The Prophecy Machine

8

The Port Of Nakeemo in the land of Makasar, Finn decided, might well have been planned by the yellow-hats themselves. Many of the narrow, odorous streets appeared to lead to other avenues, then abruptly disappeared. Order, here, was merely an illusion, a dismal sort of joke. Often, a turn to the left or the right became a circular route, leading one where he'd begun. As an added hindrance, none of the streets had names.

Through pure blind luck, one of the avenues brought Finn and Letitia out of murky shadow into a broad, sunlit marketplace. Finn was more than grateful; he decided markets everywhere were likely much the same, even in so bizarre a land as this.

There were vegetable and fruit stalls, stalls that sold fish, stalls that sold mussels, lobsters and clams. Stalls that sold fat pink shrimp, stalls that sold eels still writhing on the hook.

And, as ever, there were stalls that sold amulets, talis-mans and charms. Wands, hexes, potions and spells. There was magic that would cure, magic that would kill, magic that would turn a man to stone. And, for a very hefty price, magic that would bring back the dead.

The trouble with magic, Finn knew, was that some of it didn't work at all, and some of it worked too well. Anyone with good sense would stay away from stalls, and go to a seer with a license to spell. That, of course, didn't keep minor mages and frauds from setting up a tent and laying out their wares.

Finn talked awhile with a man who sold metals of every sort: rust-red nuggets of iron, bars of silver and bronze, snippets of copper and tin-rare and base metals Finn used in his Lizard Shoppe to fashion cogs and gears, talons and scales.

Still, the man had nothing Finn couldn't buy on Garpenny Street, or down the hill at the forge of Master Del. But since the man had been patient while Finn poked through his goods, Finn bought a spool of fine-spun silver wire at twice the price he'd pay at home.

“And why not?” he said aloud to himself. “We've already bought an overpriced chair we couldn't move an inch if we cared …”

Letitia Louise had found a fragrance she liked at the booth next door. It was oil of tangerine, and she held up her wrist to let Finn have a sniff.

“Very nice,” he said, “but you always smell good to me.”

“Musty. That's what you say sometimes.”

“Musty's good. Musty is a most appealing scent.”

“What do you think of musty tangerine?”

“I think I'll be able to handle that.”

Walking farther east through the market, the crowded stalls and tents gave way to a small public square. In the center of the square was a fountain surrounding some crude statuary, a carving Finn could not identify. Water trickled in rivulets down its mossy sides. A crowd was gathered at the fountain, and more seemed to be on the way. Many belonged to the yellow-hat bunch, so the mass was always in motion, seeming like a single being that constantly changed its shape, and never stood entirely still.

Standing well to the side of this group were other humans of the town, and several Newlies as well. Finn saw a dozen Foxers, Snorters in their customary red, and two large Bullies from the docks. Letitia seemed slightly out of sorts, and continually twitched her nose until she was certain no Yowlie crewmen were about.

“Whatever it is,” Finn said, “I hope it starts soon. We must find a place to spend the night.”

Letitia frowned. “I thought that old man made it clear there wasn't any place. I thought they didn't do that here.”

“Yes, indeed he did,” Finn answered, clearing his throat, “but we can't rely on that. We only have the word of a senile, sullen old grouch who makes chairs. I cannot imagine there is not one person in town who is somewhat civilized.”

“One would hope,” Letitia sighed, touching a spot of tangerine oil behind her ears.

“Yes, one would. It is my intention, as soon as we can find our way out of here …”

Finn didn't finish. He paused as a sudden murmur swept through the crowd. The mob seemed to shrink and then swell, swell and shrink again. And, each time this contraction took place, some of the yellow-hats broke from the mass and headed off in one direction or the next.

“Perhaps we'll see whatever it is,” Letitia said. “I do hope it's a parade.”

Finn gave her a curious look. “I thought you didn't like parades.”

“I don't, ordinarily. I do like some kinds, though.”

“What kinds would that be?”

