floor if they tried!”
Finn wasn't nearly as amused as the seer, but the point was quite clear.
Oberbyght was right. The place was, indeed, a terrible mess.
“It's home,” said the seer. “It's not much, but it serves me quite well.”
“It is-very nice, really,” Finn said. “I expect there's an excellent view from up there.”
“I suppose. Never been up there myself. Sit, Finn. I'll find us a jug of ale.”
Finn sat, while the seer moved about, humming to himself.
As the sorcerer said, it was nothing much, but there was room to move around, if one was careful where he stepped. The room itself was perfectly round-no great surprise, as Finn had climbed the twisted stairways of lofty towers before.
A wooden ladder led to a trapdoor above, no doubt leading to the view the tower's owner didn't care to see. Past it, there would be a circular floor, a shoulder-high wall, and all one cared to see of Heldessia Town and beyond.
Inside the seer's quarters, covering nearly every wall, were high wooden shelves filled with books, tomes, ancient scrolls, yellowed piles of paper stacked precariously high. Finn was sure they'd been there long before he, himself, was born-or possibly his father's father sometime before that.
There were vials, pots, jars, a trail of gummy fluids hardened on the floor. Strange, unfamiliar smells, foul and aged odors that had long since eaten into the stony floor.
“Here, then,” Oberbyght said, offering a mug of dark liquid in a most peculiar jar, with odd symbols on the side. Finn brought it to his nose and sniffed it, bringing another laugh from the seer.
“It's ale, boy. Won't turn you into a stone. There's an easier way than that.
“Now,” he said, leaning forward on his stool, “we have much to talk about. Or let me put it plainer than that. You have a lot to talk about, and I have much to hear.”
In an instant, the cheery smile was gone, and the seer's heavy features turned merciless and grim. No matter how often this occurred, the abrupt change took Finn by surprise.
“Good,” he said, tipping back his stool against the wall, as if he didn't have a care. “I do love a good talk. It's better than climbing those damnable stairs.”
The seer was not amused. If anything, the room seemed to chill by several degrees.
“A bold and jaunty manner will get you nowhere with me. If you think your life's not at risk here, you're a fool. I didn't save you from Maddigern's wrath so we could share a mug of ale like old friends.”
He paused to stare at Finn over the fold of his hands.
“Badgies can scarcely smell more than the food that cakes in their beards from one year to the next. Maddigern could not detect the drug on your skin and on your clothes, but I can. You reek of the stuff. I don't have to wonder, as Maddigern does, where you might have been.
“He knows you came in through the underways. He can only guess what you saw down there. He didn't have to know for sure. If he strangled you, it wouldn't matter what you saw. That's Badgie logic, and I can't say it doesn't have its points.”
“I've no need to speak any more than the truth about this,” Finn said, as calmly as he could, though the seer's words went right to his heart. “All I wanted to do was get back in to get Letitia and Julia out. I wasn't expecting to come upon something like-that.”
“You did, though. And that is a problem. I expect you can see why that might be.”
“I don't suppose you'd take my word…”
“… that you would keep this all to yourself? Please, Master Finn.”
“So I've traded Maddigern's justice for yours. I'm not making much progress here.”
“You are in a rush to pass sentence on yourself, Master Finn?”
“Does it matter if I'm not? Whatever is to happen, it will happen. And I suppose it will happen to Letitia as well. You may take offense if you like, sir, but I see little difference between you and that brute downstairs. You left Letitia and Julia there. Under guard, perhaps, but the fact that you left them tells me you have no interest in their fate.”
Obern Oberbyght showed Finn a weary sigh. “You're right, boy. I don't. Not a whit. It's a lack in my character, I suppose. I simply can't work up much sympathy for anyone but myself. Still, apart from that, I don't think the good Captain/Major will cross me on this.”
Once more, Finn imagined the room had become even chillier still.
“What did you see down there? Exactly, now. Start with who let you in the secret way.”
“A guard. I gave him some coins. I told this to Maddigern-”
It felt like a hot blade between his eyes. Finn gasped, grabbed his face and tumbled off his stool. The pain was there, then suddenly gone.
“All right,” Oberbyght said, “let's try this once again.”
Finn pulled himself up, found the stool and sat. Even the memory of the pain brought beads of sweat to his brow.
“Bucerius. A friend. But don't blame him.” Oberbyght almost smiled. “Ah, that old rogue. Why did I bother to ask?”
“You know him, then?”
“He is extremely large, and has an annoying habit of sticking his Bullie nose anywhere a profit's to be made. How could I not know him?
“I also know he was the one who brought you here. Now, we're going astray. Exactly what you saw there below, I'd hear about that.”
Finn began to tell him. Everything, from the start. The sweet, overpowering scent of the drug extracted from the blood-red poppy. The still figures of the Deeply Entombed, the sorrowful chant of the Gracious Dead as they went about their chores.
And, as he spoke, as he came ever closer to the part of his tale he hoped not to reveal, Finn allowed certain images to blur, fade, become vague and indistinct. Figures, colors, shapes began to run, as if a quickening rain had swept them away.
It was a thing he had simply come to through the discipline of his craft, a trick of the mind that let him put all other thoughts aside, except a complexity of minuscule parts-cogs, gears and golden wires as thin as gnat's breath, motes, flecks, particles and specks, the workings of a lizard one could hardly see without the aid of a glass.
Thus, Maddigern, and the bare, unmistakable vision of DeFloraine-Marie were, for but a moment, lost and unseen. And, if he was wrong, if this cunning magician could peer behind Finn's screen, he would find out quickly enough and pay for this deceit.
A moment, an eternity, passed. A slow and agonizing moment for Finn, who wandered in his thoughts through lovely vistas, dancing streams, and a near-insufferable parade of puffy clouds. At no time did he dare meet the seer's penetrating eyes
Oberbyght looked curiously at Finn, as if there was something he was trying very hard to see. Finally, he set down his mug and blew out a gentle breath.
“There is little need for me to tell you that near every turn you have taken since you graced us with your presence here has been a wrong turn, Finn. I swear I do not know how you do it. The odds are a man plays the fool only half of the time, but you have managed to overcome that.
“You have become, ah, acquainted with the King's wanton whelp, the Princess DeFloraine-Marie, though I've yet to learn how… “
“Now that was no fault of mine.”
“Every fellow who trips on a woman's gown says the same. Don't bore me, Finn. You didn't trip very far, but I
