Treachery of Kings

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 still rested where Finn had left it at the inn. The seer would have to find some lackey to carry the thing back to the palace, or drag it there himself.

The night seemed to come on swiftly as he made his way past one pile of garbage and another in the odorous alleyways.

And, while he was greatly concerned, Finn had no regrets for his actions. He had known that his dash for freedom was risky at best. Even if he found Bucerius in the maze of Heldessia Town, even if the Bullie could somehow help him get away, Letitia and Julia were still in the palace, and doubtless under double watch now.

Yet, it was a thing he had to do, for he could not, would not, lose his freedom, could not doom himself and his love to a life in the service of a man who cared only for death, colorless clothing, and a thousand tasteless clocks.

Once more, he wished for the presence of Julia Jessica Slagg and her uncanny sense of recalling everywhere she'd been.

“What a marvel she is,” he said aloud, “what a wonder I've performed!” Sometimes, he was even amazed at him-self-that such a cunning thing had been born in his head and brought to life with his hands. That golden gears and a ferret's brain had become such a clever, if somewhat conceited, device.

Twice, he thought he'd sighted his pursuers in the maze of alleyways. Twice, he had been mistaken. Once, the pair had been humans, the other, heavyset Bowsers, lurking about on some illegal enterprise.

The street where he stood was quite narrow. The crowded stone houses sometimes arched together overhead. Candlelight flickered in a single grimy window above. The neighborhood seemed familiar, but so had the one he'd passed through moments before.

He was cautious, here, for though the hour was late, there were beings still about. Even in the near darkness, he recognized them at once. They were Newlies, Dobbin folk, hard to mistake for any other creature, for they were quite distinct in both their bearing and their size.

If any of the Newlies could wear the mantle of the noble and the proud, Finn believed it would have to be the Dobbin kind. Theirs was not a vain and arrogant pride, but a pride of dignity and grace. They were tall, elegant creatures, with broad shoulders, flaring crops of stiffened hair, and warm and caring eyes.

Perhaps their most distinctive feature was the thick and lengthy nose, which dominated every other feature of the face. Finn had several Dobbin friends back in Ulster-East. Many of their kind seemed to favor the retail trade, for they were known as purveyors of expensive clothing- jackets, trousers and vests of satin and silk, in colorful checks and spots. They favored such garments themselves, and looked quite dapper as they strolled through the parks on pleasant days.

Finn didn't wish to reveal himself, to be remembered as a stranger roaming about in the dark. Still, he reasoned, he was hopelessly lost, and felt he could put his trust in the kindly nature of Dobbin folk.

Finn waited. In a moment, two stately fellows appeared from a doorway across the street. The light from the single window showed him one wore a broad-striped jacket, while the other had chosen a pattern in spots. Both wore fine derby hats. They chattered as they walked, and wouldn't have noticed Finn at all if he hadn't managed a prudent cough.

“Your pardon, sirs,” he said, “I am a stranger lost, and would ask you directions if I may.”

The pair stopped. They made no move to come closer, or back away, and one very subtly took a better grip on his cane.

“What address y'be seekin’, sar?” asked the fellow in spots. His voice was deep and mellow, though somewhat nasal, due to the prodigious size of his nose.

“I am even more lost than that,” Finn confessed. “I'm looking for a friend named Bucerius. He told me his address, but it totally slipped my mind.”

“Bucerius.”

“Yes.”

The Dobbin in spots looked at his comrade in stripes. “Are we familiar a'tall, ye think, with such a name, Flynn?”

“Why no, I cannot say we are.”

“My friend is of the Bullie folk. Very large fellow. Well, aren't they all? He owns his own balloon. That is, he did, until a Bowser band shot it down.”

“Oh, dear, Bowsers, is it, then?” The Dobbin named Flynn seemed quite alarmed.

“They don't come down here,” the other said. “We're peaceful folk indeed, but we don't put up with such foolishness as that.”

He nodded, slightly to his left. “The yappers know better, I'm thinkin’, than to be comin’ here.”

Finn, following the fellow's eyes to the arch overhead, saw six fine nooses, hanging ready in a row.

“A most excellent idea,” Finn said. “I'm sure it makes for a quieter neighborhood.”

“Aye, it does indeed. Sorry we canno’ be of help. If I might suggest… “

“Yes, please.”

“Don't be a-walkin’ about Heldessia Town at night. Our folk are quite-tolerant, of other kind. But I won't be sayin’ that fer everyone. And a pleasant good night.”

The pair tipped their derbies and turned away.

“I'm grateful for the advice,” Finn said, “and one thing more, if you please. Which way is the proper direction toward town?”

Finn's words were lost, for the Dobbins were no longer there…