Treachery of Kings

FORTY-NINE

There were doors, locks, latches and blocks. Bolts, bars, narrow twisting stairs. Finn had been down in the dark and narrow maze beneath the palace; now he was learning there was also an up.

The seer, Obern Oberbyght, in the kindness of his heart-a kindness that cheered Finn not at all-had given Finn time to let the blood flow back into his limbs, which were cold to the touch after Maddigern had so fiercely bound them up.

And why not? For he never intended to loosen them again…

Thoughtful though he might be, the seer had given Finn no time at all to look to Letitia's care, only a glance between them before he was gone. Finn could only think of her still in torment, her flesh chilling cold beneath the tight, unyielding cords.

No guards at Finn's back, no warnings or threats. No one to stop him but the pleasant, stout, and clearly deadly seer. Finn made no effort to get away. He had seen what happened to the Badgie Guardsman in their cell. He had surely not forgotten what this happy sorcerer had done to him before. There would come a chance-he had to believe this was so-and when that chance came, he would take it, whatever risk that entailed.

Though Finn had heard very little of the talk between the Badgie and the seer, it was clear their meeting had been most intense. Maddigern, cruel, cunning, past the edge of madness, had nevertheless backed away from Oberbyght in the end.

There's hope in this, he told himself. This pair cannot be done with one another, there is too much enmity for that…

It seemed near forever before Obern Oberbycht came to a halt, took a silver key from his ring, and rattled it in a brass lock set in a heavy oaken door. Spiderwebs of cold, intense blue light danced along the silver key. The lock began to crackle, shiver and glow.

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 doubt it was because you didn't try.

“And good Dostagio… not a bright fellow, but none of his kind is. Still, he was useful to me.”

“I didn't kill him, damn it all!” Finn came off his stool, sending it clattering to the stone floor. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“Sit, Master Finn…”

The words barely brushed the edge of his mind, but Finn felt their fiery kiss. And, more frightening still, he knew the seer hadn't spoken at all.

Finn didn't bother to sit. He leaned wearily against the cold wall, getting his breath again.

“I know you didn't murder Dostagio. You haven't done anything but drop from your damned balloon and stumble about, causing chaos everywhere you go.”

“I've done nothing of the kind-!”

Oberbyght raised a restraining hand. “Your presence is all that was needed, Finn. Why the Fates have done this thing, I cannot say. The point is, you have stirred up a pot that was already bubbling here. You have tossed in the peppers, and we don't like peppers in our stew. You have muddied the broth, you have soured the sauce… “

“Are we cooking something? I fear you lost me with the sauce.”

“Do not try my patience. I have let your japes, your waggery, your wit, your foreign-tainted quips go by more than once without plucking out an eye or perhaps some manly part. Do not push. Merely listen, do I make myself clear?”

Finn didn't answer. His mouth was too dry for that.

“There are dark events here, deadly deeds, dreadful schemes and dangers undefined. It is not your business to know of these things. Still, I tell you that a dire drama unfolds in Heldessia Land. All this palace is a stage, and every creature an actor on it.

“You aren't even in the play, Finn, yet you've mucked about through every act, tossing in your own bloody lines, knocking over the sets.

“Before your innopportune arrival, the brew was only a'simmer, bubbling a bit, but no real threat. Now, the pot's boiling over, the curtain's going up, the game's afoot.

“Damn you, Finn. Why didn't you and your Mycer and your loathsome machine simply stay where you belonged? We don't need your kind here!”

Finn waited. Understanding at last, that even when this fellow was done, when all the sauce was finished, all the lines spoken, all the villains dead, he might simply start all over again.

“Well, do you intend to sit there, staring at me like a loon? You always have something to toss in the kettle, whether it's worthy or not.”

Finn heard a peculiar sound, then looked past the seer to a bookshelf swelling with the weight of ancient tomes, tracts, royal acts and boring decrees. Even as he watched, a stack of homilies groaned, and tumbled to the floor.

“May I ask a question? You won't drill me with a spell?”

“Certainly not. What do you think I am?” “You won't like me asking it again. Will Letitia be harmed?”

“I gave you the answer to that.” “Your pardon, but that's not so.”

“All right. She won't be harmed. Next question, Finn.”

“When I was at the Fractured Foot, you could have knocked me silly then. Why did you let me go?”

“I miss sometimes. Not often, but I do. If I had crisped one of those fat Snouters, every farmer in town would be screaming for my hide. I do a good business in agricultural spells. I don't have to, but it's expected if you're in the magic trade. What else?”

“I don't guess you mind if I ask, for you know what I've seen. I'd like to hear about the Deeply Entombed.”

Obern Oberbyght grinned, a grin of such dimension that his chubby cheeks swelled and his eyes squeezed shut. His lips disappeared, and every tooth was on display.

“That, my foolish friend, is the question I've been waiting to hear. It isn't that I'm slow, or dense, or feeble in the head, for none of that is true. The question was ever there, and I could have pushed it some, but I have a sense of order, of the end, of the termination of events. I wanted you to come to it on your own.”

Finn felt a sudden chill. “When the sauce is done. When it's time for Act Three.”

“Exactly, you have it now!”

Obern Oberbyght sprang to his feet, quicker than Finn imagined the fellow to be. He thrust both his hands out wide, encompassing the invisible sky. The room began to tilt, waver, quiver and shake. Red veins of lightning scurried across the floor, scampering like frightened spiders, drunken centipedes.

Everything melted, everything oozed. Time ran down the walls like syrup, with the sound of sleepy bees.

Finn threw up or threw in, he couldn't tell which. He floated, bobbled, pitched dizzily about somewhere or somewhen…

And, when the world stopped spinning, he opened his eyes and stared at the sky, at the endless dome of golden light that stretched out longer than forever overhead…

Not exactly endless, Finn decided, and clearly not the sky. More like a great, colossal, impossible bell…