“I'm not really sure. The only one I've seen was the Bowser Brigade. You remember, dear? They came through town on the way to the War?”

“Yes, I surely do.”

“They wore those lovely plaid and green uniforms, and the cute little hats with the tassels hanging down. I was so proud because they were Newlies, and didn't have to fight if they didn't want to.”

Letitia paused, and Finn saw the sudden touch of sadness in her eyes. “They didn't come back, as I recall. None except for two. I forgot about that.”

“No. I don't believe they did.”

Scarcely anyone does, he said to himself. He remembered so many who had gone, and simply disappeared. Pikemen and bowmen, Balloon Grenadiers. A certain captain, he recalled, gone one day looking natty in his new uniform. Back the next as a Coldie, as a shade, no longer a man, scarcely a shadow, hardly a mist, barely aware that he was there.

Finn had thought a lot about it, and decided this was what the War was for: war gave people something to do-the rich and poor alike. Thus, there was always work for the vagrant, and the fools at court who liked the dashing costumes.

Not for the first time, Finn was grateful he'd come from good craftsman stock. Dying, from what he could see, was not a promising career.

Just as these scraps of wisdom were crossing his mind, someone in the crowd began to shout. One single voice, then another, and another after that, until the sound began to echo through the churning mass and swelled to an awesome, deafening roar.

Finn felt a chill touch the back of his neck. Something, or someone, was whipping this crowd into a fever, into an unthinking horde. He could almost taste the anger, the unfettered rage, and most frightening of all, the ugly side of joy, the dark anticipation of what they'd come for, what they'd come to see.

“I don't like this,” he said, quickly grasping Letitia's hand. “We're leaving, we shouldn't be here.”

“Yes, you're right,” Letitia said, her eyes now wide with primal fear. “I'm scared, Finn. And I don't even know what it is I'm scared to see.”

Finn turned to retrace their steps, to go back the way they'd come. He saw, at once, there was no place to go, no way through that solid terrifying wall. It would be worth their lives to even try.

“Hold on to me,” he said, “don't let go. And don't be frightened, my dear.”

Letitia looked at him. “Why not? You are.”

Finn had no answer to that.

“Look, look there,” Letitia said, her nails biting into his arm. “What-what on earth is that!”

Finn followed her glance. At first, he saw nothing at all. Then, at the far end of the square, he saw that the great mass had parted to form a narrow avenue. This action brought the crowd to sudden quiet. A thousand breaths were held; for an instant, a thousand hearts ceased to beat.

Then, through this passage came a throng of yellow-hatters-a dozen, a dozen more than that, then a hundred more, backwards, forwards, walking and stalking, hopping in every mad direction, bumping into houses, running into walls, crashing headlong into their own, knocking one another to the ground. Some got up, and some lay where they fell.

The crowd shrank back, scattered, tried to let them get by. Still, there were too many townsfolk, too many Newlies wandering about. When some hapless soul got in the way, a yellow-hat would explode into anger, beat that being senseless, and kick them to the ground. No one tried to defend themselves, and no one came to their aid.

“This is insanity,” Finn said, “This country is a-a damned asylum, is what it is, and someone's stolen the key.”

“Huh? Whassat? What was you saying, sor?”

Finn looked up into a dirt-stained face, a sun-blistered nose, a tangled beard and septic eyes. All on the body of a hulk in overalls.

“You're quite mistaken, sir. I said nothing at all.”

“Ruuunka youga hoom,” the man said, or words to that effect. “You'd best not be sayin' it again.”

“Finn, please.” Letitia rolled her eyes. “We are guests in this land. You're acting just awful. You're acting like Julia now.”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Finn said, taken aback by her words. “I certainly won't do it again.”

And, with that, underneath his cloak, Julia Jessica Slagg dug brassy teeth into his flesh.

“I'll get you for that,” Finn muttered, sucking in a breath.

