The Prophecy Machine

22

Finn was surprised to discover how close the Nuccis' house was to the village and the sea. The flight from town the day before had seemed to take forever, hampered as it was by madmen with sharp pointy sticks. Now, that same dusty road had turned to mud from the night's fierce rain. The ruts worn by countless carts and wagons were troughs of dirty water reflecting a leaden sky.

Even before he reached the rise that revealed the narrow streets and cramped houses down below, the ghastly collection of odors assured him the town was still there. Still grim and uninviting, a pile, a dump, an unlovely heap of peeling wood and sooty stone. Convenient, Finn thought, for the blind or the sighted as well. Either could find the place with scarcely any effort at all.

It felt good to be free, out in the open, if somewhat tainted, air. Free for a while from the mean in spirit and the mentally deranged, free from that house, free from the old man's infernal machine.

Relieved, but still concerned that he'd left Letitia behind. She would come to no harm, he was sure. He wouldn't have gone if he'd had the slightest doubt.

Still, perhaps he'd been quick to agree, telling himself it was, after all, her idea, that he really didn't want to disappoint her again. He hoped she hadn't guessed, hadn't read it in his eyes, hadn't seen that he felt it was a useless thing to do, hunting for a seer, that it made no sense to him at all. She would be in a fury if she did.

He shook these thoughts aside, for he needed all his wits about him here. None of the locals he passed wore yellow hats, but that didn't mean this fellow or that hadn't tried to do him in the day before.

At the very edge of town, he turned to the right and headed for the docks, quickening his pace as a tangle of spars and masts appeared. He was certain none belonged to the Madeline Rose. Sabatino lied nearly all the time, but he'd happily told the truth about that. Three vessels were there, but Captain Magreet was gone.

One of the ships was loaded with kelp, stank to high heaven, and wouldn't be leaving for a week. Another was crewed by pug-faced Bowsers, who howled and snapped their teeth and threw fruit at him as he passed. The third, and largest, of the vessels had recently burned and settled to the bottom. Only charred and brittle masts still rose above the sea.

“What happened, might I ask?” Finn addressed an old man who was fishing off the quay. “I recall this ship wasn't sunk yesterday.”

“Wasn't,” the man said without looking up.

“I assume, then, it suffered an accident.”

“You'd be wrong if you did. Hooters got it. Held their midnight service right here. Burned the thing down to the keel.”

“Oh,” Finn said, and didn't say a thing after that.

The man looked up, studying Finn with a fierce and curious eye. “I've seen you somewhere. What's your spiritual affiliation, friend?”

“Got to run, hope you land a big one,” Finn said, and quickly hurried away.

“Why should I care if you stroll in town or not? You'll be back, you've no place to go.”

Sabatino's words and his pompous, arrogant stance had annoyed Finn no end, but he'd held his temper at bay.

“I'm not asking your leave. I'm simply telling you I'm going. To get fresh clothing for Letitia, though it's none of your concern what I do. Clothing, and-no offense, unless you care to take it so-some sort of decent food. Your meals are atrocious here. I don't know how you stand it. You've been abroad, I know. I can't believe you never dined on a dish that wasn't gray. Something that looked as if it might run away.”

“Ah, you're fooling no one, craftsman, certainly not me.” Sabatino gave him a bawdy wink. “You're going because you think you'll find some clever way out of our lovely town. You won't, you know. But you're welcome to give it a feeble try.”

“Go anywhere near her-just glance in her direction while I'm gone-and you'll answer to me.”

“You strike terror in my heart.”

“I mean it, Sabatino.”

“Of course you do. Have a marvelous time.”

Finn was near certain everyone in town knew who he was. Any other place, and he'd dismiss the thought at once. Here, it was no aberration of the mind. Men, women, babes in arms-no one turned his way. Still, when each was well past, he could feel their eyes poking at his back.

The chair he'd left in the street was gone. Most likely, the Master of Chairs had hauled it back inside. Who'd want to steal the thing? He thought about going in to check, but only for a second and a half.

The sign above the tavern read TAVERN. A sound and frugal name, Finn decided, no one putting on airs. One mug of ale before he went about his tasks. One cool mug couldn't take a lot of time.

He climbed three wooden steps and entered the dimly lit room. A bar made of planks was on the left, tables on the right. Feeble oil lamps and the smell of sour ale. At once, Finn felt somewhat at ease. If everything else in this land was awry, at least taverns smelled the same.

A man the size of a storm was suddenly in his way. He had no neck and no brow, and his body was so immense that his arms likely never touched his sides.

“Your pardon,” Finn said, “I'd like to get by.”

“What do you want,” the man said, in a voice surprisingly shrill, “What you doin' here?”

“What I'd like to do is drink an ale. Would that be all right with you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. It's not all right with me.”

“Would you care to tell me why?”

“It's not all right because it's not. Why you askin' me something like that?”

“I don't know, it just seemed the thing to do.”

“Those people.” He glanced past a massive shoulder. “Those people drink in here.”

“Yes, I see they do.”

“They drink here. Not somebody else.”

“This is a club, then. It's not a public bar?”

“Who told you that?” It was clear all this was hurting the fellow's head. “You see the sign, you see what it says outside?”

“I surely did.”

“What does it say?”

“TAVERN, I believe.”

“Tavern. That's what it is.”

“Fine. I'd like an ale, please. A dark if you have it, if not I'll take a red.”

The man was growing puffy about the eyes. Behind him, Finn could see faces, pale little moons floating in the dark.

“They drink here. Other people don't. These are the folks that drink here.”

“And where,” Finn wanted to know, “do the people who don't drink here go?”

“Somewhere else.”

“And the people, the ones that drink somewhere else. They don't ever drink here. The ones that drink here, I'll bet they never drink anywhere else.”

“I think I know you. You're the one doesn't come from here.”

“I'm taking up your time, and I'm not really thirsty anymore. Let me ask you this. You know where I can find some Mycer folk in town? I'm trying to find a Rubinella; that's who I'm looking for.”

The man's eyes grew wide. As wide as his butter cheeks would allow, as wide as little birdy eyes can go.

“You turn around and get out of here, you got a second and a half. I know who you are, all right. You been-you been staying over-eatin' and sleepin' overnight. Why you want to come to our town? Why'nt you stay where you belong?”

The big man could scarcely get the words out. He made no effort to hide his disgust. He looked at Finn as if he'd swallowed a bug. Now, some of the moon faces were looking his way.

“I'm not entirely familiar with your ways,” Finn said. “If I've said something to offend-”

The man stabbed a finger at his chest. “You say somethin' dirty to me, I'll knock you flat.”

“Thank you for your time,” Finn said, “you've got a nice place here …”