Once more the crowd began to shout, even louder, even more frenzied than before. From the break in the crowd, a high-wheeled wagon appeared, drawn by more hat people still. As the wagon drew closer, Finn could see it held an iron-barred cage. And, within the cage, clinging to the bars, was a naked, frightened man with a mop of shaggy white hair.

“Oh, dear, get me out of here, Finn, please.”

Letitia's mouth was so dry she could scarcely spit out the words.

“I'd love to,” he told her, “but there's nowhere to go.”

He squeezed her hand, harder this time. No great help, but the best that he could do.

The villains brought the wagon to a halt near the fountain at the center of the square. Four of them hurried to the back of the cart and lifted off long wooden boards. They had clearly practiced this before: it was hardly any time before a rough-hewn structure took shape, a crude apparatus twice as tall as a man. Three other louts opened the cage and dragged the naked man out.

At once, the poor fellow shouted and flailed his limbs about. The crowd began to cheer. Clearly, they liked the show so far.

The victim wasn't young, but he was still full of fight. After much effort, his captors managed to bind him to the wooden device. The fellow strained against his bonds, threw back his head and howled.

“I-am-going-to be sick,” Letitia said, closing her eyes against the sight. “I really mean it, Finn.”

“No. No you're not. That's not a good idea.”

Holding Letitia about the waist, he turned to a doughy, middle-aged woman standing next to the man in overalls.

“Excuse me,” he said, “could you possibly tell me what they intend to do with that man?”

The woman smiled, showing Finn a row of blackened teeth. Dentistry, Finn decided, was in its infancy here.

“Why, same thing they al'ays does. Goin' to hang 'im, skin 'im and string 'im out.”

“They-what?”

Finn felt his stomach do a flip. The Master of Chairs had threatened this very same treatment, not half an hour before.

“After that,” the woman added, “they'll fire 'im up, black 'im to a crisp. How comes you doesn't know that?”

“We're new here, we don't know the local customs yet. By the way, does the word inn have any meaning to you? We're looking for a-”

“Finn …”

Letitia was swaying, much like a sapling in the wind, her mouth sagging open, her eyes rolling back. Finn held her close, caught her before she fell. For a very petite and slender being, she seemed to find a great deal of weight somewhere.

“Come on, come on,” he whispered, slapping her very lightly on the face, “you cannot do this, Letitia. I simply won't have it, do you hear?”

“Lay the victim down flat,” Julia said, poking her snout through the folds of Finn's cape. “Elevate the feet, slightly higher than the head. Loosen the clothing a bit, apply cool cloths to the wrists and the neck. Linen, now, not sacking or wool, neither cotton nor flax, not-”

“Quiet!” Finn grabbed the lizard's copper nose and pushed her roughly out of sight. “Where do you think we are, in Master Spencer's ward, up on Zod Hill? I am not a physician, Julia, I don't have a healing spell. I don't have any linen, any water, cool or hot. If I lay her down, they'll trample her on the spot. Stay out of sight and let me handle this!”

“Fine, go ahead. I'm only trying to help, doing what I can to save the poor girl's life …”

“I am-quite all right,” Letitia said with a sigh, “no thanks to you two, I must say. Will you let me go, please? I feel quite awkward bent in half like this.”

“We were merely trying to help …”

“Yes, of course you were, you're both such dears.”

Letitia busied herself, straightened a wrinkle here and there, patted Finn's hands and brushed them aside.

“Are you sure you can stand now, love, you're still a bit flushed.”

“No one ever expired from a flush,” she said, fanning herself with both hands. “I expect I'll survive if I can jus-”

Her words were lost as a ragged cheer thundered through the crowd. Letitia gasped, startled by the sound.

“Don't look,” Finn said, moving a step to block her view, “Look at something else.”

“Such as? There is little else to see here, Finn.”

“Look at the street. Those bricks are quite ordinary, but the composition, the design, clearly bear the craftsman's touch.”

“Stop it, Finn, I will not look at bricks. Tell me what they're doing to that poor man now, I can't bear to look myself.”

“Nothing at the moment,” Finn said, craning his neck, standing on his toes. “Oh, dear, now that's not good.”

“What? What?”

“They're poking him. Poking him with sticks.”

“Sticks?”

“Yes. Fairly long sticks.”

“Do they-do they appear to be sharpened or dull, these sticks?”

“It's hard to tell from here, but I'd say they're very sharp sticks.”

“Oh, no.”

“Long sticks. Sharp at one end.”

“Don't tell me that, I don't want to hear!”

“Then don't ask, my dear.”

“Even if I do, don't tell me, all right?”

“I won't, then. Ah, something else is going on now.”

“What?”

“Stop asking, Letitia. You said you didn't want to hear.”

“I don't, dear, but I do.”

“I understand, you don't and yet you do. It's natural to feel that way.”

“What a nice thing to say. You are always very kind and understanding, Finn.”

“I doubt that I am. But I always mean well, you know.”

With that, she gave him a very quick kiss on the cheek, which was not a good idea, a Newlie showing intimate affection to a human in public, as it were.

Still, Finn was pleased. Sometimes he seemed to hurt her feelings, sometimes he seemed to give her joy. And even though he loved her, he was often baffled by her ways. Males and females, as everyone knew, were different as night and day. And, for certain, Newlies and humans were not the same. Some differences were slight, but others were not.

Letitia was a Mycer, with the blood of ancient creatures in her veins. There weren't supposed to be any drawings, any pictures of the creatures Newlies had been before their magical change. There were, though, and Finn had seen them all. Some of these images disturbed him, like Snouters and the vicious Yowlie kind, but he always tried to keep an open mind.

And, though he truly loved Letitia, sometimes in his head-sometimes together in bed-he could see that small, furry creature with the twitchy nose and pink tail. It was hard to forget this lovely female, this beauty with intelligence and wit, still had the blood of creatures past in her veins. Three hundred years before, her folk had scampered through the cellars and the walls of human habitats- despised by people themselves, who broke their backs with little traps. And, for added pleasure, kept the cruel, cunning ancestors of the Yowlies about to do the killing job as well.

And even now, those who defended Newlie rights often admitted in their hearts that humans and Newlies would never be the same. Finn wished it weren't so, but wishes seldom changed the world. All he could do was try and keep Letitia from the uglier aspects of life. Which, he thought, with no little shame, he wasn't doing very well now, caught in the midst of an odorous crowd who cheered a pack of lunatics in tall yellow hats.

Letitia tried to see past him, and Finn did his best to make sure that she did not. The madmen had reached a new plateau in their torment of the old man on the rack. Much to the pleasure of the crowd, one fellow brought out a large, shiny, wicked-looking blade that clearly belonged to the butcher's trade.

Skinning, hanging, evisceration and fire …

Finn recalled, with a visible shudder, those words of the Master of Chairs. And without a conscious thought, he touched the pommel of his own weapon hanging at his side.

“Butter and Bread,” he said aloud, “If that's not a fleshing blade, then I'm a great pile of whale doo!”

“My stars, Finn.”

“Sorry,” Finn said, and moved even closer to block her way.

The horror by the cart was difficult to watch, but Finn couldn't bring himself to look away. The brute with the butcher's blade drew a charcoal line across his captive's chest, from one collarbone to the next.

Here, the fellow was showing the crowd, is where I will begin …

The victim saw the blade and screamed …

One fellow gagged him …

Another tightened the knots around his legs …

One poked him with a stick, missed, wandered off left and then right, came back and poked him in the groin …

One ran into the wagon, knocked himself cold, and dropped to the ground …

Lout number one raised his blade high …

The crowd sucked in a great collective breath …

The blade descended, and touched his howling victim's chest …

Everything began to happen, everything at once …

It happened so quickly there was scarcely time to think. A single voice, a murderous cry roiled like thunder through the crowd. The great and noisy herd was struck silent, awed by the unearthly sound that seemed to come from everywhere.

Then, just behind the torture rack itself, a yellow-hat bowed his head and dropped. Another grabbed his face and fell, still another stared at the fountain of red where his arm had been half a blink before.

The awful, fearsome voice that had stilled the raging crowd now showed itself to be a man, a tall man, a man with arms and shoulders strong enough to wield the heavy, man-killer blade he clutched in both hands. He wore a suit of leather and mail, shirt, cape and baggy trousers the shade of the sea. On his head, a rakish felt hat crowned with plumes of lavender, green and gold.

Never stopping for a moment, never even slowing down, he hacked, slashed, and chopped himself a path through the killers like a mad reaper loose in a field.

For an instant, his foes seemed dazzled, stunned, completely out of sorts. Then they found their wits and came at him like an angry nest of hornets, like a hive of yellow bees. But this was not a bare, pasty old man, a man you could laugh at, poke with a stick …

Men dropped, men died, men crawled away and bled. Men shrieked and howled, men turned away and ran.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was just as quickly done …

Finn watched, bewildered, as the big man lowered his blade, and the yellow-hats fell back. Moving to the rack, he slashed at the bonds that held the old man. The poor fellow sagged, wavered, but managed to stand his ground. The swordsman turned his back to the crowd and covered the old man with his cloak.

Still wielding his weapon, the tall man drew a leather sack from his belt, weighed it in his palm, then tossed it to the yellow-hats, tossed it with contempt. One of the Hatters caught it, peeked inside, let the others see, then quickly jerked it back. He spoke to the swordsman, waving his arms about. The swordsman laughed, and swung his blade in a blur, missing the man by an inch. The Hatters shrank back. The man with the sword gripped the old man's arm, and stalked away boldly through the crowd.

A few steps farther and he stopped, found another bag, dug around inside, pulled out a fistful of bright silver coins and threw them to the crowd.

The horde went mad, pounding, pummeling, and kicking one another to grab a precious coin. The big man laughed and stomped across the square, swinging his blade to keep the crowd aside.

Finn could see the plume of his hat bobbing above the crowd, then, for the first time, a glimpse of his face, the pock-marked flesh, the thick red hair-

“Great Gars and Guppies!” Finn gasped, scarcely able to believe his eyes. “It's him, by damn-it's that bloody lout, Sabatino Nucci in the flesh!”

Finn took a step back and drew his blade. Drew a breath and held it, felt his heart pound against his chest.

“Finn, dear,” Letitia said, resting her hand lightly on his arm, “I doubt he has the time to fight now, he seems to be quite occupied.”

“You simply don't know him,” Finn said, moving her gently aside, “The man's a lunatic, crazed, of unsound mind. You simply can't say-”

Finn sliced the air, bent one knee, parried, thrust, snapped to a dueler's stance again.

“-what a savage like that will do next. He doesn't think like a man of reason, Letitia. Don't be fooled by the fancy clothes, he's scarcely civilized. Stay here, love, I shall be right back.”

“Finn …!”

Townsmen stepped aside, puzzled, bewildered at a stranger pushing through their ranks. Something was amiss. One swordsman was ample entertainment, two was not proper, two was not right.

The crowd was behind Finn now, and there, not a dozen feet away, the man who'd tried to kill him stood before him once again. And, at the very same moment, Sabatino recognized him.

He stared, threw back his head and laughed soundly at the sky.

“Why, I can't believe this. Is it truly you, Master Finn? By damn, it is. What are you doing here, sir? I never expected to see you again!”

Sabatino stalked forward, bracing the old man with one hand, grasping his sword with the other. The crowd stepped even farther back. A pack of yellow-hats followed, keeping their distance, clearly not ready to let the pair out of their sight.

Finn gripped the hilt of his sword. Did this brute take him for a fool, greeting him like a friend? At least he had a weapon himself this time.

Finn glanced over his shoulder at Letitia. Her face was the color of chalk. Under his cloak, he could feel Julia Jessica Slagg clawing her way quickly from his frontside to his back.

“Coward,” Finn said beneath his breath, “if he spits me with that great heavy blade, it'll do you little good to hide there.”

Julia didn't answer. For the first time that Finn could recall, the loud-mouth lizard had nothing to say.

Sabatino came to a halt. “Well, sir, as I say, I did not expect to see you again.” He raised his eyes past Finn. “And that would be your Newlie, ah-serving wench, yes? Most attractive, my friend. I only got a glance aboard. She's certainly worth a second look.”

Sabatino's glance was so bold, open, and rife with lewd intent that it quickly brought Letitia's color back. Sabatino couldn't miss the sudden change in Finn's stance. He shrugged and met his foe's challenge with a grin.

“You're overly sensitive, sir. I only expressed admiration, I meant no sore offense.”

“You, sir, are an offense in yourself,” Finn said. “I know what you meant, and I resent it quite a bit.”

Sabatino sighed. “That's a craftsman for you, always sees himself a step above his class. An artist, if you will, a man of deeper soul. He strives for greater station, and forgets he was born to the hammer, not the brush.”

“This is neither the time nor the place, Sabatino, but by damn, you owe me satisfaction, and I'd have it now.”

“Yes? Now is perfectly fine with me.” He paused, then, and raised a curious brow. “Ah, where is that little tin toy of yours, sir? I only got a quick look before our-quarrel aboard that odorous vessel. If it's as pretty as I recall, I'd buy it from you-proceeds to whatever beneficiary you wish to name, of course …”

Finn stepped back and raised his blade. At once, Letitia moved up to his side.

“Don't be foolish, dear. You don't have to do this.”

“Listen to her, Finn.” Sabatino glanced over his shoulder, then faced Finn again. “Better still, heed a word from me.”

To Finn's surprise, Sabatino sheathed his weapon, left the old man on his own, and drew closer still.

“What you must do,” he said, so softly that no one else might hear, “is forget, for now, this quarrel with me. You don't know the game we're playing, or the rules, and I've no time to explain it to you now. We've very little time. I'd say two, three minutes at the most. I've cut it awfully short, standing here wasting time with you.”

Finn frowned. “What in all the hells are you talking about? I have no-”

“-no time at all, so kindly shut up, my friend. You and that pretty can stand here and die if you wish. Which you surely will, for they see you're in company with Sabatino Nucci, and that's what they have in mind for me.

“The rules, you see, call for the Moment of Useless Combat, then the Payment of the Honorable Fee. That's done, and we've jabbered right through the damned Horror of the Fallen, so we must get out of here, or wait for the Reckoning of the Just. That should begin about now.”

“I have no idea what you've gotten yourself into,” Finn said, “but whatever it is, it has nothing to do with Letitia and me.”

“Look back there, if you will,” Sabatino said. “Tell me what you see.”

“I see the same lot of yellow-hatted crazies I saw before. They're milling about, nodding their foolish heads. If I didn't know better, I'd say they'll soon break into dance.”

“Very perceptive, sir. In a moment, they'll pound those sharpened poles on the ground. We should have about twenty-two seconds after that. If you'll hold on to Father, I'll bring up the rear and try to hold them off. Keep your head and we'll make it out of here.”

“You mean him?” Finn looked at the shaggy-haired old man, bent, miserable, ready to collapse. “That's your father?”

“Yes, damn you, it is,” Sabatino said, quite annoyed now. “Do you think I'd pause to talk to the likes of you if I didn't require your help?”

Sabatino curled his lips in disgust. “Now would you do as I say, noble craftsman? Thanks to you, we have scarcely any time left.”

Indeed, Sabatino was right, for there was truly no time left at all. His words had scarcely passed his lips before the madmen began to pound their sharpened poles against the square, sway, shout, and dance madly